Читать книгу Uprising - Scott G. Mariani - Страница 17

The Ritz Hotel, London

Alex walked into the grand entrance lobby and crossed the red carpet to the desk, with Greg trailing along behind her.

‘We’ve come to see Mr Burnett in the Trafalgar Suite. He’s expecting us.’

Two minutes later Alex rapped on the door of the suite. It opened and a woman in her late fifties, with a thin face and short hair, stood in the doorway giving them an icy stare.

‘Where’s Baxter?’ Alex said.

‘He’s busy at the moment. I’m his agent. You can talk to me.’

Alex’s nose twitched at the woman’s human scent.

‘I don’t think so. Out of the way.’ She shouldered past her and through the door. Greg followed, looking around him in awe at the decor. The agent tried to squeeze in after them; Alex shoved her hard out into the corridor and slammed the door in her face.

Baxter Burnett wasn’t that busy. He was settled back confidently on a plush sofa in the suite’s living room, his feet up on a table and his arms behind his head. He looked like he’d been working on his tan, and his hair was immaculately groomed. The sleeves of his white shirt were turned up just enough to show off the toned muscles of his forearms and the chunky gold watch on his wrist. He smiled a glittering Hollywood smile as Alex and Greg walked into the suite.

‘You certainly have a way with people, Miss—?’

‘Special Agent Alex Bishop. What we have to discuss with you isn’t for human ears.’

Baxter just kept on grinning his million-dollar grin. Alex motioned to Greg. ‘This is my colleague, Agent Shriver.’

‘Have a seat,’ Baxter said graciously. He turned and snapped his fingers. ‘Charlie!’ A heavyset assistant came out of the next room. His unsmiling gaze landed on the two VIA agents.

‘Charlie, get this lovely young lady and her friend a drink,’ Baxter said. Charlie stared a second longer, then went away.

‘It’s okay,’ Baxter said easily. ‘Charlie’s one of us.’

‘I can see that,’ Alex said. She and Greg sat on armchairs facing Baxter, and a few seconds later Charlie returned carrying a tray with three cut-crystal tumblers brimming with red liquid. He laid it down on a coffee table before leaving the room. Alex took a glass and sipped it. Greg sniffed uncertainly at his, pulled a face and set it back down on the coffee table.

Baxter was giving Alex admiring looks. ‘Anyone ever tell you, Agent Bishop, you have beautiful eyes?’

‘Plenty of times. Let’s get down to business. Your first big movie break was Down and Dirty, am I right?’

Baxter smiled. ‘That was a good movie. You a film fan, Agent Bishop?’

‘As a matter of fact, I am.’

‘But you didn’t come here to talk movies, I imagine.’ Baxter looked at his watch, like saying he was a busy man and didn’t have all day.

‘Of course we did,’ Alex said. ‘We take a great interest in your work. But here’s the problem. We couldn’t help but notice, Baxter – Down and Dirty was twelve years ago.’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘Our sources tell us that a week ago, you read for the part of Jake Gyllenhaal’s younger brother in the new Universal production, Firestorm. Is that true?’

Baxter reddened slightly. ‘Sure it’s true. It’s a great role for me. What’s the big deal?’

‘Baxter, you’re so fucking stupid,’ Alex said. ‘Don’t you think people will think it’s a bit peculiar, you never ageing? You think you can go on playing thirty-year-old guys for evermore?’

Baxter’s composure was slipping fast. ‘So I have boyish good looks. So did Mickey Rooney. So does DiCaprio. I work out. What the fuck is it VIA’s fucking business what I do, anyway?’ He stood up, spilling his drink over himself; a red arc across white cotton. ‘This is what you assholes came here for, to hassle me about the roles I take? Get the fuck out of here. Charlie! Show these two dipshits the door!’

Alex leapt to her feet. She was on him in two steps, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him violently back down on the sofa. Her hand snaked inside her coat and came out with the stainless steel .44 Smith & Wesson revolver. She shoved the three-inch barrel of the magnum point blank in his face.

‘What ya gonna do, shoot me?’ Baxter snorted. ‘You can’t hurt me with that thing.’

‘Let me tell you something, Baxter. I am a senior special agent of Vampire Intelligence. That means I’m authorised to use Nosferol-tipped bullets. I have six of them right here. You do know what Nosferol is, don’t you?’

Baxter’s cocky grin left him and his face fell.

‘Of course you do,’ Alex said. ‘Do not fuck with us, because if I want to terminate you right now, I have the authority to do that and nobody will ask questions.’ She lifted his chin with the barrel of the magnum and thumbed back the hammer. Baxter went pale as he felt the hard click-click resonate through his jawbone.

Alex went on. ‘This is a matter of Federation security, Baxter. You’re in the public eye and the Federation wants vampires to keep a low profile. You go on like this, you’re a risk to everyone. That makes you expendable.’

Charlie came into the room, a threatening look on his face. Keeping the gun and her eyes on Baxter, Alex called out to him, ‘Stay right there, Charlie. One more step, I blow his head off and yours next.’

Charlie wavered, his eyes wide, and backed off.

‘Okay, okay. What do you want from me?’ Baxter couldn’t take his eyes off the gun, putting his palms up, hands shaky.

Alex stepped away from Baxter, uncocking and lowering the gun. ‘Do what Irene DeBurgo did, and Jeff Caplan. You’re worth, what, eighty million? Get yourself a Pacific island hideaway. Retire, become a recluse. And if you can’t do that, get yourself a good makeup artist and start acting your age. Either way, I don’t give a shit. You know I’m a movie fan, Baxter. I see you playing Jake Gyllenhaal’s little brother, I’ll come after you and I will fucking destroy you. That’s a promise.’