by V. J. Timlin
“What’s wrong with the name?” Nat looked puzzled.
Anouk put her cup down and propped her elbows on the table. “Did they drain all their ingenuity in inventing it, so when it came time to name the instrument, their minds went blank? Did they go like, ‘Nah, I can’t be bothered. Let’s just call it the Gadget’, and the others replied, ‘great idea’?”
“Possibly.” Nat winked and checked his pocket watch for the umpteenth time. A crease appeared between his brows. “If you are finished, we should get about our business.”
“Yeah, I’m finished.” Anouk sighed. They had been in the cafe no more than fifteen minutes but she knew even that was more than Nat would have wanted. She sighed again and hoped her hastily eaten light lunch wouldn’t upset her stomach too much when they were on the move so soon after eating.
“Speaking of the Gadget, we also have to get it back from Stalo or destroy it,” Nat said as he stood. “Preferably with Stalo attached.”
Anouk’s stomach clenched. Not because of the food or the nausea, but from the reminder of what needed to be done. “Have I said yet that hunting Stalo sounds like a suicide mission?”
“That’s the spirit.” Nat grinned and headed towards the front door.
* * *
The two unlicensed doctors they visited first hadn’t treated any man fitting the description of Stalo… or they didn’t admit they had. Nat had been satisfied that they were telling the truth.
He knocked on the door of the third illegal clinic. Like the other two clinics, it didn’t have any sign or symbol marking it as a medical establishment.
If this one also fell through, they would have to widen their range. Both wondered how far Stalo would have gone with his injury.
She stood behind Nat on the doorstep, looking up and down the narrow street. The terraced houses were shabby with crumbling mortar and soot-smeared walls. Many windows were covered with boards or rags to block out the elements. More than one door sagged, in danger of falling off their hinges by the force of passing wagons rattling through the narrow lane. The street itself, the vein through the misery, was paved with stinking litter. A combination of decomposing rubbish, urine and burning coal overwhelmed Anouk’s senses. She tried covering her nose and then breathing through her mouth, but soon decided against that—she could taste the stench. Anouk gagged.
Nat looked over his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just this God-awful smell.” Anouk wrinkled her nose.
“Better get used to it.”
“Thanks a lot,” Anouk muttered, and continued observing the street.
A group of children, mere skin and bone with swollen bellies, stared at them. The sight of the ragged snotty-faced kids twisted Anouk’s heart. She smiled at them but the children sprang indoors at sight of her well-meant gesture.
“I think I scared them.”
“They learn to fear strangers from a young age in places like this,” Nat replied, and knocked on the door again.
A shuffle came from behind the door. “Who is it?” an angry nasal male voice demanded.
“We wish to consult Dr Arnar on a medical issue,” Nat called, his voice dripping with honey.
“You have come to the wrong place. If you need medical advice, go see a doctor.”
“The issue is so delicate we wish to avoid licenced health professionals.” The man didn’t reply, so Nat continued, “A friend recommended you. He said you are the best at dealing with such medical concerns and assured me of your discretion.” Nat winked at Anouk. That sounded like a lie. She doubted Nat’s attempts at persuasion would have any effect.
No reply came. Nat pressed his ear on the door then cursed under his breath and stepped away from the door.
“What’s happening?”
“He’s trying to escape,” Nat growled and aimed a sharp heel kick just below the knob.
The door flung open with a loud crash. Nat charged in, Anouk behind him and they entered a dim-lit narrow hall. A scrawny grey-haired man spun on his heels, an umbrella in his hand. He lifted it up and tried to hit Nat, who snatched it from the man with ease.
“You can’t barge in like that,” the man protested, naked fear in his eyes. “I’ll call the enforcers.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, Dr Arnar.” Although Nat’s tone was calm, there was a hint of threat. “You don’t want to get enforcers looking any closer at your unlicensed practice.”
Dr Arnar froze. “What do you want?”
“Some information. That’s all.”
All fight vanished from Dr Arnar and his shoulders slumped. “We’d better go to my study. Please, close the door.”
Anouk nodded and pushed it shut. A knot twisted her stomach. Did Dr Arnar’s attempt to escape and his wary tone mean he knew why they were there? Was Stalo hiding here? And what would happen next? She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Mistake… the stuffiness of the air assaulted her lungs and made her cough.
“Are you alright?” Nat asked. “He might be able to help you.”
“No, thanks,” she croaked, and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. Any medicine prepared in this place would most likely sicken her further or hasten her departure not only from this world, but hers as well. “I’ll be fine.”
They followed Dr Arnar to his study at the back of the house. The same worn out dark carpet led up the stairs and onto the second floor. Anouk shuddered at the stained green wallpaper and made a mental note not to touch anything. Dr Arnar’s eyes darted to the stairs as if checking that no one was there before closing the door.
The study was small and as grimy and untidy as the hallway. Shelves full of jars, papers, brass boxes and strange looking instruments covered the walls. At the far end a desk and chair were squeezed between two shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. A metallic operating table stood in the middle of the room and above it hung an electric lamp like a lure on an anglerfish’s head. The study reminded Anouk more of a torture chamber than a doctor’s office. The odour hanging in the space was a combination of blood, urine and antiseptics. Anouk pinched her nose and tried again breathing through her mouth, but started to cough once more. Nat gave her another curious look.
“I’m good, I’m good,” she hurried to assure him.
Dr Arnar sat at his desk and waved at the two stools next to the desk. “Please, be seated.”
“No, thank you. We won’t take much of your time.”
Anouk thanked him in her mind. If she had not wanted to touch anything in the hallway, she wanted to do so even less here. She would have floated if only she were able. How desperate would one have to be to resort to Arnar’s services? Then she remembered the children on the street and Stalo—fugitives and the very poor would always exist.
Dr Arnar regarded them with a mixture of suspicion and wariness in his light-blue eyes. Anouk estimated him to be in his sixties, pasty-faced with thin grey hair combed over his skull in an attempt to cover his bald spot. A manicured moustache shadowed his flat upper lip. He wore what might once have been a white doctor’s coat, but was now greyish and dotted with dark splatters. Blood?
“You wanted information,” Dr Arnar said and glanced at Anouk. “Medical, I assume.”
“Of course.” Nat kept his tone as light and pleasant as before. “Have you treated a gunshot wound of one particular dangerous criminal within the last few hours?”
All colour vanished from Dr Arnar’s face, making him look even paler than he already was.
“So you have, I gather,” Nat purred.
“I don’t blabber about my patients. We doctors have secrecy obligations.” Dr Arnar’s tone was gruff, but his eyes flickered… terror?
“You don’t have a licence to operate as a doctor. I could easily turn you in to the enforcers, and you would be treating fellow convicts as your next patients.” Nat flashed a charming smile.
Dr Arnar sank deeper in his chair.
“Have you treated Stalo De Meriweth?” A
ll previous sweetness in Nat’s tone had vanished and he leaned closer to Arnar, resting his hand on his revolver.
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re not…” He snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “I mean, you’re bounty hunters?”
“Yes.”
Relief passed over Dr Arnar’s face. Anouk frowned. What had he thought they were? Relatives of a patient he’d killed?
He shifted in his chair, a glint of greed in his eyes. “That information doesn’t come for free. I want money.”
So much for the doctor’s ethics…
Nat tossed a small wad of banknotes at him—Arnar caught it mid-air and lowered them to his lap to count. He grunted and pocketed the notes.
“Is he still here?” Nat asked.
“No. He left as soon as I got the bullet out of his shoulder. I have a couple of beds for patients too sick. Extra income is always welcome, but I’m glad he left.”
Nat’s expression hardened. “You only removed the bullet?”
“Yes.”
“Not the Beacon?”
“No. He asked me though, but I don’t own a Sniffer to locate it.”
“Alright. Was he badly wounded?”
“Well, he had lost quite a lot of blood.”
“Anything else you care to share with us?”
Dr Arnar opened his mouth, but then closed it.
Nat leaned forward, tapping the grip of his revolver.
“There is one thing.” Dr Arnar wrung his hands. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he asked me to join him.”
“Join him?” Nat’s eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you why?”
Dr Arnar shook his head. “No. I said I’d think about it. He’s not the kind of man you dare to say ‘no’ to his face.”
“Aye.” Nat rubbed his chin. “How much time did he give you?”
“He didn’t say. At first I thought he had sent you, so that’s why I didn’t open the door. Either way, I’m not going to wait for him. I’m going away and won’t return until you or some other bounty hunter has captured him.”
Nat regarded the doctor for a few moments, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Well, thank you for your cooperation, Dr Arnar. Good day.” He turned, signalling with his hand for Anouk to follow. Anouk bobbed her head to the older gentleman and hurried after Nat.
They stepped out onto the street.
“Ugh, that was unpleasant.”
“Yes, but we now know that Stalo still has the Locator in place,” Nat replied, scanning the street. “Also, he’s unlikely to use the Gadget as long as he’s wounded. As you know, travelling through the door is not the smoothest.”
“Yep, and that is good news.” Anouk flicked her eyes at the door of the clinic. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Stalo got an infection and died. The conditions in there were gross. I wonder what the death rate of that place is?”
Nat gave her a wry smile. “Well, the problem would be resolved, but I wouldn’t get the reward.”
“Quite.” Anouk glanced up to the sky. The smoke hovering above the roofs made it hard to judge the time, so she asked Nat if he had any idea.
Nat took a pocket watch from his vest and popped the lid open with his thumb. “It’s five in the afternoon.” He slipped it back and returned to observing the street as if seeking inspiration.
“Thanks.” Anouk propped her hands on her hips. “What do we do now? Although he’s seriously wounded, he could be anywhere in the city.”
“Aye.”
“Any ideas why Stalo asked Arnar to join him?”
Nat failed to respond, and his expression was closed as if deep in thoughts. Maybe he didn’t have one yet. Or maybe it wasn’t relevant. Whatever Stalo’s plan might be, it didn’t change their mission. They had to capture him dead or alive, just as it had read in the newspaper.
Anouk chewed her lower lip while letting her gaze wander over the narrow lane— women carrying baskets, a group of men leaning against the wall talking, two women bending over their tubs and washboards scrubbing laundry, children running between people, and wagons that thundered down the street.
“Someone here must have seen him.”
“Very likely, but whether they will share the information, that’s another matter. Few here want to get involved with something that might get them in trouble later. They are cautious, and here it’s wisdom.”
Anouk spotted two girls playing with rubbish next to the wall a few yards away. They looked small, but well fed compared to the children she had seen earlier. Both wore brown skirts, but no shoes, and their light-brown hair was tied in two shoulder length plaits. Five-and six-year-olds, she estimated. She got a thought.
“Wait here.”
She approached the children. They stopped playing, their smudged faces wary, but didn’t flee. Anouk took that as an encouraging sign. She bent, leaning against her knees and smiled. “Hello. My name is Anouk. What’s yours?”
“My name is Valintina and she’s Danja,” the older girl said.
“What lovely names. Nice to meet you.”
Valintina and Danja said nothing, but stared at her with open curiosity.
“What are you playing?”
“A shop,” offered Valintina.
“A shop? But that’s interesting.”
“Yes, I am the shopkeeper and Danja is a buyer.”
“What are you selling?”
“Are you stupid? Don’t you see?” Valintina’s small face twisted in annoyance.
“Yes, are you stupid?” Danja echoed.
“Sorry.” So much for the cute little kids. “Of course I see. I was just hoping you’d tell me.”
“I sell stuff,” Valintina said with pride.
“Yes, stuff,” Danja echoed again.
“Stuff is important.” Anouk nodded, keeping her face serious. “Would that stuff include information? I would like to buy that.”
The girls’ eyes flicked past Anouk, and they stiffened.
A click came from behind her. She swallowed hard in anticipation. The metallic clack was awfully similar to the sound of someone loading a shotgun in a movie.
Chapter 6
Nat drew his revolver and pointed it at the person targeting Anouk. Valintina and Danja both froze, their eyes big as saucers. Turning slowly, Anouk raised her hands in surrender. The first thing she saw was the muzzle of a shotgun just beyond her nose. A black hole stared back like the eye socket of Death. She swallowed hard and let her gaze follow the barrel to a short woman, holding the firearm against her shoulder.
“Leave my kids alone,” the woman barked.
Anouk swallowed again. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her tongue and vocal cords agreed to function after she cleared her throat. “Of course, ma’am.” What in God’s name was she thinking to speak to kids in the first place? Hadn’t Nat just mentioned something about this being a rough neighbourhood?
“Valintina, Danja, inside. Now!”
The girls didn’t need another command. They darted towards the house behind their mother. The woman kept her grey eyes fixed on Anouk and the muzzle of the gun didn’t waver. The lines around the woman’s eyes and mouth told the story of a tough life, but despite that, Anouk estimated her to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her dark hair was tied back in a bun. A long black woollen dress and grey coal dust streaked apron gave her the air of a female undertaker.
Once the children were inside, the woman started to push forward, forcing Anouk to back away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm. I… I…”
“The intentions of my associate were purely innocent,” Nat interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “There is no need to threaten anyone.”
“I don’t care. No stranger talks to my kids without getting a hole in their face,” the woman said between gritted teeth.
Anouk wasn’t willing to test whether the woman was serious or not, indeed she wouldn’t have been surprised if the girls’ mother had a bounty on her head. Peopl
e on the street turned and scurried back the way they came or ran inside, but no one made a move to intervene. Even the wagon rattling down the narrow street halted as if waiting for the two women to get it over and done with. What was this place? The Wild West?
“I said I’m sorry,” Anouk blurted.
A click came from behind. Anouk shot a look over her shoulder. Nat was walking slowly towards her and the woman, his face hard and the hammer of his revolver pulled back. Anouk’s heart skipped a beat. Oh fuck, was he going to… “Nat?”
To Anouk’s surprise, the woman lowered her shotgun an inch. “Nat? Nat Walla, the bounty hunter?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nat came to Anouk’s side, the gun still in his hand. He squinted. There was no sign of recognition in his eyes. As far as Anouk knew, Nat could have been responsible for sending the woman’s husband to prison and claiming the reward.
The woman pointed the gun downward, but refrained from smiling. Anouk sighed in relief. That was a good sign, right? Her knees went soft. She would have collapsed on the cobblestones if the wagon wasn’t rolling towards them, ready to crush everyone under the hooves now that the imminent threat was over. Anouk, Nat and the woman moved aside, letting the wagon rattle past.
With the affair concluded, the traffic returned to its ordinary course as if nothing had happened. Relief reflected from some faces, others though looked as if they had been cheated out of a show. Anouk wanted to growl at the people passing her, thanking them for their ‘overwhelming’ help. She bit back her sarcastic comment and directed her attention at the woman who had threatened to shoot her a minute ago.
“You’d better come in. I’ve something that you might find interesting.” The woman turned and walked inside the house where the two children had disappeared. Anouk looked at Nat, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. Nat shrugged and strode after the woman.
“Quite. Not strange at all, no. Just a local warm welcome. No reason to worry,” Anouk muttered and followed after Nat.
Anouk had to bend to avoid the low hanging doorway and she closed the door behind her. It jerked as she did so. Anouk tensed, preparing to catch it if it dropped off its hinges—thankfully it did not.
