Dead Silver

by Max Florschutz

  “This is absurd,” Henderson said, and he started to rise from his seat. “I don’t have to listen to thi—” His eyes caught sight of Rocke’s gun barrel, which had risen at about the same rate he had, and went silent, sinking back into his seat with his Adam’s apple going up and down.

  “I think I see where this is going,” Rocke said, leaning forward slightly, his weapon still held steady. “I’d like to hear it out to the end, if you don’t mind. Why don’t you finish out with your theory, Hawke? And then we can see what fits.”

  “Well, I’m guessing that since no one’s talked about any massive silver load, you actually haven’t told anyone,” I said, gambling on a hunch. “And you’ve either been putting off the southern surveys or faking the reports. Of course, with your company on the edge of bankruptcy, I’d ask why, but I think the answer lies in what you’re wearing. You and a small night crew are mining it. Some friends, maybe. People you trusted or bought, who you knew wouldn’t talk.” I watched Henderson’s face carefully as I spoke, noting the way his eyes narrowed, the slight tension in the muscles under his cheeks.

  “It’s all about money, isn’t it?” I asked. “You and your team are splitting the take, aren’t you?” A twitch in the cheek. “You’re mining it yourselves, setting yourselves up for when the whole town goes under. That’s why you didn’t want Rocke poking around down in the old mineshafts.” Another twitch. I pressed harder. “And when he kept asking, you tried to have him killed.”

  “Feel free to correct any errors in my partner’s sequence of events,” Rocke said, finally lowering his gun again, although I—and more importantly Henderson—could see that his hand was still resting on the trigger guard. “You know, just to set the record straight.” Henderson gave him an angry glare, but his previous fire had dwindled. The composure, the carefully cut hair that had been so meticulously cared-for the last time I’d seen him, it was all gone.

  “Now, this is the part where I’m reaching a little,” I said, holding up a finger. “So feel free to pitch in like Rocke suggested. Your move south stirred up the chupacabras, which I’m sure you had to know about. A company doesn’t last as long as yours has without seeing patterns, and I’m sure you figured as long as nobody like Rocke started looking around the old tunnels you’d be fine.”

  “But,” I continued, holding up a second finger. “You didn’t count on someone else already claiming the vein you were digging into. A local legend, a bogeyman: The Wraith.” Henderson twitched again, his cheek jumping.

  “See, I don’t think you or Peters ever really took what Ford was looking for seriously. He was searching for an ancient Aztec mining outpost, one that the empire abandoned, but not before leaving under the protection of some sort of earth god. In other words, they magic’d the hell out of it.”

  “Of course,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “That makes total sense.”

  I nodded. “The Wraiths are guardians, keeping the old Aztec mine safe from intruders. And the silver vein you’re digging into, the one that’s being smelted right now? It’s the same one the Aztecs were digging. You just dug at it from the other end.” I could see Henderson weakening now, his shoulders slipping down. It was time to play the final card, to see if my hand was indeed the royal flush I thought it was.

  “So tell me, Henderson,” I said, leaning forward and hardening my face just a little. “There’ve been a lot of people going missing lately. And all of them happen to work here at the mine. As night shift workers, no less.” I leaned forward just a little more, resting the butt of my staff on the ground as I forced his eyes to meet mine.

  “How many of those workers, I wonder, were a part of this little off-the-books operation that you and Peters are running?”

  For a moment Henderson held my gaze, but then, like a punctured tire, he began to slump, folding in on himself, his face dropping into his hands.

  “Well?” Rocke asked. “How many?”

  Henderson muttered something through his fingers that I couldn’t quite make out.

  “What was that?” Rocke asked.

  “All of them.” Henderson’s head rose back up, and he bared his teeth at us. “All of them, alright!”

  “So you did it for the money,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “You found silver and you stole it right out from underneath everyone.”

  “Peters found the vein,” Henderson said. “He came to me, said he wanted a cut or he’d tell his professor that he had a lead on the mine, blow our chances of ever getting it mining rights from the state.”

  “And whose idea was it to keep it to yourselves?” I asked. “Was that Peters’, or yours?”

  Henderson smirked. “It was Peters’. He didn’t care about the historical find; he just wanted a cut that could set him up for life and threatened to go to Ford if he thought we’d gone after it without him.” He shook his head and chuckled, sweat glistening against the room’s lights. “I almost didn’t go for it.”

  “And yet you did.” Rocke said. “Why?”

  “Because of what I got out of it,” Henderson said, looking up at him with an almost feral grin. “He had the right idea. Why just grab some for him? Why not dig some out for everyone? Well,” he said with another laugh, “everyone important, anyway.”

  “Meaning you,” I said as he confirmed the last piece I’d been guessing at. “Why?”

  “What, it’s not obvious?” Henderson asked, spreading his arms with a look of disbelief. “You think I want to spend the rest of my life here, barely eking out a living, helping this deadbeat little town limp along the road to a slow, painful death?”

  “But a big silver strike—” I began.

  “Would change nothing!” Henderson snapped forward in his seat, hissing in rage as Rocke’s gun came up once again. “It would be a tiny boost for the company, something to help delay its leprosy for another five, maybe ten years. I wanted what my family has wanted since we founded this forsaken place. We wasted generations here, and I deserve my due!”

  “And Hanks?” I asked. “How does he fit into this?”

  Henderson sank back into his seat with a scoff. “Hanks was our second option, after roughing up your friend here—” his eyes slid towards Rocke for a moment and then back to me, “—didn’t work. Hanks has always relied on my family to get elected. Plus, with that granddaughter of his racking up medical bills he barely had hope of paying, it wasn’t hard to convince him that you two interfering with my operations could pose a major threat to his granddaughter’s finances. He never was fond of Unusuals like yourselves, anyway. All he needed was a reason.”

  “Well, that’s one mystery solved,” Rocke said, rising from behind the desk, his gun still trained on Henderson. “Was he part of your night crew, or just a point-and-fire thug you bribed?”

  Henderson shook his head. “He had no idea what specifically we were up to. With the amount of money I was sliding his way, I’m sure he suspected there might be something going on, but he didn’t question it as long as I kept up my end.” He shrugged as he sat back.

  “You’re being unnervingly open about all this,” Rocke said as he stepped around to the front of the desk. “Any particular reason why?”

  “Mostly because there’s little point in holding anything back,” Henderson said with a shrug. “If it were just you two, I’d deny everything and wait for Hanks to lock you up. There’d be more than enough time for my team of conspirators to cover up what we’ve been up to over the last few years. But now …” He let out a sigh as he sank back into his seat. “Almost half of them are missing, probably dead, and according to you—” he gestured in my direction, “—the rest of them, including me, are probably next on the list. As much as I hate this pathetic company I’ve been shackled to, prison is—in my eyes—a better option than whatever fate your Wraiths have in mind for me.”

  “Straight pragmatism, then.” Rocke leaned back against Henderson’s desk, his gun letting out a faint click as he engaged the safety. “Seems a little direct, t
hough. What are we missing?”

  “I don’t—” Henderson began, but Rocke shot forward. Henderson jerked back as he stopped inches from his face.

  “Yes, you do,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Whatever it is, you do. Hawke was right. You’ve been down there dealing with things yourself.” Rocke brushed his hand across Henderson’s shoulder and held it up, palm out. “Dirt. And given that we’ve never heard anything about you doing stuff like that before, I’m guessing something went really wrong tonight.” He leaned back again, waiting. “Well?”

  Henderson let out a sigh and shook his head. “Peters was right to be worried about you. It’s no wonder he pulled that little stunt with Jefferson.”

  Rocke frowned. “Jefferson?”

  “Oh, come on,” Henderson said, rolling his eyes and dropping his hands to his knees with a faint slap. “Don’t tell me you hadn’t realized that Jefferson was in on this. How do you think he paid for that house he and his wife live in? He’s barely older than Peters, and he’s the company geologist. Someone had to fake our survey reports.”

  “So that’s how they got the jump on me that night,” Rocke said. “I texted Jefferson and told him I was heading out into the south end.”

  “And he relayed it right along to Peters,” Henderson said. “They weren’t supposed to leave you out there, initially. It was a simple rough-up job. The plan was to tell you to get out of town, leave you for a night to dwell on things, then toss you on the side of the road in the morning.”

  “Except that was the night that Jefferson went missing,” I said, hearing a mental “click” in my head as I put the pieces together. “He was on his way back from tying Rocke up out there when the Wraiths found him.”

  “I would expect so,” Henderson said. “And since he was the only one who actually knew where you were …” He let his voice trail off as he looked up at Rocke. “Well, there wasn’t much we could do.”

  “And that makes it okay?” I asked, rising from my own seat.

  “Hawke, relax,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “If anyone has right to be bothered by it, it’s me, and I’m more just amused that they got closer than most by accident.” He grinned as he looked back at Henderson. “I’m pretty sure there are a couple of people who’d be jealous of you, Henderson. Not only did you almost kill me, but you did it without intending to.”

  “Peters deserves full credit for that one,” Henderson said with a shake of his head. “Like I said, it was his idea. I didn’t hear about it until afterwards.”

  “Really?” I stepped forward, the end of my staff making hollow thuds against the carpet. “I wonder what Peters would have to say about that?”

  “I don’t know,” Henderson said, shrugging. “Probably denial, if you could find him.”

  “Wait,” I said, holding up my hand as Rocke’s eyes narrowed. “If?”

  “You wanted to know why I was overseeing the operation myself?” Henderson asked, a smug smile on his face. “Peters should have been overseeing it, but he went missing a few hours ago while working the dig.” Henderson leaned back in his seat, a smug smile on his face. “So I’m afraid that the one who started all of this is most likely suffering the same fate as the rest of the Wraith’s abductees as we speak.”

  “You sly son-of-a—” Rocke pushed himself off up from his desk, his eyes narrow. “No wonder you’re talking.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked, confused. Henderson continued to smile as Rocke turned in my direction.

  “With Peters gone there’s probably not anyone else who was in charge of this left,” he said. “So the only sequence of events we’re going to get is whatever he tells us.” He turned back towards Henderson, his face hard. “In other words, the version that’s going to put him in as nice a light as possible.”

  Henderson gave him another smirk. “Like I said, I have nothing to lose by holding back now.”

  “Except exactly who’s most to blame in this mess,” Rocke said, balling his hands into fists. “Still, there might be time for a little justice.” A smile moved across his face, starting on one side and growing across to the other side. Henderson’s smile faded, confusion replacing his smug attitude as Rocke nodded. “Yeah, there might be time for that.”

  “What are you talking about?” Henderson asked. “Get your hands off me—ah!” His exclamation cut off in a short scream as Rocke pulled him to his feet and spun him around, wrenching his arm up behind his back.

  “Oh, quit whining,” Rocke said, tapping Henderson in the back with his gun. “That barely hurt.”

  “What are you doing?” Henderson asked, his voice jumping a few octaves as Rocke gave his arm another twist.

  “Just buying some insurance,” Rocke said, poking him again. “Now quit struggling and move.” He shoved Henderson towards the door without letting go of his arm, sending him into a shambling half-walk. “You need to take us somewhere.”

  “But—”

  “Can it,” Rocke growled as he pulled the door open. Cynthia looked up in surprise as her boss came through the door with his arm behind his back, Rocke right behind him, and my slightly confused self bringing up the rear. I wasn’t quite sure what the plan was, but I trusted Rocke enough to follow him.

  “Cynthia,” Henderson said. “Call the—” His voice cut off in a high-pitched squeak that probably would have been amusing had the situation been less serious.

  “Can it, Henderson,” Rocke said, lowering his arm a little. He turned to Cynthia. “Ms. Valons, if you wouldn’t mind placing a call to the police department—not the local sheriff’s office—and tell them that I need them to detain Mr. Henderson on behalf of the NSAU?”

  “What?” Henderson’s head jerked back. “You can’t! You don’t have any authority—augh!”

  “Actually, you’re wrong,” Rocke said, a smug look on his face. “While I don’t have authority to arrest you for embezzlement or falsifying records or a good chunk of the other less-than-legal activity you just admitted to, I do have full authority to order your detainment for knowing involvement in illegal or dangerous Unusual activity. So,” he said, turning back toward the secretary, who seemed almost frozen with inaction. “Do you think you can do that?”

  To her credit, Cynthia didn’t hesitate long. “Yes, sir,” she said, picking up the phone with a nod. “Will you be holding him here?”

  “Cynthia, put that phone down or—” He didn’t even get a shout of pain out this time, just more of a gasp as Rocke twisted his arm up somewhere into the vicinity of his neck.

  “I won’t ask nicely next time,” Rocke whispered, loudly enough that all of us could hear it. Then he looked back at Cynthia, who was still holding the phone by her ear, fingers poised over the keypad. I had to admit, she didn’t look at all bothered by the sight of her boss squirming in pain. In fact, she almost looked a little … smug.

  “We won’t be holding him here,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “We’ll leave that to the shift managers or bosses or whatever you call them down in the mines. I’m sure once they’ve heard how their boss here has been skimming money from the company and deliberately letting it die when he’s known about a nice load of nearby silver for years, they’ll be more than happy to hold onto him until the authorities arrive.” Henderson let out a whimper, his face paling at Rocke’s words, and I couldn’t help but smile. If Felix’s size was any indication, we were about to hand Henderson over to some very large and soon-to-be very angry men.

  “I think I can manage that,” Valons said with a smile, and Henderson gave another little whimper. I hadn’t read her wrong. She definitely had a look of grim satisfaction about her. Maybe she’d overheard some of our discussion. “After all, our ‘deadbeat town’ can handle that, I think.”

  Oh yeah, she’d definitely overheard some of it. Henderson let out another whimper as she began to dial. There was no doubt in my mind that some of his more “choice” phrases were going to be right in the ears of those shift bosses.

  “Good. Call ah
ead so they know we’re coming,” Rocke said as he pushed Henderson towards the door that led to the break room and then on into the mine itself. “We’ll hand him over to them after your boss—”

  “Ex-boss,” Cynthia interrupted, a smug tone in her voice.

  “Right,” Rocke said with a chuckle. “After your ex-boss takes us to his little secret.”

  “What?” Henderson whimpered. “Why?”

  “Because thanks to you, we have a mess to clean up,” I said, and Rocke nodded. “If Peters disappeared from wherever he was mining tonight, that means there’s a direct route.”

  “Exactly,” Rocke said, pushing the deflated executive towards the door. “And since we don’t know where it is…”

  “You get to take us,” I finished, smiling despite my pounding heart as Henderson let out another whimper. “And if you happen to end up being bait, well, I honestly can’t say I would feel that bad.”

  Chapter 20

  “All right, stop!” Henderson said, his voice sounding like an explosion in the silence of the shaft. “This is as far as any of them should go!”

  Our small group came to a stop, the crunching echo of boots grinding against gravel fading. The shaft itself was dim, lit overhead only by the occasional bare lightbulb strung along the roof, each one so far from the next that the space between them was almost black.

  “I mean it,” he said as Rocke raised an eyebrow, the act throwing part of his face into shadow. “I’m not a killer.”

  “So you say,” said one of the miners who had volunteered to escort us. “How many people have gone missing now because of you?”

  “Oh, please. They’re just as guilty, if not more, than I allegedly am.” Apparently, Henderson had regained a little of his attitude during the long hike to the side shaft we were currently in. “And they started going missing just a few days ago,” he said, mustering enough courage to look up at the miner who’d spoken. “A few days before that we broke into a cavern up ahead. If these two Unusuals over here are right—” he jerked his head at Rocke and me, “—then that cavern is most likely where we broke the Wraith’s little ‘do not cross’ line.” He looked up at the rest of the miners. “So I figured it was in your best interest not to give the rest of you a death sentence.”