Down in the garage, Will led them to the black panel truck that had delivered the BMW earlier. He tapped a menu on his phone and LED screens on all sides of the vehicle blinked to life, the sides now covered in the dancing animated logo of a cow taking a bite out of a wheel of cheese, the words “UTAH ARTISINAL CHEESES” bouncing overhead.
Andre said, “Last time we disguised it as an ice cream truck, but it drew a crowd of kids at every intersection.” He opened a side door. The interior contained what looked like a surveillance setup and, at the far end, a wet bar. “There’s a sofa that folds up out of the floor, too—you can’t see it right now because we had to fit the BMW in. After you.”
The meeting Will had called was being held under a thirty-story-tall naked woman. It was a rectangular building downtown covered in screens displaying a 3D video loop that created an illusion of depth, making it look like the building was a hollow space in which an actual giant stripper was undulating for the passing traffic below (Zoey wondered how many men actually fantasized about three-hundred-foot-tall women, as it just seemed incredibly impractical as far as sexual encounters go). Will told her that inside the building were merely a couple hundred normal-sized strippers and escorts, serving high-end clientele who had to book weeks in advance. Scrolling across the woman were the words “THE NAKED CITY” in flashing crimson.
Getting into the basement required Will to flash a little golden membership card at the door, after which Andre, Zoey, and then Wu followed him past several giant but well-dressed bouncers. Wu had to give up his katana, as the club apparently had a no-weapons rule. They soon found themselves in an upscale lounge full of black leather furniture, being waited on by girls in tiny French Maid outfits offering sampler platters that included an array of colorful liquids in shot glasses and little glass squares bearing neat lines of white powder.
An eerie, undulating blue light filled the room from overhead, and Zoey looked up and saw dangling naked legs. The floor above them was apparently full of whirlpool hot tubs with glass bottoms that gave a clear view from the basement lounge, apparently so the people down here could watch. Six hot tubs made up the ceiling of the room they were in, bulging down like a clutch of giant blue alien eggs, each one containing a writhing pair of hairy male legs surrounded by about six female ones. She had said yesterday that Arthur Livingston’s wax corpse was the creepiest thing she had ever seen, but Tabula Ra$a continued to outdo itself.
They took a seat and Zoey said to Will, “Don’t tell me I own this place.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
The open invitation Will had sent out to the Tabula Ra$a security community couldn’t have been simpler: “Don’t move on the Fire and Ice Palace until you hear what we have to say.” A half dozen men soon arrived—and they were all men—representing the largest private security firms in Tabula Ra$a. Will pointed out to her the CEO of the Co-Op, a graying, tanned ex-military man named Blake who Zoey thought probably punished himself with five hundred push-ups if he ever slept past five AM. Gray suit, no tie, smelled of aftershave. Will muttered introductions to her as each man walked in, but she quickly forgot the rest of their names. One of the guys looked like an old-time Mafia don, another was dressed in black tactical gear, like he would prefer to have crashed into the room through a skylight, another guy was barely contained in a sport jacket and tank top due to pectoral muscles tugging at his buttons. There was so much testosterone in the room that Zoey thought she was going to grow five o’clock shadow by the time the meeting ended.
Will, who was not programmed for preamble, said, “Stay away from the Fire and Ice. All of you. We’re handling it.”
Zoey thought that bit was, at best, a gross exaggeration.
Blake’s answer was calm and matter-of-fact. “I appreciate that you needed to say what you just said, as a matter of courtesy. But you and I both know that the issue is only who is going to get to Molech first. Any intel you gained about the interior layout or any, shall we say exotic defensive measures would be greatly appreciated.”
“‘Exotic’ does not describe what you’re going to find there. We got a man inside only because Molech allowed us to. It was … just a game he was playing.”
Blake shrugged. “I’m eager to examine his gear after we confiscate it. We’re going in with overwhelming force, Mr. Blackwater.”
“It will be like a tribe of Zulus trying to ‘overwhelm’ a tank with their spears. He’s had months to prep the building and he has his gear working now. Seeing a glimpse of what he has, I don’t think it will be a fight at all. I think he can just … neutralize you. Whatever you bring.”
The muscle guy spoke up. “He’s right, Blake, you fellas should back off that. Let my boys roll in and take care of it.”
Blake said, “You’ll only be in the way. You don’t have the hardware, Reg.”
Will said, “We’re going in after Molech ourselves, early tomorrow morning.” This was very much news to Zoey. “If you’re bound and determined to go in, fine, but let us take the first shot. If you think we’re not capable, watch us fail and let it inform your strategy. Maybe we’ll loosen the jar for you, if nothing else.”
Blake said, “We’ll take it under advis—”
He was cut off by the sound of screams and gunshots, just outside the door.