Why can’t I remember? I remember being held under the water, then…
“The first thing I remember, after what happened, was waking up in an alley a few blocks from my old apartment…” She touched the patch covering her missing eye.
“As you can no doubt guess, you escaped. We kept you in your room for a few months before the doctor decided your recovery time may be shortened if you were allowed to walk in the park, above ground, in the fresh air.”
Oliver gave an embarrassed noise. “A mistake I have apologised for more times than is necessary, Jonathon,” Oliver said, failing to hide his annoyance.
Brooks held up his hands. “I didn’t ask for one, Simon.” He turned back to Lex. “You assaulted the chaperones who’d accompanied you and disappeared. Until your six-month rampage, we’d assumed the Inner-Sanctum had apprehended you… but it seemed we underestimated you.”
There was one thing bothering Lex about Brooks’ account of the events at the harbour. “Why did you order your colleague to drive the boat to get me? I mean, as far as you were aware, I was dead.”
Brooks pursed his lips, considering his words. “I saw evil men kill an innocent child and drown his tortured mother. No one deserves to be dumped into the sea; left for fish bait. I couldn’t bring myself to leave you,” he said.
He genuinely sounded sad. Lex softened a little, but it didn’t change anything. “They deserve it,” she said, gritting her teeth. “For what they’ve done. I’m going to finish this. Do what you want after I’m through with them. Build your new world. Now let me out of this compound, I have work to do.”
XXII
Despite the fact the torrential rain had washed through the streets of Sanctum-One, the previous night, lashing the city in a downpour that had caused the water level of the river to rise by a considerable amount – breaking its banks at several of its weaker points – the morning after couldn’t have been any more different. The sun shone through sporadic cloud cover; great beams spilling between the gaps with angelic elegance; the day promising to be a lot milder than the citizens were used to of late.
Hall squinted up at the bright sky balefully, the pleasant morning falling short to alleviate her ill mood. What exasperated her cantankerous temperament was the splitting headache she was suffering from, brought on by the copious amount of scotch she’d quaffed to aid in her aims of dreamless sleep; a slumber without images of cold, cruel eyes glaring at her from the other end of a gun.
She’d parked her cruiser a few blocks from the precinct – a deliberate move as she thought the walk may provide her with a chance to, quite literally, shake her shakes. In no rush to get to her stuffy office, she grabbed a coffee from a local café she frequented from time to time. She sipped the bitter brew – she’d liberally doused with sugar in the hope of it boosting her energy levels – and casually strolled past service droids, cleaning the streets, and citizens going about their business in their own little bubbles. She watched them, completely unaware of her presence, as they rushed past her completely oblivious. She envied them, doubting their days would be as unpredictable as her own.
As she was surveying the morning rush going on around her, she spotted a man staring at her from across the street; the fact he was the only in the vicinity not in sort of rush made him stand out from the crowd. She smiled at him, but he didn’t reciprocate, instead, he looked away – a little too quickly, she noted. She felt a shiver run down her spine. Had he been watching her? She couldn’t be sure – the previous night’s alcoholic self-abuse may be causing some increased anxiety, she thought, trying to rationalise her suspicion – of what, she had no idea.
She stopped and scrutinised him a bit more. Everything about him seemed off. He wore an overcoat, a little too heavy for the clement weather. The cruiser he was sitting on looked a lot more expensive than the rest parked on this street. It was also the only vehicle unmarred by bumps or scrapes. She didn’t take her eyes off him. He turned his head in her direction once more. She was sure he’d flinched ever so slightly.
Then he did something strange; something that began to confirm her suspicions. He put a finger to his ear and muttered something under his breath. He was apparently kitted out with comm’s equipment.
“Hey,” she shouted, enraged by this stranger’s audacity; his violation. “Can I help you?” She crossed the street, her blood beginning to boil.
He didn’t answer. He stood up and hurriedly moved around the cruiser. Hall picked up her pace, her strides quickening to a jog. He opened the door and climbed in, pulling away at speed before she could get a good look at his face. In his haste, he almost collided with a transport shuttle. The cruiser disappeared into the distance, eventually turning a corner and out of view.
But not before she’d got a decent look at the registration plate.
~
She touched her I.D. on the swipe pad and hurried through the door before it had fully opened, clattering her shoulders against the door’s edges in the process. Her confrontation with the man, who may or may not have been spying on her, rankled her nerves. He could easily have been freaked out by the deranged woman shouting at him from across the street.
Her logical mind tried to come up with reasonable explanations as to why the stranger had been looking at her. Maybe he was attracted to her; maybe just looking a little too enthusiastically. She caught her reflection on one of the glass panels that walled the corridor, towards the elevator, and immediately discarded that theory – she looked like shit.
She had seen him touch his ear, as though to check-in to a superior… hadn’t she?
She called the elevator, waiting impatiently as the lift descended to the ground floor. She tapped her feet on the polished tiles; unable to keep still.
“Hey, Veronica, how are you this morning?” Charlie Deacon said, behind her. She jumped, picturing the face of the man she’d yelled at ten minutes ago. “Jeez, bit jumpy.”
She relaxed, a little embarrassed. She forced a smile. “Sorry, Charlie. Yeah, I’m fine.”
He appraised her, not convinced she was. “Well, you don’t look it. You alright? You look as though you were the one who’d just pulled an all-nighter.”
She shook her head, feeling the hangover begin to voice its presence – her brain felt like it was trying to squeeze itself out of her hair follicles. “Just a rough night is all. Couldn’t sleep. How was the rest of the shift? Find the woman?” she asked, surprised at her ability at humour given her current state.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, quickly followed by Deacon. “What floor?” she asked.
“Same as you. Need to hand in my report to your boss.”
She winced internally at the mention of Reid. “I’m not sure if Reid will be in,” she said, hoping she was wrong.
Deacon shook his head. “I’m not handing it into Reid. We got a memo this morning. We’ve to hand in all shift-reports, related to the woman, to your Captain.”
“Why’s that? Reid’s been assigned with the case,” she said, struggling to suppress her mild panic at the news.
Deacon shrugged. “He’s on leave, apparently. Not exactly an opportune time to take a break, huh?”
She pursed her lips, nodding. Deacon was still speaking, but she didn’t hear him. Her mind was in overdrive. She pulled out her scribe, on the off-chance she’d received a message from Reid, but hadn’t heard it. The screen was blank: no messages.
The elevator reached its destination. She muttered something about catching Deacon later, as the doors opened. She stepped out, not waiting for a reply. She slowly ambled over to her desk and sat down.
“Hall,” Captain Mercer barked. “In my office, now.”
“Be over shortly, Captain.”
“I didn’t say shortly, Hall. I said now.”
All eyes were on her. She ignored them and got up. She was certain today was going to be a shitty one – she made a mental note to get more scotch on the way home, later on.
Mercer’s office was dark and
stuffy, but at least he had privacy from the rest of the floor – boxed in by four huge sheets of glass. If he wanted some peace, all he had to do was close the door and close the blinds. Maybe one day, she thought. He loomed over his impeccably neat desk; where every pen, pad, and folder had a designated place. She wondered if he used a set-square to align everything symmetrically.
“You look like shit, Hall,” he said, failing to hide the pity from his annoyance. He was a stout man, with a neatly cropped beard. His thick, black hair was trimmed short on top of his large head. His dark eyes scrutinised her for a moment before he continued. “Have a drink last night?”
Hall looked down, knowing the question was rhetorical. “Just peachy, Captain,” she said, deciding she didn’t really give a fuck whether it was rhetorical or not. She didn’t feel there was any point in trying to cover up the fact she’d had a few drinks last night; she could still taste the faint tang of the scotch, in spite of the strong coffee.
Mercer tensed, leaning down on the desk with large, hairy knuckles. He looked as though he was about to admonish her for her insubordinate tone, but he didn’t. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Have you spoken to psych? After what happened at the Trammel building?” he asked, almost sounding fatherly. Her expression told him as much. “You know it’s the procedure, especially for one as green as you.”
Now, he sounded patronising. Though Mercer’s mention of the standoff brought those cold eyes to the forefront of her mind. “Where’s Alon, Captain? Charlie told me he was on leave,” she asked, trying to veer the conversation away from psych.
“Charlie?” he asked. “…Ah, Deacon; the uniform.” His expression darkened. “That was the reason I called you in here. I read his report. What were you doing at the Freedom Bridge last night? Without orders to do so from a superior, especially after curfew.”
“Thought I’d make some headway with the case, sir.”
“That’s not your call.” He picked up his scribe and began to scroll through it. “I’ve also received a complaint from Deacon’s partner. He states you were rude and aggressive.”
“He came over to my cruiser and started swinging his considerable weight around. Idiot shit his pants when he realised he was speaking to a superior officer.”
“I want a written apology from you by the end of the day.”
This was a step too far for Hall. She slapped her thigh in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me, Captain? If we’re going to start splitting hairs, I could put in a complaint stating that moron was impeding an enquiry into a case linked to that psycho-bitch currently still on the loose.”
Mercer, it would seem, had lost his patience with her. He slammed his hand down onto the desk causing her to jump. “Don’t you take that fucking tone with me, Hall. I know you went through shit the other day, but don’t think that gives you an excuse to start running this case all by yourself. You’re new to this department. You of all people should know the chain of command. You were top of your year at the academy. It’s the reason I requested you, personally, don’t make me regret the decision. At the end of the day, you shouldn’t have been on the fucking bridge in the first place.”
A voice inside her head told her to shut her mouth, but it was overruled by the stubborn part. She stood up, staring her Captain dead in the eye. “Well if I’d known where my fucking partner was, I would’ve been able to discuss it with him.” She leaned forward. “So, I’ll ask you again, Captain, where the fuck is Reid?”
Before Captain Mercer could reply, his door opened and in stepped a tall man, wearing a long overcoat. His sandy-blonde hair was slicked back. He held a folder in his hand. He waved it at the two of them, his blue eyes peering, amusingly from behind a pair of fashionable glasses. “I can answer that before this turns ugly.”
“And who the fuck are you?” Mercer snapped, diverting his anger around Hall towards the newcomer.
The man rolled his eyes and brought out his I.D. card. “Banks. Special investigator from NewHaven. Mr Reid is currently in our custody on orders from the Proxy.”
Hall felt as though she’d seen Banks’ face before, she just couldn’t remember where or when. This was the first time she’d met a special investigator.
“Fucking spook,” Mercer muttered. “Well tell me, ‘Banks’, if that’s your real name, are you at liberty to divulge the nature as to why one of my officers is currently languishing at the Proxy’s pleasure?”
Banks smiled at the Captain. Hall had apparently been relegated to spectator, as the two men were about to engage in some dick-measuring. To be honest, she welcomed it. She knew there would be repercussions for her argument with the captain, and was happy if it could be prolonged for a time.
“Not at this moment in time,” Banks said. “This is a sensitive case, and after the shitstorm you guys caused on the bridge, we’ll be dipping our toes in the water a lot more frequently from here on in.”
“I didn’t know you guys had up until now,” Mercer said sarcastically. If Banks was aware of the jibe, he didn’t show it. He merely smiled at the captain waving a finger at him.
“We wouldn’t be doing our job right if you knew we were there.” Hall didn’t like the man’s smugness. He had a self-satisfied expression she wanted to slap from his features.
“When will he be back?” Hall asked, growing tired of the testosterone flying around the room.
Banks looked at Hall as though he’d just noticed she was there. “At this moment in time, he’s helping us with our enquiries.” He cast an eye to Mercer. “If there’s an issue with that decision, I suggest you take it up with the Proxy.”
Mercer shook his head, suddenly looking tired. “I won’t waste my time. What brings you here?”
Banks looked at Hall. “I’ve received some intel on the forensic investigation at the Trammel building with regard to bloodwork which may be linked to the woman.”
Hall could feel the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t mentioned the shard of glass with the woman’s blood on it. She hadn’t even told Reid. NewHaven must have been running tabs on any system enquiries linked with the case. She had to think fast. She didn’t trust this creep, even if he did work for the Proxy. The way he looked at her didn’t feel right. It was though he already knew and was testing her.
She cursed herself for using her I.D. to access the system and start the analysis. It was stupid, but how else could she have done it? She now was being presented with an opportunity to offload her burden; to inform the spook of her extra-curricular activities and the new evidence; to pass the evidence to the higher authorities, who might be able to make more ground on the case. But she held back. She thought of Reid, languishing in NewHaven, and the infuriating air of superiority wafting off the spook as he gazed confidently from behind his trendy glasses.
Well, fuck you, she thought.
“There wasn’t any bloodwork taken from the scene, at least not to my knowledge,” she answered, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible.
His mouth twitched and for a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of irritation. He smiled and nodded. “Shame. It could’ve been the breakthrough we so desperately needed. Good day to the both of you.” He turned and left them without waiting for a reply.
“Fucking spooks,” Mercer said once more. “Hall, just go to your desk. I haven’t the energy to fight your insubordination. Make an appointment with psych, that’s an order.”
Hall closed the door the spook had left open and turned to face Mercer. He raised his eyebrows.
“Didn’t you hear me? We’re done.”
“Captain… what Banks said… about the bloodwork,” she said, trying to find the courage to come out with it.
“Yes, what bloodwork? You said there wasn’t any.”
“There was. I just didn’t want to say in front of him,” she said, pointing a thumb behind her. “I know he said he works from NewHaven, but I just didn’t like the feel of him.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I foun
d a shard of glass containing traces of the woman’s blood. I ran it through the system, last night.”
Hall had his full attention. He raised his eyebrows and twirled his hand for her to get on with it. “Have we got an I.D. on the woman?”
Hall nodded. “You’re not going to believe this, Captain. She was a cop. Supposedly killed in action a few years ago, her body was never recovered.”
Mercer’s mouth opened in shock. “Alexandra Moretti.”
~
Marr watched Hall and Mercer on the screen on the dash-screen within the confines of his cruiser, parked outside the precinct. He was surprised by the young investigator. Her face had paled, and her eyes had betrayed her fear when he’d mentioned the bloodwork. It was subtle, but his vast experience had caught it nonetheless; it was why he was the best at what he did.
Unfortunately, she’d recovered enough composure to maintain her silence, which he found both intriguing and irritating. He could have pressed the matter, but with the captain in the room, he didn’t want to reveal the extent of the Inner-Sanctum’s surveillance of the case. For the moment, he would keep tabs on their activities.
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