Chapter Six A Friend in the Family? The drive to Reno from the Sierras is a strange experience. One minute you're surrounded by lush mountain forest and some of the most beautiful vistas in the world (even by moonlight), and the next, blam, you're in the drabbest, brownest, deadest desert plain, and the mighty Sierras are disappearing slowly in the rearview. You drive for half an hour or so across this featureless wasteland, top a rise, and there's Reno in all its tawdry glory, neon and scrolling lights glittering in the night. It looks pretty from a few miles out, but up close, it loses its charm fast. Twenty miles out, with the city still invisible in the distance, I guided my beat-up old Buick through the night. Thomas remained obligingly silent, once again proving what a pleasant traveling companion he was, and Phil sang to me on the tape deck as I continued putting my thoughts in order. Because tonight, tonight, tonight Ah yes we're gonna make it right, tonight, tonight, tonight I got some money in my pocket It's about ready to burn I don't remember where I got it I gotta get it to you So please answer the phone 'Cause I keep calling but you're never home What am I gonna do? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Eddie Dice knew what Joey Zippo was, what he was in town for, and either he was setting me up to get taken down, or Joey. Whether that made Eddie another celestial or just a particularly gutsy human with a better-than-average grasp of the way the world really works, I didn't know. Just another thing I'd have to ask him, I guess. Traffic was bad in Reno even at nearly midnight, but eventually we found our way to a parking space at the garage adjacent to the Humboldt Lode Casino. Eddie worked for the same crime family that had employed Joey Zippo, but he wasn't a soldier - he was a made man, a crack numbers runner and a top-notch bookkeeper (and book-cooker), who made the rounds of the family's various gambling holdings in the area, ranging from the Humboldt in Reno to its sister casino in Vegas, various turf shops and less legitimate enterprises in the Los Angeles area, and similar operations in the East Bay and on the Peninsula. The job kept him on the move, constantly patrolling what amounted to a big square covering a decent portion of the American Southwest. The longest chunk of time he ever spent in one place, when he was on his regular schedule, was around three days, and he spent those three days in Reno. Which was why, unless he had diverged from a habit so long-standing it was perfectly known to me and several interested police departments, he was sure to be in Reno tonight. Thomas and I walked into the lobby of the Humboldt, and I noticed with some level of amusement when the bouncer sized us up, noted the breadth of Thomas's shoulders, and backed up a half-step in his alcove. I gave him a wave and headed to the reception desk. "Can I help you, sir?" asked the receptionist coolly, noting my rumpled appearance and silent accompaniment. I dropped one of my cards on the counter in front of her and said, "Tell Eddie Dice that Jake Mason wants to talk." "Mr. Dicerenzi is very busy this evening," said the receptionist. "Perhaps if you came back next Thursday - " Thomas's right hand came down on the counter with a nice, meaty THUMP, fingers spread. He could have palmed a small dinner plate with that paw. I was impressed, and I'd seen it before. The receptionist's eyes got almost as wide. "We need to see him -tonight-," Thomas intoned, staring flatly at the poor girl. "Whoa, easy there, big guy," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder (which was kind of like patting a rock with a swatch of nice worsted wool stretched over it). "No need to get heavy with the hired help. Listen," I said, directing my words and a reassuring smile to the receptionist, "Eddie knows me. If you give him my card I'm sure he'll take some time out of his busy schedule to see me. I only need a few minutes." "Well... I'm not sure... " I shrugged, casting my eyes at Thomas as if to warn her that she'd have to take it up with him. She went a little paler and said, "I... um," then picked up the phone and punched an intercom button. "Mr. Dicerenzi... yes... a Jake Mason is here to see you. He said you - yes... all right." She hung up the phone and said with obvious relief, "Mr. Dicerenzi can spare you five minutes in his office, Mr. Mason." I grinned. "Thanks, doll," I said. "I know where it is. C'mon, Rocky," I added to Thomas. I tried to pull him away with me, but I might as well have been trying to sneak my car into the casino on my back. He stared down the receptionist for a couple more seconds; then his broad face suddenly broke into a grin so unexpected and sincere that it seemed to light the reception area up for a moment. The receptionist was taken aback but clearly charmed; she smiled back, a little wanly, and then Thomas allowed himself to be led out of the room. "Good cop, bad cop," I remarked as we walked down the corridor toward Eddie's office. "They teach you that at Inquisition school?" "It's a standard technique," Thomas replied. "Usually I play the good cop and Nalzich the bad. The reversal is rather refreshing," he mused. "Happy to oblige," I said, and as we reached the double doors at the end of the corridor, a man with a gun stepped out of them and pointed it at us. I had expected that, and held up a hand as Thomas tensed to fight beside me. A look over my shoulder confirmed that the lobby bouncer had followed us; he had his piece out, too. The guy ahead of us, a tall, rake-thin fellow whose name floated annoyingly just out of reach in my memory, led us into Eddie Dice's office, in the process relieving me of my gun and the contents of my pockets, which he put on Eddie's desk. Eddie Dice was just like I remembered him; average height and thin, with angular features that looked more Slavic than Italian and glittering dark eyes that caught everything around him. He had on a suit that no doubt cost him more tham my car cost me when it was new (which, contrary to popular belief, it was once) and a watch that easily cost three times that. He smiled at me and waved his two men out of the office. "Hiya, Mason," he said, waving for Thomas and I to sit down in the comfy-looking chairs before his desk. "Long time." I sat. The chair was comfy. "Eddie," I replied. "Cig? You like the Brit kind, if I remember right," said Eddie, offering me a lacquered box full of a grade of Dunhill more expensive than the kind I usually smoked. "Thanks," I replied. I took one, fished my black lighter out of my coat pocket, and lit up. Eddie raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and poked through the other stuff from my pockets for the moment. "Nice job you did on Joey Zippo," he said. "Joey disappeared," I replied. "Nobody knows what happened to him." "A little bird told me," said Eddie with a smile. "Let's quit this dance, Eddie," I said. "We're both... enlightened people," I said. "We know what's going on, although I'm not sure where you fit into it yet." Eddie nodded, a gesture of acquiescence. "Hey, I'm just the middleman," he said. "You might not believe this, Jake, but I'm on your side." "I'd find that more comforting," I admitted, "if I knew what the hell the sides -were-." "Yeah, it's a mess," Eddie agreed, still fiddling with my pocket stuff. "Oh ho! Nice little piece of work you have here." He held up the little brass-and-steel derringer I'd wound up with when Nalzich left me his jacket. "Present from Eli?" "I took it off a Malakite," I replied. Maybe that would impress him a little. It did; his eyebrows popped up. "No kidding? You might be even tougher than I thought you were," he said. "So you set me up to take out Joey Zippo," I said. "I figured you'd pointed Jerry the Pig at me with that tip on purpose, but I didn't know who you expected to lose." Eddie nodded. "Oh, I was betting on you all the way, Jake. Joey's tough, but he's basically a loser," he said. "You know how Belial's boys usually are. I figured you wouldn't have much trouble taking him out. You fight smart." Assuming Eddie was right, and telling the truth, about Joey's Superior, it made a lot of sense. Belial, the Demon Prince of Fire, isn't known for his intellectual might or his subtlety. His style suited Joey Zippo's to a T. "Just doing your civic duty?" I asked. "Hey, I'm a businessman, not a fighter," Eddie replied, spreading his hands. "My hands get shaky I even think about getting into a fight. That's what guys like you are for, Jake. I just bag up the trash, it's up to you to take it out." "What's Joey Zippo to you, Eddie?" I asked. "And why'd you have Jerry hit? Just to keep up appearances?" "Whoa, don't lay that on me, Jake," said Eddie. "I find out who tried to off the Pig, I'm gonna have one of my boys drill him a new nostril. Jerry's not much use most of the time, but he's a friend of mine." That was a new one on me, but Eddie seemed sincere. Of course, depending on who and what he really was, that might be his whole talent in life, but I didn't get to where I am as a detective without trusting my instincts. "And Joey?" "The wrong tool for the wrong job," said Eddie. "C'mon, a Calabite of Fire on a search-and-capture mission? I don't know why Belial wanted Eli, but who wants to see him get him? Not me, that's for sure." It made sense, but the fact that Eddie knew it made sense deepened my suspicion that he was a celestial of some kind. Sure, there are humans who know of the Symphony and the War - Karen's one of them - but most of them work for Superiors who don't tell them nearly as much about what's going on as Eddie knew. Someday I'd have to get answers on that, but right now, I had other things to wonder about. "So Belial wants Eli in Hell. Who else?" "Don't ask me, man," Eddie replied, shrugging. "I don't get to that neighborhood often." If he'd been there at all, he was almost definitely not human. Live humans don't leave Earth, except for their minds going to the Marches when they sleep; it's just plain not done. "Anyway, you guys must be tired, it's such a long drive from Oakland and all," said Eddie. If he knew we were angels, and at that point I couldn't see how he wouldn't, he knew we didn't actually need to sleep, but if you live among humans for long enough, you do tend to act as they do. I could look forward to a night's rest... ... and it would give me an excuse to do some asking around in the Marches. "Let me put you up for the night in one of the luxo suites," said Eddie, getting up from behind his desk. "My treat. Oh, you can have your stuff back, Jake," he added. "I think I can trust you not to try and plug me, hey?" he said with a wink. "Thanks, Eddie," I said, tucking my stuff away. "You're a prince." "Not yet," he said with another wink. "That man was almost certainly a demon," Thomas observed as we rode the elevator up to the top floor. "Some kind of celestial, anyway," I allowed. "The prince joke... " "Might have been just a joke," I replied. "Don't jump to conclusions. Relax... even if he is, there's nothing heretical about taking a free night in a hotel from a demon who's offering it with no strings, if it's in the line of duty." Thomas looked troubled, but nodded acquiescence. "I suppose you know best," he said. "I'm new to actual investigation." As we left the elevator and walked down the hall, he observed, "It's not as easy as I supposed. I'll have new respect for Valadriel when I rejoin him." "Well, that'll be good for morale, anyway," I said, opening the door to our suite. "So - ever been to the Marches?" "Only once. Have you?" "Not for a long time," I replied. "I hope I remember all the tricks." Thomas, inexperienced with the concept, merely lay down on the bed in his room, his hands folded over his chest. I was more familiar with the concept, having lived and slept like a human every night for years - it makes the humans you live with, if you don't live alone, a lot less suspicious - and the old habits gave me an odd pleasure as I performed them, stripping down, turning back the covers, switching off the lights and tucking in. I wondered, as I felt my consciousness begin to drift, if anybody in the Marches would remember me. TO BE CONTINUED