Chapter Five

Chapter Five

 

            I had one gun to my back before I could touch my piece. The older agent said into my ear, ‘I hope you don’t mind if we take you downtown for a statement, do you, Edgar? We’d like to get the record here straight.’

            The blonde leant forward, his company pistol in his left hand, and drew out my gun.

            ‘Don’t put that in your front pocket, now,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t like strangers, and you might want to start a family one day.’ I winked at him, don’t ask me why.

            ‘Come on, smart a*s,’ the blonde said. He wiped his nose with the back of his thumb. He looked around the room for effect, nodded to Zarrath’s corpse. ‘You don’t want us to have to report three stiffs, do you?’

            ‘What’s your game?’ I asked as the older agent began pushing me through the door with his gun. I didn’t like that very much. ‘I can walk without your help, alright?’ I said over my shoulder. ‘You have my gun, don’t you?’

            ‘Not taking chances tonight,’ the guy said. Something told me he was the kind of who never took many chances.

            So we edged down the hall. Me with my hands up like a politician waving from his car, the two agents edging along with their trigger fingers itching.

            In the back of their vehicle, a banged up rover with the kind of wheels that feel like they only kiss the tarmac, I got chatting with my two new friends. They were driving back East, back into town. It must have been around 4:00 but I don’t remember checking my watch. ‘So what are you boys’ names, then?’ I asked.

            The blonde was driving and I felt his eyes twitch from the road. The older one spoke for the both of them. I was too tall for the back seat and I felt the vibrations of his voice in my knees. ‘How ‘bout you just call my partner Mister Blue, and you can call me Mister Brown. That would make things nice and easy for everyone.’

            ‘Kind of reminds me of Tweedledum and Tweedledee, but those two were a barrel of laughs; have either of you read ‘Alice in Wonderland’ by any chance?’ We went under the Tain, the river running through the city like a spine, through the West-East Tunnel. We flashed through the white tunnel lights.

            ‘Shut up,’ said Mr. Brown.

            I didn’t. ‘So, do you boys know anything about a guy named Lawrence Seer having a hole put in his chest? Mister Brown? Mister Blue?’

            ‘I told you to shut up,’ said Mr. Brown.

            ‘You don’t know anything?’

            Mr. Brown didn’t answer.

            We came out of the tunnel, stretched through under the skyscrapers and turned North, then North-East. Argo Security had its headquarters in an ugly nail of a building on Eisley Street, we were headed in the wrong way. I’d been nervous before, but I was beginning to feel a cold lump in my stomach. Some part of me had just shut off and I began feeling the chill creeping through the bulletproof glass of the car, the cling of the poly-leather seats. I slowed my breathing and thought. I decided to stop talking.

            We drove together in silence.

            We left the city behind and I turned to watch as the skyscrapers shrank, they were so black. The sky was brighter, and the few windows that still shone looked like they were bleeding. Slim-Nacre was a city in the throes of entropy.

            But not for everyone.

            Five minutes from the city centre we turned again, now heading into Navarin, a sprawl of nightclubs, restaurants, bars and the homes for the well to do and rich. ‘You know,’ I said. ‘I thought we’d made a wrong turn. Argo Security is based back in town...’

            ‘The Bossman isn’t in town, Ed,’ said Mr. Blue. He turned us into a neon lit strip that trembled softly with the bass coming from every establishment. We parked outside a club I knew of vaguely called ‘Nestor’s.’ Both agents stepped out of the car. Mr. Brown opened the door for me and said, ‘You make a scene and things could get very ugly for you very quickly.’

            ‘Don’t stress,’ I said to him. ‘I wouldn’t want to hurt the reputation of a place like this.’

            Two droids and a lady in a skirt as big as a tissue were stationed at the front door. Mr. Blue and Mr. Brown led me past them and through a steel door on the side of the square building. The music was louder inside as we walked down a violet lit corridor.

            Very quickly I found myself seated at a desk in a room lit by cigarettes and little else, face to face with a flat faced man in a black suit and white tie. There were others in the room. A little girl with plenty of leg sitting on a white leather couch. Next to her was a slab of hired muscle. His muscled equivalent stood at the other side of the room. I noted them when I was forced through the door, but it was the man opposite me that I was devoting my attention to.

            Aside from his unremarkable face and bad taste in suits, I noted a few things. He looked like new money. His skin was suspiciously tan for our planet, for one. He wore a flat silver ring on his right thumb polished like a mirror and a gold chain around his neck. He’d clearly been in a scrap or two. One of his ears was cauliflowered which he tried to compensate with overly long hair. His nose was crooked from being knuckled more than once. He looked like he belonged in the type of bar I find myself in too often. Then and there, he looked about as convincing as a wolf does in a woollen jumper.

            Mr. Blue and Mr. Brown were in the room as well. Mr. Brown spoke: ‘We were staking out Caribez’s man, Max, or Max the Machine as they call him, when this dick and his friend showed up. His friend ended up getting his face taken off and the dick shot Max’s leg half-off. I finished him off with the dick’s friend’s gun and we left.’ Mr. Brown paused. ‘The dick mentioned Lawrence Seer to Max, and some papers.’

            I’d known it. Those two phonies had a tap in Max’s house and had just been lucky when Zarrath and me showed up.

            The bossman stared at me. In that room his eyes looked black. ‘What do you know about?’ he asked me.

            I looked at him, looked around the room, and looked back at him. Between glances he hadn’t changed much. He was just as crooked each time. ‘This is a nice place you’ve got here. I don’t think we’ve exchanged names, I’m Edgar Darvish. You’ll know doubt be told all about me later.’

            One of the big muscles took a step over to give me a slap, but the bossman shook his head. ‘Mr. Darvish, or Edgar, which do you prefer?’

            ‘I’d prefer not to be here. Seeing as I am, though, you can call me Mr. Darvish.’

            The side of the bossman’s mouth bent upwards just a little. ‘Mr. Darvish, I’m sorry about your friend,’ he said in a voice that was trying very hard to sound like a university education.

            ‘Thanks for your condolences,’ I said.

            He nodded slowly. ‘However, I see no reason for you to argue against Argo Security, should we detail a report that states your friend killed this Max character. Of course, it would be assumed this was an act of self defence and Mr...’ he paused, waiting for me to supply a name.

            ‘Zarrath,’ I said. ‘Zarrath-Zenobion.’

            ‘Mr. Zenobion’s good name would not be tarnished in any way, professionally speaking. Max was shot with Mr. Zenobion’s weapon and, with your word to verify it, there should be no reason for anyone to doubt the report.’ The bossman brought his hands onto the desktop and linked his fingers. ‘Your cooperation would, of course, be highly appreciated by myself and those I work for.’

            I thought on that a moment, then smiled and brought my hands together on the desktop. I leaned forward and said, ‘I’m sure Zarrath would understand. Police business and all.’

            ‘Rightly so,’ said the bossman.

            Mr. Blue butted in with his saw-tooth voice. ‘Sir, you’ve forgotten the dick’s on the case.’

            The bossman gave a little smile that evaporated like it had never been there. ‘Thank you Gavin,’ he said.

            I tucked that name away for later.

            ‘Your case,’ said the bossman. ‘Tell me about it.’

            I sighed. ‘Every job has its responsibilities, Mister...’ I trailed off, gave him an offer to say a name. The bossman gave another waft of a smile. ‘I can’t give names, of course, but I was asked to run a check on this Max guy after a girl was worrying about her boyfriend. He was a gambler, you see, fallen in with the wrong lot.’

            ‘I understand the limits of professionalism, Mr. Darvish, but consider your present circumstance.’

            I swallowed and, despite all the heat, noticed the cold sweat on the back of my neck.

            ‘I would like some names, details, please. Consider it banter shared between fellows.’

            I sighed. Banter that could get a pretty, lost girl dead, I thought. ‘It was Lawrence Seer, I was looking into his death. From what I understand, he was killed and the man who killed him left a hole in his chest unlike a bullet wound. It sounded like the kind of wound left by a military-grade pump-gimlet, if you want my professional opinion �" and as I learned tonight, that was one of the surprises Max was packing when I went to visit him tonight. It seems to me that Max killed Lawrence, not that I know why. Probably at the request of the last guy Max worked for, Paul Caribez as I heard. Caribez had bought Seer’s debts and, from what I can gather, Seer must have fallen short of the mark. For that Caribez had him killed, that’s simple enough. Case closed, in my humble opinion.’

            We all listened to the bass coming from the dance floor a few metres of wall and corridor away.

            The bossman asked, ‘And that is your conclusion to the case?’

            ‘I don’t see anything further to inquire.’

            ‘Well,’ the bossman said. ‘I will have you taken home. Gavin, would you be sure to organise Mr. Darvish a cab?’

            I stood from the chair and made for the door, stopped, and looked back at the bossman. He was sitting at the desk staring off into nowhere. ‘Gavin here has my gun, it’s the only one I own and I’ve come to like its weight at my side.’

            The bossman nodded. ‘Give him back his piece, Gavin. Give it back to him without bullets, however. Also,’ he stood up and drew a wallet from his jacket pocket. He tapped its screen and a thin chip slid out, he handed it to me. ‘For your troubles.’

            I pocketed the chip. ‘Thanks.’

            Gavin led me out through the nightclub and got me a cab. When I made it back to my apartment, I took a hit straight from a whiskey bottle before collapsing onto my couch. I let myself drift, then got up and made a pot of coffee.

            With my spare phone I called Lynn with an encrypted line.