Ian

I pulled myself up the last few rungs of the fire escape ladder and onto the rooftop, brushing crumbs of ancient paint from my hands. The night was cold and still, but after the climb I didn't feel it. The metal of the ladder was noisy, but I hadn't been trying to sneak up on anyone. On the far side of the roof, a dark cutout against the light pollution rising from the streets beyond, the man who I'd come to see waited, unmoving.

Some crooks avoid capture, or try to, by being hard to find. It's a strategy with bad odds, all told, since you're always badly outnumbered. Smarter, more powerful scofflaws manage the risks of their trade by leaving evidence so thin or convoluted that it's not worth trying to pin anything on them. Crime lords like the Castelloros make up the bulk of the latter category, but every so often a soloist comes along who has the knack for it.

That was Gavin Othmar, who turned his head lazily to look back at me as I crossed the roofing felt. It was dark enough that the only way I could make out the motion was the changing angle of the cat-ear cybernetics he wore. Reminded to watch my footing, I gave him a wide berth in case his tail was lying out behind him.

"Hey Ian," he said, as I squatted down a few feet away - from Gavin and from the roof's edge. "What's up?" He had a cute little face, with a down-turning mouth that always looked a little petulant, overall a bit too soft for my tastes. He tried to hide it with small round shades and a pierced ear, and a thick mop of untidy hair, but under all that he looked about fifteen.

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"Do you know anything about Angelo Castelloro starting a dragon racing team?" It was nice to be dealing with a known quantity. Not having to second-guess whether Gavin would know who Castelloro was, or make a fool of myself trying to dupe information out of witches.

"What?" He turned fully round, mouth open.

I shook my head ruefully. "I'm on a weird job."

"For real. But dragon racing? That's Nosa Costra shit."

I took a cold, hard breath. The Calabrian mafia was perhaps the biggest crime syndicate in the world, certainly in Occidens. They mostly operated on the south half of the continent, but they had to have the odd holding here or there in Saxe-Merovia. Had I misjudged? It was possible the farm was ultimately tied to the Nosa Costra, but the Castelloro connection was tighter.

I decided to tip my hand. Knox didn't move in circles that might get me into trouble on this. Didn't move in many circles at all. "There's a new team in the IL, based in Rindburg-"

"Oh, I heard about that, Phoebe Tenryuu, right?"

My turn to stare at him for a moment, but of course, since her victory in the Latenian Mountains, Tenryuu had been the toast of the town. I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure they operate out of a building owned by Castelloro, but I haven't figured the whole show out yet."

"Huh. Maybe that's why they're on the move. Nosa Costra, I mean."

"They're what?" Now I did start to feel the night's chill.

"Buncha guys in sharp suits with Calabrian accents have been knocking around. Only like the last couple of weeks. That's why they were on my mind."

"You think Angelo got a fad for dragons and they're coming to knock him back?"

"Could be." Othmar shrugged. "Time to cut your losses."

If this case was going to put me between local organised crime and the mafia, it was beyond stupid to stay in. But I had more reasons than the money to not want to say no to Lachlan.