ARC: Peacemaker

by Marianne de Pierres

  “The wet moon is tonight. We have to get to the park,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed. “What? Out in the open?”

  I stared at him. “You’re agoraphobic?”

  “I deal in cities,” he said. “Not open spaces.”

  I wanted to laugh but thought better of it. “Can you ride a horse?”

  “If I have to,” he said.

  “Great. I’ll explain my theory on the way.”

  “Uhuh. No spaces.”

  “I… Oh…”

  He put the next-gen away and retreated to the door. “’Later.”

  “But Hamish–”

  The door shut before I could finish. I stood there confused and overwhelmed by apprehension. I was now on my own.

  I could call Bull but I had no idea what he would do with the information, or if he’d even act upon it. Then there was Detective Chance who was less likely to give credence to what I had to say, and more inclined to use it as an excuse to me lock me up.

  That left me with Caro and maybe Heart, neither of whom I was prepared to put in a risky situation.

  The only solution I could think of had its own risks. But it was better than going after Sixkiller alone.

  I did a contact search on my new phone and put a call through to Juno’s Cantina in Mystere. “I need to get a message to Papa Brise. Ask him to call Virgin Jackson on this number right away.”

  The guy on the other end sounded doubtful but he took the message.

  I went to the kitchen and opened a sachet of red beans and mixed some eggs. With a decent dollop of chili, I turned it into a spicy omelet. A packet of crisp-breads and a bottle of water completed the quick meal, while I sat to wait and figure shit out.

  I was seeing a story that went like this. The Korax – a fringe gang – had found an illegal way into the country through the park. If Sixkiller was right, then once here they were using violent acts to distract from their real agenda – whatever that was. At a guess they seemed to be making a move on the black market here. They didn’t want Sixkiller or I interfering in that plan, and short of making me vanish, they’d taken him.

  If the wet moon was the time they’d set for their next drop of people, then it was likely they might ship him and Kadee Matari out on that exchange. If they hadn’t killed them already. Sixkiller had already put a bullet in one of their own. What use would they have for keeping him alive?

  I didn’t have an answer to that but I refused to believe that the Marshall was dead. I needed him to tell me more about Dad.

  And I owed him.

  My theory didn’t allow any room for the whole Mythos and disincarnate side of the puzzle –other than Sixkiller’s earlier observation that the lunar phase affected their opportunity to be here. But I couldn’t go any further with that idea right now. It was simpler to deal in concretes.

  My phone buzzed, so I put down the empty omelet plate and answered.

  “Caro?”

  “I just picked up something on the police band. They’ve matched your DNA on the park guy’s body. They’re sending a car to pick you up.”

  “This is such bullshit. Of course my DNA’s on him. I touched him.”

  “I don’t know the details but you need to lay low. Is Hamish with you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s strange. Thought he’d taken a liking to you.”

  I raised my eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see them. “That’s terrifying.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  I flipped through my options and made my decision quickly. “I can’t let them take me into custody tonight. It might be my only chance to find Nate.”

  “How much time do you need?”

  “A few hours.”

  “Meet me at Horners. I know a place you can wait.”

  Of course she did.

  “And Ginny, hurry. There was a unit in your area when they called it through.”

  I ran to my bedroom, got my full kit bag with flashlight, knife and spare pistol and pulled the journal dot from inside the air-con vent in case the police decided to break in here and search.

  A quick look outside my door revealed an empty corridor. Park security had obviously been pulled off me. I was surprised Bull hadn’t called, demanding to know my whereabouts. Something else might have caught his attention.

  I took the stairs through the laundry exit and walked two blocks south to a different taxi rank. Wait time in the queue look good but I changed my mind, worrying they had an alert out on my One Card.

  Where Caro wanted to meet me was only five blocks away, so I decided to take my chance and walk. Head down, I kept to the busier streets, trying to look as preoccupied and distant as everyone else going about their business.

  A set of beat cops surprised me near the corner of Parkway and Palomino Street. I ducked into a chocolatier, and stood trembling in front of the candied fruit, until they passed.

  Caro was waiting for me in a back booth at Hoofs and Horners. She got up straight away and gestured for me to follow her out the back. We left the bar through the kitchen restrooms, climbed some fire stairs and walked across a corrugated landing into an adjoining building. She pressed a sequence on the coded lock of a filthy wooden door and let us into a dark corridor and another landing. This building stank of fried onions.

  Some more stairs and she opened a door in a dark corner near an industrial strength air conditioning unit.

  Inside the windowless room there were some plastic chairs, a single portable bed, a sink and a cupboard. The wall above the sink was speckled with mold and the room temperature was set at freezing.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Welcome to the glamour of a safe house.”

  “You still surprise me,” I said.

  “Sometimes I have to give sources a place to stay while I’m interviewing them. Being next to the air con unit makes it hard to eavesdrop on.”

  I glanced around looking for signs of an inhabitant. “Hamish?”

  “Hamish is somewhere else.”

  “You have more than one of these?”

  She shrugged and ran her fingers through her blonde curls. Even in jeans, street boots and a canvas jacket she looked sweet as angel pie.

  “Best you don’t know,” she said.

  On impulse I hugged her.

  She peered up at me from the embrace. Her head only reached my shoulder. “Ginny?”

  “I’m OK. Just thanking you properly.”

  She grinned. “Noted.”

  My phone buzzed and I answered it.

  “What you fuckeen want, Ranger?”

  “Papa Brise?”

  Caro’s eyes widened and I walked away from her to the sink.

  “I have the answers to some of your questions but I need your help tonight,” I said.

  “Why should I fuckeen help you?”

  “I know where Kadee Matari is. You help me get her and the Marshall and she’s all yours. You can use the leverage however you want.”

  He breathed heavily into the receiver, digesting what I said. “The Crow and Circle have the Stoned Witch? I hear the fuckeen rumours she’s been taken but–”

  “Yes. And I think they’re shifting her out of the country tonight while they’re bringing more people in. You’ve got a chance to get her and maybe take back control of your place. “

  He only paused for a breath or two. “What do you want?”

  “You and a few of your people.”

  “Where?”

  “The tunnel under 1029 Park Way entrance just after on dark. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Parkway? In the city?”

  “You know how to get here?” I asked.

  “Don’t get fuckeen cute, Ranger. It doesn’t work for you.”

  He clicked off.

  I turned to Caro and she stabbed her finger at the chairs.

  “Take a load off. It’s going to be another long night,” she said.

  We perched on the plastic chairs and she pulled
two bottles of ginger ale and some flat bread from her backpack. The sugary drink settled my nerves and the bread softened the knot in my stomach.

  “So you really think ComTel is trafficking people in through the park?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe not trafficking, maybe just allowing illegals in. ComTel operates the E-M canopy above the park that prevents anyone gaining aerial entry.”

  “But if ComTel controls it…”

  “ParkSouthern’s technical department monitors it, but if their guardian programme was somehow compromised then ComTel, or someone in ComTel could do as they please. It would just mean paying of someone in Air Traffic Control to turn a blind eye.”

  “Seems risky?”

  “Maybe. But since the asylum seekers war, the government’s poured so much money into border security along the coast it’s impossible to land illegally that way.”I thought about Totes’ complaint about anomalies in his system. “Anyway, I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

  “Will this Papa Brise come?”

  “I don’t know. Yes, I expect. Having Kadee Matari in his debt will be too tempting not to. They’re locked in a turf war, and I think the Korax are agitating, making things worse.”

  “Ginny, maybe you should contact your boss.”

  “Bull?” I looked at her with surprise. “Why?”

  “Hamish is AWOL and you’re teaming up with some dead set criminals to walk into a questionable situation. What if you’re outnumbered? What if your allies decide to turn on you? How can you trust a man from Mystere called Papa Brise?”

  “I can trust him as much as the next person.” Or as little – which was more my mantra. Caro shook her head. “There’re too many unknowns. I don’t like it.”

  “I appreciate the concern but there must have been some unknowns in Burundi, Caro. It didn’t stop you.”

  “I had Hamish,” she said. “You don’t.”

  There was a soft click and we both turned towards the door.

  Hamish was standing there. “That would be incorrect.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “H-Haim? How did you f-find this place?” Caro stuttered.

  “Followed the Ranger.”

  “How did you get in?” I asked.

  “Now that would be telling,” he said but he didn’t look at me when he spoke.

  He was dressed all in a dusty grey, the kind of colour that made you blend into a crowd. The long pack on his shoulders was strained into an odd shape that made me wonder what he had in there.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. Totes should have gone home and the stables would be unmanned. “I need to go.”

  Caro got up and collected the cans. “Look after her, Hamish.”

  He kept his gaze on her. “You might want a good alibi for the next few hours.”

  She nodded and gave me a hug. Twice in one day was some kind of record for us.“If in doubt, bail! Hamish will get you out.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She slapped Hamish on the shoulder as she left. “Wipe the keypad when you leave.”

  That left us alone and awkward.

  I picked up my own pack and slung it around my shoulders. “Thought you didn’t like open spaces,” I said. “And horses.”

  He went to the door, ran a keycard scrubber through it then wiped it down meticulously with a swab he pulled from a flat pack in one of his pockets.

  “I don’t,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  We walked to the Park Southern tunnel entrance. At least, I walked. Hamish was somewhere close by but I couldn’t see him in the dinner time crowds.

  When I reached the stairs down to the tunnel, I touched my security card to the gate. It slid open on silent rollers.

  Hamish appeared from the shadows of the stairwell and strolled on through. I call it a stroll but really it he was light on his feet and cautious.

  After spending time with the Marshall, I’d become accustomed to a confident stride that reminded me of a ship cutting through waves. Hamish was more a cat on a hot tin roof.

  He peered ahead into the tunnel and turned to me. “Now?”

  “We wait for Papa Brise.”

  “Who?”

  “When I thought you weren’t coming, I called in some help.”

  He nodded. “You wait. I’ll look around.”

  “No… but… you won’t be able to…”

  He’d already gone, sprinting off.

  I sighed and threw my hands in the air. What had Caro done fixing me up with this guy? I checked my watch. The Wet Moon would rise in little over an hour and I had no idea where in the park this exchange would occur. Dad had felt that Los Tribos was a focal spot, so I planned to go to the top of the butte and watch in that direction for changes in the skyline.

  “Ranger?”

  I glanced up from my troubled musings and saw Papa Brise, and the three guys that Sixkiller and I had encountered in Mystere with him. They were all wearing long coats despite the warm evening, and glowering expressions.

  “Do you… Have you…?” I faltered on asking outright if they were armed.

  He nodded at his men and they opened their coats. Each one had a semi auto and belts of ammo strapped around their torsos.

  I swallowed nervously. The sight of the hardware made my own pistols and knife feel kinda ridiculous. Had I lost my mind bringing these men here? “Did you travel on the bus like that?”

  Papa Brise bared his teeth. “Express delivery. Like a pizza.”

  “We have to get out in the park and get a vantage point so we can spot the exchange point.”

  Papa Brise rolled his eyes. He was already sweating heavily. “How we gonna do that?”

  “Horseback,” I said.

  “Fo’ real?”

  I nodded.

  “You better deliver tonight, Ranger. Or I slit your fuckeen insides open for making me get on the back of a fuckeen live animal.”

  “They’re well trained,” I said. “They’ll follow my horse’s lead.”

  He licked his lips and gave me a lizard-like stare.

  “There’s one other thing,” I said. “Someone else’s helping me… us. He’s dressed in grey, medium height, medium colouring and he’ll appear from nowhere. Don’t, you know, shoot him.”

  “I’m thinking you’re going to be the only one I’m going to be fuckeen shooting tonight. But that’s after I gut you.”

  I squared my shoulders against the ugly threat. “Come on then. This way.”

  Every step we took along the tunnel and up the stairs into the stables entrance, I regretted what I’d done. I should have called the police. I should have called Bull. The Marshall wasn’t my responsibility. Someone else could have dealt with it.

  But no one else would have believed me.

  No one.

  I used my security card on the door and signaled for Papa Brise to wait while I ran down the corridors and checked that the offices were empty. In Tote’s hidey hole a thousand lights were blinking, but, aside from the row of glassy-eyed dolls, I was the only one there to see them.

  “Come in,” I called back to my posse. “Pull the door shut. It’ll lock behind you.”

  They made a strange procession along the corridors of the stables.

  I planted them by the Interchange door while I saddled up five horses. It took some time, made worse by my sweat-slick fingers.

  When I was done, I led Benny out first and stood her in front of the door. The others would follow her lead once we were outside, so I brought them up behind her.

  The whole mounting and quick explanation of how to sit and hold reins went more smoothly than I expected. Papa Brise had clearly ridden before despite his surliness, and his three men weren’t the kind to get nervous about much.

  I had them assembled in front of the door ready to mount when Hamish did his usual appearing from nowhere trick.

  Papa Brise and his men all reached inside their coats and I jumped in front of Hamish, hands spread.

  “Whoa. Steady.
He’s with us.”

  Their hands dropped away but their expressions remained suspicious.

  I turned to Hamish and scooped up a set of reins to hand to him. The mare I’d kept for him was the most placid of the stable horses.

  He gave me a strange look then took them from me and vaulted into the saddle.

  “But I thought you…”

  He silenced me with a look that suggested that he’d ridden before but something bad had happened along the way. His posture, hands and feet were all right but his face was whiter than the fluorescent lights above us.

  Sombre Vol whinnied to us, unhappy about being left behind. On impulse, I grabbed a bridle and brought him from the stall. The Marshall might need him.

  He pranced around disturbing the others as I mounted Benny. Sooner we were in the open the better! I used my phone code to open the Interchange doors and led the not-even-a-little-bit-merry band into the park.

  We grouped around the water trough, giving our eyes time to adapt to the moonlit darkness, setting up our head lamps.

  “We’re going to ride out past the windmill, up to the butte and watch the skyline from there. I’m guessing the exchange will be an aerial drop and we’ll have the best view from there. Once we starting riding up, it’s best to stay in single file. I’m going to set the GPS on each mount to the same co-ordinates. They’ll know where to go, so you just have to stay on board. Keep quiet on the ride. OK?”

  If grunts were affirmations, I got four of them. Hamish said nothing.

  I used my phone to set each horse’s destination. We struck out then, bunched together for the first part of the journey across the plain.

  Exhilaration beat my anxiety down for a bit. The air was rich with the scent of the Old Man Banksia that grew along the Park walls and cooling desert sand. And the feel of the light breeze on my skin and Benny’s familiar gait beneath me was a blessed meditation.

  Sombre Vol nudged against her from time to time, upsetting my balance, but not my brief return of equilibrium. His GPS chip had been removed in readiness to send him back to the trader, so I had to juggle his reins and keep him alongside me.

  The trail ride up the side of the butte in the near dark was slow, and I heard Papa Brise swearing under his breath. I glanced back constantly, counting the silhouettes and wondering how Hamish was faring at the back.