Part 45 (1/2)

”What makes him unbeatable?”

”He's an instantaneous teleport. He can vanish quicker than anyone can move and reappear anywhere he wants to. Usually behind his opponent. He's also mean as h.e.l.l. He could be big stuff, but he likes to kill too much. He's content with being one of Kien's lieutenants. Not that he does badly for himself.” She toyed with her gla.s.s for a moment, then looked directly at Brennan. ”Are you an ace?”

Brennan said nothing. Their eyes locked for a long moment and then Chrysalis sighed.

”You have nothing. You're just a man. A nat. What makes you think you can take Scar?” she repeated.

”As you said, I'm a man. He's kidnapped the daughter of a friend of mine. I'm the only one left to go after her.”

”The police?” Chrysalis began reflexively, then laughed at her own suggestion. ”No. Scar, through Kien, has enough police protection. I take it you have no solid evidence that Scar has the girl? No. What about one of the other aces? Black Shadow, Fortunato perhaps . . .”

”There's no time. I don't know what he's doing to her. Besides”-he stopped for a moment and looked back ten years, ”this is personal.”

”So I suspected.”

Brennan drew his gaze back into the room. He stared hard at Chrysalis.

”Where can I find Scar?”

”I'm in the business of selling information and I've already given you plenty for free. That tidbit will cost you.”

”I have no money.”

”I don't need money from you. I do you a favor, you do me one.”

Brennan scowled. ”I don't like being in anyone's debt.”

”Then find your information elsewhere.”

The need to be doing something was burning in Brennan. ”Very well.”

She took a sip of her liqueur and regarded the crystal goblet, held in a hand whose flesh was as clear as the goblet itself.

”He has a big place on Castleton Avenue, Staten Island. It's isolated and fenced in and sits on extensive grounds. He likes to hunt. Men.”

”He does?” Brennan asked, his gaze thoughtful, considering.

”Why did Scar kidnap this girl? Is she special in any way?”

”I don't know,” Brennan said, shaking his head. ”I thought it was to keep her father quiet because he had seen Scar and Kien together, but the sequence of events is all wrong. Minh saw them together when he was following Scar, trying to pick up clues about the kidnapping. He told me that they took her for her 'b.l.o.o.d.y hands.' That mean anything to you?”

Chrysalis shook her head.

”Can't you get him to be less cryptic?”

”He's dead.”

She reached out, put one of her hands on his and something pa.s.sed between them. ”You probably won't heed my warnings, but I'll give them anyway. Be careful.” Brennan nodded. Her hand, invisible on his, was warm and soft. He watched blood pulse rhythmically through it. ”Possibly,” she continued, ”you'd like to discharge some of your debt?”

”How?” Brennan asked, meeting the subtle challenge of her tone and expression.

”If you survive your encounter with Scar, come back to the Palace, tonight. Don't worry about the time. I'll be waiting for you.”

There was no mistaking her meaning. She offered entanglements that he had avoided for a long time, relations.h.i.+ps that he had wanted no part of for years.

”Or do you find me repulsive?” she asked matter-of-factly in the lengthy silence that stretched between them.

”No,” he said more curtly than he had intended. ”It's not that, not that at all.”

His voice sounded harsh in his own ears. He had isolated himself so long from human contact that the thought of entering into any kind of intimate relations.h.i.+p was frightening.

”Your secrets will be safe from me, Yeoman,” Chrysalis said.

He took a deep breath, nodded.

”Good.” Her smile returned. ”I'll expect you.”

He turned without a word, and her smile slipped from her face. ”If,” she said so softly that only she heard the words, ”you can do the impossible. If you can beat Scar.”

III.

There were, Brennan thought, two ways to go about this. He could be surrept.i.tious. He could sneak into Scar's mansion, not knowing what security system he might have, and flit from room to room, not knowing what was in each room, not even knowing if Mai was in the building. Or he could just walk in, putting his trust in luck, nerve, and his ability to think on his feet.

He unmasked after he left the Crystal Palace and found a cab. The cabbie was reluctant to take him out to Staten Island, but he flashed a couple of twenties and the hack became all smiles. It was a long ride, by cab and ferry, and Brennan spent it in unhappy reminiscence. Is.h.i.+da would have disapproved, but then, Brennan knew, he had never been the best of the ros.h.i.+'s students.

He had the cabbie drop him off a block or so from the Castleton address that Chrysalis had given him, paid the fare, and gave the hack a tip that wiped out most of his cash reserves. As the cab pulled away he moved quietly in the shadows until he stood across the street from Scar's place. It was as Chrysalis had described.

The house itself was a hulking stone mansion set a couple hundred yards off the street. A few lights shone through scattered windows on each of the three floors, but there was no illumination on the outside. The wall that encircled the grounds was stone, about seven feet high, surmounted by strands of electrical wire. The small gla.s.s-sided guardbox that stood by the wrought-iron gate held a single sentinel. It didn't look as if the security would be very difficult to breach, but the mansion was definitely too big to search room by room.

It would have to be boldness, nerve, and luck. A lot of luck, Brennan thought as he walked briskly from the shadows.

The man in the guardbooth was watching a small television set, a talk show hosted by a beautiful woman with wings. Brennan, who hadn't watched television since his return to the States, nevertheless recognized her as Peregrine, one of the most visible aces, the hostess of Peregrine's Perch Peregrine's Perch. She was watching an immense bearded man in a chef's hat doing something culinary. They chatted amiably as his large hands moved with surprising grace and Brennan realized that he was Hiram Worchester, alias Fatman, another of the more-public aces.

The guard was engrossed in Peregrine, who wore an undeniably attractive costume that was slit down nearly to her navel. Brennan had to rap on the gla.s.s door of the booth to get his attention, though he had made no effort to conceal his approach.

The guard opened the door.

”Where did you come from?”

”A cab.” Brennan gestured vaguely over his shoulder. ”I sent it away.”

”Oh, oh sure,” the guard said. ”I heard it. What do you want?”

Brennan was about to say that Kien sent him about the girl, but he bit the words back at the last instant. Chrysalis had told him that only very few people knew that Kien and Scar were connected. This flunky certainly wasn't one of them.

”The boss sent me. About the girl,” he said, keeping as vague as possible while making his voice a.s.sured and knowing.