Water to Burn

  “It would depend on the situation, but that’s a possibility, yeah. We can work out the details when we need to. And speaking of details, I need to get started on my reports.”

  Ari looked as if he were thinking of saying more, then shrugged. “Very well. So do I.”

  I picked up e-mail from TranceWeb, most of it from NumbersGrrl. I printed those out, sans routing details, for Michael. When the doorbell rang, Ari let Michael in.

  Ari ordered pizza and salad on his expense account credit card. We all sat down in the living room to wait for the pizza delivery. I’d been thinking over how to break the news about Dad, but I’d decided that once again, there was no easy way. I took the letter out of the envelope.

  “Someone who can walk the worlds gave me this,” I told Michael. “Unfortunately, he’s too ill to teach you anything. He can’t even provide more details, really, he’s so sick.” I held up the letter. “You won’t recognize the handwriting, but it’s from Dad.”

  Michael reached for it like a striking snake. I gave it to him, then sat down next to Ari on the couch to watch him read it, which he did methodically, slowly, and twice. When he finished, he nodded as if he’d made a decision and looked at me.

  “Okay,” Michael said. “How are we going to get him out of there?”

  I realized that Aunt Eileen had spoken the simple truth. I had raised him right, after all.

  “Well, we can’t organize a jailbreak or anything,” I said, “but he mentions being paroled. It comes down to getting the collar off, I guess.”

  “We’ve got to find him first.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “There’s the pizza,” I said to Ari. “You need to go sign for it.”

  “Right.” Ari got up from the couch. “And I don’t need to hear you two discussing illegal activities.”

  I realized that I might have a future problem on my hands. I waited to point this out to Michael until I heard Ari clomping down the stairs to the front door.

  “Listen, not one word more,” I said. “What we’re going to have to do is help Dad violate the terms of his parole.”

  “Oh.” Michael looked stricken. “I guess that would seriously piss Ari off.”

  “Possibly. Leave all this to me.”

  “Sure.” Michael waved the letter in my direction. “Can I keep this?”

  “No, but I’ll make you a photocopy. I want Aunt Eileen to have the original. It’s up to her to decide what to tell Mom.”

  “Oh, right.” Michael shuddered. “Mom.”

  Ari came back upstairs with the pizza boxes. I gave him a vague smile and went into the kitchen for napkins and plates.

  We’d just finished eating when Aunt Eileen called Michael. She wanted him to come home and tend to his English homework. With my multifunction printer, I made two copies of Dad’s letter, one for him, one for me, and gave him the original, which I put into the manila envelope of e-mails.

  “Be careful with the letter,” I said.

  “You bet,” Michael said. “Aunt Eileen’s going to want to keep the real one.”

  Since Sophie had never seen a pizza, I bagged up a couple of slices for her, then walked Michael down to the front door and sent him on his way home. When I came upstairs, Ari was channel-surfing in the living room. We’d set up the TV opposite the couch. I was expecting that he’d be simmering, but he looked mostly bored as he clicked through the dismal offerings with the remote. I remained wary. Any minute, I figured, he’d start lecturing me on the need to follow the laws of whatever alien world had trapped my father.

  “Come sit down.” He clicked off the television. “Please.”

  I sat close to him but turned so I could see his face, not that his carefully arranged expression told me anything. His Qi read as neutral.

  “Wherever your father is,” Ari said, “is out of my jurisdiction. Completely and utterly beyond any sphere in which I’m authorized to operate as a police officer or in any capacity except one.”

  “Which is?”

  “Your bodyguard.” His mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “I thought I’d best remind you of that.”

  “I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

  When he held out his hand, I took it. I knew that we’d completed a bargain, even though I couldn’t find the words to define what that bargain entailed. I felt so grateful that another stake dropped into the picket fence, so quietly that I almost missed hearing it.

  CHAPTER 14

  I ENDED UP FILING MY AGENCY REPORTS EARLY the next morning. While I finished the last details, Ari phoned San Francisco General and heard that yes, Reb Ezekiel had died in the night. He called Itzak Stein to pass the news along.

  “He said he was sorry to hear it,” Ari told me afterward. “So am I, oddly enough. We may have been furious at the old man, but he was always part of our lives, even when we hadn’t seen him for years.”

  “I can see that, yeah,” I said. “My sympathies.”

  Ari glanced at his watch. “Our first appointment’s in an hour. How far away is Pacifica?”

  “Not very, but I’d better get my butt in gear and hurry anyway.”

  I put on the glen plaid skirt suit with the teal silk blouse, sensible low heels, and the official-looking shoulder bag for our quick tour of local police departments. Ari just wore slacks and took his sport coat rather than wearing the police suit. He had his Interpol ID; I had my cross-agency version. We introduced ourselves to various officers, who gave serious attention to our case of an internationally known blackmailer. All of them promised help when necessary.

  After each stop, we lingered in the safe territory of the police station parking lot while I ran scans. I never got a clear focus on Caleb. I could pick up the edge, as it were, of his Shield Persona. Beyond that, he disappeared into a cloud of mist. Now and then I heard the bubbling noise of air rising in water that possibly meant I’d caught a glimpse of Belial. As far as I could tell, he was sticking close to Caleb. I could only wonder why.

  “I don’t like this,” I said to Ari. “Something’s wrong, but I can’t find what it is.”

  “We’ll need to be very careful then,” Ari said. “I may have to make an arrest as we leave the restaurant. It’ll be harder for Donovan to sort things out for his father, unfortunately, but if it’s necessary—”

  “Yeah, go for it. You might want to warn Jack it could happen.”

  “I will, yes.”

  After the official introductions, we drove home under a dark gray sky. Rather than meeting us at the Boulevard, Jack stopped by our place first. Thanks to the force of karmic gravity, he had Dad’s old desk in the SUV with him, a solid oak number with drawers on each side of the kneehole. Kathleen had insisted he take it in with him. She’d supplied an antique oak captain’s chair and a couple of needlepoint seat cushions to go with it. Ari changed into jeans for the furniture moving job.

  While the guys unloaded the SUV, I changed into the gray glen plaid trousers with the teal sweater and a pair of blue suede athleisure shoes. After a quick look out the window at the sky, I also got out my burgundy raincoat. Between them, Jack and Ari carried the desk and the chair up the outside stairs and into the lower flat, which we were planning on turning into an office. With it came two big cardboard cartons of the things my mother had been keeping in it. Those they brought upstairs. I put them next to my desk in the living room for sorting later.

  “I bet some of these papers are in Irish,” I said. “If not all of them. I’ll have to get out the dictionary.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not fluent,” Ari said. “I’m assuming your father was.”

  “Yeah, but the family didn’t use it much. Not everyone’s as good with languages as you are.”

  While Jack went over the strategy for the meeting with Ari, I went downstairs to take a look at the desk, just out of nostalgia. Dad had found it at a garage sale, and I remembered how he, Dan, and Sean had all struggled to load it into his truck and get it home. Made of solid oak,
it stood over three feet high and had heavy drawers on either side of the kneehole.

  The men had left the drawers piled up on the floor. I put them back into their proper places.

  I had just finished sliding the last one in place when I felt someone watching me. I spun around and saw a transparent blue woman standing in the doorway to the living room. Long dark hair hung down to her narrow hips. She wore a long dress slit to reveal her heavy breasts. Since I had no talent for seeing ghosts and speaking with the dead, I assumed that I was merely objectifying the vibes of the person who’d committed suicide in the flat.

  “There’s one more drawer,” she said to me.

  “I don’t see one,” I said.

  “Oh.” She fixed me with a sad stare. “Too bad.”

  I raised a hand and smiled. “Go in peace,” I said.

  She smiled and disappeared.

  Ari knocked on the door of the flat and called out that Jack had just left for the restaurant. We followed in the Saturn. Ari carried the Beretta in his shoulder holster under his gray sport coat. He also took his beaten-up old army trench coat. I made a mental note to replace that at soon as I had a chance.

  We reached the Boulevard at 1:15, fifteen minutes early. I found a good parking place near the steps that led up to the entrance, then sat in the car and ran an SM:P on both Caleb and Belial. This time I received a misty image of Caleb driving on a wide street or narrow highway, on his way, I figured. Since he made no psychic response to my scan, I could assume that he hadn’t noticed it. I felt no contact with Belial at all.

  Jack had gotten a table for four in a quiet corner toward the rear of the open-plan restaurant. We sat down facing the door. The table stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling brown curtain near the kitchen and out of the main traffic aisle to the entrance, which ran slantwise between lines of maroon booths and banquettes. If Caleb decided to bolt and run, he’d have a difficult time making speed in the maze of chairs and customers.

  “I’m starving,” Jack announced. “The dog pack woke us up real early this morning, barking at a damn deer that came up to the fence. I had breakfast a long time ago. I’ve told the waitress we’re expecting someone else, but we could at least order. Have you guys eaten yet?”

  “No,” Ari said, “and I’m hungry, too. We know, of course, that Nola isn’t.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said.

  They both grinned at me, the swine. When the waitress came over, they ordered, and I got a caffe latte, made with skim milk, of course.

  And we waited. They ate, and I snagged a piece of Ari’s toast and even put jam on it. At 1:45, I ran another SM:P. Nothing. The restaurant began to clear out. We waited a bit longer while they finished their food. At 2:10, I realized the obvious.

  “He’s not coming,” I said. “You can call this an O’Grady moment or common sense, but something’s tipped the little slimeball off.”

  Ari and I exchanged a glance. We both could guess that Brother Belial was most likely the “something.” Jack, who knew nothing about the coven or my real job, started to swear like the ex-Marine he was, then stopped himself because the waitress was within earshot. She brought them more coffee. The busboy came and cleared the table. Just to make sure, we waited another fifteen minutes. No Caleb. Jack paid the bill.

  “What now?” Jack said.

  “Now we go to the police,” Ari said, “and request they get a warrant for his arrest. For that to happen, you’ll have to make a formal statement. Are you willing to do that?”

  Jack sagged in his chair and looked away.

  “If you make the complaint to the Pacifica police,” Ari continued, “and you have that right based on Sumner’s last known address, it’s highly unlikely that anyone who lives near your father will ever hear of this. Blackmail victims have the right to remain anonymous.”

  “But will my father have to make a statement?” Jack said.

  Ari drank the last of his coffee before he answered. “I’m not sure. Sumner never directly extorted anything from him. He played upon your fear of his being harmed and extorted money from you. Can you say how much, come to think of it?”

  “Over eight thousand. Not counting the current credit card bill, which is probably plenty.”

  “We’re definitely in the felony range, then. Blackmail’s always a felony, I should say, but a clever solicitor can get the charges reduced if the amount is small. At any rate, you’re the principal victim here.”

  “Sure am.” Jack drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “You know, I want to talk with my lawyer about this before I go to the police. It’s a cop out, I know, but shit, I just saw Dad, and he’s getting frail. He’s only seventy, but the cancer really took it out of him. I was hoping we could settle this without bringing him into it.”

  “That would have been best,” Ari said. “It’s your choice, but my advice would be to go to the police.”

  “If it was just me, I would, but it’s not. Look, I’ll do what my lawyer advises. I’ll call him from here and see if he can fit me in today. If he says file a statement, I’ll file. Shit!” Jack looked away again. “It would be Friday. I hope he’s still in the office.”

  “So do I,” Ari said. “Let me know either way, will you?”

  “You bet. Hey, Nola, thanks. I appreciate your help.”

  Out in the parking lot, Jack called his lawyer, who was willing to wait to start his weekend if Jack came straight in. The Donovan business interests were keeping the law firm in luxury, I supposed. Unfortunately, “coming straight in,” meant that Jack would have to drive to San Rafael out in Marin County. He promised us he’d call as soon as he and the lawyer had had their talk. We watched him drive away, then returned to our car.

  Before I got into the Saturn, I ran an SM:P on Caleb. I received a faint impression of him driving with the ocean to his right, that is, he was traveling south. I focused in and put some Qi behind the scan. The image clarified into a grassy cliff top. He seemed to be parking his car.

  “I wonder if he’s gone back to Pacifica to collect his stuff before he runs,” I said. “He told me he had maps and old books and important papers for his research.”

  “Good thought,” Ari said. “We could go take a look, but I don’t want you doing anything dangerous. If we apprehend him, leave him to me.”

  “Okay. And I don’t want to go anywhere near the beach. Belial likes the beach entirely too much. I don’t want to run into him until we’ve dealt with Caleb.”

  We drove west on John Daly Boulevard, which intersects with Skyline Boulevard heading south. While Pacifica lies reasonably near this intersection, I hadn’t driven out that way in years. I ended up taking the wrong turnoff and finding myself in a maze of suburban development. I finally reoriented myself—or re-occidented would be the better word, because I found a place where I could see the ocean—on a long, mostly empty street named Palmetto Avenue. This I could follow south to Pacifica itself.

  “We don’t want to get too close,” Ari said. “These situations are always difficult. We don’t know if he’s armed or not.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Here’s a turnout.” I slowed down and pulled over. “Let’s park, and I’ll get out and do another scan.”

  The turnout, on the eastern side of the road, proved to be the partially paved end of a decaying street. At one time, I supposed, a developer laid in the street, then for safety reasons broke off his plan to build houses along it. The west side of Palmetto abutted right onto the top of the sea cliff. Another bad winter like the one just behind us, and the blacktop would wind up on the sand below. Any houses built on the east side would have been next in line to go swimming. Even though we parked some fifteen yards away, I could hear the ocean fretting and gnawing at the base of the cliff.

  We got out of the car. The strip of half-dead paving led east up a slight slope into a cluster of low-growing trees, bent and twisted by the perennial wind. I ran an SM:Danger and felt a warning at some distance.

  “Something nasty’s
around here,” I said, “but it’s not strong enough to give me a SAWM or an ASTA.”

  “How close are we to Sumner’s old address?” Ari asked.

  “Let’s see.” I looked southward down the road. “Esplanade joins this road about a quarter of a mile down there. He’d be some ways along it, maybe another quarter mile. I’m not sure.”

  Ari swore in Hebrew and pointed at the sky. When I looked up, I saw a pale green Chaos light dancing just under the dark gray clouds.

  “Isn’t that interesting?” I said. “Let’s go up a little higher. I don’t want to go out on the cliff top itself.”

  “Quite right,” Ari said. “It looks unstable.”

  Weeds and slippery iceplant covered the slope, but we managed to scramble up to the crest. Behind us, to the northeast, stood a small cluster of houses. When I looked off to the southwest, I could see onto Esplanade and a row of dark gray apartment houses that were barely clinging to the cliff. I pointed them out to Ari.

  “Those look like the ones they’ve been showing on the TV news,” I said. “The red-tagged ones.”

  The Chaos light, flickering like a green beacon, dropped away from the high clouds and danced over one particular long dark roof.

  “Should we go investigate that?” Ari said.

  “No, because this whole thing stinks. Real Chaos lights always come in pairs or clusters.”

  “We’re being set up?”

  “Exactly that. Can you call for police backup? Tell them your government contact’s gotten information from aerial surveillance. She thinks that Sumner’s hiding out in one of the red-tagged buildings.”

  “Yes.” Ari pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll do that right now.”

  The fake Chaos light disappeared, just as if someone had heard us. I did a fast SM:Danger but picked up nothing. An SM:P for Caleb placed him approximately a half mile away. Waiting for us in the deserted building? Possibly.

  Far below the ocean muttered as the tide came foaming in over the rocks. While Ari called, I turned and looked down at the road where we’d left the Saturn. I was thinking only of leaving when I felt the first drops of water. Rain? I looked up, but I saw no rain, only clouds. More drops, more water from above—but my feet felt wet. I looked down and saw water welling up out of the ground where I stood. Water dropped from the sky. It oozed through my clothes, soaked my body, ran dripping from my hair. A trickle ran into the corner of my mouth. Saltwater.