Milo... Raul

        By Pattie Lawler

 

            “Señor Jimenez. Welcome to Owswell Magnum.”

            “An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Scarlet.”

            Milo guided Raul and the seven men in his retinue to the drawing room. “I understand you were at Sotheby’s yesterday,” Milo chatted as they went. “I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

            “If you did, I’ll be sure to brag about it later,” Raul replied with a wry smile.

            Chuckling, Milo held the door as the men filed past, allowing him to examine the collection of dark-suited guests.

            Clearly, two were Raul’s personal guards. Their Spanish heritage was as obvious as Raul’s. Milo was surprised that he and his rival appeared to be the same age; somehow he had expected Raul to be older. Taller. Less portly. Not that Raul was large. Solid muscle was Milo’s impression. The two guards were similarly built.

            Milo was sure Simon could handle all three.

            The other men were exactly what Milo expected.

            At the center of the group was a young man, lithe and slender, with the crazed countenance of a zealot. His black eyes alighted on nothing for more than a second, and his hands restlessly opened and clenched.

            Within easy reach of his person were his two bodyguards. 

            Milo was less certain about Simon handling these massive men. The mental image of them as harem guards—bare-chested, well oiled, turbaned and complete with bejeweled scimitars—made him smile.

            The last man, and the only man in the room without black hair, was their magic user. This  Milo concluded after a cursory glance. The gray-haired man wore a flowing, white jalabiya and stared at Milo with an intensity that he found comical. Milo allowed his feeling to show as all eyes turned to him.

            Raul surged to the fore. “Allow me to introduce my companions, Mr. Scarlet.”

            Milo glanced at the speaker and saw in that instance that Raul was wound tight. Even his skin looked strained.

            A tide of sympathy was the last thing Milo expected to feel.

            “Amir Ascolan,” Raul reached as if to draw the young man forward by the shoulder, but hesitated to touch him. The prince bowed slightly, but remained silent. Raul then named the guards and concluded with the magician.

            “Hasan Saddah.”

            “Nothing is true. Everything is permissible.” Milo quoted the historic Saddah’s famous last words.

            Saddah inclined his head. “You are well read, Mr. Scarlet.”

            “Not really.” He turned to address Raul. “I think it was in my fortune cookie last night. So, Raul, would you like to see the Line, or tell me the real reason for this visit?”

            “Perhaps I could do both?”

            Milo smiled, nodding. He strode across the room and opened the door to the conservatory. “We’re renovating my study and moved the Line as far from harm’s way as possible. If you’ll follow me?” Skipping down the stairs into the hot, glass room, he gestured to the several men before the Roman Ruse. “Doubtless you know of Simon, but not my research librarian, Lawrence, and head of scientific, Russell.” Simon and the MI5 agents inclined their heads.

            Raul hurried to the case, moved along its length and paused. “Ah! The famous imprint! How extraordinary!”

            The prince followed more slowly but finally took his place beside a very excited Raul. He tried to display an interest in the item, but Milo could see his eyes assessing Simon as he bent to look where Raul pointed.

            Raul straightened, digging in his pocket. Pulling out a handkerchief, a coin dropped and rolled to a stop against Milo’s foot. His lack of subtlety drew an internal sigh from Milo as he bent to see what message his rival meant to share. Raul was mumbling apologies, complaining of the humidity as he applied the handkerchief to his forehead and waved for Milo to keep whatever it was.

When Milo’s finger touched the warm metal, he understood why.

            “If you can hear me, Milo, cough.”

            The words, spoken in his head, had enough of an accent that Milo couldn’t doubt the speaker. He coughed into his gloved fist as he stood and slipped the coin into his pocket.

            “If you guessed that I am here against my will, you are correct. The Amir’s majus is threatening my family.”

            “Are you also interested in the Legionaries’ Line, Amir Ascolan?” Milo asked, laying his hands on the Line’s case.

            “I confess,” the prince’s voice was soft-spoken, “I asked Señor Jimenez for an introduction, Mr. Scarlet, expressly to see the Line. I have a growing interest in fulgerite.”

            “Amir Ascolan’s most impressive piece comes from Alamut,” Saddah interjected.

            “And the associations thicken,” Milo replied with a grin. “Not only the founder of the Hashshashins,” he gestured to Saddah, “but fulgerite from their base as well. Tell me, is your line named for the eagle’s perch as well?”

            “Ah! Then you know of the connection between eagles and Alamut?”  

            Milo shrugged. “Even Saladin was reputed to have an eagle. It seems not uncommon for the era.”

            “I have heard,” the prince whispered, “that you are the guardian of Saladin’s legendary Eagle, Mr. Scarlet.”

            Milo laughed, nodding. “I was. But another collector had a unicorn to trade and I just couldn’t resist.”

            The prince’s face deepened to red. “Do you mock me?”

            Milo sobered and locked eyes with the younger man. “No more than you. I am a serious collector, Amir Ascolan. Suggesting that I might be in possession of an item as unlikely as a unicorn is no less insulting.”

            “Take care, Milo. This one angers easily. They are all of the Batiniya sect. Very dangerous!”

            Milo nodded once, stepping back from the case. The prince likewise retreated with a bow and mumbled apology.

            “I can only assume Señor Jimenez told you I have no intention of selling the Line.”

            “Yes. But I now know you are not above trading when the offer proves worthy.”

            Milo moved toward Simon, nodding thoughtfully. “I suppose there are pieces in my collection I would trade with the right incentive.” With the bulk of his bodyguard looming behind him, he turned back to his guests. “The Line, however, is a family heirloom that will go back into my study when renovations are complete, and there it shall remain. I welcome friendly discussion on the topic, but must ask you to refrain from pressing me further. The Legionaries’ Line is not available for sale or trade. Period.”

            The prince smiled, bowing again. “I understand, Mr. Scarlet.”

As he rose, a distant pop, followed by several more, filled the air. Simon immediately stepped before Milo, even as Raul’s guards reached for guns that had been confiscated. The prince chuckled with a glance at the magician who was mumbling what Milo assumed to be an incantation.

            Hoping to salvage what was already a lost cause, Milo frowned at the prince. “What is the meaning of this?”

            The wild-eyed, manic expression on the prince’s face returned, and he laughed aloud. “We have come for the Eagle, Mr. Scarlet, and no amount of lying will keep me from recovering it!”

            “The Eagle is a myth!”

            The barrage grew louder, closer and constant as the prince’s guards were suddenly each holding a pair of knives.

            The majus dropped to his knees with a groan.

            A hail of bullets peppered the conservatory, and Simon hastily backed Milo to the manor wall. Shouting to Raul, Milo dove for cover behind a marble planter. In a moment, his rival was crouched beside him, and Raul’s bodyguards blocked the planter’s edges. The bombardment continued to the sounds of men yelling.

            Milo knelt and drew an attaché from hiding. “I put the Line here because of the iron skeleton of the conservatory. I figured it would slow Mister Assassin down.” He removed the massive pair of .50 caliber Automags from the case and offered one to Raul, who recoiled.

            “Good God, Milo!”

            He grinned. “Cool, huh? But they’re not mine. They’re Simon’s.”

            “I don’t care who they belong to!”

            Milo shrugged and ducked lower, looking under the planter for feet. He used a gun barrel to point. “I see Simon and Lawrence. And we know where your guards are. So Russell is out of sight as well as the baddies.”

            Raul grunted. “I’m very sorry—”

            “Not now, Raul. Simon!”

            “Here! Stay down!”

            “It sounds like we’re surrounded.”

            “Basically.”

            “I can’t see Russell.”

            “I can. Stay down.”

            “Salt and pepper?”

            “Bad idea.”

            Milo nodded and replaced the handguns, though he didn’t lock the case.

            Suddenly, the world went black.

            Raul shouted to his guards even as Milo summoned Somnia. But the genus loci’s voice was distant and only managed to say approach was impossible before it faded all together.

            “Milo!” Simon bellowed.

            “Here and blind.”

            “We all are. Get out!”

            “I’m taking Raul.” He reached out, slammed into Raul’s arm and caught at his jacket. Leaning forward, he spoke softly. “Trust me, and say nothing.”

            Fine.   

            For a moment, the guns were silent, leading Milo to believe that Saddah had magically driven away the sunlight and not simply dropped hoods over everyone’s eyes. Friend and foe alike were in the dark. That being the case, he hauled Raul to his feet, heard no gasps of surprise at their rising, and pulled him toward the nearest door to the vaults. Familiarity smoothed his path, but dragging his blinded rival was a veritable albatross.

            The amir is convinced you have the Eagle. He approached me just after Christmas, demanding an introduction. He thought I hated you enough to simply capitulate.

            Milo felt the panel he wanted and stepped on the pressure lock in the flagstone. He shoved Raul into the corridor and once in the cool hall, bolted the door behind them.

            “Are you saying you don’t?” He brushed past Raul, caught his jacket again and with one hand against the wall, trotted toward the next door. “This corridor is long and straight. There’s nothing to bump into.”

            “I assumed our sight would return once away from Saddah.”

            Milo said nothing until they stood before the door to his study. Reaching under his jacket, he pulled Osiris’ Thigh from its sheath and placed Raul’s hand on the handle.

            “Oh!” Raul blinked at his renewed sight and examined the knife.

            “Listen to me,” Milo commanded, leaning toward Raul as he slipped the knife into his belt. “When I open this door, you and I are going to run for the fireplace. It’s at two o’clock from where we’re standing, about as far from here as possible but we have the clear shot. I have no idea where Saddah is, and we have to get to the vaults. I told Simon it’s where we’d hide. This’ll leave the agents to clean up without having to worry about where we are.”

            Raul nodded.

            Milo met his gaze, grinned, and threw the door open.

            Even as Saddah burst through the study door.

            They ran.

            It wasn’t until they were almost at the mantle that Saddah moved into view. Raul’s hand leapt up, like he was throwing seed to birds. Milo caught a shimmer, but didn’t pause. He pushed on the latch and hauled Raul into the hall as the panel swung open.

            “What was that?”

            “Nurikabe dust. It should slow him down.”

            Milo knew of the Japanese, wall-like demon and was impressed. “Does it create a wall?”

            Raul grunted as they pelted down the stairs. “An invisible barrier that lasts about a minute. If you know it’s a nurikabe, however, you’ll know to move around the edge.”

            They reached the gated corridor and paused while Milo entered the combination. “You know the manor is crawling with MI5 agents.”

            “I assumed as much. My lawyers—”

            “There’s no lawyer in the land that can help you, Raul. You kidnapped an American citizen on British soil.”

            “I am truly sorry, Milo. It was not my choice, I assure you.”

            Milo swung the gate open and spun back to lock it behind them. “We’ll wait here, just in case. I don’t think Saddah will make it this far, but there’s no reason to risk the collection.” He directed Raul to stand against the wall beside the gate, and threw himself against the far wall. His view encompassed the corridor and his rival. “So tell me, why does Ascolan think I have the Eagle?”         

            “Somehow Saddah convinced him. I believe he has a document saying Richard carried the Eagle from the Holy Land. Apparently, it says he took it by force, repaying Saladin’s generosity with theft.”

            “Have you seen the document? Is it genuine?”

            Raul spread his hands, shaking his head. “I have been shown nothing, told nothing. What I know I’ve guessed though various hints. My only part in their plan was an introduction, which I prolonged as best I could.”

            “You said they’re threatening your family?”

            “Saddah grew impatient and kidnapped my wife and daughter, forcing me to act. Happily, when I did make contact, they were returned unharmed, but the understanding was they might disappear again at any moment. My hands were tied.”

            “And you think Saddah is the author of all?”

            “After observing Ascolan and Saddah, I believe there is nothing the old fox won’t do to get his way. Ascolan is helplessly enthralled.”

            “And what about you? Do you believe I have the Eagle?”

            Raul dropped his gaze. “Were there such an item, I could easily see it in your possession.”

            Milo laughed. “I’m flattered. Should I come to own it, I’ll be sure to call and gloat.” A distant shadow on the wall forced him upright. “Here he comes."

 

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