The Origami Dragon And Other Tales (13 page)

“It had
occurred to me,” I admitted.

“In part it’s
because I’m not the only man to wear this face. I was being tracked
by men who looked like me, and so putting up wanted signs would
only disadvantage their own operations. Besides, they didn’t
exactly want to advertise that they had lost control of one of
their agents. Even having such agents is illegal, although of
course all countries do.”

I nodded, not
understanding a word of what he was saying. My confusion was
characteristic of our conversations, and it was only later that I
could work out what he had meant.

“I was sitting
in a chair by the window,” Rob said, “drinking a rather excellent
cup of coffee while I watched the world go by. I was expecting
trouble, and was holding my little silver knife beneath the table
as I sat. The same knife that your daughter stole, remember? No, I
don’t want you to make her give it back; a knife like that chooses
its own master. I was merely setting the scene. Imagine the rich
smell of coffee, the sweet smell of jam on pastries, the soft
sounds of the French countryside, the slightly irritating beat of
my foot tapping excitedly on the wooden floor.”

Rob was
normally so in control of himself that it was hard for me to
picture him as a young man, on the run and nervous.

“I was worried,
Doctor, scared even,” he admitted, “you probably felt the same way
the first time you cut into a patient. The adrenaline of new
independence; the dread of dire consequences. I kept glaring over
at the shop’s other customers and switching back to staring out the
window. This isn’t unusual behaviour for me; people of my
profession are either extremely cautious or extremely dead.
Sometimes even both, if their luck doesn’t hold out. It was also my
fourth cup of coffee, as I hadn’t slept in days. I doubt that the
caffeine and lack of sleep improved my state of mind. I was finally
settling down a bit when a stranger sat down next to me. His motion
was so smooth and so quiet that it surprised me even though I had
been waiting for someone to try it. His speed was my first clue
that something was wrong.

‘You seem
nervous, monsieur,’ he said in perfect French.

‘Non, it’s just
the coffee’ I replied, trying to wave him away with my free
hand.”

Rob winced as I
adjusted one of his bandages.

“Carefully now,
Doctor, careful!” he protested, and then said, “I knew I was in
trouble, in the café. The newcomer was over two metres tall and had
a classic Greek nose. He was bald and had dark blue eyes filled
with deep wisdom. He was big, lean and built like a cage fighter. I
began picturing how our fight would go down, how he might attack
and how I could defend. Like I said, I’m cautious. I can hold my
own against most men I meet, but I knew that this Greek titan would
be a challenge.

‘The moon is
full tonight,’ he said conversationally in English.

I ignored him,
shifting slightly so that I could get to him easily with my
knife.

‘You are a
stranger here, yes?’ he asked, smiling kindly.

‘Just passing
through,’ I muttered, standing up as if to leave.

The Greek’s
hand moved faster than a snake as he grabbed my wrist, just as I
expected. His grip was pure iron, but I knew what to do about it. I
brought my forehead down hard against his huge nose in a move you
won’t find in any martial arts textbook. I had learnt it from a
Welsh sergeant who enjoyed the reputation of being the deadliest
pub fighter in the UK. It has floored more men than any other
technique I’ve ever been taught, so I was a little surprised when
the man barely flinched.

He stood up,
kept his tight grip on my arm, twisting it awkwardly upwards so
hard that he dragged me out of my chair. He was strong, but you
know that I am, too. I slashed at his arm with my knife and lashed
out with my foot. I cut the ligaments in his arm and broke his
kneecap, Doctor. You know how painful that can be, but he hardly
seemed to notice. He punched me in the jaw, and my vision began to
blur. His fist was like a freight train, and it was all I could do
to keep awake. I stabbed upwards into his belly and felt my knife
scrape against some form of armour. I was beginning to panic; he
was too strong for me. Then I saw his fist fly towards me again
like Thor’s hammer and my whole world went white.”

It was hard for
me to imagine Rob losing a fight. His body was so strong, and his
reflexes faster than any I have seen.

“The Greek was
Feather,” I realised.

Rob nodded.

“When I woke up
the next morning I had the worst headache you can imagine. I was
securely tied up in a manner I instantly recognised as highly
professionally. The lashings were the kind that would tighten the
more I struggled, and the knots were small and well dressed.
Getting out would have taken me at least ten minutes, even if I
could get to one of the small blades hidden across my body and
clothes. I didn’t move, pretending that I hadn’t woken. My eyes
were still closed, but I opened them just enough to peer under the
eyelids and see something of the room.

The room was
small and windowless, lit only by a bare electric bulb hanging from
the ceiling. The Greek titan was standing with his back to me, his
hands clasped behind his back. We were alone.

‘I wonder if I
might apologise,’ the titan said to the air, ‘because we clearly
got off on the wrong foot. You weren’t what I was expecting.’

I gave up on my
unconscious act and opened my eyes. I began moving my fingers
slightly to find the knife in my sleeve. It wasn’t where I had
hidden it. Neither was the small blade I hide under my
thumbnail.

‘What were you
expecting?’ I asked, talking to conceal the sound of my
movements.

‘A werewolf, of
course’ he said, his surprise evident.

His surprise
surprised me. I wondered who he was, and what he was going to do
with me.

I have hunted
werewolves before, naturally, but why my abductor was expecting to
find one in a French café escaped me. He turned towards me and
stepped up to my knots. He had a knife in his hand, and my heart
stopped for a second. The blade flashed and I felt my bonds fall
slack.

‘This is yours,
I believe,’ he said, and handed me the knife by the handle.

It was my own
little silver knife, and I was exceedingly glad to get my hands on
it again. I had flattened the man’s nose in our fight, but now his
face looked fine. He stood in front of me in perfect health despite
the damage I knew I had inflicted, so I knew I was dealing with
some kind of magic, and powerful magic at that. If you think my
recovery is good, Feather would knock your socks off.

‘Your
collection of tools,’ he added, passing me a tray holding all the
tricks of my trade.

It was a
humbling experience. He had found all my little blades and saws
that I was planning to use to cut my bonds. He had also found my
cheese wire and the tiny set of poisoned pins I keep for the direst
of emergencies. When I saw my false tooth on the tray, I knew I was
dealing with a master. Nobody knew about that tooth except me and
one very frightened Swedish dentist.

‘A silver
knife, so you are no wolf-spawn. I assume you are here for the
hunt?’

‘No’ I said,
slipping my tricks back into my clothes.

‘No? But the
bounty is huge! Every freelancer in Europe in searching for the
wolf-spawn.’

I had never
heard of the supernatural freelancer community before, although of
course my ex-employers must have known about it. My new
acquaintance told me that a twenty-million dollar bounty had been
placed on a dangerous werewolf.

‘The wolf-spawn
made the mistake of stealing drake eggs from the elf mafia,’ he
explained, ‘and broke a few necks into the bargain. The Elves have
deep pockets, as you know.’

I didn’t know.
I had no idea, having never even heard of the elf mafia. I had been
told about drakes, but they were meant to be long extinct. I began
to wonder if perhaps my companion was dangerously insane. I know
you understand how that feels; I am sure you feel that way about me
at times.”

I didn’t
disagree with Rob, because so much of what he said seemed like pure
fantasy.

“I told the
Greek that I didn’t want to be involved. I needed the money, but
not the trouble. He ignored me, and began outlining his plan of
attack.

‘Any good with
a bow?’ he asked, smiling.

His question
shocked me, although I did my best not to show it. I am excellent
with a bow, as are my brothers. Anyone one of us could have taken
home the Olympic gold, but we were meant for bigger and dirtier
things than simple competition. I’ll show you my skills sometime.
Prepare to be amazed. I could even shoot an apple off your
daughter’s head... or not. There’s no need to be rude, I’m sure
she’s brave enough.”

I slapped him
across the head and told him to get back to the story.

“The Greek
recognised me, although I had never seen him in my life.

‘I met your
sire once, you see,’ the Greek explained conversationally,
‘although you are taller and healthier. Your teeth are much better,
too. But you still have the same eyes, the same classic English
features. I wouldn’t have expected you to be alone, though. Your
sire was always surrounded by a band of such happy men?’

His English
wasn’t quite as good as his French, but I let it slide.

I told him that
I preferred to work solo, which was only partly true. At the time I
had no other choice, having few friends or allies. I wondered what
he wanted from me. I was still alive, which meant he wasn’t working
for my old boss. Nor was I being dissected, which meant he wasn’t
working for my boss’s enemies.

‘I normally
work alone, too,’ he agreed, ‘but this wolf-spawn is proving
unexpectedly cunning and hard to kill. He is one of the old ones,
the bad ones, and there is something more to his speed than I can
explain. He tore off my arm and left me for dead the last time I
tracked him down.’

The Greek still
had both his arms, Doctor, both of them. I looked at him in
disbelief. I was about to challenge him on this incredible
statement when an alarm began to beep loudly, and his mood changed
without warning. He became worried, scared even. He walked quickly
to the side of the room to a large metal chest, which he flipped
open. He pulled out a large military shotgun, the kind favoured by
Special Forces teams that shoot first and never ask questions. He
held the huge gun in one hand like it was a toy. Then he reached
into the chest and pulled out a small flamethrower, which he held
in the other hand.

Thus armed, he
huddled in a corner, facing the door. The door itself was a heavy
wooden thing, reinforced with metal bands and locked in place with
three bolts and an enormous padlock. I assumed that whatever my
abductor was worried about must have been terrifying, so I looked
into the chest to see what else was in there. I found an automatic
rifle and loaded it quickly. I dislike guns, but they do have their
place. I assumed we were waiting on the wolf.

‘Silver
bullets?’ I suggested, pointing at his gun.

‘Buckshot,
because that damn bird has been getting cocky after it found me
dying in the forest’ he replied.”

“Buckshot?” I
asked Rob, confused.

“Buckshot,” Rob
confirmed with a smile, “because we weren’t waiting on a wolf. You
see, Feather hates dawn. Normally the worst dangers fade with the
rising sun, but for Feather dawn is the worst time of day. He
becomes frantic, almost paranoid. It would be funny if he hadn’t
been so serious about his preparations. He sat there, tense, his
fingers resting lightly on his triggers. It worried me. The weight
of the rifle in my hands was comforting. I wondered what would
happen if I shot the Greek and left. It occurred to me that even a
head shot might not be enough to stop whatever magic protected
him.

Besides, there
was something outside that was scary enough to reduce this monster
of a man to tears, and I didn’t want to face whatever it was alone.
I sat tight and watched the madman hold his vigil. He sat in
silence, apparently listening for something. The only things I
could hear were the birds and the faint sounds of early commerce
coming from above us. I assumed that we were in a basement, the
lowest and safest part of the house.

I asked him
what we were waiting for, but he shushed me and continued listening
intently. The Greek was finally beginning to relax when we heard a
scrabbling noise somewhere above us, probably on the roof of the
building. It sounded like a big rat in the ceiling. The scuttling
worried the Greek. He swore under his breath and shifted
uncomfortably. We remained like that for about an hour until the
scrabbling above us faded. The Greek jumped up, put his weapons
away and turned to me with a smile.

‘I have a
business opportunity for you. Breakfast?’ he asked cheerfully.

I considered
shooting him again, but I refrained. I was starving, and curious.
He unlocked the door, and we climbed the stairs behind it until we
emerged into an empty room with two large windows overlooking the
street. The natural light made me squint in pain after the darkness
in the basement.

‘Do you have a
name?’ I asked my companion as he unlocked the doors.

Before he could
reply, a flash of colour floating in the air caught my eye. It was
a large blue feather as large as my hand.

‘How did a
feather get in here?’ I wondered aloud.

The affect the
feather had on my companion was startling. His bronze face became
white, and he pulled a sawn off shotgun out from beneath his shirt.
He spun around erratically, waving the gun as if expecting to see a
monster creeping up on him.

‘No names,’ he
whispered to the empty room, spooked and sweating.