The Legend of the Red Specter (The Adventures of the Red Specter Book 1)

by M. A. Wisniewski

  Joy realized she was babbling and decided to shut up before she made it any worse. She looked around. The Triad thugs radiated indignation and disgust. How dare she question their boss. Joy saw the slightest upward twitch at the corner of Shiori's mouth, but couldn't tell who she was laughing at, or what the joke was. And Daphne was examining her with some kind of clinical interest, enough to make her pause her endless note-taking, but with no other normal emotion Joy could detect. But they all kept quiet, waiting on a cue from Benny. Joy scanned his face, waiting for an angry denial, followed by rage.

  Instead he threw his head back and laughed. "Soap! That's a new one. Can you believe this broad? All the times I've told this story, with the dragon and the sharks and the blood and guts—and what's her takeaway? Soap! And you know what—maybe that was the point. Getting soaked in all that detergent must've inspired me to clean up my act, huh?"

  The thugs all laughed dutifully, Shiori kept smirking, and Daphne raised an eyebrow. Joy let out a long breath. She'd been worried over nothing again. Benny was actually much more secure in his beliefs than the Mithras priests were. He really didn't care if anybody else believed him or not. Or at least, his livelihood didn't depend on drawing worshippers to a shark-cult. He'd gone through a profoundly transformative personal mystical event, and nothing would ever shake that out of him. Even if she were to mention that lack of food and sleep were known to induce hallucinations and out-of-body experiences, (Which is why mystics often went on fasts) it wouldn't make so much as a dent in his certainty. So bringing it up was totally pointless. Keeping her mouth shut about that, yes indeedy.

  But did it make a difference? Benny the Shark hadn't clawed his way to the top of the Dodona Triad syndicate by being nice and letting things slide. Not the types of things she'd done. No matter what she did, he was still going to make her pay. The thought of it sent ice-cold panic shockwaves through her body. Her whole body tensed, strained against her bonds.

  No—nothing good came of thinking like that. She just needed to survive. Somehow. How could she do that? She had to convince them she was more valuable to them alive. What did she have that they needed?

  Information. She knew where the girls had gone. But she couldn't give them away—could she? Maybe she could. Once the girls had made it to the Temple, they’d be safe. It wouldn’t matter if he knew about them or not.

  And with all these delays, the girls must've all reached it by now. So she had no reason to keep it secret. But could she be sure of that? One hundred percent sure? Maybe some or all of the girls were still hiding in an alleyway, a few blocks from the temple, waiting for a clear path to emerge. Maybe they could still be intercepted if she talked. How likely was that? How much time had passed? How long had she been unconscious? She had no way of knowing; no way to make an educated decision.

  Fine, what did she know? She thought back to her days as an analyst. What did she know about interrogation? About torture?

  Not a lot. Her job had consisted almost entirely of sifting through reams of captured documents and intercepted communications, picking out the useful bits, and translating them. But she'd picked up little snippets from office chatter and from her Supplemental Courses instructors.

  Bottom line: everyone broke under torture eventually. Some extraordinary individuals could hold out for a long time—weeks, or even months—but it only delayed the inevitable. And Joy wasn't feeling like an exceptional individual right now.

  Fine. She'd try not to talk right away, but it would be better to fess up sooner rather than later. She'd just have to trust in the girls' sneaking abilities. That was the best she could do. But she didn't have to volunteer information, either.

  What might they not think to ask about? Well, Mrs. Jakuba, for one. No need to mention her. And the letters she'd written to the KIB and Professor Gelfland. Just had to hope they didn't ask. Okay.

  So, give up the girls’ location, but only after delaying long enough so it wouldn’t matter, hide Jakuba, Gelfland, and KIB. And then what? They get that info, get what they wanted from her, and then they had no reason not to kill her. She had to have something else. What could she offer? What did she have that they might want? She wracked her exhausted, sluggish brain for anything that might be useful.

  What had she learned that day that Benny might... The jewels! The ones hidden in those amulets! Benny didn't know about the jewels. Were they significant? They must be, if the cultists had gone to such extreme lengths to hid them. So she could rat on the cultists to the Triads. And then they'd have what they wanted, and they'd go ahead and kill her anyway.

  Joy fought down another wave of terror. It couldn't be information. That currency lost all value the instant she spent it. It had to be something she could do, that only she could do, something they needed. What could that possibly be?

  This was the most vital problem she'd ever faced. Solving this puzzle held the key to her continued existence, and she attacked it with all her might, every last bit of concentration and mental energy, all her schooling, all training, all her life experiences. She threw these troops into the breach, do or die, fight to the last man. She marshaled every last mental resource to bring her victory, and they came back... With absolutely nothing.

  She had nothing to offer a man like Benny. There was no solution. She felt a yawning black pit of despair open up beneath her. This was the sum total of her entire life. They could carve onto her gravestone at the family plot. 'Fan Joy Song—Lacked Useful Skills."

  A grating sound echoed through the cavernous warehouse, jolting her out of her reverie.

  "Oh, good," said Benny. "Looks like your friends are here."

  Chapter 45

  Who's That Girl?

  Joy gazed off down the long aisle that stretched between the towering shelving, and heard the sounds of footsteps traveling down one of the rows. Seemed like a lot of people. She sent out a desperate plea to any god that might be listening--please don't let them be the girls, please don't let it be the girls, please don't let this all have been for nothing. As the steps came closer, Joy felt a surge of hope when she realized there was a noise that was missing: the rattling of chains. Hope turned to confusion when her 'friends' rounded the corner and she found herself staring at the Dodona City Guard.

  Joy stared. How in the world were they her friends? What was...? But never mind. It wasn't the girls. That was the only important thing.

  "Chief Gallach," said Benny. "So good of you to join us, finally."

  "Have to forgive us, Mr. Fang," said the Chief, sounding strained. His throat was wrapped in bandages. "Some of us… haven't been feeling well."

  The Chief was trying to talk while keeping the motion of his jaw to the barest minimum. To avoid pulling the skin on his neck. Ouch. None of the Guardsmen appeared to be in the best shape. Joy scanned their faces and saw numerous black eyes, cuts, bruises, missing teeth, and the like.

  But Brannock had them all beat. He was shivering, even though he had a heavy cloak wrapped around him, and his pale skin was covered in a clammy sheen. His sunken eyes gazed straight ahead, focused on some point far beyond the back wall. MacInroy was hovering right behind him, making sure Brannock didn't fall over. He looked awful, but Joy didn't suppose she'd be in any better shape if someone had hacked off one of her arms a couple hours ago.

  Benny noticed it, too. "Man, Chief. You need to treat your people better. When one of my boys gets worked like that, I give him the day off."

  "Deep King calls us to serve," rasped Gallach, through pressed lips. "We all… bound to answer His call, regardless of… inconvenience."

  "Sounds like a lousy boss," said Benny. "Not like me. I know how to appreciate my employees. Even when they let their enthusiasm get the better of them."

  "Shiori," he said, gesturing to the battered Guardsmen. "Look at what you did. We've talked about this." Gently chiding her, like she'd left her dirty coffee mug in the sink too many times.

  "Sorry," she said, shrugging, in a tone that was anyt
hing but. "They thought flinging a cow pie at me was cute. Had to teach them a lesson. Got a rep to uphold."

  "Oh, you and your rep," sighed Benny, throwing up his hands. "I keep forgetting I'm dealing with a celebrity here."

  "Should keep your woman on a tighter leash," muttered Gallach. "Get hysterical… when they leave home. Put her back in… kitchen. Or brothel."

  All of the Triad men went very still and directed nervous glances over at Shiori. She bared her teeth at the Guardsmen, and very leisurely straightened up out of her slouch. Her left hand blurred, and Joy remembered their confrontation from earlier, and her deadly throwing knives. The Guardsmen remembered it, too, flinching and ducking behind their shields. MacInroy was the worst off—he had to hug Brannock to keep him upright, frantically hissing something in his ear.

  But no knife appeared anywhere. Shiori's ended the feint with her hand up by her shoulder. She mimed flicking dirt off her pauldron, switched hands on her polearm, and repeated the gesture on her other shoulder. The Triad men laughed, and Joy let herself join in, remembering how nice and helpful Gallach had pretended to be when they'd first met. Now she was seeing the real man. Two-faced jackass.

  The Chief turned to Benny, indignant, but the mob boss cut him off. "No, don't start with me. You had that coming. You were disrespectful. In fact, that seems to be the heart of the problems we're having here. Lack of respect."

  Joy felt a jolt travel down her spine. For the first time, Benny's voice lost its genial, accommodating tone. Now it had an edge. Again she was reminded of why Benny the Shark was a name that inspired terror.

  "Chief Gallach," he said. "I'm not an unreasonable man. I realize that I'm not the only game in town. I know that negotiations, even strained negotiations, are all part of doing business. You guys have been driving a hard bargain lately. We've got some merchandise in dispute. I can deal with that. But my patience has a limit. There's a line that you just don't cross. And sending in a little girl to steal my merchandise and torch half my dock while she's at it—that is very, very, disrespectful."

  Benny put a slow, careful emphasis on the word 'disrespectful,' teeth flashing as he bit off each syllable.

  "That. Is. Too god-damned far."

  "What, her?" The Chief glanced over at Joy. "Not with us."

  Joy was too stunned to reply. They thought she was working for the Guardsmen. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

  "Oh, she isn't?" said Benny. "So why, then, did she sneak into the cargo ship, knock out and tie up the entire crew, and make off with only the merchandise that we were in such heated negotiations over, while completely ignoring all the other goods in that ship—jewelry, concentrated Spike, art objects—goods that would've been much easier to re-sell? You expect me to think that's a coincidence? You really think I'm that stupid?"

  Joy stifled a protest. They thought she'd knocked out the guards? Little ol' her? That was… kinda flattering, but really—

  "No idea what you're talking about," said Gallach. "Never seen her before—"

  "The hell you haven't," snarled Yang. "Boss, I saw them talking earlier, at the docks. They were helping her escape with one of the girls—the runaway—"

  "Was saying," snapped Gallach, "Never seen this girl… before today, when—"

  "Yeah, right," said Yang. "Boss, you gotta--"

  Benny held up a hand. "That's enough, Yang," and this rebuke had steel behind it. Yang shut up.

  "Ridiculous," said the Chief. "She look like one of us? We—"

  "No, but she's just your type, isn't she?" said Shiori. "Fresh out of the cradle, just like you perverts like 'em."

  "GOD DAMN IT, I AM TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD!" Joy recovered from her outburst to see all eyes focused on her. Oops. Now was not the best time for wounded pride. Even though it was totally justified.

  "Enough," croaked the Chief. "Didn't come here for this. We paid you for property. You don't provide it. Give us accusations instead. That ends tonight. You give us our women, right now, or else."

  The last word made Joy suck in a breath. Nobody made a move, nobody said anything, but the entire atmosphere changed. It was like everyone was vibrating. Joy felt her pulse racing, and she strained at her bonds. Her body was telling her she needed to get the hell out of here, just get up and back away slowly, but she couldn't. It was maddening.

  "Or else?" said Benny, no amusement in his razor smile. "Forgive me, Chief, but that sounded like a threat. You threatening me?"

  Chief Gallach met his gaze, unflinching. "Yes."

  "Well, that's interesting," said Benny. "You know, the heads at Cymru, they warned me against killing cops. Creates too much of a stir, draws attention, public outrage. And I listened. So I've been letting things slide with you people. You've been getting the kid glove treatment. But now—"

  Benny gestured, and metallic clacking sounds echoed from all around them. On both sides of the aisle, more Triad men emerged from their hiding-places, wielding Manticore machine guns. That was the source of the clacking—safeties being switched off and rounds being chambered.

  "Now I'm starting to think maybe a little public outrage isn’t so bad. I'm starting to think the hassle might be worth it. After all, I didn't get where I am by playing it safe all the time, now did I? So tell me, what do you think about that?"

  “I think," said Gallach. "You still don't understand at all."

  He nodded at MacInroy, who yanked off Brannock's cloak, and Joy found herself reaching new levels of panic. Brannock wore a vest lined with row after row of dynamite. He fixed them all with a manic grimace and held out his one remaining hand, clutching a small handle with wires trailing back to his vest.

  "Dead man's switch," said Gallach. "He lets go… we all go. He is prepared."

  Everyone stared at the sweating, shaking Brannock, and they did not see a man overly concerned with future plans.

  The Triad men held their positions, but Joy couldn't help but notice some of them shift back, just a bit, trying to get a little cover. Shiori kept her couldn't-give-a-shit sneer plastered on her face, but Joy had to wonder how much of that was bluster. And the threat of a massive bomb was enough to make Daphne actually look up from her clipboard.

  Benny sighed and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. "A bomb, Chief?" He sounded aggrieved. "You're going to blow yourself up, too? Isn't that a bit over-the-top?"

  "We're not like you, Benny," said the Chief. "You only care for this world—material stuff. Transient. Our reward… greater, deeper. Dedicated to it, all of us. We.. give up everything. Prepared for it. You wouldn't understand."

  The guardsmen stood shoulder-to-shoulder, grim faces showing no crack in their resolve. Joy felt her stomach bottoming out in horror as she realized they were not bluffing. They were serious. But there was something else, a flicker in the Chief's eyes, a deeper emotion driving everything else. She realized this wasn't stupid macho posturing or some overblown negotiation tactic. This was desperation. They needed to get the girls back, needed it in a way that went beyond life or death. What was going on here?

  The staredown between Chief Gallach and Benny the Shark went on for what felt like far too long, every eye in the warehouse turned to them, everyone wondering if each moment would be their last. Benny spoke first.

  "You're right," he said. "I don't understand you. But, at the very least, I can respect your conviction. Nobody would go this far if they were only trying to pull a fast one."

  Benny twitched a finger and the gunmen relaxed a bit, pointing their Manticores toward the ceiling. MacInroy glanced over at Chief Gallach, and carefully laid his hand on top of Brannock's thumb. Joy saw some relieved exhales from a few of the Guardsmen. Despite their dedication, apparently some of them weren't eager to reach the next world right away.

  "But, even so," Benny continued. "We still have a problem here. But maybe we can all be reasonable people, help each other sort things out. First things first: you say this girl don't work for you? You really don't know who she is?"

>   "That's right," said Gallach.

  "So then, if I were to tell Shiori to give her an extra smile, going from ear to ear, right here and now, you'd have no problem with that, right?"

  "Wait, what?" said Joy. "That's not fu—mmmph!"

  A rough gloved hand clapped over Joy's mouth and yanked her head back until it pressed against something hard and unyielding. The pungent scent of sweat-infused leather swarmed up her nose as she stared down at the corded stitches binding the segments of steel plate on the back of Shiori's gauntlet. She felt a sharp prick beneath the far corner of her jawline, cold and merciless, but she couldn't see the knife.

  She looked back to the City Guard, pleading, and saw a mixture of indifference, confusion, or annoyance. "If you want," said Chief Gallach. "Nothing to do with us."

  MacInroy frowned and nudged the Chief. "But she might know something. Seems kind of a waste to—"

  "I know how to get information," said Benny. "Setting your priorities is key. And what I want to know right now, most of all, is whether or not she works for you. You insist she don't? Never seen her before?"

  "Not before today," said the Chief. “Saw her on patrol, talked a few minutes, found her later. Trying to steal the runaway. Then—"

  "Well, let's test that out. Shiori?" Benny held up a finger, and Joy felt the point bite deeper into her neck, felt a hot wetness well up there, begin a slow trickle down her throat. She tried to break free, but it was like she'd been clamped in a vice. What was happening? Just like that? Without even asking her any questions? She tried to protest, but only managed a desperate whimper, smothered by Shiori's glove. Not like this! It couldn't end like this!

  Benny took a leisurely sip of his tea, then fixed his gaze on Chief Gallach. "Carpenters and shipbuilders have a saying: 'Measure twice, cut once.' So I'll take one last measure of you, Chief."