Page 32

“No,” says Sandoval. “Jared was in our New York office, Tetsuya in Buenos Aires.”

“And they were the heads of their branches?”

“Yes.”

“Good. At least the pattern is confirmed. Which one of you runs L.A.?”

“That would be me,” says Sandoval.

“Then you’re not going to get a bullet in the head.”

“What makes you say that?” say Sinclair.

“Because they’re going to blow us up, Barron,” Sandoval says.

“Ah. Right.”

She looks at me. “That’s enough of you questioning us. What did you learn from that horrid woman in the basement?”

I glance at Howard, but he’s staring at a painting on the wall and won’t look at me.

“I’ve got good news. The ritual is tomorrow. And I know where and when.”

Eva goes over to Sinclair. They whisper to each other for a minute.

“Are you sure?” he says. “We were told it was the weekend.”

“She might be lying,” Sandoval says.

“She wasn’t. I made sure she knew it wasn’t in her best interest.”

Sandoval holds up a hand.

“Don’t tell me what you did. I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t worry. There were no bolt cutters involved.”

“Not another word.”

Sinclair says, “Where will the ritual take place?”

“At the Chapel of St. Alexis. Exactly at sunset.”

He looks at Sandoval.

“That’s right downtown. We could have a hundred armed associates there by then.”

“That’s a great idea,” I say. “Scare them off so they disappear and reschedule the ritual without us knowing when or where.”

“How do you want to handle it, then?” says Sandoval.

“I’ll take care of it myself. I don’t think there will be many faction people there because the ones who show up are committing suicide.”

“How will you do it?” says Sinclair.

“I’ll know when I see the setup, but I imagine I’ll basically just kill them all and take their stuff. Is that okay with everyone?”

Sandoval says, “It’s fine with me.”