“Of course to avenge my friends.”
“And this is more important than money?”
“It is to me. Mr. Sterling... Jared — can we do business? Do you want your necklace back?”
“Well, of course I do... gentlemen!”
The door unlocked and Morales and Maurer stepped into the sitting room. In black suits with ties, the guards wore remembrances of their first meeting with Max: Maurer had two black eyes and a bandage over his broken nose, and Morales sported assorted bruises. They glowered at her.
Sterling’s voice turned cold. “Here’s my offer: give me back what belongs to me and I won’t have you killed.”
“Very generous — but why should I think you’d hold up your end of the bargain?”
He smiled at her, no teeth this time; then said, “Because you have unique abilities, my dear... and I could use someone of your talents on my payroll... Isn’t that right, boys?”
But neither Maurer nor Morales expressed an opinion.
“I fly solo,” she said. “As for the rest of your offer... thanks, but no thanks.”
“If you don’t return my property, I’ll see to it that your death is a prolonged, unpleasant one. If you do return my property, I’ll allow you to live. Who knows? You may even change your mind about my employment proposition.”
“I’ll pass.”
“My dear, it’s the best deal you’re going to negotiate. You really should take advantage of my generosity.”
She almost laughed. “You really think you can make all of this fly? I mean, I have kicked the ass of both these guys and more, already.”
With a shrug and an openhanded gesture, Sterling said, “That is true... but we have allies in town now; we’ve taken on certain... reinforcements... Morales! Fetch our friend, will you?”
Morales nodded and stepped out of the room.
“You should have dealt with me, Max,” Sterling said.
Max...
“How the hell do you know my name?” she demanded.
Morales came back in and took up his position to one side of the door, Maurer on the other. Moments later a third man strode in, rather tall, thin, rock-star handsome, wearing a brown leather, knee-length coat over a light blue silk shirt and black leather pants.
Kafelnikov!
Sterling said, “I believe you know my friend Mikhail.”
The Russian’s smile was as reptilian as his snakeskin boots. “Enjoying the party, Max?”
She flew to her feet... and felt the weight of a pistol barrel against her ribs.
“Now, now,” Sterling said, on his feet behind her, whispering into her ear, like a lover. “Let’s not be rash...”
Kafelnikov and the two guards were drawing their handguns, as well. She shook her head a little. “I think I already have been... rash.”
“So it would seem.”
Even as the nose of his automatic dug into her ribs, he kissed her neck, and she felt a chill — not a good chill. “Now, my dear,” he said, “I want several things from you... the Heart of the Ocean... the Grant Wood... and one more item...”
“That’s everything,” she said coldly. Her eyes were on the Russian, who was smiling at her, seemingly amused by the hatred she was glaring his way.
“Not everything,” Kafelnikov said, and he stepped forward, a few feet from Max. “Tell us about the other one.”
Max frowned. “What?...”
Sterling whispered lovingly: “Tell us about your partner... the one who broke into my place of business.”
Max felt the blood drain from her face. “Partner?”
Sterling came around alongside her, the nose of the gun making the trip, too. “Don’t be coy, dear — it really doesn’t suit you... Who is he?”
Biting off the words, she said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Morales!” Sterling barked. “Show her.”
The guard stepped forward and handed her another security-cam picture.
This one showed a young man standing in the middle of fallen security guards. And once again she found herself studying a grainy picture of a young man who might be her brother — Seth? Hope leapt within her, despite her situation.
With his free hand, Sterling snatched the photo from her. “Now, dear — tell us where he is, and what the two of you have done with my property.”
“Don’t know the guy,” Max said, with a shrug. “Sorry.”
Kafelnikov laughed harshly. “I’ve seen you in action, Max... and I’ve seen the tape of this man, tossing cops around like dolls. If you two are not brother and sister, you at least shared the same teacher.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think we’re brother and sister?”
The Russian shrugged. “You move the same, you fight the same — you move your hands, your feet, your heads the same. Either you’re family or you trained under one master, most likely at the same time. Either way, you know this man. Who is he, and where is he?”
“You want to know this,” Max said to the Russian, “because your business partner here got robbed... or is there a reward for this rebel? Maybe one for me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kafelnikov said, the lie surprisingly apparent.
Max glanced sideways at her host. “Ask him about his friend Lydecker — ask your Russian pal here what kind of art Manticore’s collecting.”
Sterling glanced at Kafelnikov. “What’s she babbling about?”
“Nothing — that’s all it is... babble!”
Max was smiling, and Sterling, the two bodyguards, and even the Russian were clearly disconcerted by the absence of fear in her demeanor.
“This was a great party,” she said. “Mr. Sterling, I owe you a big debt of thanks. You, too, Mikhail. I got exactly what I came for, and so much more.”
“What the hell’s she talking about?” Sterling demanded. “Who is this Lydecker?”
Sterling’s attention was on the Russian, and that was where the security guards were looking, too; only the Russian’s eyes were on Max, but his gun hung loosely at his side. When she hadn’t struck immediately, the men’s guard had flagged, got relaxed, sloppy, making this as good a time as any...
She just wished she wasn’t wearing these damn tight pumps.
Her hand moved so quickly, no one reacted; she twisted Sterling’s pistol away from her ribs and he reflexively pulled the trigger, the slug going wild, sending the Russian and the two guards ducking for cover. She broke Sterling’s ring finger, and got the gun out of his hand as he screamed in pain and surprise.
Then she took out the clip and, in one fluid move, brought the pistol up and pitched it like a ball at Maurer, just as he took aim at her. The pistol broke the guard’s nose (again), turning his face into a wet crimson mask as he sagged to the floor.
She elbowed the collector in the face, stopping his screaming by knocking him cold. She moved away from the couch, the curtained window to her back, as Morales came at her with a stun rod; but she dodged, wrenching it from his grip as he swept by her, and — with a helpful push from Max that lost his balance for him — Morales tore down the curtain and crashed through the window.
Spinning, she saw Kafelnikov bring up his pistol, but as he fired, she dived. The bullet zinged through the window into the night as Max jammed the stun rod into Kafelnikov’s ribs. The pistol dropped limply from his hand and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Max stared down at him...
Zack or Seth would have killed him right there, Max knew; but she was unsure whether there was any benefit in taking revenge on an already beaten opponent. She hadn’t quite made her decision when gunfire ripped the room, as other members of the security force descended.