The Lost of New Bristol (Lila Randolph Book 2)

by Wren Weston

  All her favorite breakfast accoutrements.

  It wasn’t a good sign.

  “Chief Randolph,” Shaw echoed, nodding.

  Her father looked back and forth between them. A guilty expression crossed his face as he sat beside her. “I thought Chief Shaw might have breakfast with us.”

  “A working breakfast, I take it? Usually you warn me first.”

  “I didn’t know myself until last night. I should have sent you a message this morning, but I didn’t want to wake you early.”

  Lila shook hands with Shaw and cut her chin toward the bacon. “You promised, Father.”

  “I promised no sausage.”

  “I can’t be assed this morning. Ignore your doctors’ orders, stuff your face, and have a heart attack for all I care.” She turned her attention to Chief Shaw. “I saw something very interesting on my way in. Mr. Muller and Mr. Davies, both wearing blackcoats.”

  “The lawyers got involved, chief, and the Parks and Weberlys have better ones than we do. The men have been disciplined. We’ll weed them out after they mess up again. I’m giving them plenty of rope to hang themselves.”

  “Before they hang someone else?”

  “We’re watching. Bullstow doesn’t exile lightly.”

  Lila piled two small pancakes onto her plate, pancakes she had no desire to eat.

  “By the way, excellent work last night,” Shaw said, his gaze traveling to her jaw. “Oskar Kruger would have been killed if you hadn’t taken out that gunman.”

  Lila poured a tiny amount of maple syrup on her pancakes, stopping as the sweet smell hit her nose. She placed the jar back on the table, far away from her place.

  Her father clapped her on the back, glowing proudly, a smile lighting up his face. “That’s my daughter. She was the only one in the whole ballroom who saw him.”

  “It wasn’t like the room was full of blackcoats, Father.”

  “Yes, but the LeBeau militia let him in. Even my security didn’t notice him when they took a turn around the ballroom.”

  “He might not have been inside at the time. Have you learned anything about him?”

  “Nothing much,” Chief Shaw answered, chewing on a piece of bacon. “His name was Hans Schulte. He was a merchant from Burgundy. Southeastern Burgundy.”

  “A German sympathizer?”

  “One better, actually. He moved from Germany to Burgundy as a teen. The fool left behind a wife and two kids on this little crusade.”

  “So he was a loyalist living in Burgundy? A sleeper for the crown?”

  Her father nodded. “That’s our guess.”

  Lila sipped her wine. “I suspect he’s not the only one on Saxon soil. Just the first.”

  “Bullstow is on it. We’ve stepped up security,” Shaw assured her. “By the way, you were right about the suppressers and the poison. He didn’t want a tranq to slow him down, nor did he want to get caught and interrogated. He entered LeBeau’s ready to die.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  Shaw steepled his fingers. “There was another incident last night.”

  “Was there?”

  “Yes. Someone broke into one of the holding cells in LeBeau’s and tried to free Oskar before he hit the stage. This person took out the entire security system and put it on a loop, covering their activities. They cut some cameras completely. We have little usable footage for the evening, including the ballroom.”

  Lila breathed a sigh of relief.

  No one would spot her on tape, whispering to the void.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Shaw asked.

  “So Mr. Schulte tried to bust Oskar out first?” Lila asked, schooling her face. “That changes things.”

  “I doubt he was involved. I think someone else interrupted his first plan, which is why he killed the Burgundy proxy and took his clothes. He needed a way into the ballroom.”

  “Mr. Schulte didn’t come to the auction with a backup plan? That’s sloppy. It’s not like a Roman, either.”

  “I think you know what I’m getting at, Chief Randolph.”

  “Breaking out Oskar is something your friend might do,” her father prodded. “Thwarting the entire block’s security is something you could manage.”

  “I was inside the ballroom at the time, remember? Besides, our friend steals cars and wine. Where’s the profit in stealing a prince when he has no way to fence him? I can assure you, he’s not nearly that well connected.”

  “So you haven’t spoken to him since your last job together?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Since her father had told her not to do something, he could be assured that she would do the very opposite. “The man is a colleague, and I might need his services again. It’s common sense to keep the door open.”

  “Lila.”

  She dropped her fork loudly on the china. “Don’t channel Mother. It does you both a disservice. Peter Kruger bombed that office building, not our friend. What’s your complaint with him now?”

  “I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him.”

  “You’ve never met him, and you don’t have to like him. I don’t even have to like him.” She picked up her glass. “I’m tired of being your first suspect when neither of you has another. It is tedious.”

  “My apologies,” Shaw said, inclining his head. “I’ve become far too casual since we’ve begun working together.”

  Lila retrieved her fork. “There are two sides in Germany who have an interest in Oskar. One side wants him dead. One side wants him alive. Since this group in the basement didn’t shoot him, they obviously want him alive. They must be traditionalists.”

  “Which means that we have German agents inside Saxony. I told you last night, prime minister. You’ll have to call in the local militias for assistance. Bullstow can’t handle the increases to port security alone. The airports alone would overtax us.”

  “And I told you that I refuse to call in the militias,” Lemaire said. “It would make everyone afraid for no reason, not to mention the cost. Besides, the matrons would have a field day with it.”

  Lila donned her best matron voice. “All this fuss for one little slave? The prime minister is merely using it as an excuse. He’s up to something.” She pointed her fork at Shaw. “That’s what they’ll say after supplying their guess as to my father’s real objective. It will be worse when the media gets hold of the story and talks it to death.”

  “I don’t care what they say,” Shaw said. “They can let us do our jobs.”

  “You should care what I say, chief, and I say no.” Her father punched a few buttons on his palm and slid it across the table with a little grin. “Look at this, Lila.”

  She did, then wished she had not. Her father had gotten hold of the unedited video from the night before and saved a frame as his palm’s desktop. She had already leapt toward Mr. Schulte. Her crimson dress and arms flailed at odd angles, and a comical expression covered her face.

  Out of every possible frame, he’d chosen that one.

  “You either suck at technology, or I’m even less photogenic than I thought.”

  Shaw snickered. “A little from column A, a little from column—”

  “You look noble,” her father said. “Heroic.”

  “I have it on good authority that I looked like a flailing housecat.”

  “No, a lioness.”

  Lila raised a brow.

  “An alley cat, at least.” When Lila did not relent, her father grunted and stared at the image again. “The boy’s safe now, isn’t he?”

  Lila didn’t know how to answer. Oskar hadn’t been killed, but would he truly be safe at the Holguín compound?

  Lemaire slipped his palm into his pocket. “Enough talk of Oskar. The boy is a job for me and Chief Shaw.”

  Lila nearly choked on he
r wine. Wasn’t that why he’d called her to breakfast?

  “As you might recall, I visited with the oracles last week,” he said, stealing another piece of bacon from the tray.

  “Yes, I remember.” By law, the prime minister had to meet with oracles from each state, reviewing a list of their grievances and making vows to address each one. Luckily, the women rarely wanted anything more than a quick acceptance of their budget so that they could return home to their compounds and their work. Given her father’s obsession with the women, she could only imagine how those visits had gone this year. “Father, what did you do?”

  “Why do you assume that I did something?”

  “Because you don’t like the idea of the oracles handling their own business on their own sovereign compounds? Because they’re outside of your purview, and you don’t like that?”

  “You make me sound like a meddlesome grandparent.”

  Lila shrugged and bit into her pancake.

  “I could be a meddlesome grandparent.” His gaze dropped to her belly.

  “You have other children for that. Some of them are in the next room. Go bug one of them.” She made a move to stand up, but her father gripped her arm, holding her in place.

  “Must you do that every time I mention grandkids?”

  “Yes. It’s like training a rather dimwitted puppy. Consistency is—”

  “Your sisters and brothers are already at the park, and they’re far too young for this conversation anyway.” He let go of her arm. “Back to the point. The oracles are hiding something. I want to know what.”

  “They’re always hiding something,” Lila said, sitting back down. “They’re mysterious and misty and annoyingly full of crap.”

  Shaw snorted.

  “They’re disappearing,” her father said.

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “Yes, but no one’s bothered to run the numbers. I had a few data crunchers check the public records. Female relatives of the oracles have had a shockingly high mortality rate in the last few decades. Sisters, nieces, daughters, cousins. It’s twenty times the national average, and they have ten times the chance of being kidnapped.”

  “They are oracles, Father. They’re targeted more often, and their illness brings its own complications. Their seizures can’t always be controlled and some of them refuse to take it, claiming it stops their so-called visions. It makes them vulnerable.” Lila sighed, annoyed at what her father would eventually ask. Though the ancient queens might have ridden victoriously into battle, their modern-day kin were little more than state-sponsored con women, or they would be if they didn’t believe their own tripe. Each city retained its own oracle with a compound paid for by the people. Inside, her family and relatives resided like the highborn, the little girls inside waiting for the gods to bless them with the sight.

  Or curse them. Gaining the visions meant a lifetime of seizures. The ones not chosen were absorbed into helping roles, running the temples, and assisting with administrative tasks. It took a great deal of time and energy to run a religion.

  And money.

  Lila privately thought the oracles should be disbanded, but the poorer classes believed that the oracles were the only way to commune with the gods. Even some highborn believed it.

  Because of their special status as sovereign nations, the militias couldn’t touch them, nor could the government pass laws against them, not unless every member of the High and Low Houses in Unity agreed on the proposal. In addition, the prime minister and the High and Low Councils of Judges must approve the matter.

  Such a majority was nearly impossible to attain.

  “If the oracles were really clairvoyant, they wouldn’t lose so many children.”

  “Lila, don’t—”

  “You and I both know they can’t see a damn thing. They might have had power once, but not anymore.” She raised a brow when her father did not answer. “Don’t tell me that you believe now.”

  “I’m privy to their visions, Lila, at least the ones they share. I’m not sure what I believe anymore, but I don’t disbelieve. These women need our help even if they won’t ask for it. I mentioned the statistics, and none of them seemed that concerned. They said they were handling things on their own, teaching their daughters to be more careful, putting them through self-defense courses, rolling out a few health initiatives, and funding extra research.”

  “Sounds like excellent first steps.”

  “It’s bullshit, Lila.”

  She shoved her plate away. Bullstow men rarely cursed, and her father was no exception. “Okay, fine. What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “A few days ago, a woman in Sioux Falls witnessed a girl being taken from the local oracle’s compound and shoved into a black Cruz sedan. The woman followed the car, directing the local militia until they could pull it over. They barely got to the little girl in time.”

  “What did the kidnapper say?”

  “Nothing.”

  Lila tilted her head. “Even under the truth serum?”

  “No chance. The kidnapper disappeared on scene. How does that happen?”

  Shaw poured himself another glass of wine. “Chief Vance said the mother’s story was fishy as well.”

  Lila had met Chief Vance, the man who ran the government militia for all of La Verde, the northern American state. He was a lot like Shaw, except younger and a lot more attractive. “Don’t ask this of me, Father. I have better things to do than chase fairies.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like wash my hair.” Or help rescue Oskar. Or find Reaper’s partner. Or figure out how make amends with Alex. Or spend some time with Pax. Perhaps spend a little time with Tristan after they sent Oskar back to Germany.

  “Your hair looks clean to me.”

  “The girl’s name is Rebecca,” Shaw said. “Her mother is the Sioux Falls oracle, so none of us can press too deeply. The girl also happens to be a future oracle. Chief Vance will keep investigating that specific case, but we want you to investigate these disappearances more generally. The Bullstow and the La Verde militias are at a loss. Your father wants answers before the next legislative session ends.”

  “That’s six weeks away.”

  The side of her father’s mouth twisted in a grin. “I thought you liked challenges.”

  “Don’t mock me.”

  Shaw reached into a satchel on the table and pulled out two files. “Here are the most recent cases, prior to the one in Sioux Falls. One girl died four months ago during a seizure; another was killed in a car accident a few days later. My men are having no luck digging into the cases. We can’t even verify the girls’ deaths.”

  “So dig up the coffins.”

  “We did. Dr. Booth and the specialist who went along with us thought the ages and sizes of the corpses weren’t quite right.”

  “DNA?”

  “They both matched.”

  “So you’re saying someone broke into the DNA database and changed the data?”

  “Maybe. If someone did hack the DNA database, you’d be able to figure it out.”

  “Fine. Set up a meet with the Sioux Falls oracle. I want to speak with her personally.”

  Shaw eyed the prime minister, and her father looked away.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  “She’s not talking to us anymore,” Shaw said.

  “Why?”

  “Because your father put her daughter into foster care.”

  Lila’s eyes snapped open. “You did what?”

  “It’s for her own good,” her father said. “Someone has—”

  “What on earth were you thinking? You can’t just take away an oracle’s child! These women are the spiritual backbone of our entire society. The oracles might be charlatans, but they’re a placebo for our society, and a necessary one at that. Don’t you
understand what sort of press this will bring down on your head if the oracles take it to the media?”

  Shaw avoided her glare.

  “Oracle’s light, the press already knows?”

  “It hasn’t spread far,” Lemaire said. “I don’t care if it does, though. The oracles and their daughters are a resource. They must be protected.”

  “They aren’t resources. They’re children. This is why you can’t get any further in the case, isn’t it? This is why you want to hire me. You think they’ll talk to me.”

  “It’s not like they ever said all that much to me, but now they won’t even speak to the militia. Two more girls have disappeared near New Bristol in the last week. You’re our last hope.”

  “The oracles have been handling their own affairs for thousands of years. Of course they don’t wish to talk to you. It’s demeaning, and now you’ve taken one of their children on top of that?”

  “You’re really not going to look into it?”

  Lila rubbed at her eyes. She’d always done whatever her father asked, whatever he needed, but she had too much on her plate at the moment.

  His pleading stare worked at her, though. It wasn’t like she had to figure it out in the next few days. Rebecca was safe in foster care, and the oracles and state militias were handling the girls’ disappearances. She could rescue Oskar first.

  Her father snatched the bottle of Sangre from the middle of the table. “Chief Shaw, could you please step outside for a moment while I speak with my daughter?”

  “Certainly.” The chief wiped his mouth with his napkin, bowed, and slipped on his sentry cap.

  Lemaire poured more Sangre into her glass as the apartment door closed. “Help me with this, and I’ll give you something you want.”

  “What could you possibly buy that my dividends can’t purchase, Father?”

  “Your contract. Permanently.”

  Lila sipped her wine. Her mother had signed her contract years ago, promising only an indefinite commission in the Randolph militia, a commission she could legally rescind at any time. The only reason why she hadn’t was because Lila had been granted a boon in front of the entire Randolph family. Lila had taken advantage of that boon and, more importantly, the thousands of heirs who had heard her mother’s answer.