Linus headed for the grill, opened it, hooked a skirt steak with tongs, and flipped it over. “Almost there.”
An odd-looking turret slid out of the chimenea’s side and pointed itself at Alessandro with a soft whirl. He took a step to the right. The turret turned, tracking him.
“Is that really necessary?” I dipped a chip into the guacamole. He was right. It did need a pinch of salt.
“It is. He’s a dangerous man and it greatly distresses me to find him in your company.”
Alessandro gave him his wolf grin.
“The turret is fully automated. Nullifying me or it will have no effect on its ability to explode your handsome head.” Linus brushed some marinade over the meat.
I added some salt to the guacamole and mixed it.
“Yes,” Alessandro said, his voice breezy. “But it’s just one turret.”
“Do you see what he’s doing?” Linus turned to me and waved his tongs. “He’s goading me into revealing my weapon placement.”
A loud clang echoed as two dozen assorted turrets and automated guns slid from the walls of the house, the roof, and the ground. A dozen red dots danced over Alessandro’s chest and back. He stopped moving.
“I never understood why you have laser sights on automated turrets,” I said, arranging chips in a bowl.
“It’s a warning. It communicates that standing still is the wisest course of action.”
The turrets slid back, all except the one in the chiminea.
“Catalina is very dear to me.” Linus moved the steak onto a cutting board. “I think of her as family. Should you harm her in any way, I’ll skin you alive and roll you in salt.”
“And lime?” Alessandro asked.
“If you wish.”
“She has nothing to fear from me, but I do wish you would try.”
“Ahh, the arrogance of youth.”
“Ahh, the overconfidence of old age.”
“Are the two of you finished?” I asked.
“My dear,” Linus said, “we’re just getting started.”
Linus pulled three frosted bottles of Corona out of the mini fridge built into the outdoor kitchen and brought them over. “The steak needs to rest.”
I opened my beer and sat down.
Linus passed a bottle to Alessandro, took a wedge of lime from the table, and squirted the juice into his beer. “What are you doing in my city?”
“I didn’t see your name on it when I landed.”
“That’s because I have no need to announce it. You arrive, you don’t introduce yourself, and now you’re here in the company of this bright, capable young woman who is entirely too intelligent to risk being involved with you.” He gave me a pointed look. I knew that look. It said that he wasn’t mad, just disappointed.
How did I get myself into these things?
“I’m here on business, the young lady and I have a professional arrangement, and what happens between us outside of it is none of your concern.”
My beer went down the wrong way. I coughed, and the two of them turned to look at me with identical concerned expressions on their faces. I waved my arm at them. “Please carry on with your manly posturing. It’s very entertaining.”
Linus rolled his eyes and took a swallow from his beer. “It’s not about posturing. It’s about courtesy. Manners matter. They separate us from savagery and cut down on unnecessary violence.”
“You’re being a bit harsh with him. He’s a guest.”
“No, you’re a guest. He’s a guided missile and I want to know where he’ll explode.”
I had to defuse this before it turned ugly. Experience said that Alessandro would do anything to avoid answering questions about himself. I turned to Alessandro. “How is it that he knows what you are, and I don’t?”
Alessandro saluted Linus with his beer. “My apologies. I should have come by. It was rude of me.”
Ta-da. It worked.
“Apology accepted. What’s done is done.”
Linus rose and began carving the steak.
“You’re not an assassin, are you?” I asked him.
“No.”
“Just checking. Lately it seems like everybody is an assassin.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes.” I had to do it quick, like ripping off a wax strip. “Is there a reason why Diatheke would try to hire Sigourney Etterson to kill you?”
Linus stopped cutting.
A long moment passed.
“There are certain things in life that are just not done,” he said, his tone measured. “Abandoning a wife and three children after soiling the family name is one of them. I was always fond of Sigourney. She had been dealt a lousy hand and she handled it with grace.”
“Is that why you chose her as the Gold Staff?”
“Yes. It was a small thing I could do for her. So, to answer your question, Diatheke tried to hire her because if she came to visit me, I would let her in. I might share food with her, like we’re doing now. I would not suspect her. She was my friend. I take it she refused?”
“She did,” Alessandro said.
“Did she hire you?” Linus asked.
“Yes.”
Linus turned to me. “And your part in this?”
“Halle is missing. Someone, probably Diatheke, killed Sigourney and planted a second corpse at the scene before burning the house to the ground. I suspect Diatheke is holding Halle hostage, for whatever reason. Runa hired me to get her back.”
Linus shook his head. “Sigourney should’ve come to me . . .”
“She had a history with Diatheke,” Alessandro said. “Years ago.”
She might not have wanted Linus to know about it.
Linus threw the knife on the table and stepped away from it. An odd expression claimed his face, a mix of sadness and rage. He stared at the knife for a long breath, not really seeing it, then his face relaxed into his familiar friendly expression. He imposed it over his grief like a mask. The effort of will it had required must have been staggering.
“Have you made any progress?” he asked.
“We know that someone called Magdalene is involved and possibly holding Halle.”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell. What else?”
“Diatheke tried to kill you,” Alessandro said. “There is that.”
“We were hoping you could tell us why.”
Linus smiled. “My dear, on any given day there may be a number of people trying to kill me. I didn’t just put together my arsenal for your visit. It’s a necessity.”
Alessandro leaned forward, his expression harsh, his gaze focused. “Benedict operates in your city. You know him. He’s calculating and careful. Trying to eliminate you is a risky move. If he failed, it would put the firm into your crosshairs, and they bend over backward to avoid drawing official attention. The reward must have outweighed the risk. This is more than just money. What would he have to gain from your death?”
“That is the question. I’ll have to think on it. Let’s eat. The food is getting cold.”
He brought the meat to the table. We passed things around, putting together our fajitas.
“By the way,” I said, sprinkling cheese on top of the meat. “Have you ever heard of warped mages?”