“The very man,” said Walker. “A well-established, very well-connected individual. He tried to have me killed twice, but I’m not one to bear grudges. Anyway, it would appear dear Max came into possession of something rather special, something he should have had more sense than to get involved with. To be exact, the Aquarius Key.”
“I know the name,” I said, frowning. “Some artifact from the sixties, isn’t it? Back when every Major Player had to have their very own Object of Power to be taken seriously. I’ve never trusted the things. You can never tell when the cosmic batteries are suddenly going to run out of juice, and you’re left standing there with a silly-looking lump of art deco in your hand.”
“Quite,” said Walker. “Still, a very useful tool, the Aquarius Key. Part scientific, part magical, it was created to open and close dimensional doors. This was after the Babalon Working fiasco, you understand.”
“Why…Aquarius?” I said.
Walker shrugged. “It was the Age. Word is, the Collector had it for a time, which was how he was able to start his marvellous collection of rare and fashionable items. Then he lost it in a card game to old blind Pew, and after that the Key went wandering through many hands, causing mischief and mayhem as it went, until finally it ended up in the possession of Max Maxwell. Where it apparently gave him ideas above his station.”
“And that’s how he became the Voodoo Apostate?” I said.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Walker. “Voodoo is, first and foremost, a religion in its own right. Its followers worship a wide pantheon of gods, or loas: Papa Legba, Baron Samedi, Erzulie, and Damballa. These personages can be summoned, or invited, into our world, where they possess willing worshippers. Max made himself Apostate by using the power of the Key to drag the loa into this world, whether they wanted to come or not, then thrust them into his own people. Who could then be commanded to serve him in all kinds of useful ways. Inhumanly strong, utterly unfeeling, and almost impossible to kill, they made formidable shock troops.”
I winced. “Messing with gods. Always a bad idea.”
“Always,” said Walker. “Max used his new shock troops to enlarge his territory, with much slaughter and terror; which brought him to my attention. Inevitably, Max became greedy and overstretched himself, spread his control too thin; and the loa broke loose. Max didn’t wait for them to come looking for him. He went on the run, taking the Key with him, and none of my people have been able to find him. So I turned to Suzie, with her excellent reputation for finding people who don’t want to be found.”
Suzie growled something indistinct. I wouldn’t want to be Max Maxwell when she finally got to him. She took a target’s attempts to escape capture as a personal insult.
“What makes this case so urgent that you need me?” I said. “Suzie will find him. Eventually.”
“The loa have come to the Nightside,” said Walker. “And they are not in a good mood. They have possessed a whole crowd of the very best bounty hunters and are currently rampaging through the Nightside, on the trail of Max Maxwell.”
“Let them have him,” I said. “The man is scum. A jumped-up leg-breaker, who used his voodoo to run protection rackets. Pay up, or he’d turn you into a zombie. You, or someone in your family. Nasty man. Let the loa tear him apart. The Nightside will smell better when he’s gone.”
“Right,” said Suzie. “Wait a minute; if the loa have been possessing all the best bounty hunters…why didn’t they choose me? I’m the best there is, and I’ll shoot the kneecaps off anyone who says otherwise. Why didn’t the loa come after me?”
“They wouldn’t dare,” I said, gallantly.
“Well, there is that, yes,” said Suzie. “And unlike some, I’m always careful to keep my protections up to date. A girl can’t be too careful.”
I pitied anyone or anything dumb enough to dive into Suzie’s steel-trap mind, but I wasn’t dumb enough to say so out loud. Besides, a new idea had just occurred to me. I looked at Walker.
“Max still has the Aquarius Key. And you want me to get it back for you.”
“I knew you’d get there eventually,” said Walker. “I want you to find Max and take the Key away from him. Then bring it back to me, so I can stow it away somewhere safe and see Max locked safely away in Shadow Deep.”
I would have shuddered, but it was never wise to show weakness in front of Walker. Shadow Deep is the worst prison in the world, carved out of the bedrock deep under the Nightside. It’s where we put the really bad ones; or at least the ones we can’t just execute and be done with, for one reason or another. Forever dark, never a glimmer of light, once they’ve sealed you up in your cell, you never leave again. You stay there in your cell, till the day you die. However long it takes.
“Might be kinder to just let the loa have him,” I said. “We could always take the Key off whatever’s left of his body afterwards.”
“No,” Walker said immediately. “Partly because the loa will cause havoc looking for him. Like most gods, they can be very single-minded when it comes to revenge. It’s already become clear they aren’t following standard bounty hunter etiquette and allowing informers to live after they’ve informed. But mostly I want Max back in my hands because the Nightside takes care of its own problems. Can’t let outsiders think they can just walk in here and throw their weight around.”
He stopped abruptly, and Suzie and I stopped with him. He took an old-fashioned gold repeater watch from his waistcoat-pocket, checked the time, put it away, and gave me a measuring look.
“Don’t screw this up, John. I’m under a lot of pressure to get this done quickly, efficiently, and with no loose ends. That’s why I’m handing this case over to you instead of just flooding the Nightside with my own people. If you can’t locate Max, and the Key, within the next three hours, I’ll have no choice but to unleash my dogs of war, which will make me very unpopular in all sorts of areas. So don’t let me down, John, or I shall be sure to blame it all on you.”
Suzie looked at him steadily, and give the man credit, Walker didn’t flinch.
“You come for him,” Suzie said coldly, “you come for me.”
“Sooner or later, I come for everyone,” said Walker.
“Under pressure?” I said thoughtfully, and he looked back at me. I grinned right into his calm, collected face. “From whom, precisely? Whom do you serve, now the Authorities are all dead and gone?”
But he just smiled briefly, nodded to me, and tipped his bowler hat to Suzie, then turned and walked away, disappearing unhurriedly back into the night.
Suzie Shooter and I went to the Spider’s Web. A sort of up-market cocktail bar, owned by Max Maxwell ever since he had its previous owner killed, stuffed, mounted, and put on display; it was widely known as his seat of power, where he did business with the poor unfortunates who came before him. By the time we got there, the place had already been very thoroughly trashed. Bits of it were still smouldering. Suzie drew her pump-action shotgun from its rear holster with one easy movement and led the way as we entered through the kicked-in front door.
The lobby was wrecked, with bodies everywhere. None of them had died easily. Blood had soaked into the carpet, splashed up the walls, and even stained the ceiling. Severed hands had been piled up in one corner, and all the heads were missing their faces. Suzie and I moved slowly and cautiously between the bodies, but nothing moved. The furniture looked like it had exploded.
Max Maxwell’s inner office at the back of the club didn’t look much better. No blood or bodies, though, which suggested Max had got out in time. A pack of tarot cards had been left scattered across the top of a huge mahogany desk, which had been cracked casually in half. Thick mats of ivy crawled across all four walls, reportedly part of Max’s early-warning system; but every bit of it was dead, withered away as though blasted by a terrible frost. Here and there, something had gouged deep claw-marks through the ivy and into the wood beneath. The bare floor was covered with cabalistic symbols, a whole series of overlapping defence systems.