Deborah arrived with a tray holding two steaming mugs and a sugar bowl. Ruben took his coffee sweet. She reminded Ruben of a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. He grimaced. “Cardiologist,” he said briefly to Rule, rising as soon as Deborah left. He went to the inset circle on the floor, crouched, and activated it. “I think we won’t bother with the magic bomb this time,” he said as he straightened and returned to his desk. “Your presence should be sufficient. Mika said you have news. About the Bixton investigation?”
“No. I should have made that clear—sorry. Though I can update you on what Lily knows.” He felt a twinge of guilt, but it was probably not called for. Lily must suspect he’d keep Ruben informed. She’d made a point of informing Mika, after all, even if she had done it in a roundabout way.
Ruben waved that away. “I’d better hear what brought you here first.”
“It requires discussion, which is why I didn’t pass the details through Mika.” Mika could “speak” to anyone within the metro area without leaving his lair, and he checked in with Ruben frequently. For the rest of the ghosts, however, it wasn’t so easy. Unless the sender had mindspeech—which none of them did—Mika had to be fairly close to read his or her mind. Even then, the amount of mental noise in the city made it difficult for him to focus in on a single thought, so they’d been told to use a nonsense word to get Mika’s attention—a string of syllables that no one else on the planet would be concentrating on.
Fortunately, Mika was keeping to a schedule on his overflights of the city, which limited the amount of time Rule had to spend saying, “nininfalaha” to get Mika’s attention. “We lost Chittenden.”
“What happened?”
“He went to the mall. My men followed him, but lost visual contact. His scent led to an exit, but he was gone. That was four days ago, and he hasn’t returned to his condo. His car is still at the mall parking lot.”
“Ah.” Ruben tented his fingers. “I’ll have flights and car rentals checked. He may not travel under his own name, of course, but we’ll see what we can find out. Anything new about Jones?”
“He’s been on the move a lot, but my people have been able to keep up with him. James is in place in L.A., if you decide we should take Jones out.”
“I prefer not to use that option.”
“So do I.”
Neither of them wanted to kill Friar’s two lieutenants. Rule had no moral qualms about it; assassination was surely one of the most moral tactics one could employ in war, assuming it was done so innocent bystanders weren’t harmed. He suspected Ruben didn’t share his view, but the man would do what was necessary. However, at the moment Chittenden and Jones were more valuable to them alive. They hoped to find Friar through the two men closest to him in Humans First.
The aspect Rule had needed to discuss was their “throwaway”—a lupus who would attempt to infiltrate Paul Chittenden’s network, ostensibly as a spy, but really to see if Chittenden had some means of identifying lupi. If so, it would increase the difficulty for the assassins. Normally there was no way for humans to tell if a man was human or lupus without a blood test, but Friar had been allied with a sidhe lord until last month. They didn’t know what he might have acquired from the elf before Rethna’s death. It was possible Friar’s lieutenants had charms to detect lupi.
Their throwaway was a young Nokolai named James. Rule had watched him grow up. James’s job was extremely dangerous, and Rule wanted to give him every chance to complete it without dying. Benedict was handling that part of the operation, but needed to know what, if any, resources he could draw upon from the Shadow Unit. They discussed backup, communication, and extrication methods, then touched on other aspects of the war, including money. Finances were a key component of the battle on both sides. Then they switched to the investigation into Bixton’s death.
It didn’t take long for Rule to relay what he knew about it. When he finished, he glanced at his watch. “I need to get back.”
“Before you leave, I need to tell you that Humans First has applied for and received a permit to demonstrate near the capitol building in Albany.”
“Damn.” Rule’s lips tightened. “That moves it from ‘maybe’ to ‘almost certainly.’”
He referred to their suspicion that the hate group knew where the main clanhomes were in the United States—and intended to make them known to the public. Nokolai’s clanhome was already widely known, of course, but the others weren’t. At first they’d hoped that planned demonstrations in San Diego and Albuquerque was coincidence. Though there were clanhomes near those cities, there were none near the other places where rallies would be held. But Albany was only about eighty miles from Wythe Clanhome. Adding it to the mix suggested intent, not coincidence.
“I’m afraid so.” Ruben stood. “Rule, you can’t discuss our plans with Lily, but I won’t ask you to keep this visit from her unless you feel it’s necessary.”
Rule hesitated. “I think she suspects I’ll communicate with you, but would rather not have her nose rubbed in it.”
Ruben nodded. “How do you think she’s dealing with my revelations from Saturday? She seemed to accept the need for the Shadow Unit, but that’s several steps away from joining us.”
“I wish I could say I was optimistic, but understanding why we’ve chosen to act outside the law isn’t the same as doing so herself. It’s not like bending a regulation or overlooking a minor crime in order to prevent a major one. We’re asking her to give her allegiance to something other than the law.”
“To something in addition to the law.”
“I’m not sure she can see it that way.”
“I’ll continue to hope you’re wrong.”
So would he. Because he hated keeping secrets from his nadia, yes, but also because Ruben said they needed Lily. Needed her to go beyond tolerating the existence of the ghosts. Needed her to be one of them. This certainty came from Ruben’s visions, though Rule didn’t know the details. When asked, Ruben waved a vague hand and said sometimes disclosure altered the course of events. He also said they had to at all costs avoid putting too much pressure on Lily, that she had to come to this commitment on her own.
Ruben Brooks didn’t use language carelessly. When he said “at all costs,” that was what he meant. So Rule couldn’t tell Lily that unless she joined the Shadow Unit, the chances were excellent that over half the lupi in the country would be dead within three months.
FIFTEEN
DENNIS Parrott lived up to his name—lots of pretty feathers, and now and then something he said was actually pertinent. He was in his early fifties but looked younger—a slim man with a narrow face, perfect haircut, rimless glasses, pleasant voice, pleasant smile. Interviewing him was like talking to a magazine ad.
Glossy, Rule had called him. So far Lily hadn’t gotten so much as a peek beneath the polish. “But you don’t know anything about any of those crank letters the senator received.”
“I’m sorry, no. We never discussed that sort of thing. But you have copies, you said.”
“Of those that were turned over to the Secret Service, yes. There could be more.”
“You’d need to ask Nan about that. I’m afraid this is all the time I can give you today, but Nan will have passed on my request that the staff cooperate with you fully.”
Nan was Nanette Beresford, the senator’s secretary, a handsome older woman with a thick drawl and the proverbial steel-trap mind. She was arranging for Lily and Mullins to use a small conference room to question staffers.