Thieves Till We Die (11 page)

For some reason, Jonah found his eyes drawn to the statue of the man and demon again.

He blinked. ‘I, uh … I know that in the UK some American military bases aren't marked on the maps. Could Black House be something like that?'

‘Possibly. There's a good deal hidden in this world from all but the most prying of eyes.'

‘Like your treasure vault down in the wine cellar?' asked Jonah lightly.

Coldhardt looked at him stonily.

‘If you have to kill me 'cause I know too much,' said Jonah apologetically, ‘I figured I should tell you
before
I blow my last hours hacking into that low-orbit satellite.'

‘I had hoped you would live long enough to outgrow this flippant streak, Jonah. How do
you
come to know of the vault?'

‘Tye found that big hidden door down there. She showed it to me.'

‘And you believe I store my treasures behind it?'

‘I haven't told any of the others.' Jonah shrugged. ‘I just figured you should know that Tye knew about it. Because if Sixth Sun manage to make her talk, well … then they'll have found out about it too.'
And if that doesn't get you more fired up about doing something to rescue her
, he thought,
what the hell will?

But Coldhardt simply got up from his desk and walked calmly away. ‘Perhaps, for the time being, you'd restrict your curiosity to the spy satellite's IP
address, and the relevant co-ordinates. I want to know more about this Black House.'

Subject closed
, Jonah surmised.
For the time being
.

Tye lay on the bed in her dressing gown, still and quiet in the darkness, listening to Ramez breathe beside her. They'd had the lights down low, soft music playing. Then the lights had suddenly flicked off into blackness, the hi-fi went dead. And yet in the darkness Tye had felt suddenly exposed. It came down to just the two of them, their sweat, Ramez's hoarse breathing.

And it was suddenly like it had been four years ago, half-wanting him, but always wary of how far to let his hands wander, of how far to let herself go. ‘
Give a boy what he wants and he's gone tomorrow
,' she'd heard the older girls say. ‘
Hold out on him and he'll be back again and again
.' And Tye had never given him what he wanted and look, here was Ramez back again, only it was pure cotton and silk they were lying on, not the bumpy backseat of some crappy car he'd hotwired, and his fingers were way too –

‘Hey.' She'd squirmed clear of him, panting softly. ‘Who turned out the lights?'

‘Power's out, 's'all,' he'd murmured. ‘They'll turn back on in a sec.' He started kissing her neck hungrily. ‘And so will you.'

She'd held herself dead still. ‘Can we slow down?'

Ramez had reluctantly thumped back down on to his back, his breath coming in deep, rapid pushes. Only now, minutes later, was it starting to slow.

Tye could feel his frustration. He'd wanted to jump her from the moment she'd woken up in this place;
that much was obvious. But she'd never let him go all the way before and that wasn't about to change now – no matter what he said about wanting to make the most of every moment they had together, and no matter how much he really seemed to mean it. Because she didn't trust the undercurrents in this situation. They threatened to tow her out with him into some cold, uncharted place. Some place she could wind up lost.

‘When d'you think you'll feel ready?' Ramez asked bluntly.

She rolled on to her side. ‘You know, I love it when you act so romantic.'

‘How much more romantic can I get?' he snapped. ‘We went out last night like you wanted. Today I let you lie in, got you breakfast in bed –'

‘Made by your bodyguards.'

‘– champagne by the bucket load, bracelet of Akoya pearls, watch chick-movies with you, play with your hair … and
still
you wanna wait?'

‘I'm waiting for you to tell me what this is really all about.' She turned back to face him. ‘I've been kidding myself I didn't need to know. That I should just stay in the moment. But that's not me, Ramez. I could have run out on you a dozen times these last two days and I damn nearly did …' Tye stared at him searchingly. ‘But I still care about you. I care way more than I should, but I guess that's just the way it is.' She swallowed hard. ‘So for God's sake, won't you just come out and tell me whatever the hell it is you did or sold to land your dumb ass in the high life?'

There was silence for a while, save for their breathing. Then Ramez pulled his lighter from his jeans
pocket and grabbed a tealight from the table. Soon an orange glow flickered into the room, casting spectral, hazy shadows over the wall.

‘Guess we've all got to move on sometime,' he said at last.

‘Where are you moving on to?'

‘Maybe shuffling off's a better way to put it.' He looked at her, his eyes glistening. ‘Point is, I want you, Tye. That's all I want now, before I have to go.'

Damn, his eyes could melt chocolate. ‘And what happens to me then?' she asked him quietly. ‘I'm just dumped, left behind?'

He half-smiled, but a tear fell from his left eye. ‘There's no way I can take you with me, sugar-girl.'

‘Oh my God,' she murmured, as the realisation hit her like a fist. ‘You're ill, aren't you?'

He looked away, his voice soft as the shadows. ‘I guess you could say I haven't got long.'

She placed her hand on his bare shoulder, feeling sick. ‘What is it? What's wrong with you?'

His smile seemed bitter. ‘We all got to make sacrifices in life, right?'

Suddenly a loud click from outside the room made Tye jump. ‘What was that?'

‘Sounded like the door.' He peered into the gloom, then let his head fall back on the pillow. ‘Just one of the guys going out for something.'

‘Oh, Ramez, can't we just get out of here together? If you're sick I can get you help, Coldhardt can fix you up with the best doctors –'

‘You can't go back to him, Tye,' Ramez told her, pushing himself up on one elbow. ‘You mustn't.'

‘Why not?' She stared at him, her head hot and spinning. ‘Jeez, Ramez, would you try making sense for five seconds?'

He stared back at her, his eyes dark and intense. ‘Here's something that makes sense,' he whispered, and pressed his lips against hers.

And though her heart felt like it was splitting, Tye gave herself up to the kiss.

Con took the steps to the top floor, leaving the sprawled body of the security guard at the base of the stairwell. Some people were just too stubborn to be mesmerised. She'd tucked a fifty-dollar bill into his pocket to say sorry for the tap on his head – then pulled it back out and given him thirty. It was possible to get too sentimental about things.

She emerged through the fire door on to the penthouse approach and checked all was quiet. Then she had to duck back out of sight as two large, hulking men emerged and crossed to the window at the end of the landing. They peered out, perhaps looking to see if neighbouring buildings were also out of power.

With a sinking feeling, Con saw the men exchange glances and walk back down the corridor. She quietly re-opened the fire door and peeped round to see where they had gone.

And then she swore.

Patch gave a silent cheer as the last of the dials locked into place and the bolt fully retracted. The safe door swung smoothly open.

‘I don't believe it,' snarled Motti. ‘
Still
no
goddamned sword!'

Patch reached in and pulled out the safe's only contents. ‘It's like a book or something!' The cover was thin wood decorated with turquoise discs. Opening that, he found the ancient pages unfolded concertina-style, a bit like a modern map; but they were made from some sort of animal skin, daubed with weird drawings like those on the Aztec medallion. ‘What the bleedin' hell is it?'

Motti grabbed the book and tucked it up his shirt-front. ‘After all this dicking around, we're taking it with us whatever the hell it is.'

‘Uh, Mot?' Patch felt his heart sinking into his shoes. ‘I think the Ugly Brothers there might have something to say about that …'

A huge man stood framed in the bedroom doorway, an even bigger bruiser just behind him. They advanced into the room, fists raised and clenched.

‘Have you come to fix the lights, then?' Patch asked brightly – as Motti hurled his torch at the first guy's head. The guy ducked, so it smacked into his mate just behind him. The blow did nothing to slow him down; he lumbered on towards Motti while the first guy came running for Patch.

Quickly, Patch flipped up his eyepatch, scooched out his false eye and rolled it into the man's path. Face twisting in revolted surprise, the man slipped on the oversized marble and fell heavily to the floor.

The other man had caught hold of Motti and was crushing him in a bearhug. Patch jumped on to his back, trying to grab him round the neck. Angrily, the guy shrugged him off – but as he did so Motti broke free of his grip, punched the guy twice in the mouth and gave him an almighty shove backwards. With a shout the man overbalanced and landed slap bang on his mate.

‘Come on, cyclops,' gasped Motti, ‘we're done.'

‘Where'd my eye go?' Patch checked quickly about the floor. He liked that eye, it had his best picks inside. But he was too slow, one of the men grabbed hold of his ankle and twisted it round. With a yell of pain,
Patch went down.

As he fell he caught a crazy glimpse of long bare legs, blonde hair and a frying pan fleeting past. A second later there were two ringing clangs and the grip on his ankle relaxed.

Patch pulled himself free to find Con was standing over him, one eyebrow raised, still wielding the pan. Both blokes were out cold, and looked set to stay that way.

‘'Ere she is,' he said dreamily. ‘The domestic goddess.'

She dropped the pan. ‘I think I am just practical, yes?'

‘That was such a dumb fight,' said Motti grumpily. ‘Slipping them up, putting them on their butts, socking 'em with frying pans. That's just embarrassing, man. Coldhardt should ditch us and hire Charlie Chaplin.'

‘Charlie Chaplin wouldn't look as good in a skirt,' said Patch, grabbing his eye from the floor. ‘He's dead for a start.'

‘You two could well have joined him,' Con said pointedly. ‘But was it worth it?'

‘Oh yeah.' Motti patted the bundle beneath his shirt. ‘We got us some Aztec comic book or something. Big whoop.'

‘Where's the sword?'

‘Ain't here. Unless one of these jokers is hiding it up their ass.' He glared at the fallen men. ‘They're the guys I saw next door.'

Con nodded. ‘And they had keys to get in here.'

‘Then I'm guessing they're more than just caring
neighbours,' said Motti. ‘Next door must be a Sixth Sun hangout too.'

Patch caught his breath. ‘Then maybe the sword's in there?'

‘We go and see, yes?' Con crouched beside the biggest guy and started rummaging in his trouser pockets.

Patch sighed. ‘That git's got further than I ever have and he never even bought her a drink.'

Con produced the keys, then led the way back out of the penthouse and across the corridor. A few seconds later she had the door open, and Patch piled in after her and Motti.

The hallway flickered with pale, greasy light from three oil lamps ranged at intervals. In the middle of the room, some slim and swarthy bloke stood angry and incredulous. ‘What the hell –?'

Con skipped quickly forwards and high-kicked him in the chest. He gasped and fell backwards against the wall, apparently winded – but as she closed in to send him to dreamland he slugged her with a vicious uppercut to the chin. She tumbled to the floor. Motti leaped over her body and booted the guy in the family jewels, following it up with a punch to the jaw that floored the son-of-a-bitch. But as he knelt to check the guy would be no more trouble, a black girl swept out of the main bedroom in a silky white dressing gown and kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling.

‘Tye!' Patch almost screamed. ‘Christ on a bike, it's Tye! She's here!'

‘Guys …?' About a hundred emotions flickered over her features in turn – shock, pleasure, confusion,
alarm … Patch started forward, ready to grab her and hug her, but hesitated when she crouched protectively over the bloke on the floor, cradling his head. ‘He's out cold.' She looked angry and baffled. ‘Motti, what the hell were you doing?'

‘What was
I
doing?' he gasped, clutching his jaw. ‘Jeez, Tye, you nearly knocked my frickin' teeth out!'

‘I heard Ramez shout, I thought someone was …' She shook her head, like it didn't matter. ‘What happened to Con?'

‘
He
happened to her,' said Motti, dropping to check she was OK. Con was stirring now, a little dribble of blood oozing from the corner of her mouth.

‘Ramez didn't know who she was,' Tye said defensively. ‘I mean, come on, this is his place, you guys just burst in here …'

‘Oh, sorry, I'm sure!' said Patch, hurt and confused.

‘Where's Jonah?' Her wide dark eyes looked suddenly fearful. ‘Is he here?'

‘No, he's back with Coldhardt.'

She looked back down at Ramez, flustered. ‘How did you find me?'

‘It was Cortes's sword we were sent after.' Motti helped Con to her feet. ‘It was bought by Sixth Sun and delivered to their place next door. We just broke in, but it ain't there.'

‘Do they keep it here?' Patch added, glancing about nervously.

‘Sixth who?
What?
' Tye put her hand to her forehead, looked genuinely lost. ‘There must be some mistake.'

‘Right,' said Motti. ‘And when those two big guys
who were hiding in here came over and tried to kill us –'