Hookers lined the bar, each one waiting to be selected by a john. Nathan gave them a dismissive look as they rolled their dead eyes at him.
“Still pressing the flesh huh, Roxie?” He said to a leggy brunette wearing a skin-tight dress and cheap makeup.
“You looking for a good time?” She licked her lips and winked at him for effect.
Nathan suppressed a laugh as he answered, “I’ll let you know when I find one.”
“Fuck you, Miller.”
“You wish.” Nathan gave her a last look before he spotted the owner of the club and left the desperate scene behind.
With a grin, he took the unoffered seat across from Austin Cain.
“Miller,” Cain said as he dismissed a pair of working girls from his lap, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Take that ridiculous hat off when you’re talking to me, and the fucking glasses too.”
With a forced smile, Cain removed his fedora and sunglasses.
“The fuck is the matter with you anyway?”
Cain laughed—a high-pitched sound. “Can I get you a drink?”
“You know what you can get me, Cain?” Nathan leant forward as he said, “You can get me my fucking money. Last I checked, you were behind.”
Cain’s gaze shifted. He gave a slight nod to the hulking brutes next to the stairway. “Last I heard, you were no longer a cop, Miller.”
“So, you thought that meant…what?”
A waitress deposited a bottle of wine on their table while security inched closer behind Nathan.
Cain smiled. “If you’re not a cop, what would I be paying for?”
Nathan looked down at the table. “I see.”
He reached into his jacket and dropped his badge on the table with his right hand while his left wrapped around the wine bottle.
Rising from his seat, he smashed the bottle over Cain’s head before whipping around to face his security.
He drove his right fist into the bridge of the first guard’s nose and sent up a mist of blood. Nathan clamped his left hand around the second guard’s throat and lifted him off his feet. He tossed him over the top of the bar to collide with the racks of glass bottles.
A Glock appeared in his right hand, keeping the first guard from retaliating. Shocked by the display, the hookers squealed, and a hush fell over the gaming floor.
“Nothing to see here folks,” Nathan said. He kept the guard in his sights. “Go back to your games.”
Cain’s head rested on the table. He groaned. “My fucking head!”
“My money.”
Cain reached into his pocket to produce an envelope bulging with cash. Placing it on the table next to Miller’s badge, he said, “There’s your fucking money.”
“Where’s your share?”
Lifting his head, Cain glared at Nathan through the blood that trickled down his face. “You can’t be serious.”
Nathan stepped closer. “Call it a penalty.”
Breathing heavy, Cain nodded to his guard who stumbled back behind the bar before returning with another envelope. This one bore a smear of blood on the paper from the guard’s gushing nose.
Pocketing both envelopes and his badge, Nathan said, “And let’s get something straight, Cain. This arrangement has nothing to do with being a cop. These are my streets. You exist because I allow it—and only because I allow it. We’re finished when I say we are. You clear on that?”
Head in hand Cain said, “Yeah.”
Nathan grinned while holstering his weapon. “Now that we understand each other, I need you to do something for me.”
With a napkin, Cain wiped the blood from his scalp while scowling at him.
Nathan asked, “You don’t mind, right?”
“Not at all,” Cain answered through gritted teeth.
“Good. I need you to put the scare into Alexis King.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a manila envelope. He dropped it on the table and said, “There’s a photo in there along with her details. Have her roughed up but keep me out of it. I need it done yesterday.”
Cain sighed. “I’ll see to it.”
“I know you will.” Nathan leaned over and clapped a hand on Cain’s shoulder. “While you’re doing things for me, find out who talked to her.” Nathan shrugged. “Maybe she’ll tell you.”
“Anything else?” Cain’s tone dripped sarcasm.
Taking a step back, Nathan said, “Yeah, hire some new help. I don’t want any fucking hassles next time I come around here.”
4
“I’ve mentioned my thoughts on this, right?”
Alexis King touched the tiny speaker in her right ear as she answered, “Yes, Elise. Several times now.”
“And yet I can’t help feeling like I’m not getting through,” Elise Paul said, “I can’t be the only one who thinks following a tip to an abandoned construction site in the middle of the night—outside the wall—is a bad idea.”
Alexis heard traffic on the distant interstate, but Colonial Road was quiet.
“How do you know you aren’t walking into a trap?”
Alexis touched the earbud again and said, “You’re being paranoid.”
“Am I?” Elise said, “You pissed off some powerful people by going after Miller. It seems like it would be prudent to not make an easy target of yourself.”
“You said it, Elise—they’re powerful people. If you crossed them wouldn’t you do it at night in the middle of nowhere?”
When a reply didn’t come, Alexis knew she made her point to her overprotective assistant. “Besides, you’re two blocks away if something happens. I’ll be fine.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I’m closing in, what do we know about this place?”
Elise answered, “Eight years ago, it was owned by Atlas Development. They wanted to use the site for high rise luxury condos until the wall went up. It has been abandoned ever since.”
“Any reports of displaced activity?”
“Not a lot, too far out from the wall I guess,” Elise said, “Hang tight, I’m about to get a visual.”
Alexis smiled as she looked up at the night sky. “Do our friends at Sky Network know you’re hacking one of their drones?”
“Hacking is such an ugly word,” Elise said, “I’m borrowing one of their drones. And, no, they don’t know.”
On approach, Alexis noted the graffiti covering every inch of the board fence around the site. The iron skeleton of an unfinished complex loomed over her, casting shadows in the moonlight.
“I have eyes on,” Elise said.
Alexis touched her earbud and said, “I’m entering the yard now, quiet on comms. I don’t want to spook this guy.”
“I see two in the yard. One on the foundation and …” She paused a moment. “The other one is around the corner, Lexi. I don’t like the position—like he’s trying to remain hidden.”
Alexis ignored the warning and entered the yard in full view of the shadowed individual on the foundation.
She asked, “Are you the person who called me?”
He paced a few steps back and forth before he asked, “Are you Alexis King?”
His voice was a deep baritone and put Alexis on edge. She looked around, searching for his companion. She answered, “I am. You have information on Nathan Miller for me?”
He jumped down from the raised foundation and said, “More of a message, actually.”
She saw his smile too late. Elise screamed in her ear as hands grabbed her from behind. The pain in her shoulders was excruciating until instinct kicked in. She threw her right elbow back and up to catch her assailant square in the face. His hands fell away and moved to cover his gushing nose. She followed with a kick to his chest that knocked him to the ground.
Arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her off her feet. Kicking wildly, she caught nothing but air until her assailant tossed her to the ground. She landed hard b
ut didn’t give up the fight. Scooping sand and gravel in her palm, she threw it up into his eyes and earned a cry from her attacker as he stumbled away.
She regained her feet as the first attacker connected a punch to her cheek. She sprawled back to the dirt where he pounced on her. His knees pinned her arms to the ground, and he grabbed her chin with his rough hand.
The look in his eyes was murderous. He leaned down. “Keep digging bitch, and we’ll make it your grave.”
Headlamps swept over the site a moment before a black AE4 sedan roared onto the lot. Her assailants scurried into the darkness rather than face the wrath of the driver.
Alexis rolled onto all fours and watched them run away, knowing they’d be long gone before any police arrived. Knowing the police wouldn’t even look for them. Her breathing was heavy as she squeezed her hands in the sand and ground her teeth.
Elise appeared next to her brandishing a baseball bat. “Where are they?”
Loose strands of hair hung across her eyes. Alexis asked, “You going to say I told you so?”
Elise lowered the bat and with a shake of her head said, “Can we get out of here now?”
With an ice pack in hand, Elise said, “You can’t say I didn’t tell you.”
“Took you long enough.” With her head in her hands, Alexis accepted the offered ice pack.
“Are we at least done with this now?” Elise asked.
“You know me better than that.”
Elise became solemn. She asked, “Why are you doing this? These are dangerous people—they proved that tonight. The police are no help when it’s the police hunting you. You need to let this go.”
After a moment, Alexis lowered the ice pack and said, “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Why does this matter so much to you?”
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Alexis began, “My father was a grocer. He owned a little shop on the corner of Broad and Richland. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and it kept a roof over our heads even during the tough times.”
A catch in her throat, Alexis continued. “Now every week—every single week—a cop would stop in. Dad would open the register and hand over half of the money. I asked him why once. He smiled at me and said it was the cost of doing business. He paid the police for protection. I was about twelve at the time, and I almost believed him. I knew he wanted to believe it. This went on for years. Every Wednesday like clockwork Detective Eli Wurth would darken our door.”
She paused, fighting back tears.
“I worked in the store for my teenage years, and one Wednesday I decided I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to give Wurth one cent more. When he came looking, I gave him nothing. I was so proud of myself. I stood up, and he backed down.”
Alexis shuddered at the memory, and Elise moved a step closer to comfort her.
“The next night, thieves entered the store.” She said, “They cleaned out the register and worked my father over. I found him beaten and barely conscious.”
“Lexi.”
She waved her off. “He refused to go to the hospital, insisting we couldn’t report it. I pleaded with him, but he was too afraid of the repercussions. He said he was fine. His vomiting said otherwise.
“I sat with him all night, terrified. Sometime around dawn, as he slipped in and out of consciousness, he told me it wasn’t my fault—that I had done the right thing.”
She swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek. “I reminded him that all it takes for evil to win is for good people to do nothing. He said I was the best of him, and he had never been prouder of me.”
A lump in her throat caused her to press both palms against her eyes, to attempt to regain her composure.
“A few hours later, he went into convulsions and was gone. I railed against the injustice, but I couldn’t convince anyone to go against Wurth. No one in the neighborhood dared to defy the corruption that ensnared them. This city is rotten to the core. Nathan Miller is the same as Eli Wurth. They’re criminals who hide behind a badge and think that makes them untouchable. It doesn’t—and it never will again.”
She shook her head. “He thinks he can frighten me? Corruption has poisoned this city for too long. I’ve got a blog to post and, I promise you, he isn’t going to like what I have to say.”
5
Festival House was modelled after Shakespeare’s Globe in London, England. In the heart of the city, it’s far from the troubles outside the wall. The Elizabethan theatre, constructed of oak and thatch, stood three stories around with an open-air center.
Nathan entered the private balcony of Mayor Willie Vargas. Below, players acted out a scene from King Lear. The accommodations were plush. Leather chairs sat on each side of a marble table. On top of the table, a wine bottle rested inside an ice bucket.
“Take a seat,” Vargas said in a hushed tone.
Nathan adjusted the lapels of his trench coat before lowering into the opulent chair.
“Uncomfortable?”
Nathan glanced around the packed house and noted wealthy executives and public figures alike. “Not my crowd,” he answered.
“You could do with some culture, Nathan,” Vargas picked off a piece of lint on his knee as he said, “It could broaden your horizons.”
On stage Goneril recited, “By day and night he wrongs me; every hour he flashes into one gross crime or other, that sets us all at odds: I’ll not endure it: His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us on every trifle. When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him; say I am sick: If you come slack of former services, you shall do well; the fault of it I’ll answer.”
Nathan shook his head. “If this is culture, I’ll remain uncouth. What did you want to discuss?”
Vargas offered a thin smile that revealed his eye teeth. He set his HoloSphere between them, indicating Nathan should pick it up.
With a sigh, Nathan lifted the unit to find the latest blog from the King’s Ransom frozen on the screen. His hand tightened around the plastic as he looked over at Vargas.
“You’ve heard her latest I’m sure?” Vargas said, “Tell me you had nothing to do with this attack.”
Tossing the unit aside, Nathan answered, “Nothing that can be proven.”
Vargas exhaled through clenched teeth. “You—” He narrowed his eyes. “You think she needs to prove anything?”
Nathan said nothing and Vargas pressed his point. “She accuses you of criminality and then gets roughed up by thugs outside the wall. You see how that looks?”
“I don’t care what it looks like.”
“Well I do,” Vargas yelled.
Goneril raised his gaze to their balcony—upset by the outburst.
His voice a whisper, Vargas said, “I assumed you were smarter than this, but perhaps I need to spell it out for you. King is not to be touched.”
“Maybe you want to talk to Logue about that?”
“I’m the mayor of this city,” Vargas said, “Michael answers to me. As do you.”
“And for how long?” Nathan tightened his left hand into a fist. “She’s coming after me, but do you really think she’ll stop there? Protect her, and she’ll fit you for a noose.”
Vargas turned away, his composure unshaken. He made a show of adjusting his gold cufflinks before answering the charge.
“Her crusade has only made her more famous. Going after her gives her more fodder—I’m protecting us all. You need to cut her off at the source.
“How many know the details? Who stands to gain from all this? You need to find the leak and do it fast.”
Nathan nodded his agreement as Vargas asked, “Who do you think would betray you?”
“It has to be someone I’m putting the screws too,” Nathan said, “They must think this will get them out from under me.”
Vargas reached for the chilled bottle and poured himself a drink into a delicate glass flute. “What would a person like that know? Have you considered some
one closer?”
His gaze narrowed as Nathan awaited a suggestion.
“Someone on the force, perhaps?” Vargas asked, “How well do you know your partner?”
Nathan snorted. “No way. He wouldn’t do this.”
“You’re certain of that? I hear he doesn’t want a cut of the proceeds.”
Nathan reached for the bottle. “He’s idealistic, not suicidal.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Nathan paused with the bottle in his hand.
“That costs more than your salary. Put it down.”
With a terse nod, Nathan slowly replaced the bottle. “I know my partner. Quinn’s not a rat.”
“Why doesn’t he want a cut of the proceeds?”
“I told you, he’s idealistic,” Nathan said.
Vargas shook his head and turned away. “I’d feel better about him if he was on the take.”
Nathan stood and glanced down at the players on the stage before he said, “You don’t need to worry about Quinn. He’s not who I’m looking for.”
As he turned to leave the balcony, Vargas said, “You may trust your partner with your life, but I don’t trust him with mine. Take him before the Judge. Eli will know if he’s hiding something.”
“So, what was that about back there?” Quinn asked as they drove past the wall. “Festival House isn’t the usual beat.”
Nathan gave him a look but offered no reply. Vargas’ warning echoed in his ears.
“Was nothing,” Nathan said after a moment, “Had to meet a concerned citizen is all.”
He turned away to watch the city glide past his window. He didn’t want to doubt Quinn’s loyalty, but Vargas’ accusation took root. Angry at Vargas and himself, he opened and closed his fists while the veins throbbed in his neck.
“Pull over up ahead,” he said to his partner.
Quinn put it in park. Nathan jumped out and rushed into a dark alley.
Throwing his own door open, Quinn hurried after him.
“If it isn’t my old buddy Terry,” Nathan said, full of menace, “How’s my favorite pusher?”
Footsteps scattered as a pair of teenagers beat a hasty retreat.
Singularity Page 2
