A broken contract fractu.., p.25
A Broken Contract: Fractured Conclave - Book 2, page 25
Chapter nineteen
Hallie insisted that they move the vehicle away from the house before she would tell Girard anything. Bear and Stumpy might have all the hallmarks of experienced, tough gang members, but they had created a sanctuary within the walls and she didn’t want to draw any more attention to it than she already had. Such spaces were rare and precious in low city.
Despite his clear impatience, wanting to know what she’d found, Girard drove for a few minutes until they reached a row of what looked like old garages, designed for one vehicle at a time. The row backed onto a street of houses and Hallie suspected that the garages were now used for storage and not cars. Not many people could afford to run a vehicle now.
Satisfied that they were far enough away from the gang house, Hallie updated Girard. He was as excited as she had been about the images of the van, and lost no time in calling the director, getting him to do a search of vehicle registrations. The van type was relatively common, even if the custom paint wasn’t. The partial plate would narrow the search down a lot, and Hallie hoped would give them a decent lead to follow.
Listening to the conversation on speaker phone, Hallie couldn’t tell how the director of the Conclave Investigators felt about doing lowly tech work, but from the tapping of a keyboard she could hear through the phone connection, he was efficient at the work. He didn’t raise a single objection, and had results for them in moments, reading the addresses out and promising to send them to Girard’s phone as well.
The partial plate gave three addresses for them to follow up on, which was just about the best news Hallie had had all day. Only three places. That narrowed their search a lot. The only downside was that none of the vehicles that came back to the partial plate were registered as being metallic blue, which meant that whoever owned the van had had it painted. Or they had used false plates.
“Can we trust the registered addresses?” Girard asked.
“Don’t know. Most people keep accurate records, but we’re not dealing with most people. We’re only going to know by looking,” Hallie said, eyeing the addresses she’d typed into her phone as the director had been speaking. “The first one is right across the other side of the city. That one is down by the harbour. It’s pretty crowded there. But this one,” Hallie paused, reading the address again and trying to picture the area in her mind. She had been there recently, even if she couldn’t remember precisely when or what for. “This is closest. Actually, it’s really quite close. And it seems familiar, though I can’t say why right now. Perhaps we should start there?”
“Alright. Which way?” Girard asked, putting the vehicle into gear.
Hallie gave him directions and they moved away from the garages. The district they were in was made up of the same sort of buildings as those next to the sanctuary. Medium-sized houses set into their own, small garden plots. Most of the properties looked reasonably well kept, their windows intact, walls not showing any obvious signs of decay. When low city had been a bustling commercial centre, these were the sorts of houses that skilled workers would have had, each holding one family. The workers would have had jobs at the commercial harbour, or in any of the many businesses that had once been in the industrial areas not far from here. The old middle class of low city. These days, those jobs had mostly gone to the new industrial area around the new harbour and rail terminus, and the houses that were left and which were still occupied probably held more than one family, or several generations under one roof, sharing the costs and the labour. The gardens which might have grown flowers for decoration in the past were now mostly vegetable plots. It was the sort of neighbourhood where people considered themselves lucky. They had a roof over their heads and could put food on the table.
“I’m constantly surprised by how big low city is,” Girard commented.
“It was the commercial centre of the whole city for a long time,” Hallie said, keeping her voice neutral. It was getting easier with practice, and with the more she learned about just how different her world was from the one Girard came from. A mother who liked to entertain and who had a half dozen chefs from different parts of the globe on staff. A far cry from a crowded house where real meat was a rarity and the food on the table was often whatever had been available at the market that day. And Hallie’s family was wealthy, in low city terms. They’d always had clothes and food, and the occasional bit of luxury.
“Of course,” Girard said. She had the sense he wanted to say more, or ask questions, but instead he kept quiet as they drove along a long, winding street.
“It’s the next left, and then the address should be close to this end of the street,” Hallie said, putting her phone away and paying closer attention to their surroundings as Girard made the turn.
They moved from a residential street into a quasi-industrial one. There were a couple of houses on the end of the street, and then a series of low buildings set apart from each other, mostly seeming to be the sort of small workshops that skilled craftsmen might use, with a couple of what looked like vehicle repair garages, the fronts given over to plain roller doors. Just the sort of place someone might store a van.
As Girard slowed the car down, Hallie drew in a sharp breath, realising when and why she’d been here.
“This was one of the places I visited when I was following Findo Trask,” she told Girard. There. That building they were just passing. It had once been a woodworking shop, and now that they were close, she could remember the faint smell of wood shavings and cedar as she’d searched the building. It had been empty, and looked long abandoned.
“You didn’t bring us here earlier,” Girard commented. He wasn’t criticising, just observing.
“No. I couldn’t find any connection with him when I got here. The building was empty with no trace that anyone had been there recently,” Hallie said, frustration taking hold. “Half the time, or probably more than half the time, I end up following bits of information and rumours that turn out to have no substance.”
“It seems a bit of a coincidence that his name keeps coming up, even if you couldn’t find any connection,” Girard said.
“Yes,” Hallie agreed. “There. It’s that one on the right. With the white metal shutter door.”
The building was about two storeys high, made of red brick and built for function from its square outline to the big rolling door that was currently down, blocking a view of whatever was inside.
“It’s an industrial unit,” Girard commented. “I thought you could only register a vehicle to a residential address?”
“It depends. Aunt Gin’s vans are all registered to the business, because they are work vehicles,” Hallie said. “But her business is legit and in operation. There’s nothing here to suggest a business is being carried out.” There were no obvious signs letting any passers-by know what business was housed there, and no lights that she could see through the small, high windows to suggest there was anyone inside. A lot of low city businesses kept odd hours, but the legitimate ones all made sure their business premises were clearly signposted, and they usually also displayed opening hours, however unusual they might be.
Hallie got out of the vehicle as Girard picked up his phone. From the little she heard, it sounded like he was calling the director. Perhaps to give an update. The director had given them quite a lot of free rein so far, standing between them and the families. She could easily imagine that finding Nafiens so gravely ill had resulted in even more pressure on the director and his team to recover the final three missing men. Hallie shivered slightly. She’d warned Bear about the elite security teams, but it hadn’t been an idle threat. It was a real possibility, and getting more real the longer it took to find the men.
Leaving Girard to make his report, Hallie headed towards the building. Apart from the rolling door, there was no other entrance at the front, but there should be a smaller door for people somewhere around the side or back of the building. She headed around the side, and spotted a door and small window towards the rear. As she walked, she took a look around. The buildings on either side looked like operational businesses. One seemed to be a packaging manufacturer, judging by the sign Hallie could see. She couldn’t tell what the other one was, as the sign was at the wrong angle to read. Both buildings were dark and looked empty.
As she reached the small window, Hallie thought she saw movement inside the building and paused, looking back to see where Girard was. He was heading towards her, frowning. Perhaps displeased that she had headed off without him. She held up a hand and pointed towards the building, hoping he would understand that she was trying to alert him to movement inside. She’d seen security teams use hand signals to communicate, but she’d never learned whatever language that was.
Girard drew his gun, picking up his pace as he moved towards her.
“How many?” he asked when he reached her side, his voice nearly soundless.
“Don’t know. Just saw movement,” Hallie answered, as quietly as she could.
“Alright. You try the door and let me go first,” he said.
Hallie wanted to object, but reminded herself that he had the gun and body armour. So she ducked under the window and headed to the other side of the door. She paused as she reached it. The door had an ordinary handle, but also a heavy lever which had been secured by a locking mechanism that reminded her of the electronic collar they had taken to Devin, made up of different parts that didn’t seem to match but which also had been securely woven together. The lever had been pulled back, the lock dangling open from it. She pointed to the lock and looked back to Girard to make sure he’d noticed. Excitement ran through her. This could be the electronic lock Devin had mentioned. It had to be. She’d never seen anything else like it. They were in the right place. Girard nodded to show he’d seen the lock and understood its significance. Hallie drew a breath then took hold of the handle and glanced at Girard again to check he was ready before she turned it.
To her surprise, the handle turned and the door opened outward, in front of her. Even though the lock had been open, it still surprised her and she took a step back, out of the way.
She had no time to consider the implications of the unlocked door as Girard was moving forward into the building. There was a shuffle of boots on concrete that sounded like a silent struggle, a low grunt, and a soft thud, as if someone had been hit with a blunt object and Hallie darted around the door, heading into the building.
Forewarned by the thud, Hallie ducked under the blow aimed for her head, pressing herself back against the wall, trying to make sense of what was in front of her as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. She had the confusing impression of several people milling about, a solid mass that might have been the van they were looking for, and then another fist was heading towards her and she ducked sideways. The fist hit the wall where her head had been and her would-be attacker grunted with anger and pain. She tripped, almost falling, as she tried to get away from the next blow, and looked down to find Girard slumped against the wall a few paces away from the door. He still had his gun, but seemed disoriented, the weapon lying on the concrete floor, his fingers slack around it, eyes darting one way and another, blood flowing down one side of his face.
“You again,” a male voice said, sounding disgusted.
Hallie glanced to the side and stilled, shock taking hold of her. She’d been half-expecting to see Findo Trask, but not the pair of men who were staring back at her with expressions of almost equal annoyance and anger on their faces. There was another person behind them, keeping back. She ignored the third person for the moment, turning her attention back to the pair in front.
“Tam and Ulf,” she said, still shocked. When she and Girard had chased Tam and questioned him, she’d known the older man hadn’t been telling the whole truth. But she had believed his terror had been genuine. She had believed he had nothing to do with Devin’s death and had dismissed him from her mind as irrelevant to the investigation. And yet here he was. Her skin prickled, stomach hollow with the sensation of having made a potentially terrible mistake even as she wondered just what else she had missed.
“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” Tam asked, a hard edge to his voice. The frightened older man was gone, replaced with more than a bit of arrogance and cruelty as he stared at her. She couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed to be so convincing as the weak man he’d portrayed before. She’d dealt with plenty of frightened people over the years. More than enough to know when someone was faking. And Tam had actually physically trembled while talking with her and Girard. She wanted to ask him how he had hidden his true nature so well, but there were more important things right now.
“Was it you? Did you kill Devin?” Hallie asked him, the question torn out of her.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, still sneering. “He was useful. Why would I kill someone useful?”
She believed him. But then, she’d believed him before. Movement nearby caught her attention as the person behind the mechanics moved forward into the light and she realised he was another veondken with the same mottled skin as Winner and Loser. He stared at her, eyes glittering with what looked like primitive hate and Hallie thought of her discussion with the director about the possibility of drugs being used. It would explain a lot. She had a hard time believing that, even in a place as diverse as low city, this sort of large, muscled and aggressive veondken would go unnoticed.
“Kill her now?” the veondken asked.
“Not yet,” Tam said, a snap in his voice. He was in charge of this particular group, Hallie realised. “I’ve something much more entertaining in mind for her. But you can kill him, if you like,” he added, pointing to Girard.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Hallie told him, taking a step closer to Girard so her leg was almost touching his shoulder, and making her voice as hard as possible. “He’s a Conclave Special Investigator, and his location is being tracked. The hochlen are annoyed enough with the one dead body they’ve got.”
A small, tight smile crossed Tam’s face. “That one was an accident,” he said, sending a chill over Hallie’s body. Despite the abrupt change in his persona, she still hadn’t quite believed that he had anything to do with the fighting ring. But he’d just admitted to his involvement.
“What happened?” Hallie asked.
“Think I’m going to tell you?” he asked.
“Yes, actually. I think you’ve been underestimated most of your life and you are dying to tell someone how clever you are,” Hallie said. Not exactly diplomatic, Hallie, her inner voice said. But, to her surprise, it seemed it might be effective.
“I am clever,” Tam said, the smile wider. “Set up that place, got it all organised. Got the word out to the right people. That was all me.”
“And did you recruit the muscle, too?” Hallie asked, glancing at the burly veondken, who was staring at her as if he wondered what she’d taste like as a snack.
Tam’s smile disappeared as if it had been cut off. No, he hadn’t had anything to do with the veondken. There was someone else involved. Her mind immediately went to Findo Trask, who most likely had connections with other veondken. But she couldn’t make that assumption. She’d been proved badly wrong once already.
“No, someone else did that, didn’t they?” Hallie said, hoping to provoke a response and get some more information.
“It was my idea,” Tam said, jaw tight.
“Watch your mouth,” Ulf said, “you don’t want to end up in the ring.”
Hallie’s ears pricked up. That sounded both like a threat, and also as if Ulf was referencing a specific event. Having faced the veondken herself, and not wanting to repeat the experience, Hallie could easily believe that the prospect of being forced to face off against one of the fighters would be an effective threat. From the way that Tam flinched, giving her a glimpse of the frightened man she had first met, she guessed that while he might be pleased with his own cleverness, he was not someone who wanted to fight himself. No, he preferred to watch other people try to kill each other. The realisation left a bad taste in her mouth.
Before she could try to get more information out of the pair, Ulf frowned at Tam. “We need to get moving. If the hochlen has a tracker on him, it’s not safe to stay here.”
The other mechanic spoke with the same casual authority and confidence he’d shown in his garage. Interesting. That suggested he wasn’t completely subservient to Tam. He was speaking more as an equal.
“Get the van ready,” Tam said over his shoulder, the fear fading, his arrogance returning. “I’ll deal with these two.”
Ulf sent a frowning glance at Hallie and Girard, but headed away, towards the van, leaving Hallie facing Tam and the veondken.
“You’re coming with us,” Tam told Hallie. “Get her, and bring her to the van,” he told the veondken. That explained some of his confidence, at least, Hallie thought. He was going to use the veondken to do the physical labour.
The creature smiled, lips peeling back from jagged teeth and he moved forward, hands reaching out. Hallie moved, but she’d forgotten about Girard. She tripped over his outstretched legs, landing on her hands and knees on the concrete floor. Her fingers brushed the gun in Girard’s loose grip and she seized hold of it, scrambling to her feet, putting her back to the wall, holding the weapon out in front of her with both hands. “Stay back,” she told the veondken.
He didn’t pay her any attention, moving closer to her. She pulled the trigger.
