Irregulars - lanyon Josh - Страница 43

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Barry started the engine.

“Was it bad?” he asked tersely, pulling out of the narrow parking space.

Archer shook his head. All at once he was too tired to move, too tired even for words. Tears smarted in his eyes. He blinked them away.

“I…”

“Yes.” Barry’s voice was bleak. “You did.”

“Sorry,” Archer whispered.

Barry shook his head. No apology necessary. “How close did you come to finding them?”

Archer said wearily, “I had them in my hands. For a few minutes.”

“Hopefully it was worth it.”

Archer’s eyes flew open. “How can you say that?”

Barry shook his head. “They arrested Gaki when they arrested you. That’s something.”

“Good.”

“Of course, he’s got the money to pay for the best lawyers. Not that Ms Sibanyoni wouldn’t put up a gallant fight for you.” Barry seemed to be picking and choosing his words. “The badges confiscated the beads as well.”

Archer watched him closely. “So?”

“So…you were right. Gaki hadn’t purchased any antique water beads. They’re the real thing. Carved beads of an unidentified material that’s as translucent as glass but harder than jade or emeralds or any known stone.”

“Did you think I would be mistaken about something like that?”

Barry said nothing.

The real source of his unease dawned on Archer. “Where are they, Barry? What are they planning?”

“Archer.” Barry looked away from the wheel. “You know where the beads are and you know exactly what’s going to happen to them.”

His heart seemed to drop out of his chest like a bird shot out of the sky. “They can’t! They can’t neutralize them.”

“Of course they can. Of course they will.” Barry threw him another of those grimly pitying looks.

“There’s got to be something we can do to stop them. Get some injunction against them. Something.”

“It’s done. Let it go.”

“I can’t let it go.”

“You don’t have a choice. And, to be blunt, you’ve got bigger problems now.”

That was the bitter truth. If he’d waited, controlled his impulsiveness, his rebelliousness, his need to possess the beads and all they represented immediately, it might all be different now. It would certainly be different now. The beads would still be with Gaki, yes, but they would be safe. Waiting for Archer. Waiting for him to find the right moment for their liberation.

He was not good at waiting for right moments. He never had been. He could blame that on his faerie bloodline. The fae were not an accommodating race.

Archer stared out the window at the buildings and cars flying past as Barry wove in and out of traffic, driving with set face and somber purpose. Not like his normal meandering style of travel at all. It occurred to Archer that they were not on their way to Gastown or the museum. “Where are we going?”

“Stanley Park. I pulled some strings—a cat’s cradle worth of strings—and there’s a port-o-let there waiting to take you where you need to go.”

“But I thought…” Well, no. He hadn’t thought. That was the whole trouble, wasn’t it?

Again, Archer started to speak, but Barry was still following his own thoughts. “We’ve got to get you out of the country as fast as possible or you’re going to wind up playing house for the next century with a vampire—or worse—in the Northwest Territories.”

“I told them Gaki tried to sell me black market antiquities. I think they’ll believe it. It turned out Rake was investigating him.” Archer added shortly, “He used me and the beads to get Gaki.”

 Barry snorted. “Don’t fool yourself. You were always the real prize. Rake honestly believes that you’re still with SRRIM. He used the beads and Gaki to get you.” Barry added almost absently, “Anyway, I’m sure the commander has figured out that, unlike a full-blooded faerie, you can lie with the best of them.”

Archer thought of Rake. “Maybe. I’d still like to—”

But Barry interrupted, “Don’t worry. It’s all arranged. We’ve set up a new identity for you in Brittany.”

“Brittany?” Archer echoed. “But I don’t know anyone in Brittany.”

“Exactly. And no one in Brittany knows you. But there’s still a largish faerie presence there. You’ll acclimatize quickly, you’ll see.”

“But…” Once it had been Archer arranging these things. It was confusing to be on the other side. “Don’t I have any say in this?”

“Of course. Say whatever you like. So long as it isn’t that you want to stay and face trial here.”

“No.” It struck Archer that he would never see Rake again. All morning he had been seething with resentment toward him, but now when he needed anger the most, it drained away, leaving him bereft.

“You’ll be set up in business as an antiques dealer,” Barry was saying. “Money is being wired to your account. Am I forgetting anything?”

Probably not. They were not new at this kind of thing, although it was the first time Archer had played the starring role of fugitive. It was not an enjoyable feeling. “What about…”

Barry glanced at him. “What about what?”

Archer gestured vaguely, unable to articulate. He felt overwhelmed by how fast everything was moving.

Barry said quickly, reassuringly, “I’ll send your Great-Aunt Esmeralda’s clock along with your other belongings. I know what those things mean to you.”

Archer nodded automatically. “Rake wasn’t there while I was being interrogated.”

“He was meeting with the mayor. The word is he intends to have Gaki prosecuted for attempted kidnapping, extortion, trafficking in culturally significant other-realm artifacts, and endangering the health and welfare of a protected being.”

Archer spluttered into unwilling laughter. “Can he do that?”

“Who knows. If anyone can, it’s Commander Rake.” Barry gave him a look of commiseration. “I’m sorry about the beads, but having them wouldn’t change anything.”

Archer stared out the window. “You can’t understand this, Barry.”

“Archer, you are who you are and possession of the beads doesn’t change that.”

Archer turned to him, frowning, but they had reached the turnoff for the West End and Stanley Park.

In a very short time Archer stood in the parking lot where the port-o-let was.

“Thank you, Barry,” he said belatedly. “You’re going to take a lot of heat for this.”

“Yes, but it’s a dry heat,” Barry said blandly. It was such an un-Barry-like comment, Archer began to laugh. Or maybe he was laughing because the alternative was unthinkable.

He was startled when Barry reached out and pulled him into a hug. Barry was blinking when he released Archer. All this time Archer had believed Barry didn’t care for sentiment, but Barry was the one reaching to wipe his eyes.

“I’ll miss you,” Archer said. He was surprised to realize how true it was. It was only now dawning on him how much of a home and even extended family he had here—now, when he was leaving forever.

“We’ve had some high times,” Barry agreed, smirking.

“Give Commander Rake my love.”

Barry grimaced. “Take care of yourself, my young friend. Be happy. Write.”

Archer nodded. There was nothing left to say. He turned and sprinted across the parking lot.

As the blue plastic door closed, Barry’s waving figure seemed to fall farther and farther in the distance. After a moment, Archer tugged open the door and stepped onto another continent.

Chapter Ten

“One more client, if you want to see him,” Marie said. “American. They always think the world revolves around them.”

Archer, feet propped on his desk, looked up from the article about a series of strange deaths in Mexico City. Not that deaths in Mexico City were strange, but when you were fae, and marshland fae at that, you had to wonder about fatally fouled water supplies.

“Buying or selling?”

“He didn’t say. He only asked to see you.”

Archer sighed. Not that bloody Stone of Fal again. Even if he’d had the faintest idea where the wretched thing was—and thankfully he didn’t—he wasn’t about to be mixed up in sidhe politics when the simple act of trying to retrieve costume jewelry had nearly gotten him killed.

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