“How do you feel?” I asked as Mzatal returned to his position behind me.
“Okay, I guess,” Sonny said, though he didn’t seem very certain of it.
“Now think about leaving Farouche’s employment.”
Fear flickered in his eyes for an instant in pure ingrained reflex, then his mouth dropped open. “That’s . . . impossible.”
“It’s normal,” I corrected.
“You’ll get used to it,” Bryce added.
“Now for part two,” I said. “And I’m sorry to forge ahead so quickly, but we’re hoping you can help us.” I gave him a second to acknowledge with a nod. “Bryce says you’re taking care of Angela Palatino.”
“I am. She’s at the plantation.” He flinched, as if expecting lightning to strike him for saying something so directly against Farouche’s interests then visibly forced himself to relax.
“She’s the mother of Idris Palatino, a friend of ours,” I told him, “and she’s being held as hostage to help ensure his cooperation.”
His mouth twisted. “I had a feeling it was something like that. Orders were to treat her well and tell her nothing.”
I leaned forward. “Here’s the kicker,” I said. “We have reason to believe Idris will be brought to the plantation within the next two days. Do you know anything about that?”
Sonny pursed his lips, then tipped his wrist to check his watch. “Nigel Fox and Mystery Man Twenty-two were supposed to land about half an hour ago at a private strip not far from the plantation.” He glanced back up. “Escorting a package. That could be your Idris.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed as Mzatal’s intensity flared behind me like summer heat off pavement. And Mystery Man Twenty-two is Aaron Asher. My pulse thudded in a mixture of shock, excitement, and victory. It’s not a victory yet, I reminded myself. Not even close. We didn’t even know if the package was really Idris.
I forced myself to chill. “That leads right in to what I have to ask you. However, I want to be totally clear right up front: You can absolutely say no. We won’t coerce or guilt trip you.”
The skin around Sonny’s eyes tightened. “Say no to what?”
“We have a couple of plans,” I said. “One of them,” and the best one, I added silently, “needs someone on the inside to help us.” I watched him carefully. I was basically asking him to walk into a dragon’s lair and punch the dragon in the balls.
He went still, barely breathing. For a good ten seconds he let that sink in before he stood up, eyes on Bryce and gave a head jerk away from the table. Bryce slid a glance to me then retreated about twenty feet away with Sonny. Paul seemed oblivious to their departure, his attention fully on his tablet, earbuds in, and his eyes with the familiar distant and glazed look that said he was in deep.
Mzatal shifted behind me and murmured, “Sonny Ortiz can be manipulated to cooperate fully.”
I actually considered it for about two seconds. It would be so damn easy. “No, Boss. He can’t.” I sighed and glanced back at him. “We’d be no different than Farouche. If Sonny doesn’t agree to do it, we’ll find another way.” I understood why he proposed it. Manipulation was a tool at his disposal, one that would bring him closer to Idris, but I made sure my views and feelings about this were easy for him to read. And, to his credit, I felt Mzatal receive my input and accept it. Good enough for now.
Yet I had to control a shiver at the reminder of how dangerous the lords could be to humans. An instant later, I felt Mzatal’s hand on my shoulder. He was willing to resist those ingrained patterns of demonic lord behavior, at least in this moment. I covered his hand with my own, deeply appreciating that he made the effort.
“It’s him!” Paul looked up from the tablet and gave a triumphant smile. “Sonny’s right. Idris came in with Fox and Asher. Both of Big Mack’s jets are in their hangars, so I broadened the scope. Found a Gulfstream G650 belonging to a business associate of B.M.’s that landed at the private strip half an hour ago. No video, but I caught Idris’s name in a phone call. He’s at the plantation.”
I stared for a second, processing not only the confirmation of our suspicion, but the magnitude of Paul’s talent. “You have successfully kicked all the ass,” I said. “Hot damn. That seals it.”
Paul grinned, then glanced over at Bryce and Sonny as they returned to the table. Sonny still looked dazed, but there was a determined set to his mouth. Bryce met my eyes and gave a slight nod.
The two sat again, and Sonny cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do it. I need to do it.”
I drew breath to respond, even as Paul whooped and shot to his feet.
“You’re the best, Sonny!” he exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. “All you have to do is go to the server room by the security station and disconnect my firewall of doom from behind the third rack of servers and plug in a dongle I have all ready to go. Then I can run all sorts of interference, kill their comms, and totally rule the plantation so Lord Mzatal can come in blazing!”
I fought back a grin at Paul’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, what he said.”
But Sonny’s expression grew more serious. “There’s something weird with that room since yesterday,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “The door’s closed, and I get queasy if I look at it too long.”
My brief euphoria slipped away. “Shit,” I muttered. “It’s been warded. Sonny, you won’t be able to get in there.” I drummed my fingers on the table as I considered our plans and the giant gaping holes that now appeared in them. “As it stands now, Mzatal can’t go in because the alarm would be raised and Angela would get a gun to her head, but if Paul can get his doogle—”
“Dongle,” he corrected.
I snorted. “If Paul can get his dongle to the server room, then he can shut their comms and alarm down and all sorts of other good stuff. But it looks like only someone with the ability to remove wards can get into the server room.” I smiled tightly. “I think that leaves me.”
Sonny grimaced. “Easier said than done. First you have to get onto the plantation grounds, which isn’t even remotely easy. Fenced perimeter, surveillance, the works. And even if you manage that, then you need to look as if you’re supposed to be there for long enough to do the thing to the server room. Problem is, it’s in the main house, and everyone knows everyone else. Not like you can pretend to be a new hire or something.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for taking Mr. Farouche down, but—”
“Paul tracked your car today,” Bryce interrupted, eyes bright and expression determined. “You made a forty-three minute stop at the residence of Amaryllis Castlebrook and then staked out her workplace. You prepping for a grab?”
I swung my attention to Bryce, surprised and thoroughly impressed by the tidbit of information and follow-through. Though Mzatal said nothing, I felt his focus intensify as he read the two men’s nuances faster and with greater clarity than they could speak.
“It’s scheduled for tonight,” Sonny said, then comprehension dawned on his face only an instant behind my own.
“You take me instead,” I breathed. Damn I loved my posse.
“Everything’s easier now,” Bryce said, voice rich with satisfaction.
Sonny looked off into the distance, no doubt running through the possibilities. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It could work.”
An ugly thought wormed into my mind. “Sonny, is Rhyzkahl at the compound now? Or has he been there since yesterday?” I couldn’t unwind the wards if he’d set them.
At Sonny’s puzzled look, Bryce clarified, “Mega-Fabio.”
“No,” he said. “He hasn’t been around for a few months. But I suspect he’s coming back.” Anger deepened the lines in his face. “Rumor has it that’s who this pickup is for.”
My mouth curved into a tight and cold smile. “Even more perfect. When are you supposed to grab her?”