“With money… or something more?” Main looked past Burkard and at Crowley when he asked this.
Crowley smiled, liking the fact that Main recognized that there were far more important things than simply monetary power to be gained here. “I will take care of you, Doctor Main. You have my word on that.”
Main seemed satisfied with that response. “Shall I have Jacobs and the others rounded up and brought to you?”
Burkard was about to say that Main’s suggestion was exactly what he wanted. Crowley, however, spoke first and his answer was quite different. “No. Leave them be for now.” Crowley sniffed the air like a dog. “There is something very powerful here… I can smell the brimstone.”
“It’s in the basement,” Main said, excitement lacing his words. “I found it when we were first building the clinic. It was quite a revelation. Before I came here, I was a firm believer in science. The supernatural was merely a sign of mental illness… but now I know differently. Mankind is just pawns on the great chess board of existence.”
“Too true,” Crowley said. In truth, he disagreed with Main’s conclusions. While the existence of the supernatural was an obvious one, Crowley didn’t believe this made him a slave to more powerful entities. Demons, aliens and the like were simply tools to be manipulated. Crowley was their master, not the other way around. “I wish to see your basement.”
Main nodded. “Of course. Shall I take all of you?”
“Not me,” Armitage said. “I want to get someplace and dry out. Maybe have a stiff drink. You got any booze on this island?”
“We have spirits, yes. I will make sure that you are given comfortable quarters. Mr. Burkard? Mr. Bane? Are you going to join him?”
Lazlo leaned close to his employer. “Unless you need me…?”
Burkard shrugged. “Go with Armitage. Make sure he remembers where his loyalty lies.”
Lazlo nodded, trying to hide his eagerness about avoiding a trip to the clinic’s basement level. He wasn’t sure what was down there but from the way Crowley spoke of it, it didn’t sound like anything he wanted to be near. As Burkard and Crowley left with Main, Lazlo fell in step with Armitage. Grau, who seemed to regard them with something like disdain, was leading them down the hall. As they passed by several of the locked rooms, they could hear the patients gibbering madly. Some screamed while others laughed, but most merely spoke nonsense words in a pleading tone.
“Burkard must pay you a pretty penny for you to put up with this kind of weird shit,” Armitage said, casting a sideways glance at Bane. “Or do you enjoy it?”
Bane shifted a bit, offering an uncertain smile. “He does pay me immensely well. And he gives me the occasional gift that suits my… desires. But I would not say I enjoy his dealings with the supernatural. They unnerve me.”
“They do a hell of a lot more than that to me. They disgust me.” Armitage waved a hand around him, indicating their surroundings. “I mean, an asylum is bad enough… but a damned hole that looks like the devil’s mouth down in the basement? Hearing clues from a dead girl’s mouth? Makes me feel better about stealing money from the orphan’s fund, I tell you.”
“The Damned Thing is supposedly capable of answering any question that is asked. There’s great power in that,” Bane said.
Armitage grunted. “And you’re willing to let your boss get all that for himself, huh? While you walk off with a pretty little faggot on your arm and a new gold watch?”
Bane colored a bit, embarrassed at how easily Armitage had pegged his sexuality. Then again, it wasn’t a particularly well-kept secret. “Mr. Burkard can have the power… he’ll also be stuck with the curse.”
“So you don’t have any interest in turning the tables on your boss and his good-for-nothing magician friend?”
“I have occasionally thought about betraying Mr. Burkard’s trust… but in the end, I would never do such a thing. I have seen firsthand how he handles those who have betrayed him and it is not a pretty thing.”
“And what if he was dead? No way for him to get revenge then.”
Bane was spared having to answer at that moment because Grau stopped outside an open door. Inside were a fireplace, a small table and several plush chairs. A cigar box lay on the table, revealing a wide array of expensive brands.
The room was not empty, however. Seated in one of the chairs, an open book on her lap, was Violet Cambridge.
Chapter XI
Violet looked up as the two men paused in the doorway. Only the briefest flicker of surprise touched her features and then she was cool and collected once more. “Armitage. Bane. Looks like the gang’s all here.” She closed the book she’d been reading and Bane caught the title on the leather bound volume: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. “Come on in,” she added, gesturing towards the two closest seats. “We can catch up on old times.”
Lazlo moved closer, fidgeting slightly. “Ms. Cambridge. I was not expecting to see you here.”
Violet leaned out of her chair, adopting a stage whisper that Armitage could hear. “Notice the dress, Lazlo? I’m here in disguise. Mind calling me Miriam?”
Armitage snorted and sat down, obviously more at ease with someone like Violet. They might hate each other but at least it was good, old-fashioned hate with nothing supernatural about it. “Your ass is in serious trouble, girl.”
“Do tell.”
Bane cleared his throat, looking at Armitage with wide eyes. He was obviously trying to do his best to convince the other man to keep quiet but Armitage was having none of it.
“Aleister Crowley and Johann Burkard are both here. They’re looking at some pit to hell in the basement right now.”
Violet felt her heart skip a beat. How had they figured out what she was planning? She was now doubly glad that she’d decided to wander a bit before checking on Clint again. She’d initially just wanted to explore a bit without Will hovering over her shoulder and had finally come to this sitting room when she’d realized that most of the institute was locked off. “I can’t imagine they’ll be happy that you told me this.”
Armitage nodded. “I suspect you’re right. Now I could just deny that I ever said anything… but there’s a catch, see? And his name is Lazlo Bane.” Bane’s tongue appeared, nervously swiping across both his upper and lower lips. He looked like he might bolt for the door at any minute. Armitage and Violet both took note of this and both allowed their hands to drop to where their weapons were hidden: for Armitage, his gun was holstered under his jacket; for Violet, it was in her purse, which lay on the floor next to her chair.
“The really interesting thing,” Armitage said, continuing to watch Bane closely, “is that right before we ran into you, Lazlo and I were having a conversation about loyalty. He thinks that it’s better to be a toady forever rather than risk a shot at the brass ring.” The crime lord smiled broadly at Violet, winking conspiratorially. “Now you and me… we think alike, right? You got an opportunity, you take it.”
Violet found herself warming to Armitage. It was a disconcerting emotion. “I quite agree.” She looked towards the door and noted that Grau was no longer there. They were alone.
Armitage noticed that she was about to draw her weapon but he shook his head. “Let me. I have a silencer.”
By this point, Bane realized that he was in grave danger. The prissy little man threw his hat down and began a mad scramble to safety. He only managed three steps towards the door before Armitage had fired two shots. The firearm suppressor that was screwed onto the end of his pistol’s barrel kept the sound so quiet that no one outside the room would have heard anything. His aim was nearly perfect, too. The first shot caught Bane in the throat, resulting in a tidal wave of blood that gushed down the man’s shirt with every pulse of his heart. The second shot pierced Bane’s heart, ending his life. He fell onto the carpet in front of the fireplace, twitching as his eyes became glassy.