Bronze Gods Page 32

  Before it’s too late. But there was no need to say it aloud. Surely he knows.

  “He came to see me a few weeks ago, claiming to have sensed something strange, but . . .” He made a vague gesture with one hand. “I suppose it’s possible he was lying to me, which would be most regrettable.”

  “Is there any chance he’s descended into . . .” Ritsuko couldn’t think of a politic way to phrase the question. “I believe some people call it age madness.”

  “He seemed agitated when I saw him but not devoid of his faculties.”

  “That doesn’t really answer the question,” Mikani put in.

  “Pardon me?” The Architect faced her partner with an imperiously arched brow.

  “The one she asked before . . . as to whether you have any insights that can help us. If you’re acquainted with the suspect, then you might remember something about him. His habits, his tendencies. Anything.”

  “I only care about finding my daughter,” the man bit out.

  A chill washed over Ritsuko at the icy glitter of his eyes. She sympathized with his perspective. Answering speculative questions must seem like a waste of time better spent elsewhere. But she had to convince him to cooperate, somehow.

  So she said quietly, “I want to find your daughter, unharmed, more than anything. But that requires full disclosure on both sides. I’ve told you everything I know. If you can say the same, then I’ll thank you for your time and join the manhunt that’s already in progress.”

  She held his gaze for two beats, then rose. Mr. Olrik held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter who has her, does it? I know machines, and I know rituals. And I understand what you can do when you combine them.”

  “Go on,” Mikani prompted.

  Olrik swept an arm over the desk, clearing it with a clatter of metal and breaking glass. Grabbing a letter opener, he carved lines on the surface. “If you’re focusing a ritual, you must adhere to the rules. More important, however, you seek the patterns. The more of them that make up the ritual, the stronger it is. When is he killing? Whom is he killing?”

  “Have we checked whether there was any rhyme to the dates?” she asked Mikani.

  Her partner shook his head. “Two killings. What, a week apart?”

  For a few seconds, she couldn’t hear over the thump in her ears, as she did the arithmetic in her head. Mikani wasn’t kidding when he said we’re running out of time. After a few seconds, she forced the trepidation away, so she could continue the questions. The implication of the schedule had to wait until she and Mikani were alone. Ritsuko schooled her features to calm composure.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “As to whom, the girls both belonged to powerful families . . .”

  But neither of them was precisely well protected at the time they were taken. She didn’t say that aloud, either, as it didn’t reflect well on Mr. Olrik or the CID. Best not to enrage him, as he hadn’t blamed them yet.

  “You have the when and the how. There’s at least a third component to his goal. Patterns come in all types. Sometimes they’re personal. There are meanings in various symbols, for example, geometric shapes have long been associated with ritual.”

  Ritsuko frowned. “So he could be making a cross or a dragon or—”

  “No.” Mikani paced a few steps, his expression hinting at deep contemplation. “Saskia said there’s a limit to how long energy can be stored. For the time to align with the ceremony, he must be near the end, and that limits his scope.” He cast a familiar look at her, which she understood to mean let’s go.

  “Thanks for your time,” she said to Mr. Olrik.

  CHAPTER 30

  “MIKANI,” RITSUKO SAID, AS THEY ENTERED THE MOSTLY deserted duty room.

  He glanced around; most of their colleagues were out combing the city, searching for any sign of Miss Wright. As a measure of the situation’s severity, Commander Gunwood was out in the field, too. How long’s it been since he left his office? They’d stopped at HQ to report the new cooperation with House Olrik, but it appeared Gunwood wasn’t around to reprimand or commend their behavior. Whichever it would be.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about what Mr. Olrik said . . . about the when and why. You said it was about a week between the first two, right?” She paused as if he’d know what she meant.

  He nodded, looking around the room. “That’s about right, yes. Go on.” He started pulling maps from the racks on the walls, looking for one that gave them a good overview of the city.

  “So how long has it been since Miss Bihár was killed?”

  He paused as he lay out a map and frowned up at her. “It was . . . Monday, right? So a week?”

  I think today’s Monday. Damned be, if I’ve not lost track of time.

  “That means we’re really under the gun.”

  “Hells and Winter.” He slapped down the map and secured the edges, then started locating the sites. “He’s going to kill her today . . .” He glanced out the window. The journey from the Olrik holding had taken longer than he’d wished, with all the traffic clogging the streets—new supplies arriving from the lifted blockades—so it was near noon. Hope we’re not too late. “. . . help me with this. Where was the first body found?”

  Ritsuko ran a finger down the wrinkled paper, peering at streets, then she tapped a spot. “Here. Miss Aevar was discovered on a rooftop in Iron Cross. Mark it.”

  Mikani pressed a pin into the map. “Electra was found . . . here. Landing Point. Down by the river.” He put down a second pin, and sketched a rough line in red ink between them. “He’s in a hurry now. He’s running out of time, and we made him change his plans . . .”

  “We kept him from taking the other girl, you mean?”

  “Right. So. If he was going for a pattern . . .” He glared down at the map.

  “In Olrik’s office, you said he was limited in scope by the number of victims he’s chosen. It can’t be an intricate design. So what are the options with three points?”

  “Line. Triangle. Even a circle would touch the points of a triangle, right? So if he’s bound to a pattern, and he had three girls . . .” He drew a line out from either end. “I don’t think it’s a line. That’s not a pattern, that’s just a sketch. And one end of this line ends up in the arse end of nowhere in the foothills, the other end in the middle of the plains south of the city. Triangle?”

  “The circle is too big . . . it goes out into the water, here.” She frowned at the map. “Let’s say you’re right. There are only two possible points, east and west, equidistant to the first two locations.”

  He nodded, tracing a rough line east. “. . . this one’s in the middle of nowhere. I think it’s a weekend inn. If he could finish this elsewhere, surely he would? There must be a reason he’s doing this inside city limits.”

  “Yes, because it’s far more complicated here than it would be in the territories.”

  Mikani measured the line between the bodies they had, tracing arcs west. “There’s an underground station here.” He thought for a moment, then remembered aloud, “They shut it down for repairs a couple of years ago. I don’t think it ever reopened. Most of the shops around it shut down after that. So he has plenty of places to choose from.”

  She nodded. “Let’s get a squad to help with the search. We’ve narrowed it down, but there’s no telling precisely where we’ll find him. The more bodies, the better for Miss Wright.”

  Ritsuko collected her belongings and filled her coat pockets with extra ammunition from the box on her desk. Then she took a special protective jacket from the closet, reserved for emergency use. Mikani imagined this qualified . . . because if they were right, they’d find Nuall trying to finish his grisly business up in the Heights.

  “We’ll send word downstairs; see who they can get to meet us there.” He checked his pistol, then grabbed his walking stick on the way out the door. “Let’s go catch this bastard, partner.”

  Two hours later, Mikani was conscious of tim
e ticking away. He had twenty fresh-faced constables standing before him, all awaiting invaluable instructions on how to apprehend a killer who ran away, even with bullets in him. If any one of you finds him, shoot and pray. A grim thought, but it had been that kind of week. Ritsuko always let him take the lead in such circumstances, not because she wasn’t capable but because the men listened to him better. They shifted, then quieted beneath his watchful eye.

  “Listen up. We’re after a dangerous subject. Six-foot-four, dark hair, brown eyes. Appears to be mid-forties, but spry as the devil. He may have a hostage with him, so keep your heads straight.” He met their eyes, briefly. “He’s a killer. If you spot him, and he tries to run, shoot him. If he comes at you, shoot him until he drops. Don’t take any chances. Break into teams of four, stay together. Collins, Jasper, John . . . and . . . you, and you. You have lead. Get your teams and hit the nearest buildings. Go.”

  I really hope I’m not sending these kids out to die.

  After offering sharply earnest salutes, they hustled like he was Commander Gunwood. For a few seconds, he stared at their uniformed backs, then turned to Ritsuko with a sigh. She wore a faint half smile; he knew that it amused her when he stepped in as an authority figure, considering his own inclinations.

  She said, “That was good, just the right amount of tyrannical nonsense. Where should we start?”

  Mikani pointed at a nearby building, the tallest on the block, with his walking stick. “There. If he is going for a rooftop, my money’s on that one.”

  It took less than five minutes to run straight up, and he was disappointed to find the area clear. He and Ritsuko cleared the building floor by floor, but it was just empty offices. On the third story, he surprised a squatter who had set up a cozy nest, but Mikani didn’t care about such minor infractions. With every minute they spent on the wrong places, Nuall had more time to complete his agenda. Saskia’s words echoed in his ears, adding to Olrik’s warnings. Whatever happened as a result of this stolen power, it wouldn’t be good.

  Moving at top speed, they cleared two more structures while his temper rose. The afternoon faded toward evening. Ritsuko seemed calm enough until he studied her eyes; they held a fierce spark. He slipped enough control to touch her mood, and her determination, laced with fear and anger, washed over him. Mikani left his mind open, hoping he might catch a flicker of the killer, but with so much feedback—all the constables, plus those who still lived in this part of the city, it was too much, and he had to draw up tight again, or he’d end up useless.

  “I’m so worried we won’t get to her in time,” Ritsuko said finally. “She came to us. She trusted us.”

  “We’ll find her.” He gestured at the buildings around them. “If we have to tear this place down brick by bloody brick, we’ll save her.”

  She nodded; and he couldn’t tell whether she believed him. “We checked most of the buildings immediately nearby. Let’s head over to the underground station.”

  “The others can finish canvassing here,” he agreed.

  Long shadows fell across the pocked and empty streets. The boarded-up shops gave the emptiness a sinister air, as if the bustle of the rest of the city couldn’t touch this place. It felt separate somehow. A good place for doing bad things. He led the way toward the closed underground station, with Ritsuko close behind.

  From half a block away, he spotted movement, a dark figure heading for the derelict stop. He called out, “Halt! CID! We need to talk to you.”

  “He’s not interested in being a good citizen,” she muttered.

  Beside him, Ritsuko quickened her step. As they drew closer, he identified Nuall, who, instead of stopping, vaulted down the stairs, his pace increasing. “It’s him!”

  Ritsuko drew her weapon and they ran.

  • • •

  SHE KEPT HER head low in case Nuall launched a spell at them, but he showed no signs of slowing. Her footsteps pounded down the stairs. It was dark, dank, and it smelled like urine, along with earthier scents. The platform looked like nature had started to reclaim it in just a few years, edged by moss and mushrooms that crawled up from the ground. Ritsuko dropped onto the rail line and listened for a second.

  “This way. Did you notice he was alone? Is that a good sign or a bad one?” she asked, pushing to a full sprint.

  Nuall’s fast. If I couldn’t hear him on the rocks, we’d have already lost him. Shouldn’t he be limping, at least a bit? Damned inhuman bastard.

  “It’s a sign we can shoot him. Let’s take what we can get.” Mikani loped alongside her, pistol in one hand and cane in the other. “Can’t see a damned thing down here.”

  The few gas lamps that were not broken along the disused tunnel cast a flickering, fading glow that did more to create shadows than dispel the dark. That intensified the other senses, though, making it easier to follow with the ears. Nuall took no care to lose his pursuers. Which means he’s insane . . . or he’s utterly confident in his ability to deal with us once we catch up to him. Ritsuko had to admit that his record to date made the latter a reasonable theory.

  “He has to stop sometime, provided we don’t miss a turn.”

  “Ideally, he’ll lead us back to Miss Wright.”

  “And then we put a bullet in him,” she said grimly.

  “Or ten. And then drop him down a shaft, for good measure.” They came to a crossing where she paused to listen. Echoing footsteps rang out from the right, downward path. “Hope he’s winded at least. How far down do these go?”

  “This isn’t part of the Council construction,” she said.

  Beneath her feet, the imported stones gave way to regular earth, and the walls weren’t cut or lined with stones. Instead, they were veined bedrock, and the lamps didn’t extend so far in, so even the uncertain light died away. She fought the temptation to close her eyes, for then if she ran in the dark, at least it would be of her own choosing. But that might lead her to miss something, so she pushed forward in the dreadful gloom.

  Mikani grabbed her arm, slowing their pace. “Hold up, we won’t help anyone if we break an ankle.” He sounded strained. “And . . . I hear something. It’s strange, though; I can’t pin down a direction. Like the walls themselves are muttering.”

  A chill ran down her spine. I don’t hear it. “Can you make out any words? And more important, do you have a light?”

  “Not in any language I know. Hold on.”

  She heard him digging through his pockets before he struck a match. The flare of red light summoned a darting motion in her peripheral vision for a split second, then it was gone. The wavering flame didn’t help beyond a few feet; Mikani had to blow the match out before it singed his fingers. His soft curse told her he hadn’t done so quite soon enough. In the fresh darkness, her skin crawled.

  She whispered, “There’s an old man who watches me out his window when I go to the market. Even when I can’t see him, just the flicker of his curtain, I know he’s there. And that’s exactly how I feel now.”

  “If your old man steps out of the shadows, I’ll kiss him. I feel a breeze, though. And I think I hear voices, down to our right . . . Can you hear anything?”

  More voices? Ritsuko took a step forward, wondering if his imagination was getting the best of him. This time, however, her ears detected the tones of people trying to be quiet. So we’re not alone down here.

  “Do you think these are conspirators? We’ve known all along that Nuall must’ve had help, more than just Toombs.”

  “It would mean we’re on the right track, at least.” He touched her shoulder, then took her free hand. “Quiet, steady. Let’s see if we can get the jump on them.”

  Ritsuko hated how much steadier she felt with his fingers laced through hers. Since he had better night vision, she let him lead, following the length of his arm. She tried to keep her steps quiet, but as they approached, the voices stilled. Which means they’ve probably heard us.

  She stepped boldly around the corner into the dim lanternlight, wea
pon in hand. Ritsuko was surprised enough that she stilled, eyeing the four shabbily dressed men, each armed with a weapon. Smugglers, she guessed. One stood atop a handcar beside a stack of crates while the others were planted in front of him. From their scruffy faces to their dark hats pulled low, they didn’t look friendly . . . or pleased to see her.

  “Did a dark-haired man run past you?” she asked, as if they were law-abiding citizens who would be glad to assist. It took all her composure not to raise her gun.

  “We didn’t see nothin’, and you shouldn’t be ’ere.” The nearest man set down the crate he was unloading to draw a long knife from his belt. The others stirred, spreading out. “So why don’t you come ’ere, nice and slow-like?”

  Mikani stepped up next to her, stick resting on his shoulder and pistol against his thigh. “We don’t give a damn about the goods you’re moving. We’re chasing a killer, and don’t have time for this. So answer her question, then let us pass. Otherwise, the dog who just ran by you will murder more innocent girls.”

  The one perched on the car said, “Kill them. Dump the bodies.”

  Below, the one with the blue eyes shook his head. “They’re CID, you daft git. You want coppers rolling through these tunnels like a plague?”

  She felt tempted to shoot them while they argued, but two to one offered a challenging scenario close-up, and they couldn’t afford further delay. Which a fight certainly offered. She asked Mikani with her eyes, Thoughts?

  He shook his head slightly, signaling her to wait as the smugglers argued. She could see his finger sliding around the trigger to his pistol, but he held still for the moment.

  “We need to move these fast. They won’t stay fresh for long down here, yeah?” The man who had spoken, short and nervous, glanced at them, then back at his companions. He shuffled his feet, as if ready to run.

  The blue-eyed one asked, “If we help you, you walk away? No reports, no constables dogging our steps?”