George Chesbro: The Cold Smell Of Sacred Stone

The rag was burning brightly a few feet away from a support column, and from its epicenter tongues of flickering, blue-white flame were licking along in all directions on the surface of the tarpaulin, sending up plumes of black, foul-smelling smoke and stabbing fingers of light into the surrounding darkness. I estimated that in less than two minutes the interior of the loft would be a raging holocaust.

Chicken, indeed.

Assuming that the flickering light from the flames would be playing havoc with Kitten's night-vision goggles, I heaved the upper half of my body into the loft and used both hands to sweep my Beretta back and forth in front of me, ready to fire a fusillade of bullets into anything that moved that didn't have shoulder-length, gray-streaked yellow hair.

"All right, Frederickson!" It was the familiar, rich baritone of Henry Kitten, somewhere off to my left. I immediately swung my gun in that direction. He coughed, and then there was a thud as something heavy hit the floor. "That was my gun! Now I'm going over by the window!"

"No! Step out into the firelight where I can see you! I want to see your hands flat on top of your head, fingers laced together!"

A few moments later the looming figure of Henry Kitten, thick smoke swirling around his waist, appeared at the edge of the spreading circle of light from the flames. A pair of bulky night-vision goggles hung from a strap around his neck, and his hands were dutifully clasped on top of his head. Coughing, squinting against the acrid smoke, he slowly turned toward me.

"May I suggest you put out the fire, Frederickson?" the big man with the pale eyes said laconically. "It's getting a little close in here."

"I've got it, Mongo," Veil said easily as he suddenly appeared behind and to the right of Kitten, walking quickly through the firelight and smoke.

Whatever had happened before I'd arrived on the scene, Veil had obviously managed to get to his equipment box; nunchaku were draped around his neck, and he had two throwing knives stuck in the waistband of his jeans. His clothes, his face, and his hair were speckled with paint, which meant he'd done some rolling around on the floor, probably an instant or two after the lights had gone out. He disappeared behind the partition, emerged a few seconds later with a fire extinguisher braced under his right arm in its paint-stained sling. He pushed a lever on the extinguisher, aimed the nozzle with his free hand, and began pumping foam over the spreading flames. In less than a minute the flames were out, the swirling smoke caught in drafts and mercifully being sucked out of the loft through three open panels in the bank of windows. Throughout, I remained flat on my belly, gun aimed at the center of Kitten's barrel chest.

"Now back up to the window," I said as I got to my feet. "Take slow, easy steps. If I see anything but your feet moving, I'll put a bullet in your heart."

"Like I said up in Fort Lee, you can be a real pain in the ass, Frederickson." There was just the slightest trace of a smile on Henry Kitten's face as he slowly backed toward the ceiling-high bank of windows. "How the hell could you know I'd be here tonight?"

"I didn't; I just knew you'd show up eventually, despite what happened to your employer. You made that clear to me, remember?"

"Obviously I talked too much."

"I was coming down to talk to Veil about you. We seem to have arrived at about the same time."

"You showed up at a most inopportune time."

"I couldn't disagree more," Veil said dryly from somewhere behind me and off to my left. There was a faint click, and the beam of a powerful flashlight cut through the smoky air and moonlight, spotlighting the assassin's broad torso and head. Eddies of smoke still whirled around Kitten as he stood in front of the window, feet braced slightly apart. I might have been in hell, talking to the devil himself, and when I had to cough I made certain my right hand remained steady and I didn't blink. Kitten's moves, like Veil's, could be measured in milliseconds.

Veil propped the flashlight on a stiff fold of tarpaulin, then came over to stand beside me. "Thanks, Mongo," Veil continued as he studied the man caught in the beam of the flashlight. "I was in a bit of a spot there."

"You're welcome."

"Obviously, this is the guy you kept trying to warn me about."

"That's him," I replied tersely, backing away slowly while I kept my eyes on Kitten's face, which seemed remarkably impassive in the bright light. When I bumped up against a wall, I slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. I brought my knees up and rested my forearms on them so as to be able to keep a steady aim on Kitten's chest while making myself as small a target as possible. Even with my gun trained on him while he stood with his hands clasped on his head, I didn't intend to lose my concentration for a second.

Veil moved a few steps to his left, then leaned casually against a support column as he continued to study Henry Kitten. "Why did you come up here?" he asked easily as he hooked his left thumb into a pocket of his jeans. "You certainly don't look stupid, and Mongo tells me you're actually quite clever. It must have occurred to you that there were easier ways to try to kill me. Why didn't you just blow up the place, or pick me off out in the street?"

Henry Kitten's response was a shrug of his broad shoulders-a slight movement that almost cost him his life, since I was ready to pull the trigger at the least provocation. I'd seen the ninja assassin in action, and wasn't taking any chances; in my opinion, Veil still wasn't treating the other man with sufficient respect and seriousness.

"I'm afraid I underestimated you, Kendry, not to mention the prescience of your friend over there. I thought this was the easy way."

"Are all the lights in the neighborhood out?" Veil asked as he glanced over in my direction.

"Just this block."

Veil grunted. "A time-delayed charge, in just the right spot. Interesting. In addition to his other talents, Mr. Kitten here appears to be a master electrician."

"Yeah. How'd he get in?"

"Up the fire stairs. He managed to pick the locks on both doors downstairs without my being aware of it, but I'd already seen the needle on the security system monitor fall, indicating that the entire system, including the battery-powered emergency backup, was out. I was just getting ready to check out my batteries when the lights went out. It seemed a bit too much of a coincidence for my alarm system to go out at the same time as the power failed, and I hit the floor about a second before Jumbo here came crashing through the upstairs door. I managed to get over to the equipment box and take out some weapons without getting shot, and I just stayed there. He couldn't move over these stiff tarpaulins without my hearing him, and he obviously didn't want to test my skills with a throwing knife. It was a standoff until you showed up."

Henry Kitten, who had been following our conversation with mild interest, now smiled, his lips parting to reveal even, white teeth. "I saw in the morning papers that the man who hired me is dead. Somehow, I strongly doubt that he shot himself in a hunting accident; Orville Madison never took vacations, and people were the only prey he was ever interested in hunting. Somehow, you managed to find out who he was and get to him, didn't you, Frederickson? The profile I gave you in the park led you to him. That was a nice piece of work. You did a hell of a lot better job of flushing out Madison than I did with Kendry here."

"Which just goes to show that you have to pay attention to quality in choosing your clients," I said.

"I'll remember that in the future."

"You don't have a future," I replied curtly. I was in no mood for-and had no intention of being lulled into-light chitchat with Henry Kitten.