“Good afternoon. Has business been well today?”
“Not really,” said Laura. “No one came in, even for recycling.”
“After the incident I didn’t think we’d need so many warnings printed, but I’ll ask for another round in the papers,” Albright muttered. “That should send them hurrying in.”
Laura smiled. “Did you need something today, Chief Albright?”
“Just giving you some news.” She brandished the papers. “For one thing, we’ve got the politics hammered out on this problem of yours. Might want to thank Douglas. She nearly turned the case into a crusade.”
The idea of the stern, elderly councilwoman charging into battle surprised Laura, but then again she’d never met Victoria Douglas. “How did it turn out?”
“Clae Sinclair’s will is going to be carried out as intended. Whether or not it was used for public service, all Sweeper equipment is privately owned, so the Council and city can’t claim it.” She muttered something about a gray area of whether Pits were considered private property, something the Council had argued over in the process. “And whoever inherits his estate gets all of it, since Sweepers are taxfree. The Council loved that. Bottom line: there’s a lot more up for grabs and possibly yours, but that’s all up to the estate administrator carrying it out.”
“Good. I wouldn’t trust the Council with it,” said Laura. She’d read more than enough about the early days when the Council had used Gin to pay off any small debt, and her personal experiences with their orders hadn’t been enjoyable. “Do you know how long an administrator should take?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had to deal with them.” Albright turned to look at the man, who’d drifted toward the counter to inspect the Kin. “Rhodes, how much time does it take for them to do their job?”
The man straightened up from squinting at a flask, pushing his hat back on thick auburn hair. “Depends,” he said, in a slow drawl. “If there’s organized documentation, they could be in and out in no time. If there’s not, you may have to deal with them for a while. Don’t worry, though. They don’t take nearly as long as people seem to think.”
Albright nodded her approval before plucking a small page from her papers and setting it on the countertop. Laura leaned over to see it better and recognized it as a telegram.
“In addition, your new boss is coming soon.” The mention made Laura’s stomach twist; half shame for her horrendously botched job and following dismissal, half dread for the newcomer. “Personally, I think it’s unnecessary. As far as I’m concerned you did the right thing. Clae Sinclair certainly wouldn’t have done any different. You prevented a massive loss of life, and—”
“And the Council doesn’t want another Clae,” said Laura. “I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do. Besides, I have faith in whoever Puer’s head Sweeper picks out.”
Albright pursed her lips but didn’t argue. “That man was in contact with us about her, and had a lot of good things to say. The Council sent someone to properly interview her and they were impressed, so she’s been accepted. This”—she tapped the telegram—”was sent yesterday. There was a mix-up in the mailroom so it only reached me today, but it says she’s eager to start and left for Amicae already. If the trains run on schedule she’ll arrive tonight, and if she’s as enthusiastic as I believe, she’ll swing by to look at the shop as soon as she does. You may meet her before I do.”
Laura wasn’t sure what to think. She thought they’d have a little more warning before the replacement swooped in to usurp the job. Time to mentally prepare themselves, time to hide the Sinclairs. She almost wished no one had been picked as head Sweeper.
She folded her hands, bit her lip. She glanced at the man before whispering, “Should we tell her about, um, those two?”
Albright leaned back and regarded them a moment.
“I think that’s up to you. I don’t know the extent of politics and rivalry between Sweepers, but I know nothing’s free of corruption. Wait awhile and judge whether you can trust her first. For the moment, I’d keep it secret. That said, I’ve shared information about the Sinclairs with Rhodes.”
Laura froze. “You what?”
“Rhodes, come over here.”
The man sauntered over to their group. He stood next to Albright, easily taller than all of them, though he had a slouch and his eyes were droopy in a friendly kind of way. If she’d met him any other time Laura would’ve thought he was harmless, but now she felt on edge.
“This is Byron Rhodes, a private investigator,” said Albright. “I’ve asked him to keep an eye on you. With the news and the recent riots, criminals have been getting bold. There’s been an upsurge in crime rates, mob and otherwise, so I won’t have the time to check on you. He’ll be monitoring you in my stead. He’s currently investigating the events leading to the disaster and evacuation, so in order for him to have a full understanding I gave him the whole story. What I know, anyway. If you have any other information I urge you to share it with him.”
So a stranger was free to know about Clae and Anselm while the head Sweeper wasn’t? That didn’t make much sense, but if the chief of police put so much faith in this investigator, Laura supposed she could trust him to an extent.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rhodes,” she said, trying her best to look unruffled.
“Just call me Byron,” he replied, tipping his hat. “No need to be nervous. I’m here to support you, same as Heather here.” Strangely enough, Albright didn’t look remotely concerned with the use of her first name. “Quite a few strange pieces in motion around that infestation. There’s no telling who’s behind it, but if they attacked Amicae on such a grand scale, I’m sure their next attempt will be just as vicious. I’d like to make sure you don’t become casualties.”
Laura blinked. “Next attempt? I thought Sullivan was the one behind it all, and he’s in jail now. It was his pipes, right?”
“Maybe, but the man himself couldn’t have done the deed,” said Byron. “Takes a lot of workers. We’ve got false IDs on what’s left of the interior record and no matches in his workforce. I’d say there’s another group at work here.”
It couldn’t have been the Mad Dogs mob. The Mad Dogs had a disagreement with Sullivan before, and their Sweepers had come to fight off the infestation rather than evacuate. That left another city, Rex: they’d sent a small infiltration force, and their crest was blatantly painted under the ruined bulwark tree. But they’d only had three men, two captured. Surely one man couldn’t manage all that. But Rexian rumor was worse than ghost stories, and Laura had to quash her unease.
“You’ll find out who did it?”
“He’s more capable than his looks suggest,” said Albright, “which is one of the reasons I’m assigning him to you. If you have any immediate problems, go to him.”
Laura nodded but said nothing. Byron seemed to understand her reluctance. He pulled a card from his pocket and set it on the counter before her.
“Here’s my information if you need it. You probably won’t see me often, but I’m there if you need me. Until then I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
“Thanks,” Laura mumbled, while Okane slid the card closer and squinted at the type.
Albright checked her watch and let out a short, angry sigh. “I’ll have to be going now. Good luck with your new boss.”
Business finished, Albright inclined her head and left. Byron followed close behind, and their forms flitted past the right-hand window as the door clicked shut. The pair stared after them, silence unbroken for a while before Okane gave a shuddering sigh.
“So what do we do?”
“We keep Clae secret.” Laura shrugged. “I guess we move him.”
“Now?”
“If the new head Sweeper comes by tonight she’ll want to get in, right? Best move them now. Just to make sure.”
“To where, though?” He gestured at their surroundings. “It’s almost closing time. There’s no way we can get
anywhere without people seeing them. This is all the space we have.”
“What about upstairs?”
The second floor of the Sweeper shop was a living space, Clae’s— now Okane’s—home. Other Sweepers would have no reason to go up there, boss or not.
That was how they found themselves hauling Clae bodily up the stairs. It occurred to Laura that there was a reason they’d left him on the ground floor in the first place. The stairs were steep and he was extremely heavy, not to mention slippery after being stuck in a tub of water. Laura couldn’t get a good hold on his feet without losing grip, having to lurch sideways and hug his boots to her side. Okane didn’t fare much better, but at least he could grab Clae under the arms. Clae’s face was enraged, as it had been the past few weeks, but if he’d been aware of the proceedings she thought he’d make the same expression. She stopped a third of the way up the steps.
“I don’t remember these stairs being so much like a ladder,” she panted.
“It’s an architectural disaster,” Okane wheezed.
“How did the Sinclairs get any furniture up there in the first place?”
“Magic?”
Laura panted some more before heaving Clae’s feet up again and staggering. They went three steps before the crystal slipped in their grip and they scrambled to a halt. Clae’s form hit the steps with a loud thunk, and Laura sucked in a breath, horrified.
“Oh, shit. Is he okay?”
Okane squinted down and nodded. “This crystal must be tougher than it looks.”
Somewhat reassured, Laura steadied herself and they lurched up again.
“Why did we start with him?” Okane groaned.
“Anselm will be a piece of cake in comparison.”
“Where are we putting him?”
“I don’t know. You live up there, you tell me!”
“Bed?”
“Just lead the way.”
It took an eternity, but they reached the second floor and hauled Clae down the hall, into the back room with the twin beds. They deposited him none too gracefully, and turned back to the stairs.
Anselm was, luckily, a hell of a lot lighter. Okane hefted the crystal into his arms and took him up alone. Laura watched from the bottom and called up when he stumbled.
“You’re leaning left again! Don’t slip!”
He made a frustrated noise and disappeared into the second floor. Eventually he emerged again with a pensive look on his face.
“What do you think they’ll say about me? About the ‘—’ thing?”
“They won’t notice it.” Laura noticed, but she’d trained herself for it.
Okane shook his head. “And the eyes?”
“If they give you trouble at all, I’ll back you up. Nothing like the Sullivans will ever happen to you again.”
Okane rubbed at his covered arms, and the scars there. “Thanks.”
A clattering sound made Laura jump and look back at the shop. There was someone by the windows, headed straight for the door. Could that be the new boss? She gestured madly for Okane to come down, hissing, “She’s here! I think she’s here!”
Okane sped down the stairs while Laura straightened, heart jumping into her throat. The door creaked open, admitting two people.
The first was a woman with long brown hair twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Her hazel eyes and upturned nose reminded Laura of a film star, and her expensive coat and fur stole only enforced the idea. She gave them a smile both excited and bashful. Laura was immediately distracted by the man behind her: tall, reedy, with the same coloring and upturned nose, though the rest of his face was long, thin, and gaunt, and he’d opted for a plain overcoat.
“Hello,” the woman said breathlessly. “I’m Juliana MacDanel. This is Sinclair Sweepers, right? It’s hard to read the sign.”
Laura forced a smile. “Are you our new head Sweeper?”
Juliana’s face brightened. “Yes! I was sent over from Puer. So you’re—Oh, I know this, they sent the information. Laura Kramer, and Okane Sinclair?”
At each name she went to shake their hands. She had a strong grip, and Laura needed to rub her hand to get the feeling back when the woman turned. Okane’s reluctance to touch ended up being interpreted as something completely different, and Juliana pulled back.
“Sinclair. So you were a relative of the previous head Sweeper? I’m sorry I’m not him, but I’ll try my best to carry on his great reputation.” She put a hand over her heart and said this sincerely. Okane shuffled and ducked his head.
“Did you know Clae?” Laura asked.
“Not personally, but he was something like a Sweeper celebrity: the youngest head Sweeper in recent history, worked almost solo most of his career, and still somehow managed to be the most effective fighter in Terual. Even Rex could see he was talented.”
A smile tugged at Laura’s lips. If the new boss had a healthy respect for Clae, she couldn’t be too bad.
“And, since my companion doesn’t seem interested in introducing himself, I’ll do it for him. This is my brother, Lester. He’s also a Sweeper. Once I heard how small Amicae’s force was, I begged him to come along. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all!” Laura hadn’t expected more than one new member, but the help would be welcome.
Juliana shrugged off her coat and hung it up on the coatrack, revealing a dress underneath. She looked ready for an evening party. Had she dressed up to meet them, of all people? It was almost flattering.
“What do you say, you want to give us the grand tour?”
“Tour?”
“Of course!” Juliana laughed. “The Gin, the weapon construction, the storage areas, what have you.”
“Well … this is it.” Laura waved around at the room. “Everything is on this floor. We’ve got the Kin,” she gestured at the hissing setup behind her, “storage,” she tapped the glass of the counter, “and the Gin is in the next room.”
“It looked like there was a second floor.”
“That’s a home.”
“My home,” Okane piped up. “I’d prefer—didn’t go up there.”
“Of course! We’ve got no reason to pry.”
Thank goodness they didn’t press the matter. Laura slipped off the stool and led the way to the black drapes. The newcomers followed, Juliana with a distinct spring in her step. Laura held the curtains aside and scrutinized them as they passed. She startled when she realized Lester was scrutinizing her right back.
“Is there a problem?” Juliana glanced from one to the other. Had Laura made a noise without realizing it?
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to letting people in here. Clae was protective of the equipment.”
“Was he?” Juliana sounded interested.
“Amicae has a long history of taking away Sweeper inventory and selling it off,” said Laura. “The Sinclair family had to purchase most of their equipment from the city to keep it from being destroyed. Okane, wasn’t there something about the Pits, too?”
“Functioning Pits are city territory, but sunken ones are private property,” said Okane. “Otherwise the mining would’ve disturbed them.”
“A grave concern,” said Lester, and his voice sounded grave too.
“We’ll have to keep that in mind during our future dealings with the Council,” said Juliana, stepping through the curtains.
Laura leaned to watch as the pair inspected the Gin room. Without Clae or Anselm present it looked innocent enough. But rather than checking the water basin, the rocks, or the tubing, they turned to the shelves. Juliana’s hands sifted through the empty Eggs, moving the glass shapes in search of something while Lester did the same on the other side.
“Are you expecting something else?” Laura asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Juliana replied, even as she tilted her head to see the back of one shelf. “I’m a little surprised is all. Excelling the way he did, I thought Mr. Sinclair would’ve had a few more tricks up his sleev
e.”
Laura leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms. “No. He was just talented.”
“You’re sure? There’s nothing else?”
“No.”
Juliana looked disappointed but moved on quickly. “Who’s the weapons supplier?”
Laura blinked. “The what?”
“Weapons supplier.” She held up one of the Eggs. “Who makes the Egg shells? The bullets? The Bijou?”
Laura didn’t have a clue.
“Her name’s Amelia.” Okane peered around Laura, content to use her like a shield. “She used to be a Sweeper, but now she works with companies to get equipment.”
Juliana perked up again. “That’s wonderful! Where’s her office?”
“I don’t know. We’ve only talked over the telephone.”
“Other Sweeper buildings?”
“None.”
“Our Council contact?”
“Clae harassed them on his own.”
Juliana gave a perplexed sigh. “How did you function with so few resources?”
“Clae.” Laura shrugged as if his name should explain everything.
“We haven’t had experience with larger operations, so we have nothing to compare this to.” Okane ducked further behind Laura as Lester turned around.
“In any case, we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Juliana announced, folding her arms. “Sad as it is, that big infestation should’ve rattled your Council. Now that they’ve got some fear in them, they’ll be willing to pump up defenses. We can get away with a lot of demands, so long as we pitch it right.”
“Demands like what?”
“Like more funding, more equipment, more space.” Juliana gestured around the cramped room. “We can get this place back into shape and working properly.”
Laura decided she liked the sound of that; she’d given thought to such a plan during her brief stint as head Sweeper, but had no idea how to follow through with it. “How do we begin?”
“Tomorrow morning, as soon as shops open, we’re making phone calls.”
An hour later the MacDanels left. They needed to find their new lodgings and unpack their luggage. Juliana wished them a cheery good evening as she left, while Lester gave a solemn farewell of his own. The shop was quiet again. Laura sat heavily on a stool and looked at Okane. He lurked behind the inactive Kin with an expression like a kicked dog.
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