Charlie Huston - Already Dead

Predo's fists close tight. I can hear the leather squeak.

– Where are the teeth?

After I got Amanda dressed, I stripped and wiped blood from myself with Horde's clean undershirt. He was far too skinny for anything of his to fit me, but I managed to scavenge an outfit from the enforcer and the goon. Then I went through the pockets of my own discarded clothes and found the picture of Amanda, the one she had ripped in two. I fit the halves together and translated the torn and stained phone number on the back. I had the girl in my arms when I remembered the teeth.

I found the case in Horde's clothes. The hinge creaked slightly when I opened it. Inside, the teeth were fitted snugly in a foam rubber nest. They gleamed. He must have cleaned off Marilee's blood before he put them away. I eased them out, careful not to touch the biting surfaces. They looked perfect, like the healthiest teeth in the world, a bit on the sharp side perhaps. I opened them. The canines had tiny black dimples at the tips, holes smaller than those of syringes. Inside they would be hollow, a delivery system for something that isn't supposed to exist outside a human body. I closed them and returned them to the case.

I collected the girl, found the door she had told me about and carried her out of the school. It was raining, hours after midnight and the street was empty except for a couple scuttling past, trying to share a too-small umbrella. I got to the pay phone on the corner, called Lydia and gave her the girl.

Then I came home, got cleaned up, left the teeth sitting on the bathroom sink, and forgot about them until right now.

– The teeth are someplace safe. Someplace they'll stay as long as the girl stays safe. Something happens to her, I send the teeth to Bird

He frowns

– Who sends them if anything happens to you?

I blink. And that's enough for him to know. He smiles.

- You did not give them to anyone. They are simply hidden someplace, are they not?

Quickly, you only get one chance at this.

– I gave them to Lydia with the girl.

He shakes his head.

– No. You did not. They are hidden someplace. Someplace close at hand, I would say.

He exhales.

– And so. Here we are again. But with a variation. Where is the girl, and where are the teeth?

I think about making a break for it, but I'm done. So I take a drag instead and say what's on my mind.

– Predo, you're a dick.

The uppercut catches me under the jaw and dislocates it. I fly into the air, across the bed, crash into the wall and tumble onto the mattress. He's stronger than the enforcer was.

The giant scoops me up and full nelsons me in front of Predo. Predo squares up.

– Where?

I try to say something smart, but can't get my jaw to move, so I just shake my head. Predo cocks his fist. He'll knock my jaw clear off this time.

– 'Lo, Joe.

We all look up to the top of the little circular stair that leads down to this room. I grind my jaw and it pops into place.

– Hurley. How you doing?

He stands at the top of the stairs looking down at us, a huge hammerlike .45 held casually in either hand, neither of them pointing at anything, yet.

– OK. Door's unlocked up 'ere.

– Yeah?

– Tought I'd come in. Ya don't mind?

– Naw.

He nods at Predo.

– Mr. Predo.

Predo lowers his fist.

– Hurley. It has been a long time. How is Terry?

– Same. But he won't like yer bein' down 'ere none, Mr. Predo.

– He'll be understanding on this occasion. Trust me.

The giant is eyeing Hurley, wearing the unmistakable expression of a big man who wants to prove he's the most dangerous guy in the room. Hurley keeps his eyes on Predo, wearing the expression of a man who knows who the most dangerous guy in the room is. Predo's face shows nothing.

Hurley lets the barrel of one of the forty-fives wave in my direction.

– Terry sent me over. Wants ta see ya.

– He's back?

– Yeah, wants ta see ya.

– Well, I'm busy, but I think I can get away.

I look at Predo. He lifts his chin at the giant, and the giant releases my arms.

– Let me just go to the can.

I walk into the bathroom, pick up the case and stuff it in my back pocket. The tableau in my bedroom remains in place. I stand at the foot of the stairs.

– Don't worry, Mr. Predo, I'll take care of what we were talking about. Get it to someone who can handle the responsibility like you suggested. And you look after my friend. OK?

He doesn't say anything.

– OK, Mr. Predo?

He nods, begins stripping the gloves from his hands.

– Yes, I suppose that will have to do.

– Yeah, I suppose it will.

Halfway up the stairs I get hit with a last piece. I pause and look back down.

– I took care of business, didn't I, Mr. Predo? Did that job you wanted done?

He rolls his sleeves back into place and begins to fit the cuff links to their holes.

– Yes, you did.

I'm thinking fast, trying to make it fit, trying to get something out of this.

– I killed Horde?

– Yes.

He is straightening the knot in his tie and pauses to look at me.

– Rather esoterically, I am told. How did you go about freezing his blood?

I'm watching him close.

– Figure you know more about that than me.

He looks down at his tie.

– I assure you, I do not.

I play it as it lies.

– However I did it, I figure I'm owed.

He smoothes the tie down his shirtfront.

– You were thinking?

– I'd like my stash replaced.

He picks up his jacket.

– Replaced?

I dangle it one more time.

– Yeah, from when your guy without a smell snatched it.

A spark of interest flares across his face, and dies in the same instant as he snuffs it.

– I don't employ such things, Pitt.

I leave it there. He slides his arms into the jacket.

– You are correct however, you did provide a service. I will arrange delivery of compensation.

He tugs on the lapels of his jacket, seating it firmly on his shoulders.

– But the Coalition is a progressive entity, Pitt. We do not deal in superstition.

He flicks a loose strand of hair into place.

– If it is the paranormal that you are concerned with?

I wait.

– You should try talking with Daniel. He is the only one who traffics in such things.

I open my mouth. Hurley taps me with one of his sledgehammer guns.

– Terry's waitin' on ya, Joe.

II look at Predo. He tilts his head.

– I look forward to seeing you again, Pitt. I touch my sore jaw.

– Yeah. Do me a favor. Lock up on your way out.

I follow Hurley up the stairs and out onto the street. He tucks his guns into his waistband and buttons his jacket over them. We walk side by side toward Tompkins Square.

– Didn't know you knew Predo, Hurley.

He shrugs.

– Yer around long enough, Joe, ya get ta know everyone.

– Not only is he an agent provocateur, but he's an escapee and I want to know what the fuck has been going on!

– Sure, sure, Tom, we all want to know what's been going on, man. But you don't get knowledge by screaming, you get it by listening. So let's just, you know, try to cool it and listen to the man.

- Fuck that shit. You heard Hurley. Dexter Predo was in his apartment. Fucking Predo! He's their fucking spy master! What more evidence do you want?

– Well, if we're supposed to execute a man, as you suggest, then I want a whole lot of evidence, Tom.

It's just like old times.

– Fine. Fucking fine. Then I want to call a tribunal! I want a fucking court of enquiry.

This time I didn't have to be coldcocked by Hurley to get to Society headquarters. But here I am all the same.