LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

was a friend of mine,” says Willem.

      “You need better friends.”

      “It really would be a black mark on the whole security team’s record if he was to kill you.”

      Abbot looks up into one of the cameras and twirls his finger a little, saying it’s almost time to wrap things up.

      Willem zooms in on him.

      “The thing to remember about security is we’re only human. We have good days and bad. If Audsley was to show up …” Willem shrugs. “It could be one of our bad days.”

      He grins at me and I grin back, but his smile is bigger because I know he means every word of it. Some people just can’t take a joke.

      AS THE GUESTS straggle out, Abbot comes into the surveillance room.

      “What do you think?” he says. “Did you see or hear anything?”

      I shrug.

      “It was all manicures and shrimp puffs down here. Did you pick up anything, Willem?”

      “I’m not the Wormwood expert,” he says.

      “Still, did you notice anything unusual?” says Abbot.

      “No, sir.”

      “Me neither.”

      I pick a thread off my coat.

      “I think you owe me cake, boss.”

      “No,” he says. “Charles Anpu. Did you see him?”

      “He tried to strangle a waiter, so yeah.”

      “At council meetings, he’s been pushing us to contribute to Regis International. There’s a good chance they’re connected to Wormwood, which means that he might be connected too.”

      “Where did you hear that?”

      “I can’t say.”

      “I didn’t know the augur had confidential informants.”

      “Then you don’t know much about politics.”

      “No. I guess I don’t.”

      He leans on the edge of the console.

      “Then trust me. I know people who know people and they seldom steer me wrong.”

      “Okay. Say you’re right. Why don’t you just have Willem and his boy band grab him?”

      Abbot shakes his head.

      “It doesn’t work like that. Even for the augur, making accusations against a family without solid proof would be dangerous. It could start a civil war.”

      That sounds about right for the Sub Rosa clans. They’re like the Hatfields and McCoys, but with helipads on the roof.

      I look up at Abbot.

      “What do you want me to do about it?”

      “Go. Follow them. Sneak into the Anpu estate and see what you can find out.”

      “How am I supposed to do that?”

      Abbot holds up his hands, frustrated.

      “I know you have powers. You can walk through walls and shadows.”

      Willem does his snort laugh.

      “Not anymore,” I tell him. “I lost that trick when I saved the world a few months back. Remember when I did that, Willem?”

      He plays with his console, ignoring me.

      “All right. But you can tail someone. I know that,” Abbot says.

      “Your security can’t even handle that?”

      “I can’t be seen to be directly involved.”

      I take out a Malediction.

      “This is my punishment for falling asleep at meetings, isn’t it?”

      “You’re not allowed to smoke in here,” says Willem.

      “Don’t worry. I’m leaving.”

      I look at the monitors. Get up. The boat looks pretty deserted.

      “They’ve got a head start. You have any idea where they’re headed?”

      “Musso and Frank’s,” Abbot says. “Get there and stay on them. Follow them wherever they go. If you can’t get into their home, well, we’ll figure something else out.”

      “What kind of car am I looking for?”

      “A silver Rolls-Royce Phantom.”

      “Lucky Charlie.”

      I hold out my hand to Willem.

      “It’s been a little bit of Heaven spending these hours with you. Tell Audsley hello from me.”

      Willem shakes my hand and says, “I’ll give him your regards.”

      “Now, Stark,” says Abbot. “Time to earn your money.”

      We go upstairs together. The sea air is crisp when we get on deck. I take a deep breath.

      “There are worse places to tail someone than Musso and Frank’s. I could use a martini.”

      “Not a chance,” says Abbot. “Stay outside and watch from there. Inside, you’re a bit …”

      “Noticeable.”

      “Exactly.”

      I head for the walkway leading to the pier.

      I call over my shoulder, “You still owe me cake.”

      “Go,” shouts Abbot. “Now.”

      I wave and head to the parking lot. Slide into the Catalina and sit there for a minute. Charlie might have a head start on me, but if he’s going into Hollywood he’s going to get stuck in the same traffic I am. That’s going to cut his lead pretty thin. Assuming he took the freeway, if I take surface streets, I might just beat him to Musso’s.

      I point the Catalina inland, away from Abbot, Willem, and all their upper-crust intrigue. They’ll be talking about me for a while. Abbot getting an employee report from his guard dog. I know what Willem’s going to say, but I wish I could hear Abbot. The guy hasn’t done me wrong yet, but sending me after the Anpu family alone, I can’t help wondering if I’m being set up for something.

      THE MUSSO & FRANK Grill is legendary even by Hollywood standards. It opened in 1919 and has hosted more movie stars, literary types, producers, directors, and starry-eyed wannabes than all the movie studios that have ever existed. Back in the day, Charlie Chaplain and Rudolph Valentino raced horses down Hollywood Boulevard to the grill to see who had to pay. Rita Hayworth, Bogey, and Bacall drank there. Orson Welles wrote there in his favorite booth. Dashiell Hammett, William Faulkner, and Raymond Chandler might have scribbled something, but mostly came to get wrecked. Musso & Frank’s has always been big with star-struck Sub Rosas too. For the classier families and the hicks with money, it’s their Bamboo House of Dolls, but without the jukebox.

      Parking on Hollywood Boulevard is ridiculous almost any night, but it’s deadly on the weekends. I dump the Catalina in a white zone across the street and pray the LAPD is too busy chasing jaywalkers to tow it.

      Musso’s has a parking lot around the back, which is great if you’re eating there, but not so great if you want to look for a particular car. If this was any other place in town, I might be able to blend in with the crowd and wander into the back. But being called a con twice in just a couple of days is a reminder that I don’t look like most people and would stand out like a pink unicorn if I tried to get back there. Of course, I could always cause a distraction. Use hoodoo to blow something up. But this doesn’t seem like that kind of assignment. I light a Malediction and wander by the front of the restaurant a

Скачать книгу