Page 2 of Gates of Tartarus

“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” he prods, voice sharply impatient.

Shrinking back slightly, I shake my head: “Nnnooo?” At his sudden glower, I stammer, “Magda’s tattoo had another element, I think. A sort of curved blade.”

His gaze sharpens: “A curved blade? Like a sickle?”

“Yes,” I dip my head. “Yes, I think it was. There was a short, straight line, jutting outfrom the thick end of the curve.”

He looks at the screen, musing. “So,” he says after a moment, almost to himself, “Magda has three tattoos, whereas thisbalsakonly has two. Emlyn’s right – must be an indication of a higher rank in Kronos. I’ll notify Maddox, when the lazychopis up.”

It’s English, but not English, spoken in a whisky-tinged voice. It charms me enough that I ask, “balsak?”

“That scrot Tennireef, Seattle’s favorite son and all-rounddrol.”

This time, I keep my mouth shut. If he wants to go around being all inscrutable, orinscrotable, a defiant little part of me thinks, that’s a matter for him.Inscrotable. Get it? Hah!The Inscrotable Hulk. I’m so busy cracking myself up that I miss his next words. “Uh, I mean, excuse me?”

That gets me another heavy stare. “Try to pay attention, Driscoll. Magda and Tennireef are the only known members of Kronos, so you’re going to need to step up your visions. The Americans have him under surveillance, but he’s slippery. He’s never been caught in a compromising position: close, but there’s no evidence they can use to justify an arrest. The only other people with one of these tattoos are either dead or brain damaged.”

I narrow my eyes, ready to snap at him, then the last part of his sentence registers. Just what thefeckis Kronos doing that’s leaving people brain damaged? Pushing LSD bonbons laced with PCP?

“Driscoll! Eyes front! Tell me why the photofit we have on Magda is so vague.” And this time, I do bristle: what is this man’s problem? Did he miss his morning coffee? Did a bug crawl up his butt? Does Her Majesty’s Secret Service give specialized training in how to be an asshole? Sheesh, and I thought Emlyn had been bad.

“It’s the best I can do.”

“Explain to me why the photofit of Amy is clear, but Magda could be anyone.”

“I don’t know! I see her so clearly in the visions, but when I try to recall her features, everything gets a bit blurry. But I’m sure I’d recognize her if I saw her in person.”

“Interesting.” He looks thoughtful, and those lapis-lazuli eyes sharpen. “Well, let’s see what we can find out.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, right hand clutching left bicep, expectant. “I’m waiting, Driscoll.”

“Huh?”

“You look like a monkey on a stick,” he says, shaking his head. “I want you to try to see Magda, Driscoll. I thought Emlyn said you were intelligent.”

Oh no, he did not! My temper flares to life, outrage tamping down any fear. Less than a week ago, Bojan and Ratko were having at me, and now thiswankerthinks he can just order me about? “Perhaps if you spokeEnglishand askedpolitely, this meeting would be more productive, and I could do as you asked.”

The front legs of his chair come down with a thump. “Sorry we don’t have time to pander to your fragile ego, princess. You may have Emlyn dancing to your tune, but I’m not going to put up with anykak. There are lives on the line.”

If I weren’t so angry, I’d laugh at the thought of Emlyn pandering to me. “Listen, you foul-mouthedjack-arse. I’ve agreed to help because it’s the right thing to do. That doesn’t mean I have to put up withyourcrap. You’ve had a problem with me since I walked through the door, and I want to know why. Or are you just naturally a bastard?”

For a second, he pales, as if my words have hit home, then he scowls. “Please accept my deepest apologies, Ms. Driscoll. I was, of course, completely out of line. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d be grateful if you could attempt to see Magda. In your own time, of course, and only if you feel comfortable. I do hope you’re comfortable. Is there anything I can get for you? Tea? A blanket?”

My lips thin. “I’m fine, Mr. Arend. And since you’ve asked so nicely…” I close my eyes, trying to find a calm center, like Kavi taught me – not easy with this massive feckwit in the room. I can’t believe I just snarled at him like that. When did I grow a spine? And why did he back down?

It takes me a good half-hour, and I’m really tempted to brain him with the crystal when he isn’t looking, but I finally manage to step out of my head and into Magda’s living room. She’s reading a book, looking relaxed and contented; and I look at her, wondering what made her so icily cold that she could slit her lover’s throat during sex. I mean: who does that? She must have planned it, one last hoorah and a ginormous orgasm for her, then death for Ratko. Taking out the trash. And did she murder Vlado and Bojan before or after? With her looks, she could be pulling down millions on the catwalk, but she went into crime. That must have been an interesting conversation with the career adviser: model or terrorist, model or terrorist? Gee, choices, choices, choices. I watch her for a while, but the novel has her full concentration. Seef probably expects me to stay here until she moves, but I’m getting bored. I wonder how the guys are getting on at MI5. I wonder. Could I? Well, I’ve never tried it but… maybe? I take a firm hold of the crystal, trying to visualize Kavi, Jorge, and Emlyn, trying to get my focus to shift. Should I try to slide partway down the rope and then back up again? I’m getting frustrated and ready to give up, when my body tingles and the room goes dark; then a light appears, and I see all three of them.

They’re sitting around a table in what looks to be a cafeteria, drinking coffee, I see with a pang of longing, and chatting. Kavi says something, with that wide, heart-stopping grin of his, and Emlyn and Jorge start to laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Emlyn so relaxed. Jorge salutes Kavi with his coffee mug, shaking his head, and I really, really want to know what they’re talking about. I’m sidling closer when I feel something hit my leg. Startled, I look down, losing my balance, and then I’m sliding back into my body with a rush.

I look up to see cool blue eyes boring into me. “How are Jorge and Kavi settling in?”

I start, flushing guiltily. “How did you–”

“You’ve got a very expressive face. Ten minutes ago, you wrinkled up your nose and went from looking terminally bored to curious and… soft. Wasn’t hard to figure out. So, new trick?”

“Mm-hmm.” I’m tempted to stick my tongue out at him but settle for looking around the office, as if I’m terribly interested in the non-existent décor. I see a crumpled-up bit of paper by my feet and realize that that’s what hit my leg a minute ago.

He drums the fingers of his right hand on the desk but simply asks, “What was Magda doing?”

I shrug: “Reading a novel. She seemed to be enjoying it.”

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