Skin Game Page 55

She snorted, and picked up the next Uzi in the row.

“I don’t understand. Why would Nicodemus’s wife be trying to sabotage him?” Ascher asked.

“Maybe she wants to cop the job,” Binder said wistfully. “Lot of money.”

“Nah,” I said. “Money isn’t her thing.”

“’Fraid you’d say that,” he said. “Personal?”

“Let’s just say that ‘dysfunctional’ doesn’t even come close to that family.”

“Bloody hell,” Binder said. “Why does everyone have to get bloody personal? No bloody professional pride anymore.” He glowered at me. “Present bloody company included.”

“Language,” Ascher said, wincing.

“Sod off,” he said. “Where’re Deirdre and Grey?”

“Grey’s doubling the accountant,” I said. “No clue about Deirdre.”

Binder made a growling sound.

“Hey,” Ascher said. “Has anyone else been keeping track of how many goats are in the pen?”

“Eight,” said Karrin and Binder together.

I did a rough calculation. “It’s eating one goat at every meal.”

That got me a round of looks.

I shrugged. “Something’s here. It stands to reason.”

Ascher and Binder both looked around the factory floor. Ascher folded her arms as if she’d suddenly become cold.

“Big,” Karrin noted calmly. “If it eats that much.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“And quiet.”

“Yeah.”

“And really, really fast.”

Binder shook his head. “Bloody hell.”

“What is it?” Ascher said.

“Could be a lot of things,” Binder said. “None of them good.” He squinted at me. “Muscle, you think?”

“Maybe where we’re going, we need something with that kind of physical power,” I said.

Ascher scowled. “Or maybe it’s there to clean us up after the job.”

“We wouldn’t have been given a chance to become aware of it if that was the case,” Karrin said.

“Unless that’s what Nicodemus wants us to think,” Binder said.

Us. I liked the sound of that. The more people I could incline against pitching in on Nicodemus’s side when it all hit the fan, the better. “Let’s not go down that rabbit hole,” I said. “We’ve got problems enough without adding in paranoia.”

“Too right,” Binder said. “Job worth twenty million each, with an invisible monster nipping about the place and a psychotic ex trying to bugger us out of tweaking the nose of a bloody Greek god. What have we got to be paranoid about?”

“Look,” I said, “at the best, it means Nicodemus isn’t telling us everything.”

“We knew that already,” Ascher said.

I shrugged a shoulder in acknowledgment of that. “At worst, it means someone on the inside is giving information to some kind of opposition.”

Ascher narrowed her eyes. “That’s rich, coming from the opposition.”

I waved a hand. “At this point, I’m playing the game. I’ll get in and out again, because if I don’t, Mab is going to have my head.” Well, technically, she’d have the splattered pieces, but they didn’t need the details. “I’m not looking to derail the train before then.”

Ascher looked skeptical. Binder looked pensive. Karrin finished her inspection of the next Uzi and picked up another one.

“Ash-my-girl,” Binder said, and jerked his head toward the other end of the factory floor.

She nodded, and the two of them moved off, walking close and speaking quietly.

Karrin watched them go, and then asked me, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Same as us,” I said. “Wondering when someone’s going to pull the rug out from underneath them, and how they’re going to get out of it in one piece.”

“Or maybe thinking about doing a little pulling themselves,” she said.

“Or maybe that,” I said. “But . . . they won’t do it until after they’ve got their packs loaded with jewels.”

“How do you figure?”

“Binder,” I said. “He’s a mercenary, plain and simple.”

“Unless that’s what he wants us to think,” Karrin said.

“Unless that,” I said. I exhaled slowly. “This whole thing,” I said, “is going to come down to guessing who isn’t what they look like.”

“Who is?” Karrin asked, her hands moving surely over the weapon. “Ever.”

“Point,” I said. “But it’s going to be about guessing motivations. Whoever’s done a better job of figuring out what the other wants wins.”

Her mouth quivered at the corners. “Then we might be in trouble. Because your motivations have . . . never exactly been mysterious, Harry.”

“Not to you,” I said. “To someone like Nicodemus, I must seem like an utter lunatic.”

Karrin let out a short laugh. “You know what? I think you’re probably right.” She manually cycled the action of the Uzi, caught the round as it was ejected, then put the weapon down and nodded. “That’s it. Forty of them.”

I grunted. “Didn’t some biblical guy have forty soldiers to take on an army or something?”

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