Devil's Bargains

The ride to the hospital in the ambulance is short enough to keep him from doing much more than calling and leaving Tommy a message to meet him at the hospital. The ambulance team only let him in when he claims to be her cousin; he can see the doubt on their faces, but they don't have time to argue. He watches them dress her wounds the best they can, start IV fluids, check her vitals. He hears them on the radio to the ER as if he's listening through a tunnel. He watches her struggle to breath, her eyes opening and closing in an irregular beat as she drifts in and out of consciousness. He's amazed she's alive; he's seen combat cases with less damage than hers fold up and die. Tough lady, he thinks, morbidly wondering how much longer she'll last.

They don't say a word to him as they take her back straight through into surgery. He gets a chance to cll and leave a message for Kate then, and sits in the waiting room, still stained with her blood. A nurse gets on the phone, probably calling the police; he can't work up the energy to care. All he can do is replay that five seconds over and over, the moment when her eyes opened and she saw him and flinched. The fear in her eyes, the pain and suffering. He's dull and dark inside, lost in thoughts he doesn't want to have, so far out of the real world he doesn't respond at first to the two uniform cops who brace him. They start playing good cop, bad cop; he gives his name, address, and tells them he's not answering any other questions. Of course, within seconds, he's in cuffs and they're walking him toward the exit when he hears a soft command from behind them. "Let him go, officers," says a figure from his past.

His blood freezes in his veins. Aden turns and sees Kate and Tommy standing behind the speaker. Short, almost as short as Tommy, thin and dressed in a conservative business suit, the cut feminine, the hair dark and severe, almost a crew cut. Eyes as dark as his, the same lifelessness in them, the same distance, the same cold analytical fury. Topping the image off are the scruffy beat-up tennis shoes, the laces frazzled and rumpled. Same ones as last time.

"Hello, Max," he says in a graveyard whisper. "Didn't know you were around."

"I usually ask my wayward sister not to notify you when I'm in the area. More chance of catching you." Max flashes a homicide detective's badge at the uniforms, and they reluctantly uncuff him and walk away. "How come I always find you covered in someone's blood?"

He's too angry, too guilty; he snaps back without thinking. "Half the time, you're the one who helped me put it there."

If Max is hurt by that, there's no sign. Kate's twin isn't much for emotions, purely interested in the observation and deduction of human nature. A holy warrior incapable of direct **** in most cases, except for that one time back home. "Tell me what happened, as fast and as clearly as you can."

"Hang on a second," he grunts, looking to Kate and Tommy. He reaches out for his girl, and she sprints around Max and into his arms, her cheeks wet, her heart beating so hard he can feel it through her shirt. "It's okay, baby, it's okay," he tells her, knowing damn well it is NOT okay. Kate moves up as well, putting her hand on his shoulder. The three of them stand for a minute, until he hears Max's foot tapping impatiently on the tile floor.

Kate hears it, too. "For fuck's sake, let it rest," she tells Max; it's a sign of their closeness that Max actually nods once and backs away to wait for them to be done. "How is she?" Kate asks.

"I have no idea how she's still alive," he answers honestly, too tired and emotionally drained to lie. "It had to be Rick or someone he knows. At least two men broke in sometime yesterday or the day before."

From the corner, Max is listening, writing everything down in a battered small red notebook. Tommy's hugging him tight enough to **** him, shaking slightly. She doesn't speak.

Kate looks up over their shoulders and smiles as Bailey arrives from outside, on her phone. Bailey comes straight up to them and joins Tommy in holding Aden, trying to let him know they are here, that they care. "I called ahead, Sarah's on duty tonight. She's going to see if she can get in there to help out."

"That would be good," Kate says, stepping back to give the three lovers room. She's studying Aden's face, and doesn't like what she sees. "Nick-"

He stops her, putting one hand up. "I need to talk to Max," he grunts. "The priority here is to get the bastards responsible."

"Wouldn't that be you?" Max asks, flipping a page over in the notebook. "Seems we had a complaint filed about you by the victim a while back. Something about a threatening visit?"

"I did visit her." Aden pauses. "No one came to investigate it."

"Yes," Max says, tone unpleasant. There's something more here, Aden realizes.

He turns back to the girls, and motions toward the waiting room. "Go ahead, I'll catch up. Promise."

"Nicki," Tommy starts, then runs out of words. She gives a helpless shrug and follows Bailey and Kate deeper into the waiting room. Max turns and walks outside to the front of the hospital, and Aden follows.

"Run it for me," Max says quietly, so he does. He starts at the Cambridge and Rick's twisted idea of fun, follows through the threats the man made, the obvious signs of ****, the call from Kate to see what he could do, Anne's reaction to his suggestion. He doesn't softsell it, tells the truth, all the while staring out into the darkening parking lot. The evening traffic is starting to thicken, the headlights trailing along in orderly lines, little orange and red fireflies in the deepening darkness. The words keep downloading, Max processing it all, all the way to today and the monster being too late. When he's finished, he waits, knowing Max well enough to know the data is being milled over, connections made.

Max sighs. "The man you mentioned, Richard Benning?"

"Yeah?"

"Connected. He works at a mob-run construction company, part of a crew that works for the Patriarcas somewhere down the line."

"Good," Aden says. "He's not a civilian, so I can clip him."

"That really is your first response to everything, isn't it?" Max reaches into a coat pocket and pulls out a packet of Fruit Stripe gum. Pops one in, starts chewing. Max doesn't offer Aden any. "You will need to eventually progress out of the Neanderthal era."

"Says the robot," Aden sighs, and puts his hand on Max's shoulder, watching the smaller cop jump at the contact. When Max tries to pull back out of reach, Aden holds on, stopping the retreat. "You've already figured out what we're going to do. We both know you're a billion times smarter than I am, maybe than anyone else I know. I've watched you play sixteen games of chess at the same time, blind, and win them all. So use that enormous brain attached to that badly damaged ego and tell me what exactly the fuck I am doing."

Max takes a deep breath, and Aden lets go. "Eighteen, you philistine." There's a moment as Max gets composed. "The city government is having a really hard time with police corruption, and Benning's friends are the major cause. They have money in their pockets to put in other people's pockets. You touch Benning, and the local crew will come out shooting."

"Mmmm." Aden watches the traffic flow, yellow serpents adding to the fireflies. "What if someone else shot first?"

Max smiles. "There would be a list of places and names. Sixteen in the crew overall, not counting hangers-on. Three main locations. One is under surveillance by the Feds, but the night shift agent is on the short-list for retirement."

"So there's an open time."

Max nods, looking up at the overcast sky. "There's a time."

Aden adjusts the collar of his coat, looks out into the night. "Someone could run the whole thing in a night with help. Say, two or three really dangerous folks."

"I'd say two would do it. I'm sure you could think of some names."

Aden nods this time. The two of them have fallen into the old rhythm, Max the brains, Aden the brawn. "I can contact some old friends, get the gear together."

They both know this dance. There's a clinking noise on the concrete, near Max's feet. Max leads. "I have copies of the files in my trunk. I'm going to go in and check on the status of the victim. I'm filing my report after that; I'll redact much of it, reword part, and elide the rest. It'll hold."

Aden follows. "I will be taking a short business trip, say five days or so. I'll leave my contact info with Kate in case you need something more about this."

Max throws the hook. "I hope whatever business contacts you have can provide appropriate bonafides of your whereabouts should something wicked fall upon Mr. Benning and his Sicilian cohorts."

Aden bites. "I'm sure you'll be able to spend some time with Kate this week at the appropriate times."

Max seals it. "Whoever did such a horrible and vicious thing to the victim surely has the wrath of God waiting for them." As Max walks away, Aden pauses to take three deep slow breaths. Then he bends down and scoops up the keys Max dropped and heads off to find Max's car and the documents he'll need.