The Nightingale Circus Page 3

  Oblivious to the danger, the man walked slowly but heavily, so no enhancements. It would have made a difference if Spinner had been able to move, but the way it was, all he could do was watch while the man hovered around the place and eventually found his way to him until his large shadow loomed over Spinner.

  “Interesting,” the man murmured when the device in his hand came to life.

  Light flashed over his face, and Spinner could swear his complexion was green.

  He took one step forward.

  “If you lay a hand on him, I’ll kill you,” Rake said. His voice sounded menacing even when he didn’t want it to be.

  “Oh, another one … Is your friend conscious too?” the man asked.

  Since he had nothing to lose, Spinner said, “Yes.”

  “Hmm.” The man tapped his thick fingers against his chin. “This is unfortunate…”

  “Why so?” Spinner asked.

  “I came here to see if I could salvage a few prosthetics, but I expected everyone to be dead. I didn’t come prepared … I’m afraid this is going to hurt.”

  Did he mean he still intended on stealing their prosthetics despite them being fully conscious? What kind of cruelty was that? This wasn’t some war torn, abandoned country. This was Berlin, the middle of civilization.

  The man was speaking again. “That’s a nasty cut.” He nodded at Spinner’s thigh. “Do you mind if I close it for you? I have a strong aversion towards wasted potential.”

  “Are you a doctor?” Spinner asked.

  “No, but I’m familiar with the way the human body works. And I just happen to have everything I need in here.” He patted the bag by his side.

  “Hey—” Rake said.

  “It’s all right. He can’t make it much worse … I think.” Spinner added as an afterthought.

  “That is correct.” The man dropped the bag on the ground and rummaged through it.

  The pain in Spinner’s thigh increased, so he must have found what he needed. Spinner couldn’t see because his upper body was twisted to the left, his middle trapped under contorted metal parts.

  “May I ask you a question?” the man said.

  “Shoot,” Spinner said between gritted teeth. He was out of luck as the ad-hoc doctor wasn’t using any anesthetic.

  “Your prosthetics are different from the others I found here.” He nodded back at the bodies. “And since your colleague is the only other survivor beside you, I assume so are his. Why is that?”

  “We … fiddle with them. Tweak them,” Spinner said. “Been doing it for years.” The army technicians had stopped checking them because they deviated too much from the current standards, but that was exactly what had saved their lives so many times.

  “You know how to work with prosthetics?” The man sounded surprised.

  “Yeah, we both do … there’s a lot of dead time when in the army, and we filled it with studying stuff that can be useful on the battlefield.”

  “Spinner—” The warning in Rake’s voice was hard to miss.

  “Oh, shush. Who is he going to tell?” Spinner asked with disdain.

  “I assure you I have no interest in exposing you,” the man said. “I have a few secrets of my own.” He grinned in the pale light of the flashlight, showing a set of sturdy, yellow teeth. “Actually—” he moved to dress the chest wound without asking for permission, “—I could use men with your skills. If you ever decide to drop the war business, I have a job for you.”

  “Are you a factory owner or something?” Rake asked.

  “Something like that.” He smirked at himself. “You can find me at The Nightingale Circus day and night … well, except for the times when I’m haunting deserted battlefields, looking for spare parts.”

  Spinner winced. That’s what they were, spare parts. “Who should we ask for?”

  “Big Dino. I’m the owner.” Big Dino put his tools away and turned in Rake’s direction. “Do you need any help?”

  “Rake?” Spinner asked when his friend didn’t answer.

  “I’m thinking … Do you have any experience with brain surgery?” Rake asked.

  Big Dino bounced on the balls of his feet. “I might … What do you have in mind?”

  “We have a faulty implant that’s keeping us paralyzed,” Rake said. “It needs to be removed.”

  “Here?” Big Dino made an incredulous face and looked around at the messy field.

  “All you need is a scalpel and a pair of tweezers. We can coach you.”

  “I don’t know about that…” Spinner said.

  Big Dino had tended to his injuries with confident hands, like someone who had done this sort of thing before and didn’t need to stop and think about it, but to let him dig into his brain…

  “Like you said, how much worse could he make it?” Rake said with a tinge of irony in his voice. “But you’ll have to do it on Spinner first,” he told Big Dino. “I’m lying on my back, and I’m too heavy for you to turn me over. You don’t have any enhancements, do you?”

  “How did you know?” Big Dino’s thick fingers slipped around Spinner’s head.

  “Most people who work in the business don’t use prosthetics themselves,” Rake said. “Now, you’ll find a scar on the back of his head, right above the cerebellum. Cut along it, peel the skin away, and remove the metal plate underneath. You need to extract the third module from the right. Do not touch anything else.”

  The scalpel pressed against Spinner’s skin, and he let out a hiss. No matter how many times the procedure was done, it still hurt. The world blurred around him, and he lost track of Rake’s instructions for a while. Conflicting orders fired inside his brain, confusing his system. When his vision momentarily blackened, instinct took over, and he pushed away the metal above him and rolled on all fours, remaining in a defensive stance.

  Big Dino froze with his hand raised, still holding the faulty module with the tweezers.

  “You alright?” Rake asked.

  “Yes—” Spinner drew in a satisfying breath, “—I’m fine.” With the interference gone, the pain caused by various injuries became the central focus in his brain, but at least he could move again.

  He crawled up to Rake and tossed aside the body lying on top of him. “Hello, handsome!” He grinned into his friend’s blood-streaked face. The explosion had hit them from the front, leaving its mark on their faces, arms, chests, and shoulders.

  Rake growled, and Spinner hurried to roll him onto the side. Without enhancements, Big Dino would have never been able to maneuver his over half a ton weight.

  “Scalpel.” Spinner held out his hand.

  Big Dino placed the scalpel in his open palm.

  “Tweezers.”

  Big Dino handed him the tweezers, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, obviously not used to playing the role of a nurse.

  The instant Spinner unplugged the module, Rake rolled onto his knees and stood up, only to stumble because his left leg had been so badly injured the bone was visible. He scanned his surroundings and zeroed in on their savior’s bag.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Rake asked over his shoulder while he inspected its contents.

  Big Dino took one look at Rake’s bulky frame that came close to matching his height even while on his knees and shook his head, grinning. “By all means, help yourself.”

  After some digging, Rake found a twenty-centimeter-long screwdriver. He held it with both hands in front of him and shoved it in the right side of his chest, grunting.

  “What-what are you doing?” Spinner asked, puzzled. One extra chest wound was the last thing either of them needed, but he made no attempt to stop him. Once Rake set his mind to something, he couldn’t be stopped.

  “I’m handling in my resignation.” Rake pressed harder and turned the screwdriver, his features twisted in concentration. “I didn’t sign up for this shit. I wanted to protect people, not be killed by our own.” He turned the screwdriver again, and when he removed it, it came out wi
th a small tracker, still covered in blood, attached to its end. “There.” He smashed the device under his boot and left it there. “We can remove the other parts that can be tracked later on. Are you coming?” he asked when Spinner didn’t move.

  “Uhh … yeah … now?” Spinner stammered. He wanted to leave now? Of course, it was doable but … Damn, he was going to miss some of the implants they would have to get rid of. He’d been living with them for half of his life.

  Sighing, he took the screwdriver from Rake.

  “Fascinating.” Big Dino clasped his hands. “I’ve never seen someone performing the procedure on himself.”

  “We have an elevated pain threshold,” Rake said.

  It didn’t stop Spinner from grunting when he pulled out the tracker. “Done.”

  “I may have something for you to cover that.” Big Dino nodded at the puncture in Rake’s chest and retrieved a spray can from the bag.

  Rake sniffed its contents and sprayed a generous amount on his chest then handed the can over to Spinner.

  “It itches,” Spinner said, resisting the urge to scratch after he sprayed his chest.

  “Yeah, well … we don’t sell it, and it does the job.” Big Dino shrugged.

  Now what? Spinner looked at Rake. They had some money put aside since the army provided them with everything they needed during the service, but they couldn’t access it any longer, not if they wanted to disappear. So, they would have to start from scratch. A wave of nausea washed over him, and Spinner swayed on his feet. He felt too old to start a new life.

  “You said something about a job earlier.” Rake pulled on his tattered clothes. If he pulled any harder, there’d be nothing left of them.

  Big Dino eyed both of them pensively before answering. “Yes. The offer still stands if you’re interested.”

  “What does it entail?” Rake asked.

  “I’ve got a workshop in the train we use to carry the circus around, and we fix prosthetics for the locals when we travel across the continent,” Big Dino said. “My assistants are doing all right with the tasks I give them, but they’re not truly gifted in this field. I could use some help from people with a good understanding of the technical side of the business and who can come up with new ideas. I do like experimenting myself quite a bit.” He smirked. “And there’s good money in it.”

  Money wasn’t an issue. But their security was. After all, they were fugitives.

  “Where does the circus travel?” Spinner asked.

  “All over Europe and part of Asia, too,” Big Dino said. “We don’t stay long in one place. It’s the best way to keep my crew safe. But you will need an act. Everybody has one.”

  “We would work in the shop,” Spinner said. “Why do we need an act? Can’t we handle the security instead?”

  “Sure, you can help with that, too.” Big Dino nodded. “But if you want to try something new for a change, now’s your chance.” His voice became alluring.

  “I don’t know what we could—” Spinner muttered.

  Rake held out his hand, and the screwdriver flew out of the bag and into his hand.

  Show off. Spinner rolled his eyes. “And there’s that…”

  “Nice.” Big Dino grinned, his eyes gleaming with interest. He took Spinner’s hand in his to palpate his wrist. His skin was rough and cool to the touch. “Magnetic fields, right? I can work with this. How do you feel about knives?”

  Spinner shrugged. He hadn’t used any since his troubled youth, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t work it out. His reflexes were good, and where they were lacking, the magnetic fields would make up for it.

  “The scars would have to stay then,” Big Dino said. “I mean we’ll heal the burns, but keep cosmeticized scars. It looks more realistic this way.”

  This time, Rake shrugged. He had to be the one person in the whole world who couldn’t care less about his appearance.

  “Very well … follow me, boys.” Big Dino waved his hand at them. “There’s someone charming the guards for us outside, and she doesn’t like to wait.”

  Spinner chuckled. He hadn’t been called boy in a long time.

  The Magician

  “Place your bets.” The dealer’s voice rose over the murmurs of the small crowd surrounding the table.

  Nicolas considered ordering another drink, but the waiter was nowhere in sight. Next to him, Lucille leaned forward to place a small stack of chips on number four.

  Her floral perfume tickled his nose, an incentive to take her home sooner. After a delightful dinner filled with Lucille’s charming personality and laughter, they had stopped at the club for drinks and a game of craps. It had been a bad idea because now she didn’t want to leave. She pouted when she lost and cheered when she won, enjoying the experience to the maximum.

  Lucille’s teeth bit into her bottom lip as she watched the shooter roll the dice. Nicolas wanted to soothe the abused piece of soft, pink flesh, preferably with his own lips, but she didn’t allow any distractions while she played. The white cubes bounced against the back of the table and then stopped. A second passed before the blue lights showing the numbers lit on the visible sides. Five. She’d lost.

  “Damn,” Lucille muttered, and a corner of her mouth twitched in annoyance.

  It had taken her only forty-five minutes to realize that, regardless of the type of the bet, if she bet more than five chips, she lost. Anything less than five chips would most likely bring her a win. She’d been convinced she figured out the system, but it turned out she’d bet too high again, which didn’t fit the pattern. She never rolled the dice herself and only placed bets to increase her chances. She should have won.

  And normally she would have if another player hadn’t placed a big bet on the same number. The man in the charcoal gray jacket had mirrored her bets for the past few rounds, increasingly adding chips to the pile. Nicolas already had troubles keeping it a cold table. He had no problem with helping her win a few rolls. A happy Lucille would be more than generous later in bed, but he didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention. So she’d had to lose.

  To comfort her, Nicolas placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, appreciating once again the expensive dress’s design. Her soft, chocolate-colored locks tickled his cheek. “Ready to go?” he murmured.

  It was getting late, and she only had two chips left in front of her, so hopefully she agreed. If he stayed much longer, he would be less prone to enjoy the rest of the evening. Controlling not one, but two delicate devices smaller than a fingernail hidden inside the rolling dice was taxing on his strength. The whole process required more focus than dealing with objects a hundred times bigger and heavier, and he’d had enough.

  “Not yet, just a few more bets,” Lucille said with a determined smile. “I need to break even at least.” She held out her hand. “Give me two hundreds.”

  “I don’t carry money on me.”

  “Of course you do.” Her palm stayed open.

  With a resigned sigh, Nicolas pulled out his wallet and handed her two bills. She didn’t need to bet much, but she had a strong aversion towards losing.

  “Thank you, darling.” Lucille’s smile was full of promises when she took the money.

  Nicolas leaned back in his seat, nodded at a group of acquaintances, and signaled the waiter for another drink. It would last him for twenty minutes, but not a second more.

  A newspaper left discarded on a nearby table caught his attention. The headline said, Telecharger caught in broad daylight in Rouen. The police had picked up another one. Nicolas stifled a groan. They were getting closer.

  “Why don’t you play, too?” Lucille asked and put four chips on six.

  Nicolas frowned. “I don’t believe in luck.”

  The shooter hit six, and Lucille’s full lips curled in a pleased smile.

  Exactly twenty minutes later, they walked out of the club into the cold, spring night. Lucille returned the borrowed money on their way to the car. She was left with fifteen coins and a big smile. It di
dn’t cost much to make her happy, only his strength.

  “You know, I think that table was broken,” she said while he held the door open.

  Nicolas’s lips lingered on her flushed cheek. “I know.”

  * * *

  Sunday morning came too soon, and Nicolas had to leave Lucille’s warm bed for the weekly lunch with his parents. Crossing Toulouse at that hour was going to make him at least half an hour late, but the extra minutes of sleep had been worth it.

  With his older brother away surveying army affairs and his younger sister studying in Paris, he was alone to keep them company. Even so, he liked these intimate gatherings despite the cold and severe dining room and his father constantly picking on him. But he wasn’t a boy to let himself be intimidated by it, so he didn’t flinch when his father gave him a disapproving look. “You’re late.”

  “But I’m here,” Nicolas said. “Hi, Mom.”

  His mother presented her cheek, and Nicolas kissed it before sitting at the table. She smiled and nodded at Jeannette to bring lunch. The old maid shuffled her feet on the polished floor, taking her time to make it to the kitchen. Things were done the old way at Rieux Mansion.

  “You look pale,” his mother said as she wrapped the cashmere shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  They had turned off the central heating too soon this year, and the old house that had been in the family for generations still felt like a freezer during the colder days. The times were tough with war looming around the corner, and they did what they could to save power and give a good example to the less fortunate ones. Ah, the dreaded war…

  “I’m fine, Mom. It was a long night, that’s all.”

  “Not because of work, I presume.” His father paused to let Jeannette place the bowl of tomato soup on the table. “When’s the last time you stopped by the office?”

  Nicolas tried to remember. One week? Two? It certainly couldn’t have been that long. His old man probably knew better. Although retired, his father liked to stay informed about everything that happened at the company’s headquarters. “Everything’s fine, nothing to worry about.” He stirred the soup absentmindedly. It was hot, so he could have been delayed even longer without missing anything.