The Perdition Score. Richard Kadrey
back with Willem, my head of security. You and he will monitor the meeting on the boat’s surveillance system.”
“I came all this way to sit in a broom closet with a hall monitor?”
He comes over and puts an arm around my shoulder, leading me down a deck into the bowels of the boat. The decor is simpler down here since it’s mostly a utilitarian space for the staff, but it’s still nicer than anywhere I’ve ever lived. He takes me forward until I figure that we’re right under the living room. There’s a door with a keypad. The sign on the door says AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
As he punches in a code on the keypad I say, “This is a yacht, right?”
“Right.”
The lock clicks open.
I look around.
“This thing is huge. Is it a boat or a ship?”
“A boat. As far as I know all yachts are boats.”
“Then what’s a ship?”
“A very big boat.”
“But this is a very big boat. Why isn’t it a ship?”
He looks at me for a second.
“I can see how you’d make a good Devil.”
“Sorry. Doors like this just make me nervous.”
Abbot pushes it open.
“You’re not under arrest. You’re with me now, remember? If anything, you get to arrest other people.”
“Terrific. Now I’m a cop. All of my worst fears have come true.”
“You’ll do fine.”
Inside, the room is dark except for a bank of video monitors that ring the walls. I don’t know how many rooms this bucket has, but it looks like Abbot has every square inch of the place covered. I go over to get a better look at the setup.
“You have as many trust issues as I do. I feel so much closer to you now.”
A guy sitting at the control console turns around and gives me the eyeball. He has a cop mustache but a tailored shirt. His gold tie clip has three Greek letters on it. This guy hasn’t been in college in fifteen years, but he still flies his frat colors. Audsley Ishii used to do that. It isn’t love at first sight for either of us.
“Willem, this is Stark,” says Abbot. “Stark. Willem.”
Willem holds out his hand and I shake it. His heartbeat races a little. It’s obvious by his smile that he thinks I’m the scum they scrape off the sides of this boat, but he stays professional and says, “Welcome aboard.”
“Thanks, Willem. I appreciate the hospitality.”
That confuses him. But his heartbeat slows. The guy is the real thing. He gets excited, but has enough training to get it under control fast. I can’t see where he keeps his gun, so my guess is it’s strapped to his ankle and he can get it out as fast as he can corral his heart. He’d be a good guy to have on your side in a fight.
Trouble is, I don’t think he thinks we’re on the same side.
Abbot goes to the monitors and points to a cluster of six that cover the living room and surrounding corridors.
“This is the area I want you to concentrate on. People are coming over for drinks in a little while. Some of them might be Wormwood. I want you to listen in case someone says anything that might give them away. Some are from the council, so you’ll know them. But try to learn as many of the other faces as you can.”
I look at the monitors then at Abbot.
“Down here, I’m useless. Up there, I’d be able to tell you who’s packing, who’s a straight arrow, and who’s lying.”
Abbot smiles broadly.
“They’re all liars. I’m the augur and they want to make me happy. Also, they all want to one up each other’s family. They’ll say anything that suits their interests.”
“Tell me again why you need me when you have Willem over there?”
“You’ve met at least some of Wormwood’s higher-ups. That puts you ahead of either of us. Look for those faces. Look and listen for anything familiar. If nothing comes up, then I wasted your evening and I’ll send you home with some cake.”
“You didn’t say anything about cake earlier. I’m completely on board now.”
“Good. Willem knows the system down here. He’ll be running the electronics. All you have to do is watch the show. I know you like movies. Pretend it’s My Dinner with André or something.”
“I prefer A Fistful of Dollars, but I get your drift.”
“Good. Okay. I have a couple of things to do. You two should get acquainted. The guests will be arriving shortly. If you want anything to eat or drink, you can have something sent down.”
I take the seat next to Willem.
“Very comfy. I love flying first class.”
“I’ll see you afterward.”
He leaves and I watch him go, crisscrossing from monitor to monitor on his way to check on the caviar fountain or corn-dog buffet, whatever it is heavy Sub Rosa clans dine on with their pope.
I turn around and Willem is looking at me.
I say, “You do this kind of thing a lot?”
“Sometimes it’s me on the console. Sometimes it’s someone else. The work gets done.”
“And no one is down here playing Ms. Pac-Man or Tetris while the blue bloods feed at the trough?”
He punches a few buttons, changing angles on some of the cameras.
“No. That’s more your speed, from what I’ve heard.”
“Really? Palace gossip about a small-town boy like me? The folks back in Arkansas will be so proud.”
He keeps at the console, not looking at me.
“No gossip. Just facts. I have friends on the force.”
“LAPD? They practically invented gossip. They’re worse than Hedda Hopper. They’re like the mean girls in a high school lunchroom. If they don’t know the truth, they’ll make something up just to see if they can make you cry.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
I lean my elbows on the edge of the console. Look up at the screens.
“I don’t know what I know sometimes. It’s a funny world. I saw bacon dance this afternoon. You ever see that? A whole plate. They could practically do a Busby Berkeley number.”
Willem draws in a breath and lets it out.
“What do you say we don’t talk for a while? Guests are starting to arrive.”
“Is there a red carpet? Will we know who they’re wearing?”
Willem ignores me.
THE GATHERING IS exactly what I was afraid of. A CIA torture session of wine, cheese, and tony chitchat. Maybe eating Brie just makes people stupid. I never trusted the stuff myself. Soft cheese is a reminder that all cheese is just milk that crawled into a ditch to die, then some lunatic came along, spread the corpse on a saltine, and invented hors d’oeuvres. Now people pay heroin prices for stuff they could make themselves if they only had the guts to strap a pint of whole milk to their engine block for a few days. Sure it might come out a little greasy, but that’ll just shoot the stuff through your system faster. No need to absorb any actual calories. This is L.A., where the food is prettier than the movie stars and twice as untouchable.
I look at Willem.
“How do you