They left the mopeds behind a storage shed before skirting around the edge of a busy industrial lot, crowded with small stalls surrounded by people bartering or searching through cast-off computer parts. There were buckets of wiring, tables of monitors, displays, stacks of drive housing and circuit boards and memory films everywhere.
“Where’s all this come from?” Hugo asked.
“There,” Jazz said, indicating the tall buildings. “The Planning District.”
“This is the Planning District?” Dana said, looking ahead and eyes widening.
“Not yet,” Jazz replied. “Follow me.”
“She lives here?” Dana asked in an awed voice as they hurried around the edge of the lot and made for a broad avenue that ran towards the towers.
“She’s done pretty well. Officially, she brokers commissions from the Orbit,” Jazz said. Webb thought she still looked drawn. “Big ones.”
“Why is she involved with the likes of bloodgrease traders?” Hugo said.
“That’s what I want to know,” Jazz murmured.
The noise of the industrial market place died away as they passed under the first of the brightly-lit spires. Webb watched Hugo and Dana staring upwards as they moved through the towering structures.
“I saw these,” Hugo murmured, “from the shuttle when we first arrived. I couldn’t figure out what they were.”
The district was heaving with people. Nearly all of them wore dark jackets that zipped up to the chin, rather than the coveralls and work-suits of the yard workers. A lot of them were absorbed in hand-held computer panels or the huge street displays reeling yard reports and work schedules. But one or two glances came their way and Webb’s skin crawled.
“Stick to the edge,” he said as they turned onto another avenue swamped with floodlights. Webb kept them tight against the walls, steering them away from the main body of foot traffic.
“They look…different,” Hugo said, looking around at the passersby.
“Less scarred and more awake you mean?” Webb muttered.
“It’s amazing,” Dana breathed again and took a step out to stare up at the glowing spires, but Webb grabbed her elbow.
“We’re not tourists,” he said. “And our names and faces will be on those displays so we best stay out of sight.”
“What happens here?” Hugo said as they followed Jazz towards a busy intersection.
“Planning,” Webb muttered, keeping their pace up.
“These are the shipwrights,” Dana said, voice still hushed. “And the systems experts. This is where everything’s designed.”
Hugo raised his eyebrows but didn’t reply. Dana didn’t seem to notice, she was too busy trying to catch glimpses into the lower level windows.
“Dana,” Webb snapped again. “Stay away from the glass. There are cameras around here.”
“I know,” Dana snapped. “I’m not an idiot.”
“What do you mean, you know?” Hugo said.
“Marilyn told me. This is one of the only two sectors on Haven with integrated, Elder-maintained surveillance.”
“What’s the other?”
“The Storage District, of course.”
Hugo shook his head and Webb couldn’t tell if he was impatient or a little impressed.
“But this,” she looked around again, eyes shining, “Kale, this is the heart of the colony. This is where everything is dreamt up. Some of the greatest minds in the Orbit are in these buildings.”
“You think it would be more organised,” Hugo muttered, looking around at the mismatched buildings, open walkways and high-quality but purely functional street displays.
Dana shook her head impatiently. “You still don’t understand. They don’t need conference halls and banqueting suites like in Sydney. They don’t even get paid. They do it for the love of it.” Webb stole a glance at Dana and was taken by surprise at the thought that she looked like a completely different person with her face open and her eyes wide in admiration. Webb shook himself and hurried after Jazz.
The broker pulled them up short when the entrance of one of the buildings came in sight, guarded by two Enforcers. They were keeping back several shipwrights who were thronging around looking anxious.
“She’s on the fifteenth floor,” Jazz murmured.
“Why are there Enforcers on the door?” Webb said.
Jazz shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s been found out.”
“Can you get us in?”
Jazz didn’t answer right away. Webb put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. “Yes,” she said, shouldering herself out of Webb’s grip. “This way.”
“Will she be expecting us?” Hugo said as they crossed the street and ducked into the shadows down the other side of the building.
“I’m going in alone,” Jazz said. “At least to begin with. I might be able to convince her we don’t care about the credit, just whose it is.”
For once, it only took a look from Webb to convince the Hugos not to argue. Jazz kept her gaze locked ahead as they came to a closed door tucked away between a couple of relay sheds. The buzzing of the electronics inside was loud enough for Webb to almost feel the power in his skin. He watched Jazz type codes into the door’s keypad. The door clicked and Jazz pulled it open and the followed her through. The passage beyond was well-lit and Webb again felt himself twitch at the feeling of exposure. He couldn’t see any cameras however and followed Jazz as she turned one corner and then another.
They paused when the passage opened into a wider walkway. Windows on either side looked into computer labs with ranks and ranks of workstations with shipwrights and technicians at every one of them. Webb peeked out from under the brim of his cap, despite himself. There were displays of every shape and size, most bigger even than Jazz’s, as well as simulators, processors and other top-of the range equipment that all looked custom-made. They rushed by towards a bank of lifts, keeping heads down but all the shipwrights were so absorbed in their work they didn’t look up. The ones in the corridors were too busy rushing or checking data as they moved about to spare them a glance.
“They must not check the blacklists here much,” Hugo mumbled, though he still kept his head down and his own cap low on his face.
“Don’t count on it,” Webb said, restraining from fidgeting or glancing into the nearest labs as they waited for the lift.
Finally the doors opened and they hurried in, though he had to hiss at Dana again who was trying to get a better look at a 4D design simulator that took up most of the floorspace in the nearest lab.
The doors opened onto a much quieter level with fewer doors, all numbered. Residential level, Webb guessed. Jazz went straight down the passage to an intersection, looked round the corner, started and pulled back.
“What is it?”
“Get back,” she said. “There’s more Enforcers at her door. Something’s happened.”
“We should get out of here,” Webb said.
“No way,” Dana said. “I’ve not come all this way to let a lead slip by.”
“The minute they see you, you’re all done,” Jazz said.
Hugo clenched and unclenched his fists. “This can’t be it. There must be a way,” he crept to the corner and peered round. “There’s only two,” he said, ducking back out of sight. “We could take them down.”
“No,” Jazz said, so loud that Webb flinched. “No,” she repeated, quieter. “We don’t hurt them. They’re just doing their job. Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I might be able to get them to leave. Stay out of sight and wait for my signal.”
Webb waved Dana and Hugo back and Jazz went round the corner. Webb edged as close to the corner as he could and tried to listen to the conversation between Jazz and the Enforcers but couldn’t make out what was said. Soon there was the sound of boots heading their way and Webb shuffled further back towards the lifts. The Enforcers strolled by the junction but didn’t look their way and disappeare
d around another corner. There was a bleep on Webb’s wrist panel and the word clear flashed up.
Webb still glanced up and down the length of the corridor before waving the other two to follow him and they rounded the corner. His heart fell into his boots. The apartment door was daubed with a black cross. Rivulets of still-drying paint ran down it like oil on the clean white varnish.
Jazz met them just inside the apartment. She was calm but her face was very pale, her hazel eyes heavy. They were stood in an impeccably neat living area, with stylish furniture arranged around the room precisely and with care. There was no clutter on the surfaces and the equipment in the kitchen unit was neatly aligned and sparkling clean. A workstation with a series of gleaming, high-tech displays dominated the room. The keyboards were all arranged by function with no exposed wiring or loose memory films anywhere.
There was a single half-drunk glass of red wine on a table next to the sofa. The rest of the bottle was smashed on the floor, leaving an ugly stain on a rug. The red wine mingled with a trail of blood that started at the sofa and ran to the bedroom door. Bloody handprints were smeared up the jamb like someone had scrabbled to get away. The door was ajar. It was very still, the noise from the district not penetrating the wide plexiglass windows. No one spoke for a few minutes.
“They’ve cleared the whole floor,” Jazz said, words dropping like stones in the silence. “No one’s claiming kinship or association, though shipwrights are queuing up to bargain her equipment from Reclaim. The Enforcers have given me a few minutes to try and find them any clues that might be in her systems.”
“Is she…?” Dana began, eyes locked on the bedroom door.
Jazz didn’t say anything, just stood there looking ashen.
Webb forced himself to move across to the door. He took a breath and pushed the door open with his boot to avoid touching the blood and stepped through. Hugo came up behind him and they both stood still, not breathing.
The cross on the bedroom wall was daubed in the same thick, black paint as on the door. It stretched the whole length of the wall over the bed. The sheets were rumbled and tangled and stained red, but Celeste’s body was slumped in the corner of the room, eyes wide open and staring right at them. She was in a nightshirt and house gown. Her hair had been very fair so the blood from the stab wounds made it hang in coppery ropes about her face. Webb could still see a little red wine on the corner of her mouth. He turned and left and Hugo followed him out.
“Don’t,” Webb said softly, blocking Dana’s way. A spark of defiance flashed in Dana’s eyes for a minute but then died when she took in the look on her brother’s face. She nodded.
“This can’t be coincidence,” Webb found his voice.
“We should go,” Hugo said.
“No,” Dana said, but softly. She rubbed her mouth and took a breath and tried again. “No, we can’t. Please. We have to see what’s in her systems. Can’t you see?” she looked between them all. Webb rubbed his damp palms on his trousers and looked longingly at the apartment door. “This is all linked. It has to be. Illegal credit brokering, new bloodgrease trader rings with too much cash and someone going after the people involved?”
“Ariel’s not doing this,” Webb said, not recognising his own voice as he glanced at the stains of blood where Celeste had been dragged from the sofa. “This is not the work of a hired blade. This is something else. Something personal.”
“It has to be connected,” Dana said, voice firm. “There’s a big secret here, a nasty one. They tried to silence Harvey, now these people. We find the secret…we find the traders…we find Ariel.”
Jazz glanced at the workstation then at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Dana said as she turned to Jazz. “I know you knew this woman. But, you do this one last system check for us and we’ll not ask anything more. We’ll disappear and you won’t hear from us again.”
The look Jazz sent Webb’s way was like a knife in his belly. “I believe you,” she said.
Webb pulled off his cap and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He could feel Jazz’s eyes on him and the others’ glancing between them both. “You want us gone, Jazz. No matter what you might think. You need to free yourself of me. Please.”
Jazz’s lips pressed together. Sadness was heavy in her eyes. There was a moment when Webb felt as lost as he’d felt those awful days when he’d first come to Haven with nowhere else to go. But then Jazz turned towards the workstation and the moment was broken.
She sat down and booted up the machine.
“How much time do you need?” Hugo asked, glancing at the door.
“Not long.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Hugo said and went to stand by the door. Dana stood at Jazz’s elbow, eyes following the numbers that started to appear on the screen. Webb stood in the middle of the room, trying to not look at the blood.
“This place doesn’t look right,” Dana murmured as she looked around the new and neat furnishings and equipment.
“This is the place of someone who has credit and ways to spend it,” Jazz said. Her voice was flat, either defeated, angry or both.
“Someone’s coming,” Hugo breathed some moments later and stepped back from the door.
“Quick,” Webb said, waving to the bedroom door. Hugo and Dana followed him through to the bedroom and they pushed the door to. Webb put his eye to the gap just as Jazz looked up and an Enforcer came into the room.
“Got anything?”
“Maybe. I need a bit longer.”
“There’s someone else here,” the Enforcer said pulling the apartment door open and a stout figure shambled into the room with grubby coveralls and an uneasy smile.
Webb swore and ducked out of sight. Dana was standing with her back to the corpse looking pale. Hugo frowned.
“Sol,” Webb mouthed, then listened as more soft words were exchanged. When the sound of the apartment door shutting behind the Enforcer was heard, Webb flung the door open.
Sol turned at the sound, eyes widening. “What the…?”
“Sol,” Webb said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Sol’s face flattened in recognition. “Webb? Ezekiel Webb?” He glanced around the room, taking in Jazz’s mild look and Hugo and Dana emerging from the bedroom and moving to block the exit. “I thought you were dead.”
“Surprise,” Webb said. “Now spill. What are you doing here?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Never mind that,” Webb said. “You’re obviously mixed up in some neck-level shit here, Sol. Don’t make it any worse. Tell us what’s going on.”
A shudder ran over the man. “How much do you know?”
“Just that two people have died under a Black Cross and you’ve turned up at the scene both times to hurry the Enforcers into closing the case,” Hugo said.
“How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter how we know,” Webb said. “Start talking.”
Sol shook his head and backed away. “This is none of your business. Believe me, you don’t want to…” he frowned again. “What are you doing here, anyway?” He glanced over at Jazz who was watching everything silently. “You know each other? And you…” he jabbed a finger at Hugo. “I recognise you. What the hell is going on here?”
Webb folded his arms. “That was my question.”
Sol froze. “It’s you isn’t it? You’re the killer from Lunar 1.”
“We’ve not killed anyone,” Dana said, coming forward. “What about you?”
“No,” Sol, barked, raising his hands. “I ain’t touched anyone. I…” He made a wordless noise of frustration, caught sight of the blood and looked away, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t understand. Let me have her data drives and I’ll be on my way. You can have the rest, I don’t care.”
“What do you want her data for?” Jazz asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Sol said, starting to sweat. “I can’t tell anyone…not until I have more.”
“Mo
re what?”
Sol growled and lunged towards the workstation but Webb grabbed him and held him back. Hugo was across the room in a second and helping Webb wrestle the man away from the workstation.
When he went still in their grip he was panting. “I don’t know why you’re here,” he said. “And I don’t give a damn. You want to get mixed up in this Ghost crap that’s your death wish. Just let me get what I need.”
“Ghost?” Webb asked.
Sol’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t say…you don’t know…”
“He knows,” Dana said, coming across the room to look him in the eye. “He knows what’s going on.”
Sol shook his head. “No,” he said, voice now shaking. “I don’t know. Not enough. Not yet. Let me go, Webb, for the love of God. I need more information…for the Elders….”
Webb glanced at Hugo but his face was a blank mask. “Who are the Ghosts? A new gang? They are, aren’t they? Tell us.”
“I’m not saying another word,” said Sol. “Either let me go, or throw me out the window because it’s more than my neck’s worth to tell you anything more.”
“Webb,” Jazz said, standing from the workstation. “I think I have everything we need.”
“You found something?”
Jazz nodded.
Sol went pale under the sheen of sweat. “What did you find?”
“Don’t tell him,” Dana snapped and came forward, drawing her knife.
“What are you doing?” Webb said as Sol again tried to pull away.
“He’s seen us here. We have to silence him.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Webb said, giving Sol over to Hugo and stepping between him and Dana. “Not so fast.”
Dana glanced at the door. Everyone froze at the sound of boots in the corridor. They all held their breath, but then the sound faded away again.
“Out the way, Webb,” Dana said. “We need to get this done now.”
“We’re not killing Sol.”
“He’s here to try and cover all this up,” Dana said. “Just like he did in Sector 2. He’s involved.”
Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2) Page 18