The Nightingale Circus (4 page)

Spinner winced. That’s what they were, spare
parts. “Who should we ask for?”

“Big Dino. I’m the owner.” Big Dino put his
tools away and turned in Rake’s direction. “Do you need any
help?”

“Rake?” Spinner asked when his friend didn’t
answer.

“I’m thinking … Do you have any experience
with brain surgery?” Rake asked.

Big Dino bounced on the balls of his feet. “I
might … What do you have in mind?”

“We have a faulty implant that’s keeping us
paralyzed,” Rake said. “It needs to be removed.”

“Here?” Big Dino made an incredulous face and
looked around at the messy field.

“All you need is a scalpel and a pair of
tweezers. We can coach you.”

“I don’t know about that…” Spinner said.

Big Dino had tended to his injuries with
confident hands, like someone who had done this sort of thing
before and didn’t need to stop and think about it, but to let him
dig into his brain…

“Like you said, how much worse could he make
it?” Rake said with a tinge of irony in his voice. “But you’ll have
to do it on Spinner first,” he told Big Dino. “I’m lying on my
back, and I’m too heavy for you to turn me over. You don’t have any
enhancements, do you?”

“How did you know?” Big Dino’s thick fingers
slipped around Spinner’s head.

“Most people who work in the business don’t
use prosthetics themselves,” Rake said. “Now, you’ll find a scar on
the back of his head, right above the cerebellum. Cut along it,
peel the skin away, and remove the metal plate underneath. You need
to extract the third module from the right. Do
not
touch
anything else.”

The scalpel pressed against Spinner’s skin,
and he let out a hiss. No matter how many times the procedure was
done, it still hurt. The world blurred around him, and he lost
track of Rake’s instructions for a while. Conflicting orders fired
inside his brain, confusing his system. When his vision momentarily
blackened, instinct took over, and he pushed away the metal above
him and rolled on all fours, remaining in a defensive stance.

Big Dino froze with his hand raised, still
holding the faulty module with the tweezers.

“You alright?” Rake asked.

“Yes—” Spinner drew in a satisfying breath,
“—I’m fine.” With the interference gone, the pain caused by various
injuries became the central focus in his brain, but at least he
could move again.

He crawled up to Rake and tossed aside the
body lying on top of him. “Hello, handsome!” He grinned into his
friend’s blood-streaked face. The explosion had hit them from the
front, leaving its mark on their faces, arms, chests, and
shoulders.

Rake growled, and Spinner hurried to roll him
onto the side. Without enhancements, Big Dino would have never been
able to maneuver his over half a ton weight.

“Scalpel.” Spinner held out his hand.

Big Dino placed the scalpel in his open
palm.

“Tweezers.”

Big Dino handed him the tweezers, muttering
something unintelligible under his breath, obviously not used to
playing the role of a nurse.

The instant Spinner unplugged the module,
Rake rolled onto his knees and stood up, only to stumble because
his left leg had been so badly injured the bone was visible. He
scanned his surroundings and zeroed in on their savior’s bag.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Rake asked over his
shoulder while he inspected its contents.

Big Dino took one look at Rake’s bulky frame
that came close to matching his height even while on his knees and
shook his head, grinning. “By all means, help yourself.”

After some digging, Rake found a
twenty-centimeter-long screwdriver. He held it with both hands in
front of him and shoved it in the right side of his chest,
grunting.

“What-what are you doing?” Spinner asked,
puzzled. One extra chest wound was the last thing either of them
needed, but he made no attempt to stop him. Once Rake set his mind
to something, he couldn’t be stopped.

“I’m handling in my resignation.” Rake
pressed harder and turned the screwdriver, his features twisted in
concentration. “I didn’t sign up for this shit. I wanted to protect
people, not be killed by our own.” He turned the screwdriver again,
and when he removed it, it came out with a small tracker, still
covered in blood, attached to its end. “There.” He smashed the
device under his boot and left it there. “We can remove the other
parts that can be tracked later on. Are you coming?” he asked when
Spinner didn’t move.

“Uhh … yeah … now?” Spinner stammered. He
wanted to leave
now
? Of course, it was doable but … Damn, he
was going to miss some of the implants they would have to get rid
of. He’d been living with them for half of his life.

Sighing, he took the screwdriver from
Rake.

“Fascinating.” Big Dino clasped his hands.
“I’ve never seen someone performing the procedure on himself.”

“We have an elevated pain threshold,” Rake
said.

It didn’t stop Spinner from grunting when he
pulled out the tracker. “Done.”

“I may have something for you to cover that.”
Big Dino nodded at the puncture in Rake’s chest and retrieved a
spray can from the bag.

Rake sniffed its contents and sprayed a
generous amount on his chest then handed the can over to
Spinner.

“It itches,” Spinner said, resisting the urge
to scratch after he sprayed his chest.

“Yeah, well … we don’t sell it, and it does
the job.” Big Dino shrugged.

Now what?
Spinner looked at Rake. They
had some money put aside since the army provided them with
everything they needed during the service, but they couldn’t access
it any longer, not if they wanted to disappear. So, they would have
to start from scratch. A wave of nausea washed over him, and
Spinner swayed on his feet. He felt too old to start a new
life.

“You said something about a job earlier.”
Rake pulled on his tattered clothes. If he pulled any harder,
there’d be nothing left of them.

Big Dino eyed both of them pensively before
answering. “Yes. The offer still stands if you’re interested.”

“What does it entail?” Rake asked.

“I’ve got a workshop in the train we use to
carry the circus around, and we fix prosthetics for the locals when
we travel across the continent,” Big Dino said. “My assistants are
doing all right with the tasks I give them, but they’re not truly
gifted in this field. I could use some help from people with a good
understanding of the technical side of the business and who can
come up with new ideas. I do like experimenting myself quite a
bit.” He smirked. “And there’s good money in it.”

Money wasn’t an issue. But their security
was. After all, they were fugitives.

“Where does the circus travel?” Spinner
asked.

“All over Europe and part of Asia, too,” Big
Dino said. “We don’t stay long in one place. It’s the best way to
keep my crew safe. But you will need an act. Everybody has
one.”

“We would work in the shop,” Spinner said.
“Why do we need an act? Can’t we handle the security instead?”

“Sure, you can help with that, too.” Big Dino
nodded. “But if you want to try something new for a change, now’s
your chance.” His voice became alluring.

“I don’t know what we could—” Spinner
muttered.

Rake held out his hand, and the screwdriver
flew out of the bag and into his hand.

Show off
. Spinner rolled his eyes.
“And there’s that…”

“Nice.” Big Dino grinned, his eyes gleaming
with interest. He took Spinner’s hand in his to palpate his wrist.
His skin was rough and cool to the touch. “Magnetic fields, right?
I can work with this. How do you feel about knives?”

Spinner shrugged. He hadn’t used any since
his troubled youth, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t work it out. His
reflexes were good, and where they were lacking, the magnetic
fields would make up for it.

“The scars would have to stay then,” Big Dino
said. “I mean we’ll heal the burns, but keep cosmeticized scars. It
looks more realistic this way.”

This time, Rake shrugged. He had to be the
one person in the whole world who couldn’t care less about his
appearance.

“Very well … follow me, boys.” Big Dino waved
his hand at them. “There’s someone charming the guards for us
outside, and she doesn’t like to wait.”

Spinner chuckled. He hadn’t been called boy
in a long time.

“Place your bets.” The dealer’s voice rose
over the murmurs of the small crowd surrounding the table.

Nicolas considered ordering another drink,
but the waiter was nowhere in sight. Next to him, Lucille leaned
forward to place a small stack of chips on number four.

Her floral perfume tickled his nose, an
incentive to take her home sooner. After a delightful dinner filled
with Lucille’s charming personality and laughter, they had stopped
at the club for drinks and a game of craps. It had been a bad idea
because now she didn’t want to leave. She pouted when she lost and
cheered when she won, enjoying the experience to the maximum.

Lucille’s teeth bit into her bottom lip as
she watched the shooter roll the dice. Nicolas wanted to soothe the
abused piece of soft, pink flesh, preferably with his own lips, but
she didn’t allow any distractions while she played. The white cubes
bounced against the back of the table and then stopped. A second
passed before the blue lights showing the numbers lit on the
visible sides. Five. She’d lost.

“Damn,” Lucille muttered, and a corner of her
mouth twitched in annoyance.

It had taken her only forty-five minutes to
realize that, regardless of the type of the bet, if she bet more
than five chips, she lost. Anything less than five chips would most
likely bring her a win. She’d been convinced she figured out the
system, but it turned out she’d bet too high again, which didn’t
fit the pattern. She never rolled the dice herself and only placed
bets to increase her chances. She should have won.

And normally she would have if another player
hadn’t placed a big bet on the same number. The man in the charcoal
gray jacket had mirrored her bets for the past few rounds,
increasingly adding chips to the pile. Nicolas already had troubles
keeping it a cold table. He had no problem with helping her win a
few rolls. A happy Lucille would be more than generous later in
bed, but he didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention. So she’d had
to lose.

To comfort her, Nicolas placed a kiss on her
bare shoulder, appreciating once again the expensive dress’s
design. Her soft, chocolate-colored locks tickled his cheek. “Ready
to go?” he murmured.

It was getting late, and she only had two
chips left in front of her, so hopefully she agreed. If he stayed
much longer, he would be less prone to enjoy the rest of the
evening. Controlling not one, but two delicate devices smaller than
a fingernail hidden inside the rolling dice was taxing on his
strength. The whole process required more focus than dealing with
objects a hundred times bigger and heavier, and he’d had
enough.

“Not yet, just a few more bets,” Lucille said
with a determined smile. “I need to break even at least.” She held
out her hand. “Give me two hundreds.”

“I don’t carry money on me.”

“Of course you do.” Her palm stayed open.

With a resigned sigh, Nicolas pulled out his
wallet and handed her two bills. She didn’t need to bet much, but
she had a strong aversion towards losing.

“Thank you, darling.” Lucille’s smile was
full of promises when she took the money.

Nicolas leaned back in his seat, nodded at a
group of acquaintances, and signaled the waiter for another drink.
It would last him for twenty minutes, but not a second more.

A newspaper left discarded on a nearby table
caught his attention. The headline said,
Telecharger caught in
broad daylight in Rouen.
The police had picked up another one.
Nicolas stifled a groan. They were getting closer.

“Why don’t you play, too?” Lucille asked and
put four chips on six.

Nicolas frowned. “I don’t believe in
luck.”

The shooter hit six, and Lucille’s full lips
curled in a pleased smile.

Exactly twenty minutes later, they walked out
of the club into the cold, spring night. Lucille returned the
borrowed money on their way to the car. She was left with fifteen
coins and a big smile. It didn’t cost much to make her happy, only
his strength.

“You know, I think that table was broken,”
she said while he held the door open.

Nicolas’s lips lingered on her flushed cheek.
“I know.”

* * *

Sunday morning came too soon, and Nicolas had
to leave Lucille’s warm bed for the weekly lunch with his parents.
Crossing Toulouse at that hour was going to make him at least half
an hour late, but the extra minutes of sleep had been worth it.

With his older brother away surveying army
affairs and his younger sister studying in Paris, he was alone to
keep them company. Even so, he liked these intimate gatherings
despite the cold and severe dining room and his father constantly
picking on him. But he wasn’t a boy to let himself be intimidated
by it, so he didn’t flinch when his father gave him a disapproving
look. “You’re late.”

“But I’m here,” Nicolas said. “Hi, Mom.”

His mother presented her cheek, and Nicolas
kissed it before sitting at the table. She smiled and nodded at
Jeannette to bring lunch. The old maid shuffled her feet on the
polished floor, taking her time to make it to the kitchen. Things
were done the old way at Rieux Mansion.

“You look pale,” his mother said as she
wrapped the cashmere shawl tighter around her shoulders.

They had turned off the central heating too
soon this year, and the old house that had been in the family for
generations still felt like a freezer during the colder days. The
times were tough with war looming around the corner, and they did
what they could to save power and give a good example to the less
fortunate ones. Ah, the dreaded war…