Page 83 of Blood Stone

Sebastian stood. “On it, boss.”

“Where are you going?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m not going to use my laptop. I need an untraceable IP address and for that I need the server I just spent the night putting back together.”

“How long is this going to take?” Garrett asked.

“How long is a piece of string?” Sebastian headed for the door. “Picasso didn’t paint to deadline.”

“You’re not an artist!” Garrett called after him as the trailer door slammed shut.

Winter grimaced. “For what you’ve asked him to do, and for what he needs to do to pull it off, he really is a kind of artist. There are maybe a dozen people in the world that can do it and get away with it, including Sebastian.”

Garrett threw himself back against the chair, which obligingly reclined. “So it could take days?”

“Possibly longer. Don’t jog his elbow. He’ll get what you’re looking for, especially if he spots anything hinky at all.” Winter smiled. “One hint that there’s something to find and he won’t give up until he’s got it.”

Garrett looked at his watch and sighed.

“They’re not due to start shooting until eight tonight. Do you want to go through the paperwork I’ve been stockpiling?” Winter suggested.

All the issues back in his Boston office seemed even less than trivial. “God, no,” Garrett told her. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“I’m adjusting my biorhythms. When you’re on the set, I cat-nap.”

“And you’re…okay, now? After last night?”

She smiled. “I’m fine. Want to see?”

He started to shake his head as the trailer door opened again. They both looked. Garrett expected Sebastian to step up into the trailer, perhaps returning to collect his laptop, which he had left sitting on the table next to the sofa. Or to ask more questions about Kate.

But it was Nial who moved awkwardly into the middle of the room, his arm held by a stranger.

Garrett found himself on his feet. Winter was already on hers.

The man had soft brown hair of medium length, brown eyes and he was of medium height. He wore plain black trousers and a striped casual shirt that could be bought in any chain store across the country. Black runners and no watch. His face was unlined and it was impossible to tell how old he was except that he wasn’t very young or very old.

He would have been utterly unremarkable and instantly forgettable in a crowd, except that he appeared to have Nial under his control, using no more than his hand.

“Nial, what the hell?” Garrett asked.

“He cannot speak,” the man said. “I stopped him from calling out or communicating his predicament to anyone when I made him bring me here.” His voice was anything but unremarkable. It was melodious and fell pleasantly upon the ear. It would have been lovely to listen to had the circumstances been just a little less bizarre. Garrett had a hard time tearing his attention away from the man and forcing himself to focus upon the situation itself. It was almost like being hypnotized.

Winter shook her head, blinking. She was clearly vulnerable to the effects, too.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Whatare you?” Garrett amended.

“Who I am does not matter. Names are something only you creatures obsess about.” He smiled. “And humans.” The smile faded. “What I am……well, that is the crux of the matter, is it not? I am of the Curandero.” He swivelled his head to look at Winter. “Just as you are.”