wrap my head around the questions I needed to ask. I also had to fully consider how much of the truth I was going to share. Vincent didn’t seem to appreciate my first guess.
“Try again. Here’s a hint: it starts with an ‘R’, and ends with an ‘iverside Mercy’. Room 3.02 ring a bell?”
Great start, K. Keep it up.
“Are you sick?” I asked innocently.
“I’m sick of cleaning up after you, that’s for damn sure.”
I abandoned any pretence. He clearly wasn’t in the mood.
“Please. You’d think you were my caretaker, Vincent.”
“Aren’t I?”
“I don’t think caretakers are supposed to shoot their patients.”
“Still going on about the Seychelles? Never gets old.”
“Vincent.”
“Before you ask, you know the deal. If I have to come after you, I’m coming after you. Business is business.”
“Naturally. I know the rules. This isn’t related to Sturrock.”
“RailTech?” It wasn’t so much a question from him as it was a statement.
“Valerie has a quick tongue.”
“You’d know more than I.”
“Would I? It’s RailTech. I need access.”
“You know RailTech doesn’t let the government inside.”
“But you must know someone.”
A sigh filtered through the line. I could almost hear the numbers getting crunched in Vincent’s brain—calculations, expectations, forecasts. Checks and balances being checked and balanced.
“I might. But this won’t happen for free. You hear me? I’ll need assurances, and I’ll need some quid pro quo .”
“Name it.”
“No negotiation? Wow. Valerie was right. Are you feeling sane, K?”
I caught my retort before I damaged my case, opting to change to a more neutral response.
“What kind of question is that?”
“You’ve been a bit irrational as of late. Don’t think I haven’t guessed who last week’s mystery arsonist is. Sturrock. The boy. Are you in control?”
“This is me, Vincent. I’m always in control. I just choose to not show it sometimes.”
I paused for a beat, before continuing in a bolder tone. “Don’t forget the last time we were together. I broke that man, in the station. You needed me there, and your side of the bargain fizzled. I—God, you’re actually going to force me to say it—I need your help now. I know you know people. Contractors, witness protection, something. RailTech might have a lot of high-ups in their pocket, but they can’t own everyone. Please?”
Another sigh from Vincent, this one slightly softer. My approach was working.
“We might have someone. Goes under the handle Zephyr .”
“You can’t be seri—okay. Okay. I’m listening.”
“Good. If this works out, we can get an eye inside RailTech. Zephyr has a...history with RailTech. Unsavoury. I’ll leave it at that. Ultimately, he has a vested interest in getting inside, but he needs someone to help him out. We can’t intervene directly: they might not own everyone, but they have a lot of ears, even at my level. That’s where you come in, K. We’ll make plans. How’s your Saturday evening looking?”
# 0725
“It’s so nice to kill someone on home soil again. After so long in Africa, with the blood and infected and the guerrilla warfare, it’s nice to just land, get in a cab and garrotte the driver.
“I probably shouldn’t have done it while doing eighty on the highway, but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I should probably talk to Valerie about this piece of glass, because I’m pretty sure that’s bad news for my liver.
“Great, and here are the cops. Time to act like I didn’t just choke my driver to death.”
12: Honour Among Murderers
The smell of seared flesh teased my nostrils. Vincent worked in the kitchen, humming. Across the table sat his link, identified chiefly by a slash of black hair and his handle: ‘Zephyr’. Vincent was smart to cook; the promise of his food helped dilute my mood. I despised fancy handles, and all the jumped-up, pretend-secret-agent absurdity that
“Try again. Here’s a hint: it starts with an ‘R’, and ends with an ‘iverside Mercy’. Room 3.02 ring a bell?”
Great start, K. Keep it up.
“Are you sick?” I asked innocently.
“I’m sick of cleaning up after you, that’s for damn sure.”
I abandoned any pretence. He clearly wasn’t in the mood.
“Please. You’d think you were my caretaker, Vincent.”
“Aren’t I?”
“I don’t think caretakers are supposed to shoot their patients.”
“Still going on about the Seychelles? Never gets old.”
“Vincent.”
“Before you ask, you know the deal. If I have to come after you, I’m coming after you. Business is business.”
“Naturally. I know the rules. This isn’t related to Sturrock.”
“RailTech?” It wasn’t so much a question from him as it was a statement.
“Valerie has a quick tongue.”
“You’d know more than I.”
“Would I? It’s RailTech. I need access.”
“You know RailTech doesn’t let the government inside.”
“But you must know someone.”
A sigh filtered through the line. I could almost hear the numbers getting crunched in Vincent’s brain—calculations, expectations, forecasts. Checks and balances being checked and balanced.
“I might. But this won’t happen for free. You hear me? I’ll need assurances, and I’ll need some quid pro quo .”
“Name it.”
“No negotiation? Wow. Valerie was right. Are you feeling sane, K?”
I caught my retort before I damaged my case, opting to change to a more neutral response.
“What kind of question is that?”
“You’ve been a bit irrational as of late. Don’t think I haven’t guessed who last week’s mystery arsonist is. Sturrock. The boy. Are you in control?”
“This is me, Vincent. I’m always in control. I just choose to not show it sometimes.”
I paused for a beat, before continuing in a bolder tone. “Don’t forget the last time we were together. I broke that man, in the station. You needed me there, and your side of the bargain fizzled. I—God, you’re actually going to force me to say it—I need your help now. I know you know people. Contractors, witness protection, something. RailTech might have a lot of high-ups in their pocket, but they can’t own everyone. Please?”
Another sigh from Vincent, this one slightly softer. My approach was working.
“We might have someone. Goes under the handle Zephyr .”
“You can’t be seri—okay. Okay. I’m listening.”
“Good. If this works out, we can get an eye inside RailTech. Zephyr has a...history with RailTech. Unsavoury. I’ll leave it at that. Ultimately, he has a vested interest in getting inside, but he needs someone to help him out. We can’t intervene directly: they might not own everyone, but they have a lot of ears, even at my level. That’s where you come in, K. We’ll make plans. How’s your Saturday evening looking?”
# 0725
“It’s so nice to kill someone on home soil again. After so long in Africa, with the blood and infected and the guerrilla warfare, it’s nice to just land, get in a cab and garrotte the driver.
“I probably shouldn’t have done it while doing eighty on the highway, but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I should probably talk to Valerie about this piece of glass, because I’m pretty sure that’s bad news for my liver.
“Great, and here are the cops. Time to act like I didn’t just choke my driver to death.”
12: Honour Among Murderers
The smell of seared flesh teased my nostrils. Vincent worked in the kitchen, humming. Across the table sat his link, identified chiefly by a slash of black hair and his handle: ‘Zephyr’. Vincent was smart to cook; the promise of his food helped dilute my mood. I despised fancy handles, and all the jumped-up, pretend-secret-agent absurdity that
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