by O. J. Lowe
“You seem to forget one thing with that argument,” Nick said. “Families fight all the time. That’s when it gets personal when the family is involved. I’ve seen some of the worst arguments ever spring from people who should know better.”
“You’re missing the point, I see.”
He felt the ire rise in him, a hot hard feeling in the base of his stomach. “You know, you’re not persuading me with the story here. That’s just the story that religion likes to perpetuate. You’re right. We’ll never know. We shouldn’t for sure. Otherwise it’d be worship for the sake of it. We wouldn’t do it because we believe, we’d do it out of fear.”
“I’ve always found fear to be an excellent motivator,” she said. “But only a fool uses it as their sole weapon.”
“I wouldn’t disagree. There are forces stronger than fear.”
“Greed for instance. That’s served me just as well,” Claudia said. “I’m a very wealthy woman. One of the five wealthiest in the five kingdoms. Well I was before all of this. You see to accumulate, you need to speculate. I’ve been hunting a dream for a very long time because I believe it to be attainable. I have thrown a great deal of credits down this venture and my rewards are almost near. To acquire the priceless, you really have to pay through the nose for it.”
“Oh yeah?” Nick wondered if he was supposed to sound more impressed than he was. Given she’d spilt very little information; he was probably entitled not to be too overwhelmed with emotion.
“You know the story of Ai-Yal’Sanhim?”
He shook his head. “Sounds Vazaran though.”
“Close but not quite. The gist of the story was that those who were exceptional found themselves elevated above the ordinary. The ordinary started to believe in them and thus they became extraordinary. They became more than mortal, they shaped the world in their image and they did what we could not. In short, they became divine.” She smiled faintly. “I want that. I really do.”
“And you want me to help you attain it?” Nick couldn’t believe his ears. As farfetched ideas went, this one took the cake. “I think you might be overestimating what I’m capable of there. Because…”
“No, no, no,” she said. “You can’t help me there. But once it is attained, I must take steps to ensure that it is kept. I will need those who are loyal to me to build a power base. Those who know how to use the weapons in my arsenal. Those who will ascend with me.” She smiled coldly. “I’ve been recruiting from the Quin-C, you know. I wanted those who had nothing to lose and everything to gain to come to my side. Those who wanted change, those with grievances against what had come before. I offer them what nobody else would. A chance for change.”
“A noble goal,” Nick said. “But seriously, you don’t really believe that story, do you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And why would I not? There might be some fanciful elements to it but I’ve always found that there are some elements of truth behind the frippery of every tale. You have suffered, you have struck out against the establishment and you are strong and capable. You are exactly the sort of person I want at my back when I ascend and start to bring this brave new world into being. It won’t be easy but nothing good ever is, I think you’ll agree.”
Claudia Coppinger smiled at him. “So, what do you say?”
Nick exhaled sharply, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and put on an expression of deep thoughtfulness. He leaned forward to look her in the eyes, trying to keep down the feeling of disgust he felt deep within him.
“I believe that you believe what you’re saying is true,” he said. “You seem so damn confident about it, I think you might actually have the stuff to back it up. That equal parts thrills and terrifies me. But it’s a big decision.” He paused to finish his glass of wine, made a big show of swirling the dregs down in the bottom of the glass before swallowing it. “Life changing even. Can’t just say yes or no like that. Allow me some time to think it over and I’ll get back to you.”
She raised a hand. “But of course. I’d be more than a little worried if you just blindly accepted it. Return to your accommodation and perhaps we can arrange a tour of the facilities for the morrow. If you can see what we’ve already got, then it may change your mind.” It wasn’t so much what she said that caught his attention as what she didn’t say. He got the feeling she was omitting the part where if he didn’t sign up with her, he wouldn’t be leaving this place alive.
He’d known the risks. He’d just have to try and get some sort of signal out before things went sour.
Silas was already waiting for her as she entered the room. Amidst all the excitement she’d almost forgotten their little arrangement and he looked impatient to be kept waiting.
“Mister Lassiter,” she said. “Sorry to delay, there were circumstances beyond my control. This entire project is poised in a very delicate position as we speak.”
“Hey,” Silas said angrily. “Don’t talk to me of delicate positions. I’m in a precarious one myself. I think Cyris suspects I’m trying to stab him in the back.”
“Really?” She sounded amused, she couldn’t help that. “And pray, why would he think that? Have you been careless?”
Silas shook his head. “No, I’ve been quiet as a mouse in my movements. Not a hint. So, how’s he…?”
That was when the curtain at the back of the room opened and John Cyris stepped out, no anger on his face but rather disappointment.
“Oh, I told him,” Claudia said nonchalantly. The look on Silas’ face was absolutely priceless, outrage, disgust and hurt betrayal all rolled into one.
“You did what?”
“See I have no wish to ally myself to promises from the bottom when I can get the same with a vow from the top.”
“You’re making a mistake!” Any hint of cool in Silas’ voice had gone and he was starting to sound desperate suddenly. High and shrill, she could see his eyes darting back and forth as if looking for a way out. “He’ll betray you.”
“I’ll have to watch out for that then,” she said sounding amused. “He has no sense of irony, does he John?”
“Not at all, Madam Coppinger,” Cyris smirked. “Simon, I gave you everything when you had nothing.” His smirk faded and there was disappointment in his voice. “I treated you like a son and you do this?”
Silas snorted. “Yeah, I know all about your relationship with your son.”
He said no more as Cyris swung out a fist and Silas went down with a yell, blood suddenly spurting from him. He tried to fight back, all to no avail as Cyris swept in, hitting him and hitting him, fists meeting flesh over and over until he stopped moving.
There was nothing to say to that. She studied him curiously as he got to his feet and straightened his clothes.
“You have a strong reaction to betrayal,” she said.
“He knew what’d happen,” Cyris replied, still staring at the man on the floor. His face had been pounded into something unrecognisable, he still lived but barely, his breathing shallow and laboured. “You think I acted irrationally? Maybe I should have spared him?”
She twitched her lips into an amused smile. “No. I wholeheartedly approve. Sometimes a strong hand is needed.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight. Putting the Pieces Together.
“Your mind will always be your greatest weapon as a Unisco agent. Everything else is superfluous.”
First thing said to Nicholas Roper on first day of Unisco training.
The twenty-third day of Summerpeak.
He’d watched them take her out of the room on a hover-gurney, her face covered by a sheet. For that, he supposed he was grateful. He didn’t want to see her face any more. He’d already had to witness it as he’d entered the room, made the call, fallen to his haunches and just been unable to move. In his stomach, he felt sick, confused, abased. He just wanted to purge the last thing he’d eaten, just sit there and not move until he had to. Arnholt, bless him, had come by to see what was happening and they’d exchanged wo
rds. Nick could see that his boss was just as surprised as he’d been, the shock plastered across his face and he didn’t know if that was more worrying or less than he’d initially thought. If Arnholt hadn’t seen this coming, with all the resources he had at his fingertips, then it might be worse than he’d thought it’d be.
He’d ignored the calls and there’d been plenty of them. It had been all on to get up and leave the room. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d still be there now if a combination of the management and the forensic service hadn’t made him leave, they’d moved him to another room with their condolences. Which was nice, he supposed. They’d have to be just as worried as he was, just as scared. Though theirs was likely from a professional point of view, they didn’t know how this would impact on their reputation. Personally, he couldn’t care less about that right now. Nick was too busy grieving. Somewhere out across not just this island but the whole five kingdoms, the news would slowly be seeping out that a beautiful, kind, talented woman had died and those who had known her would never get the chance to see her again. They’d never get the chance to say goodbye.
They’d never get the chance to say goodbye. That thought was perhaps the most distressing of all. He’d ordered a bottle of Serranian firebrandy from the hotel bar, had it delivered to his room but hadn’t drunk any of it yet. The bottle remained unopened although he’d been tempted. He should. It’d calm his nerves. But at the same time, he didn’t want to be calm, he wanted to be with her. He should be with her but he was here and she was out there. Silent forever, never to make another sound or cast another smile. Already she’d be laid out on a cold slab in the mortuary alone. Alone.
He was sure he must have wept for his eyes were sore and wet, his nose clogged but more than anything he just felt numb. Like a part of him hadn’t just died but had been surgically removed.
For how long he sat there on the floor of the room that bore no trace of what he’d lost at all, he didn’t know. Might have been hours, might have been minutes. He finally broke the top off the bottle and took a long drain from it, the liquid burning the back of his throat harshly. It felt good, he felt the fires twitching through his limbs. Feeling slowly returned to him although he realised now he was shaking, his hands trembling as he held the bottle. Gently he put it down and sighed.
Now, he wasn’t entirely sure where he went. Now he was alone. For several moments, he found himself considering that. Sorrow coursed through him as that thought echoed through his mind before slowly he stood up. Gradually the ice turned to fire, hot anger burning through him as he turned and smashed the bottle against the wall, silvers of glass cutting into his hand, alcohol burning the cuts. It felt good. Like vital pain bringing things back into focus. He drew a deep breath and closed his hand into a fist. Fresh agonies burst through his system but he didn’t make a sound. He was too busy thinking.
He hadn’t slept as he made his way into Will’s makeshift office in the Unisco headquarters, he didn’t feel tired. Or hungry. He didn’t feel much really, just numb in his desire for some answers. And if anyone had them, he’d guess Will probably did. And if he didn’t, then he could get them. He wasn’t about to take no for an answer here.
Nick entered the room, saw the Vazaran slumped down at his desk, head on his arms and sleeping. The last few weeks had been rough on all of them, he supposed. Especially Will. He’d been here late every night doing the job of two or three people and right now he was looking drained beyond relief. The sleep would do him good.
Then again, Nick realised he didn’t care as he closed the door. Loudly. Okocha jerked awake with a start, mumbling out confused words.
“Morning,” Nick said before acting apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t realise you were asleep.”
“Knock next time yeah,” Okocha groaned. “Yipes.” He yawned loudly. “Bloody hells I needed that.”
He felt a twinge of guilt. Not much but some. Okocha could sleep on his own damn time. Nick folded his arms and looked at him.
“You look almost as bad as I feel,” he said, allowing some sympathy into his words. Okocha did look exhausted. “Almost.”
“I know, right? Nick, I’m sorry for your loss.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard such sentiments and he nodded it off gratefully. “Thanks, Will. That means a lot. Now are you going to help me find her killer?”
An audible groan slipped from Okocha as he let his head fall onto the desk again. “Nick, I’m not sure you should be doing this. Shouldn’t you be grieving?”
“I’ll grieve when I’ve got an answer one way or another. And someone’s dead.”
“You do know Arnholt won’t put you on this. It’s not in our jurisdiction, plus it’s way too personal for you.” He didn’t look convinced as he said it. “And if you go off without orders, you’ll be in the shit?”
“And do you know I don’t care?” Nick asked softly. “I’m not… Look just let me look at the evidence in the case. I know you can get hold of it. Let’s look over it, I’ll not even abscond with it. I’ll be under your supervision all times.” He tried to grin at him, failed miserably, decided it wasn’t that important. “Maybe we can find something that’s been missed.”
“Well…” Okocha looked uneasy about the whole thing. That, Nick noted, was a problem. A rather big one. He couldn’t do this without him. Okocha might sympathise with him but if he was unwilling to do much about it then he couldn’t force him.
“Go on. What harm can it do?”
A sigh escaped from Okocha’s mouth. “Okay, okay, we’ll have a look over it. But if you find anything, we take it straight to the director. No running off on revenge missions.”
“Now would I do a thing like that?”
“Well you look desperate enough to do anything right now,” Okocha said dryly. “I’m actually a bit worried here about what might’ve happened if I’d refused to help you.”
“Now who’s being melodramatic?”
Okocha gave him a sarcastic smirk and folded his arms. “I’m going to ignore that. So where do you want to start?”
The crime scene hadn’t revealed much, there’d been fingerprints all over the room but most of them belonged to either him or the victim. Thinking of her like that worked for the moment. Looking at all this imagery reminded him of how he’d found her and the last thing he wanted was those memories troubling him right now. He didn’t want to break down here and now. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. About the best thing he could do was stay focused on the professional aspect of the case. Some existed from the cleaning staff in the hotel, they’d been ruled out as suspects. There’d had been some sets of unidentified fingerprints, Okocha had run them against all known databases but come up empty. That troubled Nick more than he was willing to admit.
Something about this whole mess troubled him. This didn’t feel like an opportunist murder, they’d had to have done some planning, to get in the hotel room without being heard or seen spoke of professionalism. But the way it had gone down felt exceptionally sloppy. No sign of forced entry. Had to have been two people. Deep fibre analysis of the carpet spoke of three sets of footprints in the room in the time frame of death, one of them belonging to Sharon, one of them leaving the impressions that implied a tall heavy man, the other being rather vaguer. Average height and slender-to-medium build was about the best they’d come up with.
“Not much here, I’m afraid,” Okocha said. “Believe me I already looked over it. And there’s no camera footage showing who went in there. It’s all been flashed out. But not in a way I’ve ever seen before. All very weird.”
“Talk to me of the murder weapons,” Nick said. “Maybe there’s something there.”
“Two injuries on her body,” Okocha said, bringing up a holographic rendition of the body. Nick was grateful to see the face had been blanked out, leaving it featureless. That was appreciated.
What hadn’t been concealed was the damage to the back of the head, it was painful just to look at it. Minus the blood and the gore
and the smell of death, it part looked like an egg that had been smashed half in at one side. “First injury which would have killed her was a kinetic blast to the back of the head, smashed her skull straight through and blew fragments of bone into the back of her brain which was already pretty much scrambled already from the blow..” He cracked his fist against the desk suddenly. “She was dead on impact. We all know what a blast like that does to a shielded person, into naked flesh at that range, well that’d be all she wrote.”
“How does someone get a kinetic disperser across an island and into a hotel room without anyone noticing?” Nick asked. “I mean they’re not easy to hide?”
“We’ve been asking around,” Okocha said. “But so far nobody remembers seeing anyone with anything like it about that time. They’re drawing a blank.”
“Yeah that’s helpful,” Nick said. “Really is.” He saw the look on Okocha’s face and felt a bit guilty. “Sorry, I know you’re doing your best. But… Come on, I need to find them.”
There, he’d said it. He’d let it slip. He meant to find them and that was that. He didn’t need Okocha knowing about that. He tried to put his mind to it. Seeing the hologram was a little distracting. Kinetic disperser wounds all followed a similar pattern, narrowing them down to a single weapon would take a lot of time. More than they had. “What about the other wound?”
Okocha hit a few buttons and the holographic image of the woman rotated onto its side, showing the entry wound across the chest. If he bent down and screwed his eyes up, Nick could see the exit would on the other side.