"Who is 'she'?" Adrian asks, over Dan's shoulder. Dan turns his head, blinking at the sudden sharpness of his tone.
Kovacs glowers at both of them. "Don't recall inviting questions from third parties."
"You've understood the cipher, then." Adrian raises an eyebrow. "Impressive. It's crude, but archaic. Not something I would have expected to see in use in this day and age. But given the defensiveness of your tone, I'd guess that you still don't know who or what it refers to."
Dan shoots him what he hopes is a warning look, and Kovacs makes one of the inarticulate grumbling noises that usually indicate an imminent tirade. But the tirade doesn't come, which means that Adrian is right.
"Suppose you do?" Kovacs says, tilting his head to one side in challenge.
"I can do my best to be of assistance." Adrian holds out his hand for the paper. Kovacs spreads it out on the coffee table instead, and they crowd around it, Adrian pushing his hands back into his pockets with an amused little half-smile. Well, at least he doesn't seem to be taking Kovacs too badly. Dan's lost potential friends this way before now.
The cipher doesn't make a lot of sense to him - it's all lines and hollow squares - apart from one set of characters, the last 'word', he guesses. He doesn't recognize it, exactly, but the script is curling, more sinuous than the rest of the message, and something about the way it is shaped reminds him of the symbols in his equations, the ones he's been using in his experiments. Maybe it's the same language, or something related.
"'The red crescent rises three nights hence'-well, that's Red Hook, they've hardly been subtle there-'and we shall carry her there. Young blood carries the most of life.'" Adrian's smile has faded now; he's all seriousness, eyes intent on the scrap of paper. "'Until then, beloved of-'" He stops, eyes trained on that strange set of symbols, the curling ones that don't quite seem to fit the pattern.
Kovacs' expression grows scornful. "Grateful for your assistance."
"Actually, you should be. I can't tell you how this name should be pronounced, since the language fell out of use centuries ago-possibly millennia. But I do know to what it refers." Adrian's eyes narrow. "Tell me, who exactly is this... 'friend' of your mother's?"
Dan can hear the inverted commas in Adrian's voice, and for a moment actually thinks Kovacs is going to throw a punch at him. But if Adrian notices that Kovacs' face is rage-pale and his hands balled into fists, he doesn't show it. He just picks up the paper and points to the part he's been looking at.
"I can't help wondering why any living soul in this day and age would be talking about the worship of an entity whose cult had passed into obscure legend before the dawn of the Roman Empire. I'm sure you can understand why I'm interested." Then Adrian's expression turns solemn again. "I also can't help wondering what, precisely, is going to happen to 'her'. The texts I've been able to study carry only vague hints as to the nature of their rites, but I understand some of them were quite barbaric."
"Believe that to be true," Kovacs says, and Adrian glances at him quickly. But Kovacs' expression is closed off, and he looks down and tugs at a button on his coat sleeve, refusing to elaborate.
In response to the questioning look Adrian shoots him, Dan can only shrug. Asking Kovacs about anything when he doesn't want to share is about as much use as hitting yourself over the head with a book to try to find out what's inside it. There's no use in pressing the matter now. Maybe Dan will get a chance to talk to him later.
"Must prevent it," Kovacs is muttering, and he has that distant look in his eyes that means he's about to do something either incomprehensible or incredibly foolhardy. "Need information. Someone must know the location. Three nights... should begin searching immediately."
Dan's eyes widen. "Shouldn't we call the police?"
"No," Kovacs says, quickly.
"But Sergeant Mason could-"
"Actually, I think that Mr. Kovacs may be right," Adrian says, folding his arms. Dan stares at him, but he doesn't volunteer any further information, just turns his attention back to Kovacs. "You'll never manage it alone, however. You need help."
Kovacs doesn't argue with him, and that's when Dan realizes that this is really real, this is serious, there's a person in danger out there. That suddenly he's involved in something urgent, something with consequences outside the confines of his workshop.
"I own a small storage space in the docks myself," Adrian is saying. "Getting hold of a plan of the area should be easy enough. I have contacts who can identify the buildings standing empty, the locations likely to be used for some of the more clandestine goings-on that occur there."
"Criminal contacts, you mean," Kovacs growls, sharp-eyed, and Adrian shrugs.
"Useful to have, and no less trustworthy than any other men whose primary motivation is profit. I pay them better than anyone else could, after all."
"Can't say I agree. Would rather work alone than make deals with-"
"Kovacs," Dan breaks in, holding up his hands. "If this is what it sounds like then - we can't just refuse useful information because you don't like the sound of the people giving it." At the word 'we', Kovacs gives him a sceptical look, and Dan knows there's going to be at least one difficult conversation in his near future. But he carries on. "You don't have time to do everything alone, and there could be someone in real danger here. Let Adrian handle finding out the location. There are other things we need to look out for. People recently arrived in Red Hook from the Arkham area, reports of missing women. I'm pretty sure your methods will be more useful there. I - I can even help you. If you like."
Dan actually surprises himself with that. A few weeks ago he wouldn't even have made the suggestion. He doesn't even realize how tight-wound he is with apprehension until Kovacs gives him a nod, and he feels the tension in him start to dissipate.
Adrian is looking at him over Kovacs' head. It's an opaque look, difficult to fathom, but Dan thinks - or hopes, anyway - that it's approving.
"...of course, that was in '95. Before your time, I expect."
Dan nods and smiles at the elderly shopkeeper, one eye on the door, willing Kovacs to please, please, please hurry up. The strategy they've worked out is pretty effective, in that it's halfway through the second day and they've already gotten through most of the area. Dan talks to the respectable citizens - the store owners, the foremen at the docks, the old-timers doggedly clinging to their homes despite Red Hook's ongoing slide into poverty - and he's unthreatening and well-spoken enough that they seem willing to talk to him about pretty much anything. Kovacs takes the lowlifes, darting into the speakeasies and the alleys where clandestine deals are made, places where a local's knowledge of the codes and a ready left hook are more useful than clear eyes and a firm handshake. Between the two of them, they have most people covered. It's a pity nobody seems to know anything.
The shopkeeper's monologue winds down, eventually, and Dan buys a Post from her and leans against the wall outside, hat pulled down low over his eyes. Over the top of his paper, he eyes the hulking grey building opposite, an abandoned warehouse, and at the moment the most likely location for whatever's due to happen tomorrow night. Adrian has been holed up in his study for the last two days, with a detailed plan of the area taking shape on his desk. (A mercy, since Dan's pretty sure this whole working arrangement won't last long if his oldest friend and his newest are forced to spend any more time in close proximity to each other than is strictly necessary.) Of the empty buildings Adrian's contacts have identified, this is the easiest to get into without being seen.
Dan kind of wishes he'd had longer to look around Adrian's study before heading out here, not having visited before. Every single book and artefact on the shelves looks as though it would be worth at least half a day's scrutiny. But right now - right now, this is more important.
Funny, in daylight the warehouse doesn't seem brooding and menacing like the church in Port Richmond, doesn't give him any reason to shiver. It just looks shabby and dirtied with smoke, and kind of sad.
The shop's door-chime rings violently then, and Dan glances around in startlement. Kovacs is halfway through the door, obviously not having seen Dan in his hurry, and he whips around, wild-eyed, when Dan calls his name. He's obviously been running, his face beet red, his breath coming in hoarse, tearing gasps.
"Found out who she is," he pants, holding up a sheet of paper, apparently torn from some wall, a short notice printed on it in plain black type. There is a sketch beneath it, a child's round face. "Missing girl."
Things move pretty fast after that. Quite by accident, on his next call Dan overhears a customer in the store whose owner he is talking to complain about his new neighbors, recent arrivals from Arkham who have moved into a previously abandoned tenement building, and who make strange noises at strange hours of the night. He pretends a casual, if mildly disapproving, interest, says that he thinks they may be cousins of an associate of his, and to his unending amazement, the customer gives him the address.
Kovacs is in favor of just showing up there right away, battering down the door and rescuing the girl. Dan manages to talk him out of that - they don't even know for sure that she's at the address, and confronting the people there might just put her in danger - and Adrian nods assent in the background, says that surely it would be better to wait until the appointed time, when they know for certain they'll have an opportunity to intervene. For a moment, Dan half-expects Kovacs to storm out in disgust, run down there and try to take the girl without their help, but then he just shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets and grimaces, and says, "Fine."
And now they're here. Kovacs is waiting outside, secreted in one of the narrow alleys that riddle this part of Red Hook like a warren, ready to stop anyone who tries to escape through the little side-entrance that's invisible from the street.
Dan and Adrian are hidden on an upper floor, seated behind a stack of old packing-crates for safety's sake, watching the sky darken through the gaps in the shutters and breathing the rot-and-salt smell of the docks through five storeys of mildew. Dan's fingers find the outline of the pistol in his jacket, run over it for the tenth time, or maybe the fifteenth. They've been sitting in silence for some time, and the quiet is growing heavy now, oppressive.
"Why'd you agree with him?" Dan asks, to break it.
Adrian raises an eyebrow.
"Kovacs. When he didn't want to get the police involved. What shouldn't they know?"
For a long moment, Adrian just looks at him. "Tell me about Kovacs," he says, eventually, as though it ought to be sufficient answer. "How do you know each other?"
Dan frowns at the unexpected question, and he pauses before he opens his mouth to reply. Not just because of Adrian's puzzling non-answer to his own query, but because he finds himself wanting to be careful with his words, to choose the correct ones.
While Adrian hasn't been anything but polite to Kovacs, it's patently obvious they can't stand one another, and while that doesn't surprise Dan, for some reason it pains him. Funny, because nobody else he knows is over-fond of Kovacs, and Kovacs certainly doesn't seem to be fond of anybody. It doesn't seem to bother him, and so it's never bothered Dan when acquaintances and relatives mutter about unsuitability and strangeness and force polite little smiles that barely hide their distaste. He's always figured that he doesn't need their approval, he doesn't need them to like his friends. His friend.
But maybe it isn't that. Maybe it's that he's gotten used to their disapproval, to their already having written him off as a hopeless eccentric. But Adrian... hasn't done that. He listens to Dan, encourages him gently when he trails off in embarrassment halfway through an idea, acts as though his interests really are worthwhile. Even Kovacs has never quite managed that last one. And Dan- well, he doesn't want to lose it, he guesses.
"I've known him a long time," he says, eventually. "Since we were kids. I must have been about ten, he would've been a couple years older. He showed up on our doorstep, new in town, looking for work. Said he'd do anything. It turned out that he was pretty good with his hands, good at mending and stitching things. Taught me, actually." He gestures at the gloves that Adrian is wearing, and the look of surprise he gets in return is gratifying. "So my mother got him an apprenticeship with her dressmaker. I guess he always felt a little indebted to my parents, so he stayed in touch. Stuck up for me a lot. I mean, the neighborhood kids always thought I was kind of odd, more interested in reading about birds and drawing airships than falling out of trees, so... well, he got pretty good at scaring them off, anyway. Helped me learn to handle myself a little, too."
(Actually, not all of that is entirely true. Dan was interested in climbing trees, and he didn't ever really mind falling out of them - just being pushed.)
"He's clearly very fond of you. That's commendable." Adrian gives him a faint, unfathomable smile. "What about his family? Do you know anything about them?"
"Not a whole lot." Dan shrugs. "His father disappeared before he was born, and they never had any money. His mother got involved in some kind of local scandal, so he cut out and ran to New York." He frowns. "He goes back there every couple of months now. I don't really know why, though. Doesn't seem to make him any happier."
"I thought as much."
Dan opens his mouth to ask what Adrian is talking about, and then he hears a sound that sends a cold thrill down his spine, and falls silent.
It's a low, rhythmic chanting, just a few repeated notes in some unfamiliar tonal system, accompanied by the tramp of at least twenty pairs of feet. They are at ground level, probably entering the building.
He glances over at Adrian, who is listening with his head tilted slightly to one side, an expression of wonderment on his face. Then he seems to shake himself, and he composes his features and nods at Dan.
They make their way down cautiously, holding their breaths over creaking floorboards, Dan clutching the pistol tightly in his hand. From the lowest landing on the staircase, they can see the ground floor without being noticed themselves, hidden by shadow. Dan has time to see the circle of robed and hooded figures that is taking shape in the centre of the room, to see Kovacs' silhouette appear at the side-entrance - and then Kovacs starts, and turns and runs like hell in the other direction, into the maze of Red Hook.
Dan hears Adrian's sharp intake of breath behind him, stares down into the center of the circle.
There is no girl.