by Matt Doyle
“I’ll go through Devin Carmichael.”
“Caz, when was the last time you got involved with him, and it didn’t lead to trouble?”
“Trouble is his job. Mine too right now.”
“Difference being we can control this a little. No one holds sway over him.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“I doubt that, somehow.”
“How about this then? Give me Donal’s number, and I’ll let him know roughly where I’m heading. He can track me, just in case. And in the meantime, Bert’ll let me know if anyone breaks into the apartment while I’m gone.”
“You’re gonna do this regardless, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Ya know, if you weren’t a temp, I’d have your ass for behaviour like this.”
“Doesn’t seem to bother Hanson any.”
Hoove laughs then, relaxing a little. “Okay, fine. You get in touch with Carmichael, I’ll message you with Donal’s details.”
“Thanks, Hoove.”
“Just be careful,” he replies and hangs up.
“Computer, dial Devin Carmichael, home number.”
“Please wait…”
Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring…
“Caz, long time no hear. You gettin’ yourself in trouble again?”
I roll my eyes, despite knowing he can’t see me. “Unless you’ve stopped keeping your ear to the ground, you know full well what trouble I’ve gotten into.”
“True enough, darlin’. So, how are you and the city’s finest doing with the LVs?”
“How in the hell did you hear that so quickly?”
“Light Vamps, ya mean? I know a guy.”
I sigh. “We’re working on it. That’s why I’m calling, anyway. I’m following some leads the PD can’t. I don’t suppose you know how I could get an audience with Saul Solomon, do you?”
“Now, there ain’t anything the Kings can tell you that Donal O’Brien doesn’t already know.”
“I figured that. Like I said, though, the PD can’t follow certain strings too easily. Unless he wants to out himself as having links to the dark side, he can’t put anything in a report. Either that or he legitimately doesn’t know.”
“Keeping things careful, you understand, but why come to me? All things considered, you could have gone to a certain someone else.”
“All things considered,” I mimic, “I’d rather play it like I would if I wasn’t in the position I am. Play by the rules, and you don’t get booted from the game.”
Devin considers this for a moment, then says, “Wise move. He’ll like that. Okay, I ain’t normally a conduit for this stuff, but I’ll get something set up. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll send you the details.”
“Thanks, Devin, I’ll sit tight until then.”
“Talk to ya later.”
Devin hangs up and I check my cell phone to see one new message from Hoove. As promised, he’s given me Donal’s cell number. I join Bert for a few minutes, watching out of the window, but I still see nothing. Eventually, Devin sends me the promised meeting details. I send him my thanks and give Donal a call. He answers after only one ring.
“You don’t disappoint, do ya? I was hoping you’d do something like this.”
“I thought you might be. You know where I’m heading?”
“The mall. First Contact Electronics,” he replies.
“That’s right. Just make sure you’re ready to turn around. If Bert signals me, I’ll let you know to head to mine.”
“Aye, makes sense. You best get going.”
I hang up without saying anything else. He’s right, for a number of reasons. For one, if I’m keeping up with the façade that Fuerza is not all four Kings of Utah, then I need to treat this like it’s real. That means having enough respect to turn up on time. For two, this is kinda going to be duplicate work, so I’d rather get it all done with and move on. “Bert. If anyone tries to break in, signal me on my cell phone. Also, don’t attack the police if they turn up. Got it?”
“Caw.”
I rub his head and say, “Back soon,” then head for the door.
Chapter Four
FIRST CONTACT ELECTRONICS is a mid-sized retailer on the first floor of the New Hopeland Mall. Looking for home appliances, entertainment devices, and general repairs? They’ve got you covered, at least according to the video sign in the main window. As per the instructions Devin sent me, I walk straight to the back of the store, and head for the security guard standing in front of the door to the staff area. As I approach, he nods, and I subtly hold four fingers pointing downward. The Four Kings of Utah are Brett Stantz, Gory Gutierrez, Saul Solomon, and Kerry White. Saul being the third King, I tuck my third finger under, leaving the first, second and fourth still visible. The guard nods again and waves me through the door. He leads me to the bottom of a stairwell and places his palm flat on the space just below one of the steps. A section of the concrete flashes and disappears, leaving a gap that opens into a dimly lit corridor.
I walk in when beckoned and note the glass sheet slides back into place behind me. That explains how no one noticed the holographic part of the steps; there’s something solid behind it. The corridor only goes one way, and it isn’t long, leading to a plain metal door only about thirty metres in.
I steel myself. This is where I need to be careful. I’ve gone to the effort of playing the game so far, and I have no idea how many people will be in this room, or how many of them will know that the four figureheads of Utah’s criminal underworld, the people pulling all the strings, are in actuality one person: New Hopeland’s lowest-rated wannabe gangster, Allen Fuerza. Deep breath, Cassie, and here we go …
The room beyond is simple. It’s square shaped. There’s a single wooden table in the middle, one chair in front of it, and a tablet on a stand sat on top of it. Two people flank the table, one male, one female, both wearing expensive suits and sunglasses. They both also have their guns on display, resting close to their hands, which are in turn crossed neatly in front of them. I walk slowly to the table and see that a message is displayed on the screen.
“PLACE YOUR WEAPONS ON THE TABLE”
I unholster the police issue HK first and place it on the table. Next, I take the Glock from its own holster, held higher than and on the opposite side to the police issue weapon. Just because it seems the right thing to do, I hold my hands up and do a slow turn for the two suits to indicate that this is it. The woman nods to the chair, and I take it as an invitation to sit down. Once I’ve done so, the screen flashes and I’m faced with Saul Solomon. He’s wearing some sort of black Spandex covering over the top of his head, disguising his hair. On his face, he wears a white mask, featureless bar the eye holes and a simple crown illustration on one cheek. The crown, I note, has four prongs, and only the third features a jewel on top.
Sure, I’ve seen the man behind the mask—all the masks—but I’ve never actually seen any of the Kings. Even knowing what I do, it’s an intimidating situation to be in. The whole setup should feel cartoony. But it doesn’t. Last month, I met someone who works directly with the Kings. He was a shaven-headed man with a pair of sunglasses seemingly stuck permanently to his face. He was also clearly on par with Devin in terms of danger levels. Given that Devin is the city’s legalised assassin, called in to clean up the messes others can’t, it was a pretty scary experience. I’m getting a similar vibe from the two people watching me right now.
“Mr. Solomon,” I say. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“How could I not?” replies a voice masked by a vocoder. “It is not often I am approached by someone outside my organisation. Tell me, Miss Tam, what brings a Private Investigator to my door?”
“I need information,” I state plainly.
“There are plenty of people who would act as information brokers. Am I to assume this relates to me directly?”
“I’m afraid so. You will be aware, of course, that a Mr. Jack Stan was attacked recently. He is,
I believe, in your employ.”
“I am, and he is. What of it?”
“Are you aware of the nature of the attack?”
“Again, I am. As I understand it, the police were investigating the matter and deemed it to be a simple mugging.”
“Officially, yes. Unofficially, they are aware that something more is happening.”
“I see. And why have you come to me directly? I would imagine there are multiple victims in this instance.”
Vocoder or not, there’s no hiding the arrogance and self-assuredness there. He knows there are others, and he probably knows who’s behind it all. He’s just not acting on it. Nor is he going to tell me who it is. Interesting. “I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Solomon. I am working with the PD on the case. Having been a victim of the attacker myself, but one who got away without the attacker taking what he came for, there is a belief that I will be targeted again. As it stands, we’re working to find out who the attacker is, and how they work. As such, I need to know… On the night he was attacked, was Mr. Stan on a job, or was he simply enjoying a night out at the theatre?”
Saul laughs out loud and replies, “Do you truly think I would tell someone working with the PD something like that?”
I shake my head. “Ordinarily, no. As it is, though, neither Mr. Stan nor you are targets of the investigation. On top of that, to our knowledge, Mr. Stan did not carry out any unlawful activity before he was attacked. We have no interest in whether he did complete a job, or even what the job is, we simply wish to know whether there was a job.”
“Why?”
“Because, if there was, then we can start to approach this as a case of premeditated attacks. That makes it more likely the man responsible will try again, and we can start setting up false openings for him to do so.”
“I will ask you one question, Miss Tam. Give me a satisfactory answer, and I will tell you what you want. Fail to do so, and this conversation is over.”
I shiver involuntarily at the parallel to my final meeting with Allen Fuerza last month but manage a nod.
“Why should I help you or the PD with this case?”
I expected this question to come up. It was an obvious way not only for Fuerza to test me, but for him to make it look like there’s good reason to hand over information in front of his goons. Which pretty much confirms these two aren’t in the know, or there’d be no need for the song and dance routine.
“Because it is my belief that multiple victims have links to the Four Kings of Utah, and the likelihood of this being an accident is low. As a group, you work smartly. If the PD can resolve this without the need for you to move yourselves, it saves you from entering an unnecessary conflict.”
Saul Solomon nods thoughtfully, and replies, “I have heard worse reasons to cooperate with others. Very well, as it is all you have asked to know, yes, Mr. Stan was on a job. Now, you may gather your weapons and return to your investigation.”
I nod my thanks, get to my feet, and reholster both guns. Just before I open the door to leave, Solomon’s voice calls out, “Oh, and Miss Tam? When you arrive home, you will find a piece of paper has been delivered. Should you have legitimate cause to contact the Kings, the preferred communication routes will be on there. Be warned, though. I do not expect such meetings to become commonplace.”
I leave the room without saying another word. Once I get back to the stairwell end of the corridor, the security guard from earlier greets me with a surprised smile. I guess most people really don’t come back from these meetings.
Which just leaves Pauline Mensche.
MY PHONE RINGS the moment I step outside the store, and the screen tells me it’s Donal O’Brien. I tap the icon to answer and pull the phone up to my ear.
“So,” he says. “Now ya know.”
“I know Jack Stan was on a job, but nothing else. Is there more to it?”
“Nothing you’d be able to get outta a meeting like that, no. That was all you wanted to confirm, right?”
“Yeah,” I concede. “I’ll try to talk to someone about Pauline Mensche too. Even a little usable evidence is something, eh?”
“Aye, it is that.”
I stop and lean against a nearby storefront, acting as casual as I can, just in case. “Have you spotted anyone I should be wary of?”
“Nah. Not having a description of the attacker when he’s not suited up makes it difficult, ya know? So, I took a broad-brush approach.”
“Meaning?”
“Used an old backdoor into the mall security systems. I’ve been streaming the cameras since you went in. Plenty of males walking around, but for the short time you were in there, only a few doubled back past the store. One stopped to look in through the window, entered the store, and hasn’t come out again yet. I doubt he’s anything more than a shopper, though. This guy’s careful.”
“That’s assuming he really was following me.”
“He ain’t been caught yet. I’d say that makes him careful, even if he’s not following you.”
“True enough. I’m gonna go chase up the Mensche lead. I take it you’re in the van again?”
“Best way to travel.”
“Well…try to keep yourself out of sight. The Dealers have been keeping a low profile since that mess with Malcolm Castleford, and I don’t want my contact getting spooked by a police van.”
Donal snorts out a laugh down the phone. “They’ve only been keeping a low profile when it comes to the PD. They’ve been doing plenty of digging down below, not that they’re gonna find anything. The best they’ve got at the moment is a bit of intimidation on Castleford himself. He’s behaving, though, doing what he’s told.”
“Still, I don’t want to risk this blowing up.”
“Ah, it’s fine. I’ll keep us close enough to act, but far enough to hide, yeah?”
“Good. I’ll be in touch.”
I take one last look around in case there’s anyone watching me that the camera’s missed, or anyone who sets off a sense of recognition for me, but there’s no one. Satisfied, I hop in a cab to Fenchurch Street.
CHARLOTTE GOLDMAN, CHARLIE for short, is one of the most successful Dealers in the city. She rose the ranks to Elite status within the organisation pretty quickly and has thus far avoided doing anything to draw police attention to herself. Or rather, she’s been smart enough to keep her activities quiet when they’ve not been wrapped in a nice, cosy bundle of legal loopholes. For a long time, I only spoke to her when I needed something.
We were lovers, for a while at least, but we drifted apart over time and became more like friends trying awkwardly to be more than that. Even with it being amicable, I struggled with the split. Lori convinced me to get back into contact with her on a more regular basis, which has been great for the most part, but both Charlie and I have kept a little distance since the Castleford case. Being an accountant for a lot of people in the underground, the Dealers included, Malcolm Castleford going wild like he did set him up as a potential risk to Charlie and her colleagues. Charlie knows something’s up, though. There was far too much noise being made for someone simply trying to screw over Allen Fuerza, especially as his reputation of being the biggest wannabe in Utah has remained intact.
No time like the present to get things back on track, I tell myself and give the doorbell a press. I put my hands in my pockets and have a look around while I wait. Fenchurch Street is a nice area for the most part. Quiet, well-maintained, all the usual stuff. It’s also home to multiple people with their fingers in a bunch of pies, on the verge of falling into dodgy territory. Aside from Charlie, there are at least two company directors with a reputation for being overly secretive, a couple of self-titled online revolutionaries, and an alleged ex-marine with a body count longer than my arm. Most of the residents here are regular citizens, though.
The door clicks open and Charlie peers out at me, her face a picture of surprise. “Caz?”
“Hi, Charlie,” I reply. “I know it’s been a few weeks, but…sorry, is
this a bad time?”
Charlie glances back into the house and pushes her unusually tousled auburn hair behind her ears. “Uhm…you know what? No, it’s fine. Come in.”
Well, that’s an odd reaction, I note, following her in. When we get to the living room, I see that she has company. The woman in front of us is tall, or taller than me anyway, and has her raven-black hair tied back in a tight ponytail. She has a strong jawline that would classically have been regarded as masculine if it weren’t for how much her smile softened it. I recognise her from the photos Charlie has up all around the house; it’s her current girlfriend. Thinking about it, this is my first time meeting her in person.
“Sorry,” I say, embarrassment creeping into my voice a little more than I expected. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, no, it’s all good,” Charlie says, waving my concerns away. “Caz, this is Jody, Jody, Caz.”
“Caz? Oh…Cassandra Tam, right?” Jody says, offering her hand.
I shake it and nod. She’s letting me know that she knows who I am. That’s fine. “Caz is fine. Or Cassie.”
“Cassandra’s for when you’re getting told off by your parents, right?” she replies, smiling, and Charlie groans. Jody looks at her, slightly confused, and asks, “What?”
“I don’t have the best relationship with my parents right now,” I say, saving Charlie from having to try to explain it away. “My mom hasn’t spoken to me in years, and Dad’s…” I sigh. “Dad’s no longer with us.”
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
I shake my head and smile as best I can. “No reason you would know. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll make us some drinks.” Charlie makes a beeline for the kitchen, leaving her current and ex partners alone in an awkward silence.
Eventually, Jody tries, “So, it must be interesting being a PI?”
I laugh. “That’s one way to put it. It’s not as exciting as you’d think most of the time. Lots of pouring over news links, CCTV footage, and stuff like that. When it’s not like that, it’s usually far too dangerous to be interesting.”
