Darren Shan - Hell's Horizon

I woke Priscilla when I got home and told her about my day (omitting the encounter with Wami). I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep — on top of my other worries, I now had my debt to Wami to consider — but I was exhausted. I passed out while telling Priscilla about my conversation with Ama Situwa and didn’t wake till the sun was high in the sky.

Priscilla cooked a huge breakfast. By the end of it I felt like sitting in a chair all day to vegetate. But there was work to be done, people to be interviewed, and though Priscilla again pleaded with me not to leave her, I was soon back on the streets.

I called several of those I’d talked to yesterday, in light of my conversation with Ama, and asked if they’d been in the Skylight with Ellen the night before her murder. Nobody had been, though a few had seen her earlier that day. I thanked them for taking my call, then started on fresh contacts.

I concentrated on work colleagues. I didn’t know many people from Preston’s, the company she worked for, and those I spoke to weren’t as forthcoming as her friends. Some questioned my identity and wanted to know how they could be sure I was who I claimed to be. I offered to drop by and conduct my inquiries in person but the manager who dealt with me was set against that — yes, Miss Fraser had been a valued employee and they regretted her demise, but life went on and they didn’t want strangers turning up at will, interrupting their routines.

Ellen had always said she worked for the most uptight employers in the city. Now I knew she hadn’t been kidding. I convinced some of her less icy colleagues to meet me that night for drinks, and a few more said they might fit me into their schedules later in the week, but all claimed to know nothing of Ellen’s personal life or the men she’d dated.

During one of the breaks I allowed myself between calls, my cell phone rang. One of The Cardinal’s secretaries. The Great One was willing to meet me if I got over there in a hurry, but it would have to be brief.

Party Central was a hive of frenzied activity when I arrived. Teams of Troops were gathering in the yard, three or four per group, then setting out armed to the armpits. Frank was coordinating things. During a quiet moment I asked what was going on.

“Manhunt,” he snapped, clutching a clipboard as if his life depended on it. “That bastard Capac Raimi.”

“The Cardinal’s golden boy?” I recalled Frank’s previous outburst about the young pretender to the throne.

“They got into a fight last night. We could have taken care of him then, but The Cardinal — in that glorious, fucked-up way of his — let him go. Vincent Carell and a few others ran into him later. He took them out.”

“Vincent’s dead?” The news didn’t disturb me — we weren’t friends — but I was startled. Close confidantes of The Cardinal and Ford Tasso hardly ever met with sticky ends, unless they ran afoul of their masters.

“Dead as disco,” Frank said without humor.

“On the off chance that I see him, what are the orders? Shoot on sight or bring him in?”

“Officially, bring him in. Off the record, blow the fucker away. There’ll be shit to face if you do, but I’ll back you up, even if it means my job.”

Checking in my shoes and socks downstairs, I proceeded to the fifteenth floor. The halls were buzzing with Troops and other underlings. It took a while to shove through them and make it to The Cardinal’s inner sanctuary. His secretary held me up until he was free. About twenty minutes later, a posse of soldiers spilled out of his room and I was ushered in.

The Cardinal was sitting at his desk, fiddling with a puppet. As I got closer I realized Frank hadn’t been kidding when he said the boss had been in a fight — his face was a mess.

“You look like hell,” I noted, taking a seat.

He managed a weak smile. “You should see the other guy,” he chuckled, then grimaced and clutched his sides. “It hurts when I laugh but that’s nothing to what it’s like when I piss. I’m getting old, Al. Time was, I’d have taken a beating like this in my stride. Now I feel like a lump of shit that’s been simmering on low for a couple of hours.” He let the puppet flop to the floor and massaged the back of his neck.

“Enough of my complaints,” he boomed. “You didn’t come here to listen to an old fart moaning about himself. What can I do for you?”

I told him about Bill, Valerie, the villacs . I didn’t run him through the entire story — time was short — but I filled him in on the key facts.

“It doesn’t surprise me,” he grunted when I’d finished. “About the woman lying to protect another, I mean, or those blind priests being involved. So, what can I do to help?”

“Set your people after him. Maybe one of your informants knows who kidnapped him, or can find out. Spread the word that you don’t want him harmed. Demand his safe return.”

“What makes you think his abductors will pay attention to me?”

“It’s worth a try.”

“Perhaps. But I’m too busy to deploy my agents. I’ll need a day or two, perhaps a week. My business with Mr. Raimi should have reached a conclusion by then. Once that’s done and dusted, I and mine are at your service.”

“A week’s too long. He could be dead by then.”

“We could all be dead by then,” The Cardinal replied. “My hands are tied. I cannot…” He hesitated. “You have heard the rumors that I’ve been grooming Mr. Raimi to succeed me?”

“Yes.”

“What I tell you now stays between us. You don’t tell anyone . Understand?”

I nodded wordlessly.

He took a deep breath, then locked gazes with me. “I’m dying. A brain tumor. I learned of it a year ago. By rights I should be dead already, but I fought like a tiger and earned an extra few months. I’ve three or four weeks to go, but any day now I’ll start to slide. My vision will fade first. I’ll lose my mental faculties soon after. I’ll spend the last week or two in a coma.”

He smiled bitterly and waited for me to respond. I couldn’t. I’d always thought The Cardinal would go on forever. It never occurred to me that he was mortal like the rest of us, subject to the same random laws of life and death.

“Say something,” he snarled.

“I don’t know what to say. I… Are you certain?”

“Sure as shit. You’re the only person who knows, bar my doctors. I’ve even kept Mr. Tasso in the dark. If word had spread, this last year would have been hell. I’d have spent it struggling to hold things together. You know what vultures are like when they scent death.”

“Why are you telling me?” I asked, bewildered.

“I want you to understand.” He leaned forward. “I’ve lived a life of sin and corruption. I suffer from no illusions — if there’s a hell, I’m heading there by express train. I have nothing to look forward to. I never had, not since killing my first man when I was still a child. All I have is this empire. I’ve devoted myself to it, and if it dies with me, my entire existence will have been for nothing.

“I’ve groomed heirs in the past, to little avail. Capac Raimi is my last throw of the dice. If he fails, my life is a failure. That’s why I didn’t kill him for doing this to me.” He tapped his face. “Why I’m still feeding him rope and praying that he doesn’t hang himself with it. Why I’m clinging to hope rather than giving myself over to despair.”

“But what does any of that have to do with me ?”

The Cardinal covered his eyes with the middle three fingers of both hands.

“The villacs ?” I frowned.

“If Capac Raimi survives the next seventy-two hours and proves himself worthy of filling my shoes, he’ll need those meddlers. They’re more influential than you can imagine, and without their assistance, no man can run this city. I can’t afford to piss them off at this delicate stage.