the unit split open, and a large shape battered through as if the wall were no more than wrapping paper. Bill the golem, wearing his brand-new security guard uniform, lumbered into the unit. “Stop right there!”
Goodfellow whirled—and the glass jar slipped from his hands.
I was already diving forward. I sprawled on the concrete pad, scraping off patches of dead skin, but I didn’t feel it. None of that mattered. Somehow, the Mason jar holding Jerry’s heart and possibly explosive soul landed on my chest and rumpled sport coat. I caught the jar before it could bounce off and break.
Bill seized Irwyn Goodfellow in a firm clay grip. “I am making a citizen’s arrest.” He did look dashing in his new dark uniform, with a badge on his chest and a neat cap on his head. “And I am a citizen, just like any other unnatural.”
“This is your new job?” I said.
“I patrol the grounds. All day long, all night long.”
“I can’t believe you’d work for Maximus Max after he kept all your people as slaves,” Robin said as McGoo slapped handcuffs on Goodfellow.
“He was trying to atone. Offered me a job, a real job. Paid well.” His clay face smiled. “Good benefits.”
Robin and I unfastened the bungee cord hooks to release Mrs. Saldana and Jerry. They yanked the socks out of their mouths, gagging and spitting. Jerry said in a slurred voice, “Tastes foul.”
McGoo regarded the half-filled duffel bag, the remaining jars on the shelves. “We’ll have to confiscate these hearts and souls, log them into evidence.” Mrs. Saldana and Jerry were both crestfallen, but McGoo plucked the rescued jar out of my hands and said, “Unfortunately, in all the commotion, maybe I didn’t notice this one.” He handed Jerry back his heart and soul.
Even though shamblers tend to have very bad teeth, it was good to see Jerry smile.
CHAPTER 51
Even with Robin’s numerous challenges to the Unnatural Acts Act pending with the courts, and with Sheyenne’s overwhelming workload just wrapping up the various cases we had finished, I made them follow me out of the Chambeaux & Deyer offices. I wanted us all outside of Smile HQ at the right time and place.
“I promise, this will warm your hearts,” I said. “Makes all our work worthwhile.” Maybe that was an exaggeration, but it did get them interested.
We waited on the sidewalk across the street from the corporate headquarters, pretending to be mere pedestrians. I glanced at my watch.
The Smile Syndicate was a mammoth business with tentacles extending throughout the Unnatural Quarter and the normal world. In order to defeat such an organization, I needed something even more powerful and more dangerous than they were—which meant I had to make a deal with the devil (metaphorically speaking, honest).
With a squeal of tires, five black unmarked cars pulled up in front of Smile HQ. Each had tinted windows, nondescript license plates, and all the glaring indicators that government agencies include on a “discreet unmarked vehicle.” Men in black suits, white shirts, thin black ties, and black sunglasses emerged. They carried briefcases instead of weapons, but in this instance the briefcases could cause far more damage than a bazooka.
“Who are they, Dan?” Robin asked.
“Internal Revenue Service,” I said, then added with grinning finality, “Auditors.”
More vehicles surrounded the corporate headquarters, and auditors swooped in like vultures onto a bloated corpse.
“How did they know to come here?” Sheyenne asked. “And how did you know it was going to happen?”
I smiled again, feeling good inside. “Could be someone made a phone call.”
After I had obtained Snazz’s hidden ledger and confronted Missy Goodfellow with the second set of books, she had all but admitted to me that the Smile Syndicate used the same shady accounting practices. Normally, that wouldn’t have been any of my business, but once Missy’s demon goons had roughed me up and played Pass the Zombie, and then threatened to twist Robin’s head off like unscrewing a lid from a jar, she had crossed a line.
Being a criminal is one thing, but playing dirty is another, so I felt justified in playing dirty as well.
The two demon thugs had also planted a bomb at the Full Moon (and probably smashed the windows and ruined two of Neffi’s mummified pet cats). And Irwyn Goodfellow had used Angela’s services and Smile Syndicate funds to purchase his stash of pawned hearts and souls. But that was all just icing on the cake.
I knew the inherent dangers of contacting the tax authorities, and it was action I