The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (85 page)

“No. Please lock the door on your way.”

Slamming the door behind her, Eva stood for a moment in the hallway. There was no reason to feel slighted, she told herself. It was a business relationship and he wasn’t her type, anyway.

Having momentarily convinced herself that she was better off without him, Eva van der Vaart hurried out of the building, already planning what she was going to spend her newfound wealth on.

* * *

The Peregrine flipped through the papers, his eyes raking in the names and details. He’d kept meticulous notes on who had been invited to the party at his house and as he sat in the Aerie, he felt certain that one of those names would strike a chord and make some sense of the Flock’s warning.

After talking with the rest of the Claws team, he’d asked Rachel to fly over to his home and pick up the guest list. She’d done so and he’d then squirreled himself in the Aerie’s kitchen. He was so engrossed in the list that he didn’t even notice Sally entering the room. She watched him for several moments before finally clearing her throat.

Max looked up, noticing that Sally was still in her Revenant uniform, though she’d ditched the mask and pulled back the hood, letting her hair fall freely around her shoulders.

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

“Not really. Just trying to put a few pieces of a puzzle together.”

Sally came to sit near him. They’d known each for years, as Sally had worked for him upon moving to the States. When she’d picked up her father’s mantle as Revenant, Max had believed in her, even when she’d had doubts about her own ability. “Are you really okay? I mean, that story you told us… about dying and coming back with a demon inside you…”

“A spirit,” Max corrected. He sighed. “It’s strange. But I can handle it. I’m more concerned with catching Garibaldi red-handed and figuring out who’s after me.”

“I thought you said it was Garibaldi who was behind all this.”

“I thought he was. I think he
is
behind some of it, but not all. I know how this will sound, but a flock of birds has been appearing to me lately. They told me that someone was trying to kill me, someone who was at my house for the charity ball. They said I’d recognize him because he’d been marked. Garibaldi was there, and I marked him with my signet ring. But now they say that it’s not him. But they won’t tell me who it is!”

Sally smiled. “You really think I’d have trouble believing in talking birds? Let me look over the list. Maybe I’ll spot something you missed.”

Max slid the pages over and leaned back in his chair. He looked remarkably youthful for a man who turned forty-six years old this year, easily passing for someone in their early thirties. But at the moment he looked weary and every bit his age.

Sally scanned the names, most of which meant nothing to her. She had only called Atlanta home for a relatively brief period of time and many of these people were old money, which meant they would have been easily recognizable to locals but not to anyone from out of town. But then her eyes came to a halt on one particular name and his face quickly flashed before her mind’s eye. “Jonathan Cairncross was there?”

Max leaned forward suddenly. “Yes. You know him?”

“Yeah. I do. The question is, how do
you
know him?”

“I met him about three months ago. He’d purchased property on an island off the Georgia coast and he invited Evelyn and me to his housewarming party. It wasn’t anything particularly personal—he invited virtually everyone with money or power in the entire state. I only saw him once the entire evening and that was at the beginning of the night when he went around and introduced himself to everyone. He struck me as a cold, distant figure, but that’s true of many businessmen. When we were making out the guest list for the charity ball, we made sure to send him a reciprocal invitation.”

Sally shook her head, her strawberry blonde hair dancing around her shoulders. “He made his fortune in blood diamonds. He helped fund the use of slaves to mine the diamonds and then paid off the warlords who controlled them. My father shut down Cairncross’s operation a year or two before I became the Revenant. We thought he was dead… but I guess he just returned to America and began laying low. The man was pure evil according to my father, and you’re right about him being cold. My father said that Cairncross never showed any emotion, not even when he was standing by and watching women and children being slaughtered. He’s completely unfeeling.”

“How is he marked?”

Sally reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled out a small wooden object that looked like a stamp of some kind. A skull and crossbones was carved into its flat surface. “The Revenants used to brand their enemies, like you do with your signet ring. They used a kind of dye that seeps deep into the skin, like a permanent tattoo. I haven’t really kept up with the tradition, but I still carry the equipment with me.”

“Cairncross bears one of these on his skin?” Max gestured towards the skull and crossbones, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes. My father usually placed the symbol behind the left ear. If a man or woman repented and lived the rest of their life honestly, it could be hidden from sight… but the bearer would always know it was there and remember. For those who tried to pass themselves off as reformed when they weren’t, my father would hunt them down and give them a second imprint—this one on the side of their face, for all to see.”

The Peregrine stood up quickly, is jaw set tight with agitation. “It’s time to go get some answers.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want you to take the Claws team to see Garibaldi. Break in if you have to. McKenzie wasn’t able to get him to talk, but he’s involved in something shady. I’m going to see Mr. Cairncross. If I remember correctly, he’s staying in the Peachtree Hotel.”

“You’re not going alone.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s overkill to send all of us to see Garibaldi? You can spare a few to come with you. Trust me, Cairncross isn’t the type to take lightly.”

Max relented, smiling softly. “Okay. Send the new folks with me so I can see them in action. You and the others can check on Garibaldi.”

Revenant sprang to her feet, already calling for her teammates. Max watched her go, glad to have such loyal friends… but the hunger was building within him again. It seemed to be coming sooner than it had originally. He touched his stomach, almost imagining he could feel the loa coursing through his veins. The sooner he was free of it, the better.

CHAPTER IX

A Clash of Evil

Garibaldi stood outside the hotel room door, just behind five burly gunmen, all holding handguns. Raptor was there as well, teeth bared. It hadn’t taken long to figure out where Eva had gone, and though Garibaldi didn’t know why Jonathan Cairncross would want the Ivory Machine, it didn’t really matter in the end. Nobody crossed Garibaldi and lived.

The master criminal lit a cigar and took a long drag on it before silently motioning that it was time to begin. One of his henchmen raised a booted foot and slammed it against the door, splintering the wood. A second kick knocked the door in and the men poured inside, Raptor in their midst. All of them came to a sudden stop when they saw what awaited them, however.

Cairncross stood facing them, his immobile face betraying not the smallest bit of surprise. On a table behind him lay the Ivory Machine, disassembled. Cairncross had his hands clasped behind his back, his black suit standing in contrast to the icy white of his skin.

Garibaldi noticed that his men seemed taken aback by their foe’s oddly collected nature and he stepped into the breach, seizing control of the situation. “I want that tinkertoy you’ve got behind you. You can hand it over and get away with your life or you can put up a fight, and I promise you, you’ll regret that. So step aside and let us take what belongs to us.”

A tiny flicker of some nameless emotion passed over Cairncross’s face, but it passed so quickly that Garibaldi wasn’t sure that it had actually been there. “I think not,” Cairncross answered in a deadpan voice. “As a matter of fact, I shall offer you the same deal. Turn around and go… and live. Stay… and die.”

Garibaldi laughed and his men joined in. “Kill him,” he said, turning his back on what he assumed would be a slaughter. A flurry of movement was followed by cries of alarm from his men, along with the sounds of heavy objects hitting the floor. A yelp of pain from Raptor finally brought Garibaldi spinning around.

Cairncross was kneeling, his arms wrapped around Raptor’s neck. He was obviously one twist away from killing the dog. The five men who had come with Garibaldi lay on the ground, each of them dead with no visible wounds.

“What the hell?” Garibaldi whispered.

Raptor stared up at Garibaldi with fear in his eyes. Cairncross increased the pressure on the canine’s neck, eliciting another whine. “I gave you an opportunity, Mr. Garibaldi. I am very disappointed that you did not accept it. I thought you smarter by far.”

“How did you do that?”

“I am master of several obscure forms of martial arts. A well-placed blow will fell even the mightiest of opponents.”

“Don’t kill him,” Garibaldi said, nodding towards Raptor. “Please. He’s very valuable.”

“You do not seem upset about the loss of your human companions. What makes this dog so much more important? Sentimentality doesn’t fit what I’ve heard about you.”

Garibaldi took a deep breath. He didn’t really like sharing his secrets but at the same time, he could tell that Cairncross would pick up on any lie he told. “He’s not a normal dog. There’s a German soldier’s brain in his head. And he can talk.”

Cairncross glanced down at the dog, which nodded as best he could in the thin man’s grip. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Raptor wheezed. “Doctor Hochmuller created a device that allows me to speak in both English and German.”

“Fascinating.” Cairncross gave a sudden twist, snapping Raptor’s neck. He tossed aside the corpse with disdain. “Making a mockery of God’s design is not amusing to me.”

Garibaldi’s jaw hung open with shock, which was quickly replaced by fury. He tossed aside his cigar and reached into his jacket, planning to pull out his own revolver. Cairncross moved like greased lightning, springing forward to grab Garibaldi by the arm. He flipped the bigger man aside like a child and Garibaldi landed hard on his back. Cairncross placed the heel of his shoe against Garibaldi’s throat and applied just enough pressure to make the criminal’s eyes begin to bulge. Garibaldi gripped the other man’s foot, trying in vain to dislodge it.

“Now, Mr. Garibaldi,” Cairncross said, his voice betraying not the slightest hint of emotion. “You and I are going to have a civilized conversation. You will be silent for most of this, merely nodding your head at the appropriate moments. When I give you leave to speak, you may do so… but until then, you shall listen. Agreed?”

Garibaldi managed to nod his agreement but Cairncross did not lessen the pressure on his throat.

“Good. First, let me say that I admire your tenacity. You emerged from prison a stronger man. You seized power in this city with a ferocious fervor and you have the will to hold it together for some time… but not forever. Your weaknesses will be your undoing. That girl you raped, the agent of the Asian gangs—she will not rest until you are dead. She had already begun looking for assassins who can kill you.”

Garibaldi stared up into the other man’s eyes, shocked that Cairncross could know so much.

As if sensing Garibaldi’s thoughts, Cairncross finally stepped back, allowing Garibaldi to take several huge gulps of air. “I pay attention, Mr. Garibaldi. I listen and I learn. That’s how I tracked down Doctor Hochmuller and the Ivory Machine.”

“What do you want?” Garibaldi wheezed. “You want in on the action? You want to be the big man in charge?”

“I am no gangster, Mr. Garibaldi. I am sometimes lumped into such classifications, but only because my methods sometimes obscure my true purpose. I am trying to save the world, not destroy it.”

“I don’t understand,” Garibaldi said, slowly rising to his feet. His eyes drifted over to Raptor’s corpse and he felt a pang of regret. It wasn’t that he cared for the creature, but it was a valuable commodity that had been wasted.

“I am not surprised. So few do.” Cairncross clasped his hands behind his back again and moved towards the Ivory Machine. “This world is controlled by governments who, in turn, are controlled by big business. This is a condition that will only worsen in the coming decades. Big business cares nothing for the human condition… it is driven by greed and by a desire for control. Governments like to tout their ideals but in truth, they do what is expedient—just as their business backers would do. For instance, the United States likes to paint their role in the war as that of the hero. Since winners write the history, this will continue to be how they are portrayed. But if the Germans were so foul, then why are so many finding new careers with our own government? Those men standing trial at Nuremberg are scapegoats and nothing more. If they were scientists or possessed some skill which might aid us in our growing rivalry with the Russians, they would have been given a second chance.” Cairncross paused and looked at Garibaldi. “It’s the same as what you’ve done, allying yourself with Hochmuller and utilizing his work, for your own financial benefit.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “The war’s over.”

“Hmm.” Cairncross picked up the components of the Ivory Machine and began rebuilding the device. His hands were a smooth blur of activity and Garibaldi was once more dumbfounded. Within a minute, the Ivory Machine had been assembled once more. “I would like to liberate humanity from the yolks of government slavery. I built a financial empire off the blood and sweat of Africans. I have stared death in the eye and found myself bearing the marks of my sins. But in the end, all that I have done will be worthwhile. I shall bring low the liars who lead us and I shall reluctantly take their place until our society produces leaders who are fit for the role.”

Garibaldi chuckled. “Oh. So you want to run things, but you’re too much of a pansy to admit it. You’re just like me, only with fewer guts.”