Mississippi churned with froth and mud, and here, on the Toulouse Street Wharf, the wind blew chill. A steam whistle sounded in the near distance as the Natchez slugged closer and the river echoed with the captain’s voice, calling through a vintage megaphone. Ambiance. It was all about mystique and how to charm tourists out of another fistful of cash.
I turned up my collar, shivering in the damp cold as I glared at the three-deck steamboat edging its way toward the dock. Somewhere, hidden in a private room, a steam calliope sang a thirty-two-note forbidden song.
Luring me and my boys.
The laughter of children, innocence bought and sold.
“Has you been inside before, boss?” one of my gutter punks asked.
I nodded, then flashed a dark grin. My spike halo was fading, and with it, the world was coming back into focus. The crowd began to shuffle up the ramp toward the boat, river water sloshing onto the first deck. Hidden in my pockets, my fists curled in anger at what I had seen less than an hour ago, a laboratory filled with empty cages—just like my boss expected.
We had been betrayed. The dog and the research were missing.
But for now, I followed the crowd, one step at a time, ignoring the stench of sweat and the press of flesh, forgetting about the near impossible task set before me by the latest turn of events. I vowed to push it out of my mind for the next two hours.
Instead I listened for the strains of calliope music.
And waited for the decadent pleasures that could only be found in the Underground Circus.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chaz:
Angelique slept on her right side, curled in a tangled fetal position, legs tight to her chest, head buried in a pillow. One fist pressed against her mouth. Her eyelids twitched. She must have been dreaming.
I slipped into her room as quietly as I could. I’m always a bit clumsy when I’m tired, but right now exhaustion had been replaced by a jagged adrenaline rush. Fear isn’t one of my favorite highs.
I took her left hand in mine as gently as I could. Ran a scanner over it. Nothing.
I wanted to feel good, I wanted to say, hey, one out of two. Chances are high that I was mistaken. But I’ve never been an optimist.
I reached for her other hand, twisted beneath the pillow. Tried to pull it forward. She moaned, tossed her head, stretched both arms and then repositioned herself. I waited. We each took a deep breath and sighed at the same time, one of those odd in-sync moments that catch you by surprise. I blinked and reminded myself that this was another human being lying here, with as many rights as I have. One of them being violated by Yours Truly right now.
She settled back into a deep sleep, her right hand draped over her thigh.
I ran the scanner again. A pulse of red light flashed.
She had a marker.
I gave myself a couple of minutes to think, paced back and forth in front of her bedroom window. Stared down at the almost empty street, then up at the starless sky. If I was waiting for a flash of brilliance, it didn’t come. The only thing I got was a nagging list of questions, one that cried for attention louder than the others.
I was her Babysitter, so how and when did she get somebody else’s marker? Messing with a Newbie is a capital, and none of the morons who run the kidnapping rings have access to this kind of hardware.
I decided to take a break, went out into the kitchen. Made myself some café au lait with chickory, then found a couple of cookies. I sauntered back into the VR room, rested in the chair and waited for my home page to boot up again, munched on something that tasted like chocolate chips but was probably a soy-based, lactose-free imitation.
Waves washed back and forth. Each one clean, fresh, new. White foam curling. Gulls complaining overhead. The sandpipers were gone. Now a baby seal and its mother glistened in the afternoon sun, sliding over the sand, chasing each other, barking like dogs with sore throats.
I wished my father was still alive. He understood this business like nobody else, had a way of explaining how it never compromised his faith, how he was more like a watcher on the wall, making sure Stringers kept their rights, while at the same time the One-Timers kept theirs. He believed that one day our family