Free Chimera by Rob Thurman Page A

the blood with the ones I’d pawned off on Sevastian, but there was still a faint splotch of red fading to wet pink on the one I held now. A ripple of unease passed through the mobile face before disappearing under a smooth mask. Saul had a definite nodding acquaintance with violence himself, but the implications here . . . a bloody trunk . . . might be more than even he cared to consider. “How about we go upstairs and eat while we talk? Having a picnic in an underground garage isn’t my idea of class.”
    Giving his green, blue, and purple kaleidoscope silk shirt a disparaging glance, I drawled, “Yeah, you’re all about class.” I shrugged and led the way to the elevator. Upstairs I let us into my place, tossed the paper towels in the garbage, and washed my hands. As the warm water washed over my skin, I let it also carry the morning’s events with it. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. If that meant mentally burying the vision and consequences of what I’d done, that’s what I would do. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be in good company. I might have to look into a bigger box. It was getting tight in there.
    “Bring me a beer, would you?” Saul called from the living room.
    Seconds later I tossed him a cold bottle with a jaundiced growl. “Don’t you hate it when your ass gets superglued to the couch? Lazy bastard.”
    He caught the bottle and disregarded the barb with aplomb. “Hope you can use chopsticks.”
    He couldn’t have told me that while I was still in the kitchen with the forks. I had many skills, some of which involved pointed objects, but wielding chopsticks wasn’t one of them. It didn’t matter. Hunger was the last thing on my mind at the moment. “It’s all yours, Skoczinsky. Eat up.”
    “Your loss.” He put his feet up on the coffee table and opened a carton of rice. “Don’t come crying to me that you didn’t get your daily dose of MSG.”
    I knew better than to think I could go toe-to-toe with the perpetual motion machine that was Saul’s mouth. “Did you get all the equipment?” I didn’t sit, instead walking over to the window to take a look at a view with which I was already intimately familiar.
    “Everything but the weapons. You said you would handle that.”
    We’d been planning for five days now. In that time I’d managed to gather enough guns to give the NRA an orgasm. I’d also obtained Tasers, tear gas, and stun grenades, all police quality. My friends of the semiofficial capacity weren’t exactly in high places, but they didn’t have to be to get their hands on what I needed. “I took care of it.”
    “Sure you got enough?”
    The side of my mouth crooked. “You’d better bring a back brace.”
    Saul had no complaints. He liked his skin in one piece and keeping it that way was of paramount importance in the Skoczinsky scheme of things. “I’ll bring a wheelbarrow if I have to.” Popping a clump of steamed rice into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed. “Have you given thought to what the hell you’re going to do if we manage to pull him out of that place?”
    Had I given it thought? I’d given it nothing but. I could go to the police. None of my past indiscretions were known, not even today’s. What a versatile word, indiscretion . . . and how amazing the amount of dark and ugly territory it could cover. Most of that territory was invisible to the cops, and that meant I could take Lukas to the nearest station and scream for help like any other law-abiding citizen. And within an hour I’d be yelling again as those beefy guys in khakis dragged us back to the compound. Not government, but the government ties we so strongly suspected could come into play to pinpoint us in a heartbeat. The police were out of the question; probably the FBI as well. Call me suspicious and paranoid. It was better than being called dead.
    My best bet was to go underground. Konstantin wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to have me use the family network as a place to hide,