robert Charrette - Arthur 02 - A King Beneath the Mountain by Robert N. Charrette Page A

taken out first. But not just yet—the two were sticking too close together.
    "Hey, Roscoe, you know what I think? I think she's gettin' ideas. I think she thinks she's gettin' too good to do the rough stuff."
    "I think you're thinkin' too much. She gets to do what she wants 'cause she's got the connections."
    "We could get our own connections."
    "Now I know you're thinkin' too much. We're gettin' paid; that's enough. Now shut up, Flake, or the geek'll hear us comin'."
    "Aw, Roscoe, we been all over most of this place. Tall Jack ain't down here. He ain't gonna hear us."
    "Talk any louder and he'll hear even if he's on the roof. Now shut up!"
    Flake shut up, mostly. He grumbled as he continued poking about. The two intruders worked their way to the old warehousing area. It was more open in the upper levels—-no catwalks—than the main area, but just as clogged on the ground level because of all the old crates and debris on the floor. John still had cover. He moved closer still, angling toward Roscoe. He lost some ground waiting for Flake to turn away from an area illuminated by a streetlight's amber glow shining through one of the windows. The delay made John nervous. They were finishing their search of the main floor and would be heading up the stairs soon. It would be easier to separate them upstairs, but harder to sneak up on them; there were fewer places to hide.
    A shadow flickered across the floor.
    Flake jumped back. "What's that!"
    "Shit, Flake!" Roscoe spun and crouched. Seeing nothing untoward, he straightened up. "Will you cut it out?"
    "I saw somethin'."
    "What?"
    "I don't know."
    Flake's head jerked about as he tried to see everywhere at once. Roscoe scanned the dark more slowly and carefully.
    "I don't see nothin'."
    "I'm tellin' you I saw somethin'." The shadow flickered again. "There!"
    Flake pointed at the floor, where the shadow had been. John shook his head. Though he hadn't seen whatever had cast the shadow, whatever it was wasn't on the floor; it had been somewhere behind the two. He knew it wasn't Faye; she didn't cast shadows.
    "It's outside," Roscoe said. That was John's conclusion as well. "Somethin' flew past the streetlight."
    "I ain't so sure." Flake sounded scared.
    "It's just a bird or somethin'."
    "Birds don't fly at night," Flake snapped.
    "Ain't you never heard of owls?"
    Flake thought about that for a moment. "Ain't never seen no owls 'round here."
    "So it was a bat. You seen bats, ain't you?"
    "A bat? I dunno. Ain't so sure it was a bat."
    "Just shut up and come on." Roscoe sounded impatient.
    "I'm tellin' you there's somethin' in here with us!"
    Roscoe grabbed Flake's jaw and turned his face to the light. He started intently into his partner's eyes. "You drop somethin' before we came in here, Flake? Shit, man, you know better than that."
    Flake yanked his head away. "I didn't take nothin'!"
    "Better not have."
    "I didn't!"
    "Then you ain't got no cause to see things that ain't there. Now come on, we got things to do here."
    Roscoe turned away and went on to the next tumble of abandoned crates. Flake gave the window a glance before following. The intruders' search took them through the storage area without offering John the chance he was waiting for. Roscoe started across the open area by the loading dock. Flake was slower, more wary. The gap between the two increased, but Flake stood between John and Roscoe, spoiling John's plan to take Roscoe first. John might have to settle for what he could get. Roscoe was across the loading area and nearly to the stairway. If he didn't stop to wait for Flake ...
    Roscoe entered the stairwell.
    John didn't think he'd get a better chance.
    He stepped out from behind the stack of crates that had shielded him and crept forward. He held his defense stick before him, the bronze head heavy in his hand. The stick wasn't as fast as the swords he had used when fencing nor did it have a point or edge, but it did have an authoritative weight that had proved itself