City of the Snakes Read Online Free Page B

he’s not Cardinal material.”
    “I’m not either,” Ford grunts.
    “But you could fill in for me short-term,” I insist. “You’re still closely identified with Dorak. People would obey you. You could keep things ticking over while I sorted out my problems. Think about it—back in charge, everyone having to kiss your ass. You’d love it.”
    He shakes his head, genuine regret in his live left eye. “I’m past that. People wouldn’t take orders from a cripple. I hate retirement. I talked about it a lot toward the end of my run, but now that I’ve tasted it, I think it sucks. I’d jump at the chance to return, but I’d be a liability. Look elsewhere.”
    “There isn’t anybody else,” I groan. “I’ve been running the show single-handed, the way The Cardinal wanted. I don’t have anyone groomed to step in. By the time I trained someone, it would be too late. I have to act now, before the
villacs
strike.”
    Ford shakes his head again. “I won’t be held responsible for what’d go wrong. I’m useless to you.”
    “What if I went down on my knees and pleaded?”
    “You won’t. It’s not your style.”
    “Bastard,” I mutter, then stand and walk away without a farewell, leaving Ford Tasso to the shade, his reminiscences and the wheelchair.
    I didn’t expect the old warhorse to accept my offer—at his stage of life, in his condition, he’d have to be insane to step back into the firing range—but it was worth a shot. With him at the helm I could have pursued the
villacs
without worry. Now I’ll have to struggle on alone as best I can.
    What the hell are they up to and how are they managing it? I know from firsthand experience that the dead can return, but the same corpses rising twice from the grave is a bit much. Could the Paucar Wami in the photo have been a double, as Ford suggested? Leonora, Conchita, Y Tse too? I’m sure the
villacs
remember what the Ayuamarcans looked like. They might be plaguing me with look-alikes to distract me. Perhaps they want me to abandon my post, clearing the way for insurrection. They’ll have a long wait if that’s their game. Time, as the song goes, is on my side. I can wait those bastards out. They won’t panic me into—
    The car crashes through a red light. Horns blare. We accelerate sharply. “What’s wrong?” I shout, looking out the rear window, checking for pursuit.
    “Just taking you for a spin, like in the old days. Sit back and enjoy.”
    My insides tighten—that’s not Thomas. Throwing myself forward, I press my face close to the glass panel separating me from the driver. I only have a view of half his face, but it’s enough to make a positive identification—Adrian Arne, an Ayuamarcan. He was my chauffeur when I first started working for The Cardinal. He’s been RIP these last ten years. Now here he is, grinning broadly, not looking a day older.
    “Adrian,” I moan, crashing to the floor as he takes a turn without braking.
    “Miss me, Capac?” he asks mockingly. He’s controlling the wheel with a couple of fingers, oblivious to the traffic.
    “You’re dead!” I gasp.
    “So are you,” he retorts.
    “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
    He laughs ecstatically. “I want to be James Dean.”
    He takes his fingers off the wheel and presses down harder with his foot. The car roars ahead, veering sickeningly from left to right.
    “We’re going to crash,” I note dully.
    “Do I look like I’m worried?” Adrian whoops.
    “Where have you been? Do you recall the past? How have—”
    “Too late!” he shouts, covering his eyes with his hands. “We’re doomed!”
    There’s a metallic, demonic shriek as we hit something hard and cartwheel through the air. We crash back to earth and the world explodes. Adrian goes up in a ball of fiery fury. A split second later, the fire engulfs me, and I scream with pain and shock as I thrash, burn and die.

lady of the mausoleum
     
    I slump in my chair on the fifteenth floor of