Within Each Other's Shadow

by Jan Turk Petrie

  ‘Like I said, I don’t trust you,’ he repeats, more for his own benefit than hers. He takes a couple of steps towards her. The disparity in their heights would make him more confident if he didn’t know just how deadly Freyja can be. ‘Don’t try to bullshit me,’ he says, ‘just tell me why you came here and exactly what it is you want from me.’

  As he gets closer, whatever her body language may have been suggesting, he can see she’s anxious to avoid all physical contact with him. He could be some poor leper instead of a telepatico.

  He takes another step toward her and now she’s retreating and he’s got her almost backed up against the wall. ‘The truth is, we need your help,’ she says, bumping into the edge of a table as she steps sideways out of his path. He knows that hurt a little – that for all her strength, she bruises easily. He’s not sure how he knows that.

  ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘As you’ve probably guessed, I’m working with Quentin. There are others besides us.’

  ‘Ah – your ex-lover,’ he says. ‘Such a touching reunion.’ Though he’s quite certain they’re alone, Bruno looks around the room. ‘Is he in here too?’

  ‘No, but he’s not far away,’ she tells him. Though she’s trying to look unfazed, he can see she’s riled by his knowledge of their relationship. There’s no denying how attractive Freyja is – Quentin had been seriously punching above his weight.

  ‘By my calculations – and correct me if I’m wrong,’ he says, ‘you’re both in possession of these amazing suits that will allow you to go anywhere you want to go unseen. Why would you need the help of little old moi? What the hell can I bring to your little party?’

  ‘Whatever Cavallo says, you and I both know the job’s not half done yet,’ she says. ‘Our aim’s the same as it’s always been – to stamp out all the gross corruption in this city. Don’t you want Eldísvík to be run by honest, trustworthy people? Face it, Bruno, that’s not going to happen if we don’t rid it of the old guard. Look around you – this curfew, all these security men guarding this so-called place of learning. Can’t you see they’ve got a stranglehold on all of us?’

  Her slow smile means she’s just detected a change in his expression, knows her words are hitting home. ‘You’ve heard of Commander Avraham,’ she says.

  He nods, then waits.

  ‘We know the late Commander Rockingham and Avraham were as tight as thieves – although if you ask me that’s doing a disservice to honest thieves. Anyway, we have solid evidence pointing to the fact that they were the ones planning to acquire all those suits along with the arms necessary to seize complete control of the city.’

  ‘And so now you intend to assassinate him,’ Bruno says. ‘Murder the man in cold blood without any kind of trial. Is that the new order you want to usher in?’

  ‘Like they always say, got to break a few eggs to make an omelette.’

  ‘That expression has been attributed to Maximilien Robespierre,’ he says, ‘the lawyer who went on to become the architect of the reign of terror in France.’

  ‘I’m impressed.’ Her smile is barely there. ‘Although it doesn’t make his observation any less true.’

  ‘It was virtually the same observation Lenin made when he said: “To chop down a forest splinters will fly”.’

  ‘If you like,’ she says. ‘Either way, we’re all on the same page.’ That smile is broader now, showcasing her too-perfect teeth.

  ‘The thing is, Lenin also said: “Promises are like pie crusts, made to be broken”.’

  ‘I’d say you’re showing off a tad, Mr Mastriano.’ Her expression turns anything but friendly. ‘Look, you don’t trust us, and I get that loud and clear, but don’t you want to live in a fairer world?’

  ‘What, one where you simply execute people without allowing them a defence of any kind?’

  ‘Your naivety is almost touching.’ All that smirking is getting under his skin. ‘However, in the real world, there’s no time for such niceties.’

  She sighs. ‘Listen, nerd, Avraham’s son, Baltasar, is studying physics here. He’s a bit older than you – in his final year. Just imagine if he or his baby sister, Silla, happened to be home… Well, need I say more?’ She holds out both hands like she’s innocent. ‘It would be regrettable but what choice would we have?’

  ‘Bullshit – there’s always a fokking choice!’ Bruno’s careful not to show any sign that he already knows and likes Baltasar. He’s hardly a fan of Krista’s sister but he wouldn’t want her boyfriend to be slain by these ruthless bastards. He narrows his eyes on Freyja. ‘Why? I mean why the fokk would you go and do that?’

  ‘Keep your voice down.’

  He doesn’t. ‘But they wouldn’t even be able to see you so they couldn’t possibly identify you.’

  ‘You know for a bright boy, you can be a bit dumb sometimes. They’d see our weapons apparently floating in mid-air. That sort of detail would tend to stick in your mind. We can’t risk anyone finding out about these suits so, sadly, we’d be forced to eliminate any and every witness – without exception. Stands to reason.’ Her pout would fool no one.

  She pulls on the zip and her chest disappears. ‘It’s your choice, Bruno. All we’re asking is for you to make contact with Baltasar and find out more about the layout of his house and his family’s regular movements – that way no one else need get hurt.’

  As she pulls on her gloves, her hands disappear one at a time. ‘I’ll leave you to think about it,’ she says. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  Her head disappears. He can only hear the tread of her boots as she strides over to the door and opens it. ‘Be seeing you.’

  Twenty-Four

  ‘But there’s still so much I don’t understand.’ Chan rakes her hair away from her face so he can really see her, see what this is costing. ‘The other day – in that glass house – you could hardly look me in the eye. And you’re still acting really weird; you seem so distant – like we’re strangers.’

  Though she sniffs repeatedly, more tears escape to roll down her cheeks. ‘Seems like I’ve been away on another planet and now I’ve returned to earth it’s all changed in my absence.’

  When Nero looks her full in the face, she sees his expression has softened. Chan sits down beside him again, closer this time. With a sigh, he leans across to put one arm around her shoulders. The tiny creases at the side of his eyes deepen as he smiles at her with more affection than before. ‘It’s not like I have all the answers myself,’ he says.

  ‘Your bruises are fading fast,’ she says, touching his face so gently he can hardly feel it. Taking his hand in hers, she turns it over to study the damaged skin where the photon blast hit him. ‘You’re all healed up,’ she says tracing the fading outline of his wound with one finger. ‘Unfortunately, my scars are a lot less visible.’

  ‘It’s early days; it will get better.’ He squeezes her. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Problem is, there are still so many blanks I can’t begin to fill – not without your help.’

  ‘What can I say?’ He clears his throat; she watches the way his Adam’s apple rises and falls. ‘If I can, I’ll do my best to supply the answers.’

  ‘Tell me about that suit you were wearing. How on earth did you get hold of it?’

  For a moment he says nothing and then he exhales like a man exhausted – or a man carrying a heavy burden he needs to lay down. ‘We intercepted a whole consignment of them; dozens and dozens – enough to equip an invisible militia who would be more or less invulnerable to all opposition. In the same shipment, we found crate after crate of state-of-the-art weapons. It means there was, and probably still is, a major conspiracy – a group, or more likely an unholy collusion, who mean to seize control of this city.’

  ‘Tiān a!’ she says. ‘This is hard to take in.’

  ‘It certainly is. Everything had been meticulously planned. The official manifest sounded innocent enough – things had been listed as safety equipment and so on. The whole lot had been shipped
here by a holding company that doesn’t appear to exist. According to our informant, it was all destined straight for the Double Red zone.’

  ‘To one of the cartels?’

  ‘Probably. It could be more than one lot – they could all be working towards the same collective aim. They still had to get that stuff approved for shipping, then through the maze of security at both ends. I’m pretty certain some other party or parties, operating right here in the Free Zone, must have greased a great many palms along the route.’

  ‘Is that just a hunch – I mean do you know who any of these people are?’

  ‘The ship’s crew certainly knew nothing. As you might expect, the big players have been careful to cover their tracks. So far, we haven’t been able to establish a connection to any cartel or anyone they might be in cahoots with. To use a cliché – we’re only seeing the tip of a very fat iceberg.’

  ‘So where are the rest of the suits you found?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.’ His arm drops from her shoulder and he pulls his hand away ostensibly to rub at his eyes. ‘Let’s just say they’re somewhere beyond use.’

  ‘Beyond use; really?’ She takes a long sip of wine then puts down the glass and leans into him. Despite the coolness of the room, his body radiates warmth. ‘What about all the weapons you seized? Where are they now?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Nero shakes his head, his lips pressed together. ‘You have to understand there are times when knowledge can get you in trouble.’

  ‘I see.’ She tries not to show how exasperated this is making her. ‘Okay, I understand why you’re not prepared to tell me but why are you so keen to keep our new C I in the dark about this?’

  ‘Because we can’t trust Laskaris; the man was appointed directly by Hagalín. Ask yourself, why would the governor choose to put a military man in charge of Homicide? I can think of a number of competent DSD officers he could have transferred instead of choosing an outsider with absolutely no policing experience.’

  ‘This conspiracy theory of yours – does it extend to the governor himself?’

  ‘Like I said, right now nothing’s clear; we don’t, can’t, know who to trust.’

  She frowns. ‘I notice you keep saying “we”. I have a vague recollection there were other people in that factory with you. Who else are you working with on this?’

  Nero doesn’t quite manage to disguise the growing suspicion in his eyes. ‘I’d rather not say.’

  ‘I get that whole “knowledge-is-a-dangerous-thing” thing but aren’t you taking this too far? How am I meant to do my job if you’re so determined to keep me in the dark?’

  When he doesn’t reply, she pushes away her half empty glass and stands up. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a big day tomorrow – first day back and all that. I guess I’d better go and get some beauty sleep.’

  ‘Not that you need it.’ Nero rubs at his mouth as if he’s already regretting the words that just escaped from his lips. When he too stands up, they’re close enough for her to detect the distinctive smell of him. Memories of their night together come back to her.

  She asks, ‘In that factory, you covered me up, didn’t you?’ Putting a hand on his chest, she detects the strength of his heartbeat beneath her fingers; the rate is more rapid than a resting man’s should be. ‘I remember, in that factory, how you kept telling me I was okay, that it was all going to be alright.’ She smiles up at him. ‘Thank you for that.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he says. His tongue has been stained darker by the wine; she can smell it on his breath. Standing on tiptoes, she strains to reach his mouth. At first, he resists but then his lips part and he’s passionately kissing her back.

  Coming up for air, she says, ‘If I leave now, I’ll be forced to log my journey and Laskaris will find out I was here tonight.’

  She begins to kiss down his neck then his bare chest where his shirt is open. ‘I think it might be better if I stay here tonight; if that’s alright with you?’

  He answers with a groan and then his body takes control, just as she knew it would.

  Twenty-Five

  From the bed, Nero leans back on the pillows to watch Chan’s reflection as she takes a shower. He can only glimpse a thin sliver of her naked body in the mirror. She seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time, scrubbing her skin with vigour; determined to wash away any lingering evidence of their night together.

  At last she emerges through the steam wrapped in a towel that covers a lot more of her than it does him. Without even glancing in his direction, she says, ‘We should leave here separately – it’s important we’re not seen together.’

  He sits up. ‘I don’t see the need for secrecy– we’re both consenting adults, Jie Ning. This– ’ Floundering, he searches for the appropriate words. ‘The exact nature of our relationship is no one else’s business.’

  She looks younger without a scrap of makeup, her hair all mussed up. Shaking her head, she says, ‘There’s a morality clause in both our contracts, which expressly bans relationships of a sexual nature between serving police officers of differing ranks.’

  Nero chuckles. ‘Sounds quite sexy when you say it like that.’

  Looking less than comfortable, Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. Water continues to drip from the ends of her hair, wetting the crumpled sheets. ‘Seriously Nero – as my line manager and the senior officer involved, you could, theoretically at least, be subject to disciplinary–’

  ‘Mmm – I rather like the sound of that,’ he says, gently pulling on the towel.

  ‘I’m not joking.’ She swats his hand away. ‘Be serious. If someone found out about us, you could easily be accused of professional misconduct. I’m not sure what the penalty would be.’

  ‘Relax,’ he tells her. ‘As far as I’m aware, no one’s ever been disciplined over having consensual sex with another officer. In any case, I’m sure that clause is unenforceable in law – contrary to our human rights, if those still exist. For example, everyone at DSD knows Rustler and Evva Karhu have been going at it like rabbits for the last year or more. No one’s ever made anything of it.’

  Chan’s expression doesn’t alter – she still seems genuinely worried. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘I’m sure that clause is there to prevent misconduct – so we all remember to act professionally when we’re at work.’ Failing to suppress a smirk, he says, ‘I grant you it would be a disciplinary matter if they caught us humping over the desk in the incident room.’

  She pulls a face. ‘I hate the word humping; it’s something animals do. Couldn’t you have said making love?’

  He leans forward to stroke her damp thigh. ‘Personally, I quite like the legal phrase: in flagrante delicto? Literally it means being surprised in the heat of the crime.’ He waves a hand in the air like he’s conducting. ‘Vennero sorpresi in flagrante delitto.’

  ‘It’s no laughing matter,’ she says, shrinking away. ‘Today is my first day back at work; I want to make a good impression – especially on the new C I.’

  When she stands up, she leaves her wet outline behind. Still clutching the towel to her chest with one hand, she begins to retrieve her scattered clothing from various unlikely resting places. He’s not sure how her blouse got hooked up on the edge of the light tube. It has to be beyond her reach.

  Deflated in every sense, Nero jumps out of bed, hands her the blouse and heads over to the shower. ‘At least let me make you breakfast before you go,’ he shouts above the noise of running water.

  Hearing a loud sound, he cuts it short and wraps the smaller towel around his waist. He looks around; Chan isn’t anywhere. The sound he’d heard must have been the slam of the door. If she’d said goodbye, he certainly didn’t hear it.

  Nero dresses in a hurry. Hopping awkwardly, he pulls on his boots and then grabs his coat. He knows there’s a clean shirt in his locker; he can shave later in clean-up.

  The coldness of the outside air is a shock. At this hour the walkways are still slick with slush. It’s
hard to hurry. He’s tempted to break into a run but that would make him all too conspicuous amongst his fellow pedestrians. Instead he walks swiftly, swerving in and out of all the maddeningly slow people getting in his way.

  It takes him more than three blocks before he catches a glimpse of her. Seeing his approaching self in a shop window, he notices the dark rings around his eyes, the patchy stubble covering his chin. He becomes all too aware of his unclean teeth and crumpled shirt. What exactly is he planning to say to her once he’s caught up? Truth is, he hasn’t thought this through.

  Without breaking step, he rakes his hair back into some kind of shape and draws his coat a little closer at the collar; it makes little difference to his reflection. He looks exactly like the kind of stalker any sensible woman would shun.

  He’s a senior Inspector and ought to turn up to work looking like one. Laskaris is bound to notice. He hesitates, his forward movement stops. This was a bad idea; he should go back to his apartment and not emerge again until he’s presentable.

  He’s about to turn around when he hears a commotion somewhere ahead. Through a sea of people, he catches sight of a burly man doing a lot of swearing and shouting as he struggles to restrain his lunging and snapping dog. It’s all the red-faced man can do to keep hold of the leash. With an effort, he manages to drag the half-choked animal away but it continues to snarl and bark, straining even harder to be free. Able to breathe again, the dog won’t be calmed. As the gathered spectators shrink back from those snapping jaws, he see its snarling ferocity is aimed directly at one person: Chan.

  Still shouting and cursing, the man hauls his enraged dog away; drama over, the onlookers soon lose interest and disperse.