The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One

by V. J. Timlin

  Vari came and sat next to her. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Anouk wrapped her arms around herself. “I saw Stalo.”

  Vari stiffened and cast her eyes around. “What? Where?”

  “Moments ago.” Anouk nodded towards where she had seen him. “He was standing just there. Then…” she closed her eyes and swallowed before opening them again. “…he walked away.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” There was no accusation in Vari’s voice, only concern.

  “I…I…” Anouk started, but her throat tightened. Sobs shook her body and she buried her face into her hands.

  Putting her arms around Anouk’s shoulder, Vari helped her up. “Not here,” Vari whispered in her ear. “Hold it until we get to somewhere private.”

  Anouk gritted her teeth and nodded. Yes, Vari was right, a public breakdown was exactly what Stalo would want.

  A horse-drawn carriage stopped next to them. As soon as the driver got the cabin door open, Anouk scrambled in as fast as she could and collapsed on the seat, her mind numb with shock. Vari sat next to her, but said nothing.

  Anouk stared out of the window without seeing anything as the carriage joined the stream of other vehicles. Stalo had found her. Chilling proof of Nat’s warning that Stalo wouldn’t let it go until he had killed her. If he found her this easily, there was no way she could go back to London before he was either executed or someone killed him. She closed her eyes. It really sucked to be a loose end where death was the only way out—for both parties.

  A touch to her knee startled her back to the moment. Vari gave her an apologetic smile. “It’s sometimes hard to get a steam carriage in the city centre. They are so popular.”

  “This is good.” Anouk smiled back, thanking Vari in her mind for choosing a more mundane topic. In truth, she was relieved they hadn’t caught a vehicle that needed coal to run; it had already wracked her nerves to travel on one into the city centre, and she wanted no more excitement.

  The clip-clop of horse hooves had a soothing effect, and as she calmed, Anouk was able to concentrate again.

  “Isn’t it strange that Stalo showed up in front of the constabulary headquarters? I mean, his escape has been reported in the papers, and his wanted posters seem to be on every corner. Why isn’t he afraid the enforcers or bounty hunters will capture him?”

  Vari nodded, her expression solemn. “It has to have something to do with those two soldiers of his.”

  “He was wearing a gentleman’s suit.”

  “Was he? Well, then it could mean he has acquired decent lodgings and a wealthy supporter, or he had some money stashed away. Since two of his old ‘friends’ have been spotted, there may be more around.”

  Anouk was scared. Not only did Stalo have his old men around, but he might already have secured new allies. The way she saw it, her chances of getting back home alive had shrunk, nearing non-existent. Clenching her hands together in her lap, she forced herself to stop right there—she wasn’t dead yet. She was surrounded by three capable bounty hunters, she was armed, and she was a fighter. Hell, no, she wasn’t going to be giving up without a fight.

  “Either way, he seems to have reasons to be confident then.”

  “Aye,” Vari grunted. “But it’s not over yet.”

  The knot in Anouk’s stomach loosened. Indeed, it wasn’t over yet.

  Anouk hurried to change the subject before Vari’s early pragmatism could smash her faint glimmer of hope. “Every enforcer we spoke to was rude, including the chief constable. Are they always that cranky and curt?”

  “Well, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whom they are dealing with. If we had been two high-ranking Anglean males, they would have spread a golden carpet out for us. But we are two women, one Ulda and… well, you look an Anglean, apart from your eyes.” Vari gave a wry smile and continued, “And we are bounty hunters. So, not exactly the kind of people they care that much about.”

  “Aren’t there other women bounty hunters?”

  “Oh, yes, there are, but not as many and most of them are Ulda. And as I told you, Angleans care little about us Ulda.”

  “Racism and sexism, always a ‘charming’ combination.”

  “How is it in your world?”

  “It depends. In some places it’s better, in others, the same or worse.”

  Vari nodded, but didn’t pursue the topic further.

  “How long have Angleans ruled the Ulda?”

  “Several hundred years. There are legends how they were led to this land—that was supposedly empty—by Henraeik One Foot, their national hero. In reality, there was no empty land. The Ulda had lived here from ancient times. Angleans came over the sea and took everything by force—with steel and fire.”

  An edge of bitterness had entered Vari’s tone. Anouk winced. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, not knowing what else to say.

  Vari patted her knee with a smile. “It’s all ancient history; there is nothing to be sorry about.”

  Anouk hesitated for a moment. “How have you managed to keep your culture?”

  “Well, it hasn’t been easy, but I guess we are just stubborn.” Vari chuckled. “Also, it has helped that although Angleans are conquerors and militarily superior, they’ve had rather a weak government, until the current king that is. They’ve been squabbling among themselves more than trying to squash us. Furthermore, the Angleans don’t consider us important enough to deal with.”

  Anouk was about to ask other questions when the carriage stopped.

  “We are here,” Vari announced.

  The cool shadiness of the park was welcoming after the bright, hot streets. Fitzwil sat on the steps of the caravan, smoking a pipe and looking in their direction. The smoke obscured his face, preventing Anouk from reading his expression. She couldn’t see Nat either. Maybe he was inside.

  “Is Nat back?” Vari called.

  “No,” Fitzwil replied.

  Anouk felt distraught, while Vari said something that sounded like a curse, but in a language Anouk hadn’t heard before.

  “Did you learn anything at the constabulary?” Fitzwil’s tone was tense.

  “Only that Nat had left hours before we arrived. The chief constable also said two of Stalo’s soldiers had been seen yesterday.” Vari paused and glanced at Anouk. “Anouk saw Stalo outside the headquarters.”

  Fitzwil grimaced and spat on the ground. “That’s not good.”

  “No.” Vari chewed her lower lip, her emerald-green eyes wide with worry. “Nat hasn’t sent any messages, has he?”

  Fitzwil shook his head. Anouk’s chest tightened. If Nat disappeared now or… No, she didn’t want to think of it.

  “Is it typical of him not to send word?” Anouk asked. She didn’t like the idea, but in this case, she hoped it was only that.

  Vari looked at Fitzwil, and something significant passed between them. “No, it’s not typical. He’s in trouble and we need to find him.”

  Fitzwil just nodded.

  Anouk moved her eyes back and forth between the couple. The task sounded overwhelming. The city was huge and Nat could be anywhere. Then Anouk remembered the Gadget. If he had it when he went to the constabulary, he could be… anywhere.

  “Do you know where to start?”

  “No.” Vari sighed. “We’ll eat and wait for a while. And if we don’t hear anything from him by nightfall, we’ll go look for him.”

  * * *

  The sun had vanished behind the trees, and the shadows merged with the thickening darkness. Anouk, Vari and Fitzwil had eaten dinner and were sitting around the campfire. They kept glancing towards the entrance of the park, and even the slightest sound made them spin.

  The shadows twisted and danced at the perimeter of the fire, following the movements of the flames like marionettes dancing to the puppeteer. Beyond it, the blackness hid the other features of the park. Nat had neither shown up nor sent a message. Different scenari
os ran amok in Anouk’s head. What would be her options if the worst had happened? None of them were good, and in every one, Stalo had the upper hand. Determined, she pushed them away. Nat had to come back or she had to find him. He wasn’t dead—she forbade it. She gritted her teeth. Drag her here and then go and die? Unacceptable.

  She glanced at Vari and Fitzwil. “He’s not coming tonight, is he?”

  They shook their heads, their faces grim.

  “We…” Fitzwil whipped his gaze towards the entrance.

  The crunching sound of gravel came from the path. All three rose swiftly and turned towards the source. Fitzwil and Vari grabbing revolvers from their waist made Anouk’s heart jump. They must have known it wasn’t Nat. She unsheathed the katana from her back and held it in front of her, clutching the hilt. Her hands shook as she stared in the direction of the approaching steps.

  She tried to command her hands to stop their trembling, but with little success.

  A young boy, around eleven or twelve years old, trotted into view, waving a note in his hand. Anouk blew air out of her lungs and lowered her sword. Vari and Fitzwil lowered their guns but didn’t holster them.

  The boy stopped, eyeing their weapons with a wary expression. His dark coat and trousers had been patched more than once, the cap on his head was a size too big and it dropped over his eyes when he took a slow step back.

  He lifted it from his eyes and called, “Miss Herring?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” Anouk walked to the boy.

  “Mr Walla sent this note for you.” The boy handed the folded paper to Anouk.

  Fitzwil darted and seized the boy by his arm. “Where’s Nat?”

  The boy squeaked and tried to pull his arm free. “He said to bring this message.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Where is he?” Fitzwil tightened his grip.

  The boy cried out in pain and started to sob. “He’s at the dockyards, sir. You are hurting me, sir.”

  “Vari.” Fitzwil nodded towards the boy.

  Vari took something from a bag at her feet and walked over to the boy. His eyes flung wide open, naked fear showing. He tried to kick Fitzwil and Vari, but Fitzwil’s firm hold kept him in place.

  “What are you doing? Let him go,” Anouk said. The panic in the child’s eyes pained her, and she stepped in to intervene.

  Vari stopped her. “We are not going to hurt him. Just find out if he’s telling the truth.”

  “How?”

  “With this.” Vari lifted a small brass box up in front of her. Two gauges and a switch covered its flat surface. Vari took a pen-like brass stick attached with a thin cable from the side of the instrument. She turned the switch, and the gauges stirred alive.

  “This doesn’t hurt—at least as long as you tell the truth.” Vari turned to the white-faced boy and placed the point of the brass pen on his temple. The boy winced, but there was no reflection of pain in his eyes, only fear. A faint crackling sound came from the apparatus when Vari moved the pen.

  “Now, tell me where Nat is?” Vari said without taking her eyes off the gauges.

  The boy answered in a high-pitched voice. “He’s at the dockyards.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Where exactly did you meet Nat?”

  “It was in that abandoned Ibars’ warehouse. He asked me to bring the message, nothing else. Please, let me go.”

  Vari nodded to Fitzwil. “He’s telling the truth.”

  Fitzwil released the boy’s arm and the child sprinted away. The cap flew off his head, landing on the path. Veering back, he picked it up before vanishing into the darkness.

  “That was unnecessary and harsh. He’s only a child whom Nat engaged as a messenger.” Anouk waved the note in her hand.

  “Yes, but he’s been used to set a trap for you. The man who gave him the message wasn’t Nat.” Vari put the instrument back into her bag. “Besides, this is an older model of the Sniffer. It harms no one, but it’s amazing how effectively these things can make people talk. Well, those who don’t recognise the apparatus, that is.”

  Anouk frowned. She wasn’t sure she approved of the method. “How do you know it’s a trap? You didn’t ask him to describe the man.”

  “We didn’t have to, because in this kind of situation, Nat would have told the boy to say something only we would know,” Fitzwil said. “What’s in the note?”

  Shaken, Anouk opened the paper, it read:

  Dear Miss Herring,

  I will meet you at Ibars’ warehouse at midnight. I have news about Stalo.

  Yours, Mr Walla

  P.S. Come alone.

  She lifted her gaze from the paper and met the eyes of her hosts.

  “Let me see it.” Vari took the note and examined it for a minute. “Yes, it’s Nat’s handwriting. The choice of words aren’t his usual way of writing though. He’s less formal with family and friends. Whoever made him write this is using him as bait… to get you.”

  “Do you… I mean, doesn’t this mean that Stalo knows where I am?”

  Vari gazed at her. “It appears so, but he’ll expect you to walk into the trap. There is a large military base just on the other side of this park, so even Stalo is hesitant to attack. However, it doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t try if this should fail.”

  “We need to change the camping ground just in case,” Fitzwil advised.

  Anouk looked down to her feet. This whole Stalo-business was becoming a massive inconvenience to Vari and Fitzwil who had nothing to do with it. “I…I’m sorry.”

  “There is nothing to be sorry about.” Vari checked her pocket watch before giving Anouk a crooked smile. “We have five hours to come up with a plan. Generous of them to give us so much lead time.”

  “Are you coming with me?” Anouk was hoping they would even though the message instructed her to come alone. She had no desire to do so, but she had little choice but to go—alone, if necessary. Nat and Anouk were in this together.

  “Of course. We can’t let you walk into a trap alone,” Fitzwil said.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m not good at these kinds of things, yet. I’m an accountant, not a mercenary or a ninja.”

  “What’s a ninja?” Vari asked.

  “Ninjas were professional spies, assassins and saboteurs in Japan on my planet ages ago.”

  “Sound like very handy people if they are on your side.” Vari smiled.

  Anouk wished there was a ninja at hand now. When she was training in aikido and katana, it never crossed her mind she might have to use the techniques in real life. Well, maybe in cases like that drunken man at the brothel. By contrast, Stalo was a former warlord and seasoned fighter. He had his arm in a sling, but Anouk was sure he could turn that into a weapon. And, he had at least two soldiers at his disposal.

  “Vari?” Anouk clasped her shaking hands.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know.” Vari stepped to Anouk and gave her a hug.

  Anouk clutched her as she used to do with her mother when she was a kid on her way to the dentist.

  Vari smoothed Anouk’s hair and whispered into her ear. “We have your back, and we’ll try to make sure you don’t get hurt. Although they have Nat now, he’s not defenceless.”

  “Really?” Anouk whispered. A hope fluttered in her chest. “You think we can pull this off?”

  “Fitzwil and I have been in tougher situations than this.”

  Anouk pulled an arm’s length away and studied Vari. Had she just said that to try to make her feel better? “You have?”

  Vari smiled. “Aye.”

  Hope fluttered stronger now. Maybe she would live another day.

  “I’m not going to lie to you and tell it’s all going to be fine.” Vari’s face took on a solemn look. “We’ll most likely end up fighting and someone might get hurt.”

  Anouk’s shoulders slumped. Or maybe she wouldn’t. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Let�
��s get prepared.” Vari squeezed her shoulder and turned to go to the caravan. Fitzwil was already fussing around it.

  “Do you think Stalo is there himself?” It wasn’t a happy scenario, but this could be their chance to capture him. And then she could return home—if she survived that is.

  Vari twisted her head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure his trusted men are.”

  Chapter 11

  It was almost midnight. The moon cast pale light over the sea, forming a wavy glistening bridge to Rondon Port. In the sparse light, it looked like any other port with its ships and box shaped buildings. Tall and lanky steam cranes had finished loading a steamship an hour earlier, and eerie silence had descended over the area. Only occasional screeches and clanks cut through the air. The smell hovering around was a curious mixture of coal, machine oil, seaweed and fish.

  Anouk and Vari lay on the roof of a warehouse next to Ibars, scanning for movement around the abandoned building. Ibars was a mirror image of any other storehouse in the port; a flat-roofed, brick-walled, giant shoe box. Two men—one burly and the other twitchy—stood outside, talking and smoking. They kept their voices low, but more than once Anouk picked up the twitchy one saying bounty hunter when he fidgeted with his cigar, shooting frequent quick glances over his shoulder. At least they hadn’t said anything about a body. That was a relief.

  Fitzwil returned from his reconnaissance and crouched next to the women. “I spotted four men guarding the alleys, but there could be more.”

  The churning in Anouk’s gut grew almost unbearable. Although Fitzwil hadn’t seen any seasoned soldiers—or Stalo—that didn’t mean there were none about.