CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

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Creed didn't stay out in the backyard with Juan for long. His intuition told him to send Anna a thank you message. As he sat with Juan on the porch, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She smelled of old sweat, but Creed didn’t mind. Hell, most of the people he met smelled worse.

Coconino allowed Juan to pet him several times. Afterward, Creed helped her up so they could walk around the area. That hunch continued to bother him, and while Creed didn’t believe in the supernatural, he had seen his intuition proven correct many times. Maybe Father Summers had sent a wire.

Around 5:30, he walked Juan into the dining room, where she sat with Tesla. Creed made her a cold roast beef sandwich.

"Mr. Tesla," he said after Juan nodded to him in thanks, "if you see them before you go, please tell Phillip or Hiram I'm going to send a telegram."

"I will," Tesla said.

Creed strapped on his guns and rode Johann to the Western Union. The sun cast long shadows across the ground by then. Indoors, the room smelled faintly of cigar smoke.

"We closed at five today," called the Clerk, not looking up from writing at the desk.

Creed shut the door. "I see.” Perhaps it wasn’t intuition but nerves. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

"Oh, Mister Creed. That’s all right. We received a telegram for you." The Clerk pulled a folded piece of paper from the wall boxes behind the desk and handed it to Creed. The investigator unfolded it.

Creed’s mechanical heart sped up. Without a word, and without sending a thank you note to his daughter, he rushed out of the office, leaped on Johann's back, and rode the horse at his fastest gallop back to headquarters.

"This can't be. How did they know?" O'Leary asked.

Creed paced in the laboratory beside one of the two working tables. The room smelled of burning wires, which was coming from Pinel’s Auto Equis. The Tesla bulbs burned bright, shining off the steel, brass, and wooden gadget parts scattered around. Creed considered asking O’Leary and Pinel to turn the lights down, but no. He needed the intensity. It complemented his anxiety.

"They probably saw me with Ace after I met him at the railway station. That or they learned he’s a friend of Anna’s man, Jonny, and that Anna and I are connected. That connects Ace to me."

"Let me see it again," said Pinel, and O'Leary passed him the telegram.

"We have Ace Feng,” Pinel read. “We want you. Meet us at the corner of John and Powell at 10:00 p.m. or he dies."

O’Leary said, “With no attribution, it may not be the Wu Cai.”

“Does it matter?” Creed asked.

"There are some positives," said Pinel.

"I don't see any."

"I understand. You're upset about your friend."

"We all are," said O'Leary. "After all, we like Ace."

Creed nodded and chewed his lower lip. "What positives?"

"You're Bodacious Creed! No one can move or shoot as fast as you."

"Don't be so certain. There are devices—"

"We’re aware. Marvelous devices. I doubt they make anyone as fast as you, so listen."

Annoyance, bordering on rage, flared in Creed's chest and heated his neck. He wanted to prepare, to hurry, but he would listen to Pinel’s ideas.

"You also have me."

"What are you talking about?" Creed asked.

Pinel looked away, eyes again squinting. "I'm not such a bad shot myself. I'm going with you."

"That's a bad idea." Creed placed his hands on the barrels of his guns, tapping the metal plates with his fingers.

"It's not," Pinel insisted.

Creed looked to O'Leary as though for advice, but the Irishman rubbed his chin, listening, expressionless.

"I will stay out of sight, use the gauntlets, and stick to shadows. We can use audio enhancers also."

"Audio enhancers?"

"Yes," said Pinel, "to help us hear better."

Creed said, "I can already do that, but you use what you need."

O'Leary snapped his fingers. "Pelton! The deputy chief. He and his men might help—"

"No time." Looking down, Creed shook his head. How many men would be on that corner? Everyone knew that Creed possessed abilities beyond the ordinary. The Wu Cai must have felt confident they could take him to send that demand. Only a group that large, or with enhanced fighters of their own, would dare.

"You're coming with me then, Hiram?"

"I want to," said the Frenchman.

"All right. We wear the gauntlets. You two will use night goggles. Do you have those?"

O'Leary scoffed. "What do you think we are? Basic repairmen?"

“No, but I hope we’re ready for what we might face.” O'Leary clapped his hands, drawing Creed's attention. “I want to come with you."

"We're already risking Pinel," Creed said.

"I can help. Oh, boy, can I help." O'Leary opened a cabinet and looked over the shelves. He brought out a circular device.

"Yes, because of the goggles! And they may not bother with them," Pinel said.

"Exactly."

"What are you saying?" Creed asked, and O'Leary explained.

As Creed prepared to leave, he considered hiding his guns in his boots but found this unserviceable. The guns were simply too large. Creed boxed the guns and shoved them back in the wardrobe. Pinel and O’Leary carried firearms. That would suffice.

“They call me Bodacious Creed,” he told himself. “I am a weapon.”

In the library, the men looked over the large map of San Francisco on the wall. The telegram said to meet at the corner of John and Powell, and the city map showed a park on the spot. A few other buildings surrounded it, and the men discussed how to fit them into their plan.

Creed would ascend one building to have a look below. O’Leary, Pinel, and Coconino would get into position. From there, things became uncertain. There were too many unknown variables.

Though Creed insisted on leaving the animals behind when he and O'Leary went to the Cathedral of Saint Mary, O'Leary had already cobbled together an adjustable collar for Coconino.

Creed wore his silver mask, hat, and coat, and the others sported dark clothing, including goggles, bandannas, and dark hats to hide their identities.

Creed knelt before Coconino, who was running in circles, agitated.

"Yes, you're coming with us," he said, scratching the coyote's scruff. "You need to stay quiet."

Coconino gave a single yip, tongue lolling as he stared into Creed's silver eyes.

With the Irishman's help, Creed slipped a collar around Coconino's neck and buckled it in the back. Coconino whined but accepted it after Creed patted him. They played fetch for a few minutes, which sufficiently distracted the canine.

"What are you men up to?" called Guillermo from the back porch.

Creed approached. "Did you just get back?"

"A minute ago."

Creed explained their plan.

"Dios mío," Guillermo said. "I wish I had more help to give!"

“We'll do our best. I’m glad you and Selena will be here with Juan." Creed took another moment to gaze at Guillermo and furrowed his brow. "You learned something."

"We did. Father Graham walked away from the parish after mass to talk to someone. Selena was wearing an audio enhancer, and she followed."

Of course. With her long hair, she could hide not only the nub in her ear but the wires leading down to the palm-sized, concave receiver, probably stashed in the back of her dress.

"What did she learn?" Creed asked.

"The bishop said he cut ties with someone named Xiangliào Furén."

"Nothing else? No idea who she is?"

Moreno shook his head. "You have a mission. We'll talk later."

Creed joined his compatriots. They turned on their gauntlets. Coconino yipped and jumped back but calmed after he sniffed the men. When Creed switched on the shadow maker, the coyote appeared as dark as obsidian. They departed through O'Leary's shop. As they moved, he wondered when, or if, he would return.