The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One

by V. J. Timlin

  Nat tapped on her shoulder and waved; Anouk nodded. He jogged in front of her along the catwalk, keeping low and out of sight. Anouk did the same.

  Workers ran up and down the ladders and a few times Nat and Anouk had to drop flat or hide in niches, sucking in their stomachs. No alarm was raised though.

  Sweat ran down Anouk’s back, sticking her shirt to her torso. The salt burned her eyes, and she had to blink and wipe them frequently. It had been a good idea to hide their backpacks and take just minimal gear. Running and jumping up and down in this heat with a heavy pack would kill them from heat exhaustion alone.

  She glanced over to see Nat pulling goggles over his eyes. Good idea. She wiped her eyes once more before covering them with her own set of regular goggles.

  Nat leaned closer. Strands of his dark curls clung to his forehead and beads of perspiration condensed on the stubble over his full upper lip.

  “If we split up, we could search the area quicker,” Nat shouted next to her ear. “But there is no way we can communicate, so better to stay together.”

  “Agreed,” Anouk shouted back.

  They continued searching the industrial hall floor by floor, peering in every room and corner. Anouk took in the sight of men working below. In a way it reminded her of Star Wars and the droid factory although there were no droids here. The only thing that looked remotely like a robot was a man, loading crates, wearing an exoskeleton. He was strapped into a large metal framework that covered his legs and torso. Joysticks manipulated the long arms and legs. What its power source was, Anouk couldn’t tell, and there was no time to find out. Nat was heading to another flight of stairs.

  Anouk sprinted after him. She couldn’t afford to lose him. Not here, in what might be the new hiding place of Anglea’s most wanted.

  Something caught her eyes across the hall on the level. She focused… just a worker operating a huge cauldron. The man pushed the crank and the cauldron jerked forward. Anouk swivelled towards Nat. Then she saw him—in the shadows above the worker’s head, a man was crouching and looking down as if searching for something. Anouk’s heart jumped—Captain Biddulph.

  She beat her legs to a greater speed and caught up with Nat. She tapped his shoulder and pointed to the captain. “There, on the other side! They’re here.”

  Nat turned to look, but the captain lifted his gaze at that very moment and looked right at them. He jumped up, pulled his revolver and fired at them. At the same time, Anouk and Nat dropped on their stomachs. The noise from the factory floor covered the gunfire. Anouk gulped. Not good. Not good at all.

  She lifted her head. Captain Biddulph was running towards the stairs, leading to the upper level. He kept glancing at them and firing, forcing them to stay low. Soon he reached the stairs and vanished behind its iron steps.

  Nat shouted something, drew his revolver and darted to the nearest stairs leading up. Anouk didn’t hear him, but assumed he told her to follow him and watch his back. That was what she would do, anyway. She pulled her gun and raced after him. Nat leapt the stairs, taking three steps at a time, and disappeared from her sight. Her muscles protested yet she pushed them to their limits. The hot air burned her throat as much as her panting. She tasted blood.

  Adrenaline hammered her veins when she reached the next level. Nat was advancing fast towards Biddulph, who was now veering in their direction, dodging between the piles of crates. Nat pointed his gun at the captain and fired. The workers down on the factory floor were oblivious to the drama that ensued. If Anouk hadn’t seen Nat press the trigger, she would have known no better.

  The pressure of a bullet flying right next to her ear alarmed her and in an instant she dropped. Fuck!

  After a few heartbeats, she lifted her head. Nat had also dropped to a crouch and was looking in the direction of Captain Biddulph’s last known position. He had vanished. Nat glanced at her.

  “Are you alright?” he mouthed.

  Anouk gave a thumbs up. He backed into her, keeping his eyes on the catwalks above them.

  “There must be a door,” Nat shouted and glanced at the gun she was holding with both hands. “Be ready.”

  Anouk bobbed her head. “I will.”

  They inched forward, to where the captain had vanished, hugging the wall. A wide steel beam ran from the roof to the floor, blocking their view of the other side. Anouk squeezed her revolver tighter. That beam could well be the only barrier between them and the captain.

  Nat held his revolver up next to his ear, his forefinger on the trigger. He gave a firm nod to Anouk and jumped forward, bringing his gun in front of him. The way his body relaxed, Anouk knew they missed him. She came next to him and spied a door.

  “He must have gone that way.” Anouk pointed at the entrance.

  “Yes. Most likely to warn Stalo,” Nat called back. “Open the door and take cover.”

  Anouk took a deep breath, but regretted it immediately for the hot air scorched her throat, making her cough. She pressed her forearm over her mouth, trying to stifle the fit and clenched her fingers tight around the knob. Nat gave her a nod again, holding his gun up and ready. She pulled the door wide open. Nat peered inside and pulled his head right back before pointing his revolver around the corner; he was returning fire. After a moment, he peeked behind the doorframe then darted in. Anouk squeezed her gun and jumped in after Nat. The door closed, hitting her bottom and sending her against the rail, giving her a good look at the dim-lit abyss of a stairwell.

  Nat pulled her to safety against the wall. The door muffled the noises of steam machines and the sounds of bullets ricocheting in the confined space. Anouk pressed her back against rough tiles, shaking—that would have been a very long drop.

  She glanced around. The stairwell was about six yards wide, with iron mesh steps circling the walls. She searched for Captain Biddulph, but the echoes and gunfire made locating him difficult. Debating the risk of getting shot when leaning over the rail and taking a proper look, she slowly craned her head to peek upwards. A bullet hitting the railing in front of her made her jerk back.

  “He’s going up!” Nat bellowed and galloped for the stairs. Slowing, he sneaked upwards step by step, keeping his eyes on the movement above him, and holding his gun pointed up.

  “I’m crazy,” Anouk muttered in disbelief, and charged after her partner.

  She climbed, keeping to the wall. Nat disappeared to the next landing. Gunshots rang out like thunder above her. Anouk reached the next floor and spied over the catwalk, ready to pull her head back. Nat was already running towards the next set of stairs. Anouk jumped and pounded after him, adrenaline keeping her going. Her whole body was soaked in sweat. Running in a hot refinery had to be equivalent to a marathon in a desert although there the runners weren’t exposed to random salvoes of bullets. Lucky bastards.

  Nat chased the captain further up and Anouk was doing her best not to lose sight of him. They both kept low to evade getting hit. From her position, she couldn’t see if Captain Biddulph had similar issues, in fact, she couldn’t see the man at all… it unnerved her.

  A burst of loud hisses and clanks of machinery covered all other sounds then muffled again.

  “He’s gone back into the hall,” Nat’s shout echoed above her. “The door’s on the next level. I’m going in.”

  “Wait!” Anouk yelled back, but judging by another sharp burst of hisses and clanks, he did the opposite. Anouk cursed. This was akin to the chase of the captain in The Pits just a few days earlier, all over again. The chase Nat promised not to repeat. The chase that almost got him killed. If he dared to die now… She didn’t want to finish her thought. She put it to the back of her mind and ran up the final set of stairs.

  Catching the edge of the top step, she fell against the iron door. Her hand hit the flat surface, in turn, knocking the revolver from her grip. The gun bounced from the landing into the void.

  “Shit!” She lunged after it, but the weapon was already half way down the stairwell. Shit! No time to g
o after it. She unsheathed her katana and pushed the door open. The heat, smoke and noise welcomed her like a wet towel smacking her in the face.

  After recovering from the shock of the elements, she glanced around, searching for Nat and the captain. They were running along the catwalk, exchanging fire like two boys playing cops and robbers. Only, cap guns were replaced with real ones, and this was a matter of life and death, not a harmless child’s game.

  She looked around again. They had reached the top floor, so Stalo had to be there somewhere. In the periphery of her vision, something moved… she spun around. A man in dark overalls stood on the catwalk just a few yards away. His right arm rested in a sling. Anouk’s heart stopped—Stalo!

  A smile spread on the warlord’s sadistic face and he beckoned her, hooking his index finger. Anouk’s legs turned to lead. Her whole body screamed, urging her to flee, but she was incapable of movement. Her worst nightmare was coming true; she was about to face him alone. She needed Nat… now.

  She searched frantically for him but he was running away from her, chasing Captain Biddulph. Her heart dropped all the way to the factory floor. She turned back to face Stalo. Clutching her katana, she resumed the combat stance, placing the sword in front of her.

  “Anouk, don’t be such a weakling,” she muttered, eyeing Stalo. He hadn’t shot her although he must have had an opportunity. He had to be unarmed.

  Stalo hooked his index finger again, this time in an exaggerated slow motion, his eyes fixed on Anouk. She licked her dry lips and took a step… then another. He spun on his heels and sprinted. As if from a signal, Anouk darted after him. It was time to succeed in her mission. She had to at least try.

  They ran along the catwalk, Anouk gaining on him. Stalo craned his neck. At the last second, Anouk spotted a barrel of a gun under his arm. She squealed and jumped sideways, bumping into the wall. A sharp pain shot up her shoulder, making her suck the air. Had she been hit? She looked down her shoulder but no hole was apparent nor blood gushing from a gunshot wound. Neither was there a burning sensation reminiscent of being hit in her side at Rose’s house a few days earlier. No, it was simply her body colliding with the brick wall.

  She started to blow out a sigh of relief, but it froze on her lips—the catwalk was empty.

  “Where the hell did he go?” She looked around frantically. Nat and Captain Biddulph were also nowhere to be seen. Panic tightened around her chest. How stupid of her to think Stalo was unarmed. She should have killed him immediately rather than allow herself to be tricked. Anouk took a firmer hold of her katana. “Get a grip for fuck’s sake and find him. It’s not over until it’s over.”

  Holding the sword in front of her, she edged forward. Stalo couldn’t have passed her so he had to be hiding somewhere further down. Maybe he was lurking behind the beam in the wall just a few yards ahead. The edge of her sword shook as she approached the pillar. Her breath came shallow and quick.

  A shadow at her sight edge made Anouk lurch backwards as Stalo landed where she would have been, holding out his hand. She screamed, slashing her sword diagonally down. Only a soft resistance transmitted from her katana to her clutching hands when it cut through Stalo’s muscles and bones from his shoulder to his waist.

  Stalo’s face reflected the same surprise as the man she had killed in The Pits earlier that week. In a slow motion, Stalo fell back. He crashed against the railing that gave in under his weight. His body kept falling, vanishing from Anouk’s view.

  After what seemed to be a small eternity, the high screeches of the machines in the production line told her what she didn’t want to see or hear; the body of the former warlord had smashed on the factory floor. By now the workers would know something was going on above their heads, but she couldn’t bring herself to worry about suchlike.

  She sank to her knees, staring at the blood-stained blade, her whole body shaking. She bent double and purged, her stomach content sieving through the mesh of the catwalk. Cold sweat poured on her forehead, and she purged again. A gentle hand touched her shoulder and Nat knelt down next to her.

  “Are you alright?”

  Anouk stared at him, too weak to say anything or to stand up. Nat pulled her into his arms and held her there. The feel of his body broke her numbness and she curled up in a ball, sobbing against his chest.

  When Anouk started to calm down, Nat murmured next to her ear, “It’s over.”

  “Captain Biddulph?” Anouk asked between her tears.

  “Dead.”

  It was indeed over. Against all the odds, they had completed their mission, and they were both still alive. Stalo was no longer a threat to her or Nat. She could go home now. Then why was she so utterly miserable? Stalo would have killed her, so there was no reason to feel guilt nor misery. Yes, preferably they would have captured him and Captain Biddulph, handed them in to the enforcers and see justice done, but Stalo had given her no choice. It had been self-defence… again. And yet—murderous former warlord or not—she had killed another man.

  “Then why do I feel horrible after killing Stalo?” she sobbed.

  “Because you’re a good, caring human being. It’s never easy to kill someone. No matter if he or she was trying to kill you first. But it was either you or him.”

  “Yes, it was either me or him,” she muttered.

  Nat tightened his hug around her. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

  Laughter started to bubble up Anouk’s throat. “Only glad? Not thrilled or exhilarated?”

  Nat held her at arm’s length and his concerned expression melted into a wide grin. “Aye. Both thrilled and exhilarated.” Nat leaned forward, and for a moment, she thought he would kiss her even despite her recent stomach purge. She closed her eyes expectantly. Nat pressed his lips on her… cheek. Anouk’s eyes flew open. What?

  Nat stood and offered his hand to Anouk. “Let’s go down to see the body and calm the workers.”

  Anouk accepted it with a sigh. As disappointing as it was not to taste his lips again, this was for the best. After she had kissed him in the carriage and he had responded with hot passion, he had promised not to do it again. And indeed refrain he had. A perfect gentleman. Too damn perfect!

  She wiped the blade in her handkerchief and sheathed her katana. “Yes, let’s do that.”

  They walked down to the factory floor. No one was operating the machines and the deafening noise had subsided to a tolerable level. The workers had gathered around Stalo’s body, talking and waving upwards. Anouk and Nat approached the group. One of them turned to look in their direction and then said something to his colleagues. They all turned to look at them. Anouk swallowed hard. What would happen next?

  The workers gave way to Anouk and Nat, revealing a gruesome sight. Stalo’s whole upper torso and face had burned into a bloody mess. Smoke rose from the splatters of solidified metal where they had burned their way deeper into his flesh. The former warlord and Anglea’s most wanted man was now beyond recognition. Anouk spun on her heels and purged again. One of the men jumped out of the way, just in time to avoid getting Anouk’s half-digested dinner on his shoes. How was there anything left?

  “Sorry,” Anouk croaked.

  “Are you alright, ma’am?” the man asked, his soot covered face frowned in concern.

  Anouk wiped her mouth and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I nearly dropped a load when the body fell. Me hand slipped off the crank, the cauldron stopped sudden and spilt a bit,” one of the workers explained to Nat.

  “He was already dead, so it doesn’t matter,” Nat said to him.

  “Who was he and who are you?” the man asked.

  “He was the former warlord, Stalo De Meriweth.”

  The men looked startled. Even on this isolated island they had heard about him.

  Nat continued, looking satisfied with the men’s reaction, “I’m Nat Walla and this is my associate, Miss Herring. We are bounty hunters, especially assigned by the Royal Enforcers to track Stalo De Meriweth and his asso
ciate, Captain Biddulph. Do you have a telephone here on the island?”

  Epilogue

  Anouk stood by her office window, watching the steady stream of cars, buses and people on Uxbridge Road. Four weeks had passed since she returned to London, to her home. Three since she went back to work. Nothing had changed during the two weeks she had been away, and slipping back into her normal life had been easy enough. Only, it was far from it.

  She struggled to get excited about her ‘dear’ numbers again, her home, her safe life. No one tried to hire her as a prostitute or threatened to kill her. Streets didn’t stink, they weren’t littered with God knows what. There were no strays fighting over a half-rotten carcass. No extreme poverty. She had all the modern conveniences at hand. She could bathe every day as many times as she wanted.

  So, what was the problem then? Stalo was out of the way and she was back in London. Like she wanted, right?

  Her thoughts drifted back to Anglea and Rondon as they so often did ever since Nat had brought her back. She missed Vari and Fitzwil, and Amanda and her quirky general store. A smile spread on Anouk’s face. How many ‘general’ stores truly sold everything anyone could ever think of needing? Then her smile faded. Rose… the bravest woman in the whole universe and her daughters. And Lila. Anouk hoped they were readjusting.

  But Nat… she missed him the most. His quick smile, his chocolate-brown eyes, his quiet humour, his presence. She missed having him around. But what could she do? Her life was here in London and Nat’s was in Rondon.

  After the enforcers picked up Stalo and Captain Biddulph’s bodies, Nat had got his bounty. Well, not quite. Nat had spent a good hour convincing Chief Constable Loka that the smouldering remains of a human was indeed Lord De Meriweth, Anglea’s most wanted. As the chief constable pointed out, all the evidence—the Phines Stalo had snatched from Anouk at Madam Valeria’s, the lone gold cufflink that matched the one they had found and the presence of Captain Biddulph—Nat presented were purely circumstantial. Only the signet ring of De Meriweth found in Stalo’s pocket forced the chief constable to hand over the reward albeit with mutters that it too was circumstantial and anyone could have put it there.