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“So, whose apartment is this?” I asked him.
“Jeff’s.”
“The guy you supposedly killed?”
“The one and only.”
“This is kind of creepy.”
“Really?” Garrett asked, his expression deadpan. “
This
is creepy?”
“Let me look into this, Phillip, see what I can find out and what can be done.”
“Nothing,” he said. “The game’s over. If they knew I was trying to lose the business on purpose, they’d go after everyone I’ve ever loved.”
“We’re not going to let that happen.”
“Look, if they sent men to your apartment, I promise on my life, they’re bugging you.”
“They definitely bugged. That whole gun-to-the-head thing was very a
“No, bugs. Surveillance. Watch everything you say. If you repeat this—”
“No, I gotcha.” The captain had been bugging me, too. Literally and metaphorically. “I need to clean house anyway.”
* * *
I called my friend Pari on the way home. “I need you to do my apt.”
“I’m just not that attracted to your apt.”
“I think I’m being bugged.”
“Like I am? Right now?”
“Kind of, only less metaphorically. Do you still have that equipment to detect stuff like that?”
After a very long pause, she said, “No. You know I’m not allowed near anything like that. I am adhering to the conditions of my probation, thank you very much.”
“Okay, but really,” I said.
“Oh, are you asking me if I have that can of bug spray you loaned me?”
I could visualize her winking at me in a blatant attempt at subterfuge. But seriously, who loaned out a can of bug spray and expected it to be returned?
“Um, yes,” I said, playing along. “Do you still have that can of bug spray I loaned you?”
“It will take me a while to comb through my back room, where I have nothing even remotely related to computers and/or electronics-related paraphernalia.”
“You can’t even have electronics-related paraphernalia? What the hell did you do?”
“Not what,” she said, dropping the guise. “But who.”
“Okay, then who did you do?”
“I kind of accidentally on purpose hacked the White House’s phone system.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that was wise?”
“Not anymore, you can bet your ass on that. They take that stuff really seriously.”
“I wonder why.”
I hung up, then gave my driver—whom I’d temporarily renamed Fitz because Garrett didn’t sound like a driver’s name at all—my full attention. “Have you found out anything else on the Twelve, Fitz?”
“A little,” he said, rolling with it. “I told Dr. von Holstein to focus on them, see what the prophecies say.”
“And?”
“He’s still working on it, but one thing he’s found that’s very interesting is that there are mentions of two sets of Twelve with one defining force in the middle, the thirteenth beast.”
“Really?” I asked, suddenly very interested.
“The way I understand it, there are the Twelve, aka the darkness, but there are also twelve sentient beings of light to balance the scales, sent to protect you, the daughter.”
“That seems like a lot of trouble to go to. And the thirteenth?”
“He is the single being that will tip the scales either to the light or the dark.”
No kidding.
* * *
By the time I got back to my building, Pari was there waiting on me. She lived only a block away, which made it nice, especially when I needed her help with something. Or when I needed a back rub. She had incredible hands.
I’d tried to call Uncle Bob, but he didn’t pick up. I needed to know how it went with the captain. And if he really hired that fake psychic. She totally bleached her hair. I also called Quentin on video chat. He was doing fine as well and asked about Amber.
“Just don’t go around her mother anytime soon. You’ll be ski
He winced, and signed, “I understand. I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are, sweet boy, and if Cookie gets ahold of you, you’ll be even sorrier.”
“Okay.”
I blew him a kiss and hung up.
Pari had put on her sunglasses, as she did whenever she was around me. She could see my light, said it blinded her. She spotted Garrett as we got out, and her eyes danced a bit before asking, “So, what are we doing?”
“I’m being bugged by everyone from APD to the Mendoza crime family.”
“You do like to piss people off.”
“I didn’t do anything to either one of them. The Man’s got it in for me.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said, offering yours truly a tender-ish pat on the back. Either that or she was trying to dislodge my larynx.
I coughed and introduced them. “Pari, this is Fitz. He’s my new driver. I’ve decided I need a driver at my beck and call, and he’s really cheap.”
“I’m Garrett,” he said when he took her hand.
She surveyed him from head to toe.
“Fitz, this is Pari. She’s a killer tattoo artist and has only been to prison twice.”
“I’ve never been to prison,” she corrected, unable to take her eyes off him. “You have an incredible aura.”
That was it. I’d seen enough to feel slighted for her main squeeze. “What about Tre?” I asked her, appalled. She’d been dating her employee for a while now. The whole thing screamed sexual harassment lawsuit, but they’d seemed happy.
“His aura is fine. Garrett’s here, however, is quite unique.”
“Really?” I asked, squinting my eyes. I could see auras. Kind of.
“Quite unique.”
“My bugs?” I asked her.
“Oh, right.” She unloaded her bag and brought out a handheld device that I assumed swept for bugs. Then again, she could be a total charlatan. How would I know?
“I am thinking about adding surveillance of some kind. Like motion detectors and cameras. I’m tired of people breaking in without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“Normally, I’d say a camera was a bit much, but in your case, I’d recommend two and possibly some type of explosive booby trap.”
She turned on the device and started waving it over and under the most obvious places to hide a bug. She found one almost immediately and reached under my windowsill. It looked like a small black button.
“Very state of the art,” she said. She handed it to Garrett, who agreed with a nod.
“I doubt this came from your captain,” he said. “The government would never spring for such high-dollar equipment.”
“The Mendozas?” I whispered, not wanting them to hear me.
He held it up to the light and turned it in his fingers, admiring it. “Most likely.”
“Okay,” I said to Pari, “put it back exactly as you found it and make sure it still works. I’m going to need it later.”
She gave me a thumbs-up, then whispered, “It’s extremely sophisticated. It has a range of—” She stopped and let her gaze slide past me.
“Of?” I asked, before realizing she’d spotted my roomie.
“What is that?” she asked, straightening.
“That is a Mr. Wong. He’s my apartment mate.”
Pari had been able to see the departed since a near-death accident when she was twelve, but she could see only a slight disturbance in her vision, a light grayish mist.
“He’s a departed?” she asked.
“Yeah. He just kind of hangs in my corner. All day. Every day. He doesn’t get out much.” When she didn’t reply, I glanced back at her. She’d removed her sunglasses and stood transfixed. “What?” I asked. “You see the departed all the time.”
“You sure that’s what he is?” she asked.
That got my attention. “What do you mean?” I stepped closer to Mr. Wong. “He looks like every other departed I’ve ever seen. Maybe a tad more monochrome.” He was awfully gray.
“No, he’s not like every other departed,” she said.
Garrett watched our exchange, more interested in the receiver he was holding than in anything supernatural. He liked things he could see. Things he could touch and explain. For a guy who hailed from a family of practicing voodooists, not to mention went to hell and back, he was not very comfortable discussing the supernatural realm.