by V. J. Timlin
The woman patted Anouk’s shoulder. “You’re perfectly safe with me. Carrying the weapons is more of a habit rather than because of any real danger.”
“Maybe I should just stay here with Fitzwil and wait for Nat.”
Vari frowned. “If you wish, but you and Nat are partners. Partners have each other’s back, and he might need you now.”
Embarrassment scorched Anouk’s cheeks as much as her consciousness. She had insisted on helping and made the deal with him. Also, she owed him her life. If Nat was in trouble, she had to help. Besides, how would it look if his retired mother showed up asking after him and not his partner?
She nodded. “I’m coming with you.”
Anouk and Vari stepped into the busy street. A variety of steam-powered and horse-drawn carriages rolled past them. A driver wrestled with the steering wheel in the front of one such steam-powered vehicle. At the back, in the middle, a smokestack towered over the passenger cabin. The model was the same she had seen the day before when she and Nat entered the city. Its spindly wheels, rattling gears, drive-chains, and sparks billowing from the stack made it look like a demonic toaster oven. Anouk wasn’t assured of its safety.
After the quiet shady park, the road was blinding and deafening. Although the filthy haze hovered over the traffic and the buildings, the sunlight cut through it hot and bright. Vari put on a pair of tinted glasses and pulled the scarf from her shoulder over her head. Anouk pressed her cap deeper onto her head to shadow her eyes.
“Where is this Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters? Is it far?”
“It’s in the city centre, so we’d better take a carriage.” Vari waved one down.
The driver pulled over and stepped down, opening the cabin door for his passengers. He wore a navy-blue uniform and matching cap. On the cap band, block letters printed in gold told Anouk she would be served by The Rondon City Taxi. The goggles over the chauffeur’s eyes and the thick moustache under his big crooked nose reminded Anouk of Groucho Marx.
“To the Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters, please,” Vari requested, adjusting her pistol belt.
“Very well, madam,” the driver replied in a polite tone and bowed.
Anouk was staggered—the driver didn’t protest two armed women boarding his vehicle and because of his goggles, she failed to tell if he had even blinked in surprise. Such passengers would have surely been arrested without hesitation were the scene to take place in London.
The bench inside was dark brown leather and warm to the touch while the windows gave a murky view to the street.
The carriage jerked when it accelerated and a soft ‘chuff-chuff’ and clunks of the steam engine came from behind their backs. Soon the carriage was moving at a sensible speed, stopping now and then for pedestrians and other road users before jumping back into motion. Anouk scanned the colourful buzzing traffic, trying not to hear every clank coming from the engine.
Vari was gazing at the bustle of the streets. Anouk felt she looked troubled, frown lines deeper than usual on her pale face. Anouk lifted her thumb to her mouth and started to gnaw at the nail. Had Nat run into problems with some crazy and vindictive relative or ex-convict? They would find out soon enough, assuming—Anouk swallowed—the steam engine didn’t explode.
As they trundled northward, the streets grew busier, and the road quality increased. Buildings on either side rose high and thin, well-maintained and grandiose. There were no boards on the windows, crumbling facades or chipped paint on the doors and window frames—the pillared frontages spoke of wealth and power.
Vari touched Anouk’s arm and leaned closer. “We’re approaching the city centre.” Her voice was raised to compensate the cacophony of street sounds. “These are the government buildings and headquarters of chartered companies. The Constabulary HQ is in Victory Square.”
After a few more minutes, the carriage stopped in front of a large grey granite building. The driver opened the door and announced their destination, “Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters, madams.”
They both climbed out, and Vari handed a few coins to him. He grinned and bowed. “Thank you, madam. Have a nice day.”
“How much was the ride?”
“It’s not for you to worry about.”
Anouk shook her head. “It’s not that. I’m trying to figure out how much things cost here, so if I’m ever alone, I’ll know what a reasonable price is and what is ridiculous.”
“You never pay more than two ugions to the driver and that includes tip.” Vari started to ascend the stairs. “Let’s see if Nat is still here.”
Anouk studied the grey monolith as she followed. Small windows pierced the walls like loopholes, and the main entrance was a mere gap in the wall. The Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters was as inviting as she imagined the German Stasi or Russian KGB headquarters would be. She shuddered and glanced back to the square; the other buildings around it exhibited more decorative architecture. There was the possibility the enforcers head office was meant to keep people law-abiding with its sheer menacing appearance. Based on what Vari and Fitzwil had told her, the psychological threat failed to operate effectively.
Despite there being a booth, no guard stood by the entrance. Anouk and Vari walked through the door and entered a large lobby. The green marble floor glinted under electric lights, and the echoes of footfall and workplace chattering bounced off the white plastered walls, hitting Anouk’s ears in a steady clamour. Enforcers, in their black uniforms, came and went through multiple doors leading deeper into the building, or ran up and down the wide staircase on the opposite side of the hall. A few civilians roamed around, either being escorted by an enforcer or of their own accord.
Vari headed towards a brown wooden booth in the middle of the space. Over the square window was a sign announcing in white letters ‘INFORMATION DESK’. Behind the counter sat a sturdy middle-aged enforcer with a receding hairline and abundant moustache. His resemblance to a cartoon version of a walrus was striking. He viewed Vari and Anouk with suspicion.
“Yes?” the enforcer grumbled.
“My son Nat Walla came to see Chief Constable Loka this morning. I wonder whether he’s still with him.” Vari gave him an amiable smile.
“Who are you?” His tone was nothing short of irritated.
“My name is Vari Gufih, and this is my son’s business partner, Miss Anouk Herring.”
“We don’t keep books of people coming and going. Go away.”
Vari lifted one eyebrow and proceeded to speak calmly. “That sounds like serious negligence. Does Chief Constable Loka know about it?”
The enforcer’s lips thinned and he puffed out his cheeks as if trying to hold in wind. His moustache danced back and forth in the rhythm of his huffs, serving to add to Anouk’s mental caricature. She could almost hear Sir David Attenborough explaining, ‘Male walruses can become very aggressive when their territory is threatened.’ She had to bite her lower lip not to burst out laughing.
“Well, is Nat Walla still with the chief constable?” Vari pressed.
The enforcer pulled a desk telephone from under the counter and grabbed the headset. Anouk stared. It was almost an exact replica of those late Victorian telephones she had seen in museums with a box-like base, brass hook and L-shaped headset. The only difference was it lacked a dial, and the translucent base revealed all the wiring and parts.
A light flashed inside the telephone as he reeled a small crank on the side of it.
“It’s Sergeant Rosmarus. There are two women enquiring if Chief Constable Loka is still having a meeting with Nat Walla.” He murmured a few times into the receiver then placed it back on the telephone hook. “Nat Walla left three hours ago.”
Anouk’s stomach dropped. She flicked her eyes on Vari to see her reaction. Her eyebrows crinkled ever so slightly before they smoothed and her expression was unreadable. What did it mean? Was Nat in trouble or had he just taken a detour and was back in camp while they were in the constabulary?
> “I wish to speak to Chief Constable Loka then,” Vari politely demanded.
“He’s busy, and he’s not taking any visitors.”
“I see.” Vari unfastened her gun belt and placed it on the desk under Sergeant Rosmarus’ nose. “That way?” She pointed to the stairs leading to the upper storeys.
“Yes, but…”
“Thank you.” Vari headed for the stairs.
“Will you look after this as well?” Anouk put her katana on the same heap as Vari’s revolver and dagger then trotted after Vari.
“You can’t go there without an appointment,” Sergeant Rosmarus called after them.
Vari wasn’t listening, but took long strides up the stairs, her skirt hem flaring around her ankles. Anouk glanced back to see if the sergeant was coming to stop them. He wasn’t, but he was shouting something over the phone.
“Do you know where Chief Constable Loka’s office is?”
“Yes. I’ve been here several times when Fitzwil and I were still active bounty hunters. Only Loka wasn’t the chief constable then. I assume he has inherited the office from the former chief constable along with the title.”
Vari and Anouk walked up one more flight of stairs, no one coming to stop them. Vari opened the third door on the left and burst in. A young police constable jumped from his chair and darted to the chief constable’s door, blocking their way.
“You cannot go in without an appointment.”
Vari smiled, but the irritation on her face was plain. “I need to see Chief Constable Loka now, and I’m not leaving before I have spoken with him.”
“You have to make an appointment,” the young man ordered, with a tone of forced patience.
“Chief Constable Loka,” Vari raised her voice. “It’s Vari Gufih, and I need to speak with you now.”
“Madam, please lower your voice,” the enforcer hissed, his face crimson. He fidgeted in front of the door as if trying to decide whether he should move them out of the office with force or call for help.
Vari stood fast, challenging the young enforcer with her glare. Anouk folded her arms over her chest in a sign of defiance. He was more knees and elbows than muscle. Anouk was sure she and Vari could push him aside if needed. The thought of challenging law enforcement made her heart race faster. She had never questioned authority in this way. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to start. They might end up being incarcerated, but Vari’s presence and example gave her the courage… and she liked it.
The office door opened and an older man appeared in the doorway.
“Constable Ethini, what is this racket?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
“I am sorry, chief constable. I tried to tell these ladies they have to book an appointment.” Constable Ethini’s voice was high-pitched by comparison.
Chief Constable Loka was a head shorter, but twice as wide as his aid. His thick dark hair continued down his cheeks transforming into wide sideburns that merged with an impressive bird-wing shaped moustache under a straight nose. He wore a similar dark enforcer uniform to that of his secretary. The yellow brass buttons on the coat reflected the light of the electric lamps as if just polished. Maybe that was what the chief constable had been busy doing.
Chief Constable Loka glowered at his uninvited guests.
“What is it you want, Mrs Gufih?”
“You had a meeting with Nat this morning.”
Chief Constable Loka narrowed his eyes. “Yes. What of it?”
“Sergeant Rosmarus said he left hours ago.”
“Mrs Gufih, get to the point,” the chief constable snapped.
Anouk blinked at this open hostility and lack of manners. Vari stared back at Chief Constable Loka without twitching a muscle on her face.
“He hasn’t come back to us as he promised.”
“That is not my problem.” The chief constable turned to go back into his office.
“I beg to differ. Your men are not capable of capturing Stalo, and you need men like Nat. It’s in your best interest to be mindful of his importance to you as long as Stalo is loose.”
Chief Constable Loka froze in the doorway. He turned his head and scowled at them, his face red.
“Alright. You have ten minutes.” He stormed into his office without another word.
“Oh my God, he’s rude,” Anouk whispered to Vari who gave her a crooked smile and shrugged.
The office was small and cramped. Filing cabinets surrounded the walls, and Chief Constable Loka’s desk took half of the remaining floor space. Vari and Anouk sat in the two chairs opposite Loka without waiting for an invitation. Anouk was sure such wouldn’t have been offered anyway.
“Nat did not say where he was going or what his plans were.” Chief Constable Loka crossed his hands on the desk. “He only reported his progress and asked if there were any new developments in our investigations. I do not have the resources to send men searching for a missing bounty hunter.”
“And what kind of developments have you made these past days?”
The chief leaned back on his chair and eyed Vari with suspicion. “I thought you and Fitzwil were retired.”
“Yes, you thought right.” Vari half turned her head towards Anouk. “Let me introduce you to Nat’s business partner, Miss Anouk Herring.”
Chief Constable Loka looked quizzically at Anouk. “So you are the business partner?”
Vari looked at her, expecting.
“Yes, Chief Constable Loka.”
“I did not expect the business partner to be a woman,” he said with an amused tone.
The remark was insulting, and judging by the lifted eyebrow and the condescending expression on the chief constable’s face, it was meant to be. Anouk clenched her fists.
“I am sorry to disappoint you,” she said between her teeth. You rude, sexist asshole, she wanted to add, but thought better not to.
“So, would you tell us what progress you’ve made?” Vari asked, and added with a sweet tone, “If any?”
“How dare you question us?” Loka barked his response and half rose from his seat.
“What did you expect? You’ve been insulting us the whole time we’ve been here. Do I really need to remind you how many times we have quietly taken the reward money and let you get all the glory of arresting criminals? We wouldn’t have any reason to question your ability, or that of your men, if you did your job properly in the first place.”
Anouk tensed. Why was Vari insulting their host when he could so easily throw them out, or worse, inter them in a cell? He would surely not help them now. Anouk glanced at the chief constable, holding her breath.
Chief Constable Loka sank back into his chair, his face colouring a satisfying purple hue, the veins in his temples looking like they would burst at any minute.
“So, what did you tell Nat?” Vari asked.
Chief Constable Loka cleared his throat before answering. “That we have performed our own enquiries.”
“Of course.”
“I also advised this case has stirred huge interest among bounty hunters and he has stout competition.”
“That was expected.”
“In our investigations, we found that Stalo still has a few supporters. Royal Rondon Prison is a high-security prison and no one, not even Stalo, can escape from there without outside intervention.”
Anouk shifted in her chair. If Stalo had supporters, this mission was far more complicated than she, and perhaps Nat, had initially thought and would take more time than she had taken off from work. Nat was right—it would get more dangerous as the investigation continued.
“Two of his old lieutenants were sighted in the city just yesterday, but they disappeared before my men could arrest them,” Loka added. “Furthermore, two bounty hunters were found dead between The Pits and Flower Estate this morning. I know for a fact they were after Stalo.”
Chapter 10
The meeting with Chief Constable Loka had been ten minutes sharp, and when the time was up, he ushered them out, still lacki
ng manners. Although his rudeness irritated Anouk, she was more alarmed at the news that two men loyal to Stalo had been seen in the city—he wasn’t alone. The pursuit was getting inconveniently more complicated and dangerous. Anouk questioned herself as to why she was even surprised some of his former men remained loyal. What terrified her most were the bodies of the two bounty hunters. Would that be her fate? Was there a way out of this mess other than being stuffed into a body bag?
“Do you think Nat’s being late has something do with Stalo’s soldiers?” Anouk asked as they walked down the stairs to collect their weapons.
Vari shook her head. “He knows better than to try to go after Stalo’s gang on his own.” She paused before shaking her head again. “I know my son, he wouldn’t do that. Let’s get back to the camp and see if he has returned. Maybe we are worrying for nothing.”
When they reached the information booth, Sergeant Rosmarus lifted their armaments onto the desk and growled, “Next time book an appointment.”
Vari smiled, but said nothing. Anouk decided not to reply to the sergeant’s grumble either.
The clamour of the constabulary changed into the cacophony of traffic when they walked out of the door. The angle of the sun had shifted and Anouk estimated it was late afternoon. By now, Nat should be back in the camp, whatever the delay had been.
“Let’s catch a carriage.” Vari started to run down the entrance steps looking at the stream of vehicles.
Anouk scanned the carriages driving around the square but couldn’t tell which might be taxis, much less which were available. She leaned against a lamppost and concentrated on people watching. Like the buildings, the people also looked better off than in the neighbourhoods Nat had taken her to—men in their top hats and dark business suits, women with their large dresses and small sunshades. She sighed in awe. How strange and yet strangely familiar it all seemed.
Her eyes stopped on the face of a man standing a short distance away. He was looking straight at her. He wore a gentleman’s black suit and top hat, his arm was in a sling. Anouk’s breath caught and her heart missed a beat… Stalo. A cold wave of terror washed over her. All she could do was stare back at him, paralysed. Blood drummed in her ears, blocking any other sound as a slow smile split Stalo’s hard face. He lifted his top hat and bowed before vanishing into the mass of pedestrians, releasing Anouk from the spell. Her knees buckled and she staggered back, causing her heel to hit a step—she plumped down on it.
