Acts of Violence (9 page)

‘Could you
elaborate?’ DeMartino said.

‘I saw a black girl
once. Once. A few months ago. She was being hassled by a few men in an alley.
One of them, I learned later, was Little Dick Webster. All I know about the
other two is that they should be prize fighters. I woke up in the same alley
and the girl was gone. Not just gone from the alley, but gone from Harem. I
asked around until I found her apartment. It was deserted. No furniture, no
clothes, no girl. The neighbours on either side were cagey. Denied she’d ever
lived there.’

‘There have been a
few disappearances around Dick Webster,’ Lawrence said. His voice told me he
was reluctant to part with any information that might have me stay here a
second longer. ‘Never any evidence he was involved, except that in the early
days he was seen hassling every one of them. Now, whatever’s going on, he’s too
smart to be seen directly involved.’

‘Little Dick
Webster and smart don’t belong side by side in any sentence that doesn’t
include a hearty laugh,’ I said. ‘And he has the money to make sure any evidence
evaporated.’ There was a slow, hard release of breath behind me, but Lawrence said nothing. He knew it was true. His frustration was probably as much about
that fact as my pointing it out.

‘What about the
barmaid?’ DeMartino said. ‘She was, at best, half white.’

‘Webster said she
was an experiment. Don’t know what he meant by that.’

DeMartino’s
eyebrows tried to embrace. ‘Experiment,’ he said to himself. ‘Richard Webster
told you this?’

I shook my head.
Smiled for some reason. Perhaps I just liked the feeling of knowing more than
him. ‘Cole Webster.’

The eyebrows
relaxed back into place. Lawrence stepped slowly around to where I could see
him. He looked something like an asthmatic with a cold.

‘Are you telling me
you can finger Cole Webster in your breakout and attempted murder?’ he said
carefully.

‘I thought they
were helping me escape.’

‘Maybe I was
mistaken, Jack.’

SEVEN
| DELICATE ALLIANCES

Things were looking less gloomy for
me. I didn’t want to get my hopes up though. Especially with Lawrence after my
head. It looked like I might not be bound for Anshan just yet. All thanks to a mystery
woman in the next room.

DeMartino and
Lawrence stared at me. I thought maybe they were holding their breath. Waiting
to see if I was going to be able to help them put away Cole Webster. I had to
think about it.

In Harem, helping
the police wasn’t a good idea. Not only did it invite retribution on the fingerer
from the fingered, but you could never tell what cop was in whose pocket. I
didn’t think I’d have that problem with these two though. Especially DeMartino.
An off-world UPSF agent was hardly likely to be in anyone’s pocket. Not anyone
in Harem anyway.

‘Something tells me
that my testimony alone won’t put Webster away,’ I said.

‘The testimony of a
convicted murderer sitting in Anshan?’ Lawrence said. ‘Not likely. But it would
help.’

‘Actually, Mr.
Mason won’t be going to Anshan,’ DeMartino piped up. Took a deep breath. He was
ready for the anger.

‘What? And just why
the hell not, Agent?’ Lawrence demanded. He managed to keep his voice just
below a shout.

‘Can I call you
Larry?’ I asked. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know his first name though.

‘You can call me
whatever you want,’ Lawrence said, without looking away from DeMartino, ‘long
as you don’t mind me shooting you in the face. You got an answer for me yet,
Agent?’

‘Yes, Detective. Firstly,
that girl next door has pictures on her comm that are pretty compelling—’

‘They don’t mean
shit!’ He shouted this time. DeMartino’s lips pursed and he shut his eyes tight
in annoyance. ‘Just some pictures of
him
leaving the
apartment and some guys – one of which bears a slight resemblance to Dick
Webster – going in. That does not…mean…
shit
!’

It should have
amused me. Lawrence losing his cool. Shouting at a man with more pull than him.
But I felt sorry for him. All he wanted to do was put away a killer. Someone
who had murdered at least two women. With the evidence piled up against me, how
could it be this hard? If I was him, I might have fallen back on my sidearm by
now.

‘Please don’t
interrupt me, Detective. I understand that it’s frustrating—’ A sharp glance here
prevented Lawrence interrupting again. ‘The pictures may indeed be meaningless.
But both were taken within a few minutes of the girl’s death. The fact that the
very man whom she humiliated the previous night was in the building at the time
of her death frankly throws doubt onto Mr. Mason’s guilt.’

‘It wasn’t a
positive ID.’ Lawrence couldn’t help it. Probably could, actually. But he
wasn’t the type to let some little wannabe in a fancy suit tell him when he
could talk.

‘When we put it all
together, Mr. Mason here seems least guilty. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Mason, you
do nonetheless look very guilty. But, Detective, as I said, I think he knows
things that could be of great importance to me. And to you, if you wish to see
Cole Webster in prison.’

Lawrence had begun
pacing around behind me. I could almost feel the anger and frustration, like a
solid bubble pressing against the back of my head. I wouldn’t have been
surprised if the next thing I felt against the back of my head was the cold
steel of a magnum. But Lawrence was better than that. Better than me. And
that’s why I wasn’t amused. That’s why I felt a little weight on my heart.

‘Now, Mr. Mason,
tell us about your “investigation”.’

That was going to
be tricky. I’d only just started looking into Little Dick. I had nothing at all
but a few rumours. ‘I don’t think I’ll do that, Mr. Martino.’

‘Agent DeMartino,’
he corrected.

‘I didn’t do all
that legwork for you to waltz in and take the credit for it—’

Lawrence grabbed a
handful of my hair. Yanked my head back. ‘You tell us what you’ve got, Jack,’
he growled in my ear, ‘or you
are
going to Anshan.’

‘I’m afraid
Detective Lawrence is right. You may have misconstrued the situation. You’re
not going to Anshan, because you know things that can help us. If you don’t
tell us those things, then you go to Anshan. The girl’s pictures have given me
doubts, but a jury won’t feel the same, I think.’

Lawrence released
his grip. I cracked my neck. Tried to feel at least slightly tough after having
my hair pulled like I was a little girl in the schoolyard.

‘Fine,’ I said. I
didn’t have much choice. I didn’t know what they’d do with me after I told them
everything, but I knew what they’d do if I didn’t. The problem was still that I
had nothing to tell. I’d have to make it up. Turn my wild guesses into
confident statements.

‘Well?’ DeMartino
prompted, as Lawrence started pacing again.

‘Well I have to
keep some things back, or I’ll be sitting in Anshan by the end of the day. Not
that I don’t trust you, of course.’ I smiled. It was returned. That ruined it.
‘Suffice to say the Websters are involved in human trafficking and drug
smuggling. All run out of Webster’s mining operation. A front, like you said.’

Lawrence had
stopped pacing as soon as I said ‘human trafficking’. He was still and silent.

DeMartino latched
on to the other offence. ‘Drug smuggling?’

‘I don’t know if
they manufacture it here or if it’s something they’re digging out of the
mines.’ I didn’t even know if that was possible, but the more I talked, the
more they’d feel I was giving them. ‘That’s what was cut out of the girl last
night. I’d bet my life on it.’

‘You are,’ Lawrence reminded me.

‘Explain that one
to me,’ DeMartino said. ‘If they smuggle people, and drugs inside them, why was
she working as a barmaid? Isn’t the point of smuggling drugs to get them from
one place to another? Where’s a barmaid going to go?’

‘That I can’t be
sure of,’ I admitted in my most thoughtful tone. As far as I was concerned, I
was doing a good job making it sound as though that was just one small issue in
a sea of information I’d gathered. ‘Webster said she was an experiment, remember?
Maybe the drug thing’s new. They wanted to be sure it wasn’t going to burst
inside her or something. Stuff it in her and send her out to see how everyday
life affected it.’

‘Why didn’t she ask
you for help?’ Lawrence asked. Holes were being picked in my theory already and
it hadn’t even finished forming in my head.

‘She was afraid.
Maybe she had a bomb in her. You’ve heard about those slavers that work out of
space stations. They implant the slaves with explosives. If they try to escape,
they don’t get far.’ That was true, but I was grasping now.

I thought about the
barmaid’s behaviour. She hadn’t acted frightened or under threat. She’d acted
curious. She’d been pretty interested in my investigation into Little Dick. Just
like this morning, I’d wondered if she’d gone home with me to find out what I
knew about Webster’s operation. Discover what I’d found out and report back to
Webster. I thought that was the most likely scenario. She’d suddenly got
interested in me after I mentioned Little Dick.

That meant she must
have known who Little Dick was after all. Someone who’d tan his cheek like that
would be someone who knew he couldn’t touch them. Yeah, she was more important
to Cole Webster’s operation than I’d told DeMartino and Lawrence. But how?

DeMartino stared at
me. Lawrence stared at DeMartino. I stared at the barmaid’s mutilated corpse.
It was a strange feeling. Leaving her in one piece. Coming back less than an
hour later to that… The image wouldn’t leave my head. Perhaps strange wasn’t
the word.

Actually, that was
me trying to tell myself I was more sympathetic than I really was. In truth,
that image hadn’t haunted my mind since the first time Holt shocked me. I was
too concerned with my own situation.

DeMartino was still
staring at me. Lawrence was staring at me too now. I wondered what could be
going through their heads. Lawrence’s head would be a mess. He wanted me
strapped to a chair with a needle in my arm, looking out through a glass window
to see that no one had turned up to cry over my execution. To see just how
pointless and empty my life had been. To look out through a glass window and
see only him. With a smile on his face. But he would also want Cole Webster
taken down. He’d probably be wondering if I really knew as much as DeMartino
thought I did. I was glad the UPSF had higher authority. Lawrence knew me too
well to trust me. DeMartino was smart, but not smart enough to realise Lawrence had good instincts.

‘Okay,’ DeMartino
said, as though he’d finally come to a conclusion. ‘I’ve had a long trip and
I’d like to get some sleep. I’m sure you’d like to clean up your apartment
before it starts to stink, Mr. Mason.’

I hoped to hell he
wasn’t serious. Didn’t the police have a team they brought in to do the clean
up after a messy death? I wouldn’t have put it past Lawrence to call them off
this time.

‘What time is it,
anyway?’ I asked.

‘Just before four.’

‘So we’re going to
let him go home?’ Lawrence said, still keeping his cool. ‘Just release him back
onto the streets? Give him time to get his thoughts together and come up with
more convincing lies for us?’

‘I want Mr. Mason
to go back to his apartment and stay there.’ DeMartino raised his eyebrows at
me. Probably meant he was serious. Raised eyebrows equalled seriousness in the
world of the UPSF agent. ‘I want him to sit in the scene of an atrocious murder
and mutilation and think about how he’s going to help us tomorrow. Think about
all the helpful things he’ll tell us. All the helpful people he’ll introduce us
to. And where he’ll be spending tomorrow night if he doesn’t.’

Lawrence slowly let
out a deep breath that rumbled in his throat a bit, like a quiet growl. ‘Hear
that, Jack? We’re going to be friends. Allies in the war against miners.’ He
didn’t mean it. DeMartino knew that as well as I did. Lawrence knew how bad
Webster was. With most of his colleagues in the man’s pocket, though, there
wasn’t much the city’s only straight cop could do on his own.

‘Just remember, Mr.
Mason, that I’ll be watching your every move.’

I doubted it. Sure,
Lawrence would put a man or two on my apartment. But I felt sure DeMartino
was the only proper UPSF agent in Harem. He’d brought the two grunts and a
pilot with him, but that was it. The flyer was a run of the mill transport. It
could have carried some crates of equipment, sure, but I suspected not. If the UPSF
had signed off on a flyer full of surveillance equipment and the like, then
they’d have also signed off on more agents and a kitted out flyer. No,
DeMartino was here on a hunch and some rumours. Like I'd been, at The Web. In
short, some useless Harem cops would be watching me, not trained government
agents.

EIGHT
| NIGHTCAP

DeMartino had been serious. The
brown stains on the carpet reminded me of Lucy. Then, unsurprisingly, they
reminded me of the girl whose blood had made them.

I looked around the
apartment. I’d considered putting up a partition of wood and glass – the bubbly
kind, whatever it was called. The most immediate area would be a waiting room for
clients and office for my secretary. The second would be my office, and I’d
curtain off the bed and kitchen. But I never got my PI licence. Never got my
clients. Never got my secretary. The apartment was too small for all that
anyway.

I’d have to take up
the carpet. Wasn’t something that weighed on my mind though. After tomorrow, my
apartment might be six square feet of bricks and bars. I had to find something
that would keep me important to DeMartino. And I had to find it tonight.