Murder on Olympus (14 page)

37

I ran to the opposite side of the dojo to keep from getting surrounded. Paul ran after me while Caesar and the other three men hung back. Paul’s body language told me he was about to throw a right cross. I reacted before he had the chance, back-fisting him in the face. He shuffled backward, clutching his mouth.

“Chill out, Paul,” I warned him.

He cursed. Blood trickled down his chin from a busted lip. He planted his feet and threw a roundhouse. The move was sloppy. Easy to counter. I caught his ankle and side-kicked to the groin. He flew backward and crashed to the floor. Groaning and red in the face, he curled up in a ball, his hands between his legs.

I looked at Caesar and the others. “If this is about those classes I missed, I already told you I was sorry.”

Caesar glared at me. He nodded at Donovan, who started toward me, smiling and cracking his knuckles. He stopped about five feet away from me and took a fighting stance.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told him.

Donovan wasn’t hearing it. He started throwing punches. With his large, heavy hands, it would’ve only taken one or two hits to put my lights out. But there wasn’t a whole lot of speed behind his power. I dodged the flurry and retaliated with a spinning leg sweep. Donovan’s heels went skyward. He hit the ground hard, the back of his head smacking against the floor. He slowly pulled himself up, wobbled in place, and fell over again.

Caesar frowned. He grabbed Marco and Jim by their shirtsleeves and shoved them forward. Both men glanced nervously at each other, then ran to one of the weapons racks. Marco picked up a quarterstaff while Jim grabbed a set of tonfas—wooden batons.

So that’s how it’s gonna be
, I thought.
Well, three can play at that game
. I rushed to the nearest weapon rack. I had to choose between a nunchaku and a kusarigama—a sickle with a ball and chain attached. The kusarigama looked cool and scary but was hard to control, at least for me. I’d probably end up slicing off my own head. The nunchaku on the other hand, while also hard to control, didn’t carry the risk of decapitation. I picked it up and spun it around, Bruce Lee-style.

I hoped the show would scare off Marco and Jim. The two men hesitated, keeping their distance. In the mirror at the head of the room, I saw Donovan trying to sneak up on me. I whirled around, swinging the nunchaku horizontally. It cracked him in the jaw and sent him reeling.

I spun back around as Jim thrust his quarterstaff at my head. I slapped it aside with the nunchaku, barely in time. He came back with a wide swing. I ducked beneath the hit and countered. Jim raised his staff to block my attack. But I wasn’t going for his head or body. I flicked my wrist. The nunchaku twirled outward, popping him on the hand. He let out a yowl and almost dropped his weapon. I pivoted and followed through with a left roundhouse. My foot smashed into Jim’s face. He went limp and collapsed.

Next up was Marco. I swung my nunchaku in fast circles, forcing him to move backward. Wood clacked against wood as he used his tonfas to block my attacks. I had to give him credit; he was pretty good. But he still had a long way to go. I started swinging faster, my nunchaku a blur in the air. One of my attacks slipped through his defense. With a loud pop, the stick struck him on top of the head, opening up a gash in his forehead. Marco stumbled back. Blood poured from his scalp.

I pivoted again and thrust my heel forward, like a battering ram, into Marco’s stomach. Marco doubled over and went down to his knees, coughing and wheezing. A voice echoed through the dojo. “Son of a bitch!”

I turned and saw Donovan charging at me. I had been so preoccupied with Marco and Jim that I’d forgotten about him. I swung my nunchaku. It struck him on the shoulder. He didn’t seem to feel it. Roid rage must have dulled his senses.

Before I could attack again, Donovan wrapped his huge arms around my waist, trapping me in a bear hug. I grunted and dropped the nunchaku. I threw punches and elbows, hitting him in the eyes and nose. He squeezed harder. The breath rushed out of me. Blood pounded at my temples.

The room started to get brighter. Donovan was growling like an animal. I karate-chopped either side of his head, just below his earlobes. Pressure points. He made a strangling noise, and I felt his hold on me loosen. I brought my right arm up, hooked it around his thick neck, and twisted my body, tossing him over my hip. The floor shook as he hit the ground. Two solid punches to the face finally put him away.

I sucked in a few breaths of air, then stretched my back. Donovan hadn’t hurt me too much. But he would have if I hadn’t taken him out when I did. I couldn’t believe I let him get me in a bear hug. I probably shouldn’t have missed those two weeks of classes.

“Not bad,” Caesar called out from the other end of the dojo, clapping slowly.

“Thanks. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to beat some answers out of you?”

“You think you can take me?” There was a trace of laughter in his voice.

It was a valid question. Caesar was good. But how good? Better than me? Maybe, but probably not. One thing that tipped the scales in my favor was my OBI training. Some of the best fighters in the world were on Zeus’s payroll, and I had studied under all of them. Still, that didn’t mean this fight was going to be a piece of cake. Any way you looked at it, Caesar was a dangerous man. He was going to make me work for this one.

“Care to find out?” I asked.

Caesar smiled.

We both walked to the middle of the floor and took fighting stances. Caesar circled me, while I stayed motionless, waiting for him to attack. He came at me, throwing open hand strikes. I blocked his hands and returned a quick roundhouse. He sprang back, and my foot barely missed his head. His smile turned into a beam.

I nodded at him, a show of respect for his skills. He nodded back. By now, the other students had dragged themselves off the floor and gathered around us. I caught glimpses of their faces, all glowering at me. I could tell they wanted to jump in, but they wouldn’t. This was a one-on-one duel between master and pupil. Interference was forbidden. It’d be like saying their master wasn’t strong enough to fight his own battles.

This time I was the aggressor. I let loose a barrage of kicks and punches. He blocked them all and reached for my throat, his fingers curled like claws. I backpedaled, evading his grasp. I smiled. He was even better than I thought. Waves of nervous energy emanated from the other students. Caesar and I smiled at each other. I gestured for him to bring it on.

He threw two punches and some kicks. I blocked the first few attacks, but he eventually saw an opening. He grabbed me and slammed me onto the floor. Before he could stomp me, I grabbed his ankle. He lost his balance and fell. We both scrambled to our feet. I kicked him in the chest as he reared back for a punch. He shuffled back.

He wasn’t smiling anymore. I was.

For an instant we stood across from one another, not moving. Like in an old western showdown. It wasn’t as cool as it looked on TV. I was exhausted, and I feared what would happen if Caesar landed a solid blow. I needed a second to think, to come up with a game plan.

But there was no time for strategy. Caesar charged me, punching, chopping, and kicking. I weaved and ducked, then rose up with a left hook. The blow caught him squarely on the chin. His hands dropped as his bones turned to jelly. He fell flat on his face and started snoring. Someone cursed. I backed away as the other guys rushed over to check on him.

Paul rolled Caesar over and slapped him on the face a few times, attempting to wake him. “Sensei!”

“He’s out cold,” Marco said.

“He won’t be the only one if you guys don’t start talking,” I warned.

They glanced at one another. Paul looked as though he wanted to speak. Marco gave him a warning glance.

“Got something to say, Paul?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Look, if you tell me what’s going on, I promise not to call the police.”

Again they looked at each other. Marco nodded. Then Jim said, “Okay.”

I crossed my arms. Their compliance came as a surprise. But I was relieved that I didn’t have to fight anymore.

“A while back, someone came in during one of our classes,” Jim said. “He knew you were a student here. He told us to rough you up the next time we saw you. Gave us twenty thousand apiece to do it. I don’t know what you did to piss him off, but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

“What’s his name?” I demanded.

Jim hesitated. “Hermes.”

38

Early the next morning, I made an unexpected visit to Hermes’s estate. The brawl at the dojo had landed him back on my list of suspects, which suited me just fine. I was hoping I’d get the chance to take down that arrogant prick.

Before leaving home, I left Herc a voice mail and told him where I was going, in case I didn’t return.

Hermes was at his desk, working on his laptop. His fingers were pale blurs as they rapidly tapped the keys, pounding out what had to have been hundreds of words per minute. I sat down in front of his desk. He didn’t acknowledge me, just continued to type away as if I wasn’t there. I cleared my throat.

Hermes’s voice, when he finally addressed me, was calm and even. His composure made me angrier than I already was. “Good morning, Mr. Jones. What brings you here this morning?”

“You know damn well why I’m here.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. Well, let me refresh your memory. You paid off my karate class.”

“Oh, that.” Hermes chuckled, still typing.

I frowned. “You think this is funny?”

“Very much so.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Hermes shrugged. “Hera requested it.”

I laughed incredulously. “Wait, wait. Did you just say that Hera put you up to this?”

“I did.”

I didn’t know what to think about that. I knew Hera wasn’t the nicest Goddess around, and that she despised mortals. But I was trying to find her children’s killer. It made no sense that she would come after me like this, unless there was something she didn’t want me to find out.

“A while back, two assassins tried to kill me,” I said. “Did she hire them too?”

“She did.”

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. The OBI agents who arrested Dalen Scott—they didn’t kill him in self-defense. They killed him because Hera ordered them to. Because he was a liability, one that could expose her master plan, whatever it may be. Considering that, it was probably no coincidence that the names of the arresting agents were being kept secret. Hera didn’t want them available for questioning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had them killed as well.

What didn’t make sense was why she would try to kill me
now
, when Zeus wanted so badly for me to investigate these murders.

“Does Zeus know about this?” I asked.

Hermes looked up from his computer and anchored his light-blue eyes on me. “No, and he never will.”

I got the implication. If I blabbed to Zeus about the conspiracy, Hera would double her efforts to kill me. I had already dodged the bullet twice, but my lucky streak wouldn’t last forever. It was safer to stay quiet for now.

“Why is she doing this?” I asked.

“She has her reasons.”

“Which are?”

Hermes smiled. I knew this conversation wasn’t going to lead anywhere. He was toying with me now, dangling a carrot from a stick. I’d had enough of it.

“You’ve already threatened my ex-wife. And now Hera’s out for my blood. How am I supposed to solve this case with this crap going on?”

“You’re the master detective. You figure it out.”

I clenched my jaw, wanting to knock that smug grin off his face, knowing he’d kill me if I tried.

“Look at it this way, Jones. In the unlikely event that you solve this case, perhaps the First Lady will decide to leave you alone.”

I smiled. “Or will she be more bloodthirsty than ever?”

“I’d watch what I say if I were you, Mr. Jones.” Hermes peered down his nose at me.

“It was just a question.”

“Don’t patronize me, mortal. I know what you’re getting at. You think Hera is involved in these murders.”

He was right. But I wasn’t about to let him know that. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything.”

“Smart move. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll ask that you get out of my office. I have a lot of work to do.”

There was no point in arguing. It wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. Hermes was done playing ball. He knew why Hera was coming after me. That much was obvious. But he wasn’t going to tell me. Whether he was scared of angering the First Lady, or he just liked watching me squirm, I couldn’t tell. The only thing I knew was that I was up to my eyeballs in trouble.

As I stood, Hermes said, “Oh, and Mr. Jones. Don’t mention any of this to Zeus. For your own sake.”

“I won’t say a word,” I assured him. “But you have to do something for me.”

Hermes grinned. We both knew that I was in no position to bargain. But he humored me regardless. “And what would that be?”

“The guys from the dojo. I don’t want to them to end up like that assassin. You get what I’m saying?”

Hermes chuckled. “Of course, Mr. Jones. I’ll see to it that they’re not harmed.”

I nodded in appreciation.

Hermes nodded back and returned to his work. He was probably lying to me. But there was nothing I could do about it, except call the guys from class and tell them to watch their backs. Even though I was still mad at them, I didn’t want their blood on my hands.

I left Hermes’s office and went to the foyer. An elevator behind the staircase took me to the base of Mount Olympus. The doors parted and I stepped into the dim, subterranean parking deck where my Thunderbird waited for me. Not for the first time, I felt guilty about trying to replace the old clunker. No doubt about it, the Lotus had been prettier and more in tune with my style. But the Thunderbird had been there for me through thick and thin. It was like an old friend. An old friend I had wronged. I felt like I should apologize.

I got in the car, started the engine, and drove out of the deck. When I got home, I cracked open a beer and slumped onto the couch. The midday sunlight filtered through the window blinds, staining the floor with bands of white light.

As far as I was concerned, Hera was now my prime suspect. If she was so eager to kill me, it meant she was probably involved in the murders. But why would she kill her own offspring?

Though I didn’t have an answer to that question, I was relieved that Hera was after me instead of Zeus. From the beginning, I had doubts about the president’s involvement in the attempts on my life. He was the one who hired me after all—and I was friends with his son. There was no explanation as to why he’d want me dead.

Hera, on the other hand, could cook up more than a few reasons to take me out.

Though Zeus knew what his wife was capable of, I’m sure he never expected her to go this far—taking control of the OBI right under his nose. I wanted to tell him the truth. But Hera would kill me if I did. For now, my only option was to continue the investigation, and hope I lived long enough to discover the truth.