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Creem smiled at her. “Intelligence and access. That’s what I bring to the table.”

“If you don’t have this thing yet … then why are you here now?”

Creem brandished the unloaded weapon. “I came for my guns, and for the Mex’s answer. And a little matter of ammunition to load up these babies.” He opened his driver’s-side door, reaching for something between the front seats: a map of Jersey, with a hand-drawn map paper-clipped to it.

Nora showed the maps to Fet and then Eph. “This is what you’re giving us. For the island of Manhattan.” She looked at Fet. “The Native Americans got a better deal than we are.”

Creem was amused. “That’s a map of the Picatinny Arsenal. You see there, it’s in the northern New Jersey skylands, so only about thirty, forty miles west of here. A giant military reserve that the bloodsuckers now control. But I got a way in. Been raiding munitions for months now. Drawn down on most of their ammo—why I need this here.” He patted the weapons as he loaded them into the back of his Hummer. “Started out in the Civil War as a place for the army to store gunpowder. It was military research and manufacturing before the vamp takeover.”

Fet looked up from the map. “They have detonators?”

Creem said, “If they don’t, nobody does. I seen fuses and timers. You gotta know what type you need. Your nuke here? Not that I know what I’m looking for.”

Fet didn’t answer that. “It’s about three feet by five feet. Portable, but not suitcase-small. Heavy. Like a small keg or a trash can.”

“You’ll find something that works. Or you won’t. I don’t make any guarantees, except that I can put you there. Then you take your toy far away and see how she goes. I don’t offer any money-back guarantees. Duds are your problem, not mine.”

Nora said, “You are offering us next to nothing.”

“You want to shop around for a few more years? Be my guest.”

Nora said, “I’m glad you find this so funny.”

“It’s all fucking funny to me, lady,” said Creem. “This whole world is a laugh factory. I laugh all day and night. What do you want me to do, bust out weeping? This vampire thing is one colossal joke, and the way I see it, you’re either in on the joke, or you’re out.”

“And you’re in on it?” said Nora.

“Put it to you this way, bald beauty,” said silver-toothed Creem. “I aim to have the last laugh. So you renegades and rebels better make sure you light the fuse on this fucking thing away from my island here. Take a bite out of … fucking Connecticut or something. But stay off my turf here. Part of the deal.”

Fet was smiling now. “What do you hope to do with this city once you own it?”

“I don’t even know. Who can think that far ahead? I never been a landlord before. This place is a fixer-upper but a one of a kind. Maybe turn this fucker into a casino. Or a skate rink—it’s all the same to you.”

Gus entered then. His hands were deep in his pockets, his face set tight. He was wearing dark glasses but if you looked carefully enough—like Nora did—you could see his eyes were red.

“Here he is,” said Creem. “Looks like we have a deal, Mex.”

Gus nodded. “We have a deal.”

Nora said, “Hold on. He’s got nothing except these maps.”

Gus nodded, still not really in the room yet. “How soon can we get it?”

Creem said, “How about tomorrow?”

Gus said, “Tomorrow it is. On one condition. You wait here tonight. With us. Lead us to it before first light.”

“Keeping an eye on me, Mex?”

“We’ll feed you,” said Gus.

Creem was won over. “Fair enough. I like my steak well-done, remember.” He swung his trunk door shut. “What’s your great plan, anyway?”

“You don’t really need to know,” said Gus.

“You can’t ambush this motherfucker.” Creem looked at them all. “Hope you know that.”

Gus said, “You can if you have something it wants. Something it needs. That is why I’m keeping my eye on you …”


Tags: Guillermo Del Toro The Strain Trilogy Horror