"Doesn't mean I have to." She got out her viaphone. "Name please."
"That's unnecess—"
"It is when your life has been threatened twice," she cut in. "Name, Minister."
"The other girl is much pleasanter," he muttered, then added, "Les Mohern."
Les Mohern? Why did that name ring alarm bells in the back of her mind? Was it simply because it wasn't on the list of known associates and friends Stephan had given her? Or something else? She repeated the name into the viaphone and ordered a search. Hopefully, something would come up before the long night was over.
Now all she had to do was hope it was a long, unexciting night.
But even as the thought crossed her mind, instinct suggested it was going to be anything but.
Twelve
Gabriel gripped the branch with his claws, keeping his wings spread until he'd gained his balance. Once he had, he settled his wings against his sides and looked around. Dusk was settling in, and with it, a storm. Wind shook the branches, making the leaves all around him shiver and dance, and the growing darkness held the strong aroma of rain. It was a clean, fresh fragrance that did little to erase the stench of the house below.
Les Mohern hadn't lived at the address the SIU had on file for a good two years. It appeared that even before his brother's disappearance, Les had lived the life of a gypsy, never staying too long in one place. His subsequent trail had taken some searching, but the SIU's computer system was one of the best, and eventually, it had picked up a small trail of receipts that had led him here.
Mohern's latest stopover was a dump. Literally.
Whoever it was that Mohern was scared of, they had to be pretty damn bad for him to be staying in a place like this.
The stink was almost nose destroying—the sort of odor that could invade your skin and hang there. The small house that Mohern was using as a refuge was situated on the corner of the refuse center, and it had to be crawling with all sorts of bugs, mice and rats. Even he, with the soul of a hawk, shuddered at the thought of staying there. Sharing his bed with cockroaches and rats was not his idea of a good time.
He studied the nearest windows carefully, but could spot no movement. And though darkness was moving in, there was no light. He walked along the tree branch, looking into other windows, but the result was the same—no immediate sign or sound of human life.
He spread his wings and took to the air again. With dusk fading into night, his brown and gold coloring was unlikely to be spotted. Though in truth, a hawk soaring over a refuse station was unlikely to cause alarm. Places like this were a Mecca for hunters of all varieties—winged or not.
He drifted on a current, studying the mounds of rubbish, seeing smaller spurts of movement that spoke of rats and other vermin, but little else of interest.
Until he reached the far edge of the dump and saw two men forcing a third man onto his knees. A fourth man watched these proceedings, a gun held at the ready by his left side.
It was, he thought, oddly silent. Though the man he presumed was Mohern struggled, he wasn't screaming. Maybe he figured there was no point. Out here, only the rats would hear.
As the fourth man raised his weapon and the captive's struggling became more violent, Gabriel swooped downwards, spreading his talons and screaming as he did so. The harsh call echoed loudly across the windswept silence.
The stranger with the gun glanced up. His eyes widened and reflected fear a second before Gabriel slashed him across his face and neck.
Blood spurted, spraying his feathers, its sweet aroma taunting his hawk senses. The stranger dropped the weapon, his hands going to the stream pulsing from his neck. Gabriel wheeled around, saw one of the men holding Mohern dive for the dropped gun. Gabriel dove and slashed with a talon, but the man ducked, grabbing the weapon and letting off a shot in one smooth movement. Gabriel flung himself sideways, felt the burn of the bullet's passage past his tail feathers. He squawked as if hit and dropped behind a mound of rubbish. There he shifted shape and, in human form, freed his weapon and carefully edged to the far end of the stinking mound. The man with the gun hadn't moved, his weapon held at the ready as he eyed the mound behind which Gabriel hid. The other man stood behind the still kneeling Mohern. There was no gun in evidence, though Gabriel had no doubt he would have one somewhere. Thugs like these rarely went anywhere without them. He fired off two quick shots that took both men out, then waited for several seconds, trying to ignore the stinking reek of rubbish as he listened to the night, seeking any sound that might mean these three men had not been alone.
But the only sounds to be heard were the pleas for help from the man whose throat he'd slashed, and Mohern's rapid breathing as he struggled to free his hands from their restraints.
Not an easy thing when the restraints were wire and his hands were behind his back.
Gabriel stood up and got out his viaphone to call in a cleanup team as he walked across to the injured man. He did a quick search for ID and other weapons, and he found and secured both. Then he administered what medical help he could, using strips torn from his shirt to bandage the wound, after which, he cuffed him. Even a man in danger of bleeding to death could be dangerous if the situation was desperate enough, and the look in this man's eyes suggested if he was able to finish what he'd been sent here to do, he would.
He checked the other two men to ensure they were both dead, collecting their weapons in the process, then walked over to Mohern and stripped off the tape covering his mouth.
Relief was evident on Mohern's gaunt features, but his blue eyes were wary, distrustful. "Whoever you are, thanks."
"You may retract that once you see this."
Gabriel showed him his badge, and Mohern grimaced.
"Typical of my luck lately. Still, being caught by a cop is better than being dead."
Gabriel put his badge away, but not the gun. He didn't trust Mohern any more than he trusted the men who'd intended to kill the man. "Why were they going to execute you?"