Sam was the ranking officer in the building, again, and she pressed that on Hail as he began issuing orders. He tried to brush it off. “After what you’ve been through, you should take the day.”
“After what I’ve been through,” Sam replied, hearing the words as though someone else was saying them, “I’m ready to personally tackle the fallout. And the next time you answer me back, it’ll be your badge.”
In truth she wasn’t sure if the field agents even carried badges any more; she had a feeling that they’d been replaced by laminate warrant cards a few years ago. But, in front of two other agents, she held Hail’s gaze, without mentioning her doubts, and he silently backed down.
Sam issued the usual commands to keep the press quiet and keep the emergency services from the building. She quickly decided they’d call it an alligator attack, from the sewer, as too many people had heard and seen things that couldn’t be explained without mentioning some kind of animal. They could blame the alligator for the train crash and the movements under the building in New Thornton, while they were at it. The squat in Nothicker, the old library building that got flattened last night, would be more of a problem. Realistically, no natural creature could have caused all that damage, so it would have to be passed off as coincidence. Such an incident, in Nothicker, probably wouldn’t have made the news in other circumstances, and that detail would hopefully stop it from all seeming too convenient, adding credibility.
Alongside the media effort, the remaining staff started rallying back to work, even as the smoke-filled building was still being checked for structural damage. The field agents whispered about the Fae, questioning when they would strike back. They were whispering because Sam had already said no to such plans, but also because the place had an atmosphere like a wake. The lights kept blinking off, sometimes for minutes at a time. Half of the computers weren’t working. Everyone trod carefully, wincing at creaks from elsewhere in the building. There was a large crack in the floor near the reception and lift area.
Mathers and Devlin were the only reported casualties from their floor. Ryan from IS was unaccounted for, but Sam suspected he’d headed home in the chaos. Selfish, but understandable. It might have been a lot worse, if Pax and her people hadn’t interrupted the attack.
Sam knew the best medicine was to power through. She took a few staff off the job of securing the praelucente’s location and set them to searching the city for spikes of novisan during the times of the Monday surges. Against complaints, she told them it’d lead to the cause of this attack and they had no recourse to question that. She insisted she’d take care of the Fae herself, and went to Mathers’ office. She tried their FTC numbers and got no response. There were no emails coming in, not in her account or Mathers’, open on his computer.
That left her looking over the remnants of Mathers’ office. He was gone. Dead, before her eyes. Brutally. He’d left books on the shelves, never to be read, and a photo of a dog – who would take care of it now? She shook herself out of it.
Don’t think.
Don’t think.
The phone rang, and she answered, “Deputy Director Mathers’ office, this is Sam Ward, Head of –”
“Yes, quite,” Lord Tarrington said. “What the blazes is going on over there?”
The director of the Ministry. Interference she did not need. Sam swallowed, then described the events in as neutral a tone as she could muster. She started with the announcement that Deputy Director Mathers was dead. She moved straight on, ignoring Tarrington’s curses, to explain a turnbold had come up through five storeys of the building, until MEE field agents had managed to stop it. For all the damage it had done coming up, it had not reached the real seat of operations on the sixth floor, and they were now focused on the hard, fast pursuit of a potential force behind the attack. Only when she finished did she realise she’d said nothing about Casaria or Pax, and it seemed too late to mention it.
“Right you are, you’ll be our Acting Deputy Director, then,” Tarrington said. “Congratulations on the media cap – they’re lapping it up in London and no one would dare question such an absurd story after a tragedy. An alligator indeed.” For the briefest second Sam thought this would go smoothly. But he continued, “That’s you done. Pat yourselves on the back, pack up and get out.”
“Sir?” Sam frowned. Through the internal office window, she could see the bullpen, heads down, hard at work. “We’re on our way to some decisive results already.”
“Decisive nothing. You’ve lost the man in charge and the building – whatever you say – cannot possibly be deemed safe.”
“After what we’ve been through –”
“Everyone must be exhausted, traumatised, not at their best. Shut down the office, with statements that the MEE has suffered a blow, and we’ll form a plan from here.”
Sam slowly turned to look out of the office’s other window, down at the limited view of Central backstreets. How could anyone outside Ordshaw grasp what they were going through, let alone form a plan? “Respectfully, sir, I believe we’re in a unique position –”
“You are indeed,” Tarrington said. “You’ve been the target of a terrorist attack, Ward, do you understand that? You’re weakened but talking about retaliating, without knowing exactly who staged this little fiasco.”
“But we need to –”
“You need to give us a chance to get on the blower with them, see what they want.”
Sam froze. That was an admission, wasn’t it? The assumption of Fae guilt was there in the Raleigh Commission, too, and he was baldly telling her he had access to the FTC. “Sir, if you’re suggesting engaging with the Fae, then I think I should personally –”
“Rest assured,” Tarrington interrupted politely, “we know how to deal with the important stuff. Now be a good girl and shut down. If – and that’s a very tentative if – this is not simply a rogue element, your team will need to be rested.”
“It’s not a rogue element,” Sam rushed in. “It’s no coincidence that this is happening now – with the erratic surges across town, and these civilians’ unusual activities. I believe this is the result of an endemic problem, connected directly to the praelucente.”
Tarrington digested that. “Where is this coming from?”
“Sir…” Sam hesitated. How to explain it? “I don’t like to say before we have –”
“You just did say. Explain.”
Sam clamped her mouth shut. How could anyone hold a conversation with this man if he never listened to complete sentences? She started slowly, “I’ve been looking at novisan patterns. And...I’ve had contact with the compromised civilians – limited contact.”
“You’ve had what? And they’re still out there?”
Sam cleared her throat. “It wasn’t by design, sir, I wasn’t prepared –”
“Good God. I suspect you’re right, then, there’s no coincidence, Ward. What did you tell them? Anything they could pass on to their Fae contacts?”
Her face felt hot enough to melt the window. “Absolutely not, sir, this is –”
“This is exactly what I am talking about. You’re too close to this. The whole Ordshaw office is too close.” He wasn’t listening, he didn’t care. She felt it boiling up inside her, wanting to shake him through the phone. “Send everyone home, seal the building and await further instructions from us. You will –”
“Sir, I will not,” Sam said. “Two of our own are dead, including our leader. Our city is under attack, and we have done nothing but hide it. I have a way forward that I intend to follow. I intend to confront the source of the corruption in this city.”
Tarrington was quiet. Perhaps waiting to explode. She had to say it, though. It was her turn. His voice came back warily. “Ward, I have given you clear instructions. You are experiencing an emotional response to an extreme event. Consider your position. Will you or will you not do as I request?”
Sam gritted her teeth and answered in as clear a staccato as she could. “Consid
ering my position, as the Acting Deputy Director of the Ordshaw MEE, I will act in the way I believe best suits my city. That is what I intend to do.” She added, with an air of finality, “Sir.”
Tarrington was startled into quiet for a moment. “The rest of the Commission will hear about this, of course.”
“I’d be glad if they would give Ordshaw their full attention, sir.”
He muttered something that could have been a curt very well, then hung up.
Sam breathed a massive breath of relief. She turned and found she had an audience. Landon was back, with Hail at his shoulder.
“How much did you hear?” Sam asked.
“Enough,” Landon said. “Assistant Deputy Director. Where do you want us?”
13
Pax left the desolate Debenhams to lean against the railing over the empty shopping centre nook. Rufaizu and Casaria were waiting, the former slouched against the wall and the latter standing stiffly to attention. She wasn’t sure of the appropriate way to respond to discovering a group of murder victims when the bodies were so small. It was almost hard to take seriously; these two-inch thugs in miniature pools of blood were once living people. One of them had spoken with her, albeit in an unfriendly manner. Now he had a hole in his chest.
With no sign of Letty, or the Bartons, she assumed (hoped?) that Lightgate’s plan for them had backfired. Whatever it was.
“That’s that, then?” Casaria said, a little disappointed. He had responded to the scene with particular poise, moving through the shop with his gun out, as though the violence might resurrect itself.
“No, that’s not that,” Pax said. “What happened? Where did they all go?”
“Fae do that, they do,” Rufaizu said. “There a second, gone another.”
“With humans in tow?” Pax gave him the eye.
“Got their ways,” Rufaizu shrugged.
“He’s right, for once,” Casaria said. “There have been cases of Fae kidnapping humans. Reported if not proven. They’re devious little shits.”
Pax raised an eyebrow. She knew well enough about Fae kidnappings, having resolved one mere days ago when they took Grace. “Letty clearly put up a fight; if it was a kidnapping I’m not sure it was successful.”
“Either way,” Casaria said, impatiently, “we should be going, too. There’s nothing for us here.”
“You pretend to care for this city and you’re not even interested in what happens to an innocent family?”
“Innocent? Barton is a trespasser, a thug, a drunkard, and a Fae sympathiser.”
“He’s got more beef with them than you!” Pax started, then stopped. It wasn’t worth it. “Letty’s alive, she’s got to be. I need to call her.”
“Passed a shop,” Rufaizu said. “I can get you something.”
He’d stolen her money before, deftly enough. But committing more crime hardly sounded like the best idea, especially not with Casaria scowling. Pax said, “There were pay phones, down by the toilets.”
She led the way as they fell in step behind her, and a few minutes later she’d scraped enough change together between them to try the number Letty had given her. It rang through a dozen rings with no answer. She placed the receiver down and turned to Casaria. “Your people can tap phones, track mobiles?”
“We can. Doesn’t mean we do.”
“Just when you feel like it, huh.”
“Anyway, I assume Fae phones are a problem, else we’d have them on a tighter leash.”
“They work on our networks, why not?” Pax paused for confirmation, but Casaria’s vacant expression suggested he’d be no use. “You got any friends at the Ministry that could do it?”
“You think the office is functioning right now?”
“If it is,” Pax said, “have you got any friends there?”
Again, Casaria’s blank face said no. Definitely not. He deflected the question. “They’ll trace any call you make to them, for sure. And they’ll be watching for you especially, because Sam Ward will definitely have reported you were there.”
“What about Sam Ward herself? We saved her life.”
“Pax, give it up,” Casaria said. “We have your Blue Angel to hunt, why waste time here?”
“Because people matter!” Pax snapped. “Jesus Christ, why does that need explaining? Letty’s put herself on the line for me – she’s –”
“A bug,” Casaria snarled.
“My fucking friend!” Pax jumped at him, a pointing finger shoved into his face. “She’s shown more humanity than you!” Her emotion carried her towards Casaria, pushing him back until he hit the graffiti-stained wall. Rufaizu stood up straight, halfway between enthusiastic and frightened. Pax rose onto her toes. “You prick, all the talk I’ve had to – what? Stop fucking smiling! Why are you fucking smiling? Listen to me – one more time, you call her a bug, an insect, a piece of shit, whatever, I will fucking hurt you.”
He hadn’t stopped smiling. Couldn’t stop. Scared, ashamed, maybe, but a little excited too. Damn, that’s how he coped, wasn’t it? Pax moved away, glaring at him. As he peeled himself from the wall and opened his mouth to speak, she said, “The only word I want to hear from you is sorry.”
He considered it. Then chose to say nothing.
“Whatever. Do you have Sam Ward’s number?”
Casaria said, in an admonished tone, “Your thugs took my phone. Yesterday.”
“Shit. You must have a switchboard –”
“It’s okay. I know it.”
Pax paused. “Know what?”
Casaria said nothing, letting her catch up. Ward’s number? Pax drew out her response, “Okay.”
Rufaizu sniggered, and Casaria shot him a look. The young man held up defensive hands. “Not judging, not judging! Sweet, is all –”
“Keep fucking talking,” Casaria growled.
“No! Enough!” Pax’s eyes locked on his. It was like reprimanding a damned dog. Casaria didn’t move, already in his place. Bloody hell, this man. “Give me her number, then.”
Casaria watched Pax over the shoulder-height plastic partition as she made the call. The pay phones were lined up along a side corridor, opposite the toilets, with the minimum of privacy, but no one was around. Only fugitives and criminals used pay phones and public toilets, after all.
That’s what he had become, wasn’t it?
Associating with the likes of this street urchin scum. Taking shit from a poker player who’d lose her breath in a ten-metre race. Casaria avoided looking at Rufaizu, to suppress the urge to punch his face off, and fixed his gaze on Pax. She couldn’t complain, seeing as she was the leader now, seeing as he needed to follow her. He had to watch her, didn’t he?
He studied her as she talked. Her soft features were hardened by crusted blood and black smears of dirt. He was tempted to wipe them off himself, seeing as she wasn’t bothered to. But it suited her aggressive personality. She was tough. She had come for him, saved him from torture. Insisted he join her. Insisted they talk to Sam Ward, despite that she-devil’s flaws. Fought against the turnbold, and fought in the Sunken City for those hapless civilians. Even fought against him, risking serious harm for an insect’s honour.
If nothing else, he respected her courage. As she had said, she was trying to fight a good fight. The gypsy boy was right. Behind her lack of fitness and lack of style, there was something special in her.
It made sense to partner with her.
He watched her lips, talking into the receiver. They’d almost brushed against him when she’d lost her cool. Casaria didn’t suppress a smirk. Why not be positive?
“Is it something you can do?” Pax was saying. “Something you’re prepared to do?”
Casaria could hear Sam Ward’s voice well enough. The phone made it metallic, cold and distant. An accurate interpretation, which he hoped Pax would soon understand. Sam had answered brusquely, barely responding to the first few comments, no more agreeable than she’d been in the office, or outside when they’d saved her li
fe. “I don’t have anyone spare, Ms Kuranes. If you come in –”
“I’ve got places to be,” Pax said. “We can help, better than your lot, I’m sure – all I’m asking is that you check my friends aren’t dead.”
Ward hesitated. “You realise there’s people who think you’re responsible for this?”
“Are you one of them?”
Another pause. “No. But –”
“Well, I am,” Pax said. “I didn’t want it or organise it, but I am responsible, aren’t I? Because I know what to do about it, and no one else does. Trust me, you trace Letty’s phone and I’ll take care of your minotaur for you.”
“You’re wrong,” Ward said. Here we go. Casaria gave Pax a knowing smile, but she twisted away. “You’re not the only one trying to resolve this.”
“I imagine we’ve got different ideas of what that means.”
“My people are looking for the grugulochs right now. They’re working – after what we’ve been through, they’re following my command.”
“Congratulations,” Pax replied, flatly. “I guess that makes you head rat?”
“You should’ve stayed here,” Ward said. “Tell me what you’ve seen, what you know –”
“Yeah, that sounds kind of one-sided,” Pax said. “Especially considering part of what I know is that you’ve got fucking cutthroats working for you. To say nothing of the rather worrying level of ignorance in your organisation. The sort that suggests an institutional problem.”
Ward hesitated again and Casaria’s smile spread. Pax was sharp, fierce. She understood the MEE, even from the little she’d seen of it. The whole organisation was an institutional problem, wasn’t it? Particularly the likes of Sam Ward.
Ward said, “I don’t disagree that we have areas for improvement, but you called me for help. Considering I have the means to trace the source of all this, if you’re not willing to talk, I’m not sure what exactly you are offering?”
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