“What’s wrong?” said Murdock.
“I don’t know. Who knows what her body structure is now. The connection must be intermittent.” I looked at him. “I hate to say it, but we need a stronger fey to pull the data off the ward.”
Murdock looked around the courtyard. “Where’s Crystal?”
I didn’t have to look. Her fear was so strong, I could sense her essence through the building passage. “I’m pretty sure she’s hiding in the backseat of the car.”
“At least the car is still there,” he said.
I laughed and shook my head. We picked our way out of the shed and walked back to the shattered building. A glitter of light caught my eye, and I stepped to the side.
“You find something?” Murdock asked.
He joined me near the edge of the courtyard. Sitting on the ground, half-covered in dirt, was the round, reflective helmet of a Guild security guard. It must have been knocked off in the fight. “I think we know where Crystal’s fairy in black was from anyway. Got any gloves on you?” I asked.
Murdock patted his coat pockets and came up with one. I slipped it on and picked up the helmet. Definitely Guild issue. There were no identifying marks on it, though. There didn’t need to be. The inside of the helmet retained the essence of the wearer. I looked at Murdock. “We have a problem. Let’s get out of here before we’re seen.”
I hurried into the building, with Murdock on my heels.
“What? What did you find?” he said, as we came out on the other side.
“Crystal?” I called out. She poked her head up inside the car. I turned to Murdock.
“You need to make that safe house call now. That kid’s got a target on her a mile wide,” I said.
“What the hell are you talking about, Connor? Whose helmet is that?”
I looked up and down the street but did not see anyone. That didn’t mean there weren’t ears to hear. “Not here.”
We got in the car. “Don’t back up. Take us out to Drydock Ave and loop around the Weird. I don’t want anyone on Harbor Street to see us if we can avoid it. Crystal, keep your head down.”
Murdock drove quickly up the service road. Unfortunately, it took us deeper into the Tangle. The buildings loomed in, soot-stained and ominous. Years of fey occupation had left their imprint. What had once been standard industrial buildings had taken on grotesque flourishes. Gargoyles hugged lintels and rooftops. Windows had become leering portals of twisted stone. An odor permeated the car, acrid and chemical, evidence of spellcasters. My head started ringing like it did whenever I was near a scrying. From the pain, several people must have been trying to read the future. I closed my eyes against it, but it didn’t help. The pain was inside me. A few moments latter, it subsided and was gone. I opened my eyes. We were out of the Tangle.
“Take me home,” I said.
We didn’t speak the entire way. When Murdock pulled up in front of my building, I hopped out and went around to his side of the car. “Get Crystal into hiding, then call me. I’ll fill you in.”
“You’re not going to tell me now?” he asked.
I made my eyes shift significantly to Crystal, and Murdock got the message. I wasn’t about to get her more involved than she already was. “Call me later.”
I leaned down to look at Crystal. She was clearly terrified. “You did good, Crystal. Just listen to Detective Murdock, and you’ll be okay.”
“Thanks, dude,” she said softly.
I tapped the door. “Call me,” I said to Murdock.
“Will do, ‘dude.’” He gave me a quick nod and pulled away.
I looked down at the Guild helmet still in my hand. Something dangerous was going on that I didn’t have a handle on. Odd people were crossing paths. It seemed too bizarre to be just about drug runners out of the Tangle anymore. Whatever was happening wasn’t going to like seeing the light of day. And the one thing I knew was key to putting it into place, was figuring out why Ryan macGoren’s essence was inside a Guild security helmet at a murder scene.
Chapter 12
After doing the digging on macGoren’s business, I decided to see if I could get the other side of his story. Kruge obviously wasn’t going to talk, but I thought someone else might. I hoofed it up to the subway and rode it into Copley Square.
The Teutonic Consortium consulate looks completely out of place in the Back Bay neighborhood near the square. I don’t doubt it’s just the way the Consortium likes it. It’s a Bauhaus concrete structure in the middle of Victorian town-houses on Commonwealth Avenue. Out front stands a two-story statue of a grim-looking Donor Elfenkonig, the Elven King, dressed in light battle armor, one hand holding a sword, the other a staff. The staff used to be a niding pole, which is essentially a cursing staff. A horse’s skull sat on the top, not so subtly pointed at the Ward Guildhouse several blocks away. Because of the Guildhouse’s own protections, it never had much effect, but it annoyed the hell out of a woman who lived directly across the street from the consulate. She sued and would have never have won in court, but she did in the media. The Consortium might be guilty of many things, but even it didn’t want to appear to be cursing a retired old lady. They removed the horse head to stop protesters from hitting it with paintballs.
I walked into the lobby for the first time in years. Unlike the Guildhouse, the consulate had been decorated to impress. In contrast to the austere exterior, wooden panels carved with intricate forest scenes lined the lobby walls. Depending on your politics, you either thought they looked like dramatic pastorals or jackboot Disney illustrations. The bunnies were pretty tough looking. Overstuffed seating arrangements filled the rest of the room, soft velvets and earth-toned brocades. Near the inner door to the main offices, photographs of Consortium notables hung with grandiose descriptions of their contributions to the world.
I stepped up to a reception desk behind which sat two male elves and a dwarf, all dressed in the same style plain gray tunics.
“Guten Tag. I would like to speak with someone to arrange a meeting with the Marchgrafin Kruge, please.” I knew better than to ask directly for the widow Kruge. That would have shown a distinct lack of ignorance of her status.
All three looked at me sharply, and one of the elves chanted under his breath. I could feel a protective shield build between us. No surprise. The Consortium had pulled Eorla Kruge from her estate for protection before I even left her husband’s murder scene.
“Name, please?” said the other elf.
“Guild Director Connor Grey.” I pulled out the Guild ID, which I still had from yesterday. I was definitely moving in the wrong circles again.
The elf took the ID and muttered over it, checking for the Guildhouse essence seal. He told the other two in German it was authentic. “Please wait, sir,” he said as he picked up the phone.
And I did, a long hour before another elf arrived from within the building. He was tall, dressed as security in red and black, and had a billy club on his waist. “I am the Marchgrafin’s assistant. How may I help you?”
I stood to face him. He didn’t look like a keeper of business calendars. “I’d like to see the Marchgrafin.”
“She is in mourning, sir, and not to be disturbed.”
“I understand. I need a few minutes of her time on an urgent matter related to her husband.”
“She has had many such requests,” he said.
“From Guild directors?”
He didn’t respond.
“You have my credentials. Perhaps you would prefer to call Guildmaster Eagan to confirm my mission further?”
His face made it clear that he didn’t like the subtle threat to go over his head. He walked to the reception desk and consulted with the other two elves. They cast looks at me several times. A few moments later, they stopped talking as the security agent considered. I hoped he didn’t call Eagan. The Guildmaster would back me up, but I hated having to get an adult’s okay. The agent picked up the phone and dialed. He spoke for a bit, then hung up and ignored me. I overheard enough to understand he called a superior rather than Eagan. Another twenty minutes went by, and two more security guards arrived. The first came back over to me.