Genesis Trade (Genesis Book 5)

by Eliza Green

  The stench on the floor turned Marcus’s stomach. ‘Clean up your mess or I’ll kill you on the spot.’

  Carl disappeared from the room for a minute. He returned with a scrubbing brush, a bucket and a cloth, and handed them to the waif. She dropped to her hands and knees and scrubbed at the mess. She did the best she could in her weakened state and after, she slumped on the chair.

  ‘So you’ve been lying about your skills?’ said Marcus to the male pair.

  Johan straightened up. ‘No. We are who we say we are.’ He nodded to the half-dead waif. ‘And it’s not her fault she’s caught between the effects of the reversal treatment. She’s neither Indigene nor human.’

  ‘I don’t care what’s wrong with her. She says you’re hiding something.’

  ‘She needs to eat. She doesn’t want to die,’ said Johan. ‘She’s telling you what she thinks you want to hear. Did it ever occur to you that we’ve been telling the truth all along?’

  Marcus eyeballed Johan. His argument seemed plausible. But something about him still irritated Marcus.

  Carl stood by Marcus’ shoulder. ‘So what now? Who’s lying, who’s telling the truth?’

  Marcus checked the time. ‘Let’s move this up a notch.’

  ‘Phase two?’ Carl rubbed his hands together. ‘About time.’

  ☼

  The next part lasted through the night and into morning. Marcus liked to give his prisoners a chance to be truthful—he was a fair businessman after all—but he preferred it when they didn’t cooperate during the first phase. It gave him an excuse to use his toys.

  Marcus’ hand ached from hitting Matthieu and Johan too many times with the brass knuckles. His joy at seeing their open wounds was short-lived as their cuts healed before his eyes.

  Both males refused to talk. No matter what Marcus did, he couldn’t break their spirits. The waif had become too weak for him to torture; he would gain no satisfaction or advantage from killing her.

  He moved on to other techniques he’d learned when he had first joined the Kings. In the early days he had to fight for power, for respect. Challenged to prove his loyalty. Slashed on his arms, his belly. Not enough to bleed out, but it had still hurt. Then there was the scar on his neck. Gaetano had done that after he’d got above his station, challenged Enzo to a fight, tried to take over Enzo’s role in the mansion. Gaetano didn’t like disloyalty or direct attacks on his family. Marcus had barely survived. Lost a lot of blood. Enzo had used a surgical laser to knit the wound closed. He’d done a bad job on purpose. But in one way it was the best thing to happen to him. His wound reminded others of his confrontation with Gaetano and Gaetano had let him live.

  Marcus produced a rare hunting knife from Gaetano’s collection and inflicted deeper cuts on the males’ skin. Before the wounds had time to close, Carl doused them with hydrochloric acid. Johan and Matthieu’s screams hurt Marcus’ ears. The acid weakened them, but it wouldn’t be fatal. Their immune systems could deal with just about anything—except a shot to the head.

  Sixteen hours had passed since they’d arrived at the interrogation house, and Marcus was ready to call it quits. The waif was almost dead and Marcus was spent.

  Carl poked the waif in the chest. ‘Why don’t we put this one out of its misery? She’s no use to us if she won’t eat.’

  Marcus panted. The bruises on their skin grew fainter as the power behind his punches waned.

  ‘Tell me your real skills. Who are you loyal to?’

  Matthieu’s energy had faded but Johan was still talking, slower than before. ‘I told you everything and I’m loyal to you. I’ll prove it to you if you just let us go.’

  Marcus needed less talk, more results; Gaetano would accept nothing less. He pulled out an old-fashioned gun from his pocket and pointed it at Johan. ‘You’re not impervious to dying, are you?’

  ‘No,’ said Johan, his voice breaking.

  ‘Well, since you refuse to tell me what I want to know, I don’t see why I should keep you alive.’ He pointed the barrel at a weak and semi-conscious Matthieu and fired. The shot skimmed over his head and hit the wall. Matthieu barely noticed.

  Johan gritted his teeth.

  ‘Your friend here gets the next one. Got it?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know,’ said Johan. ‘But I can tell you something that’s far more valuable to you.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Your days are numbered at HQ. Enzo is cleaning house for Gaetano.’

  Marcus lowered the gun. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘Gaetano has put some of you on a kill list. Won’t be long before you’re in my position, answering questions for someone else with a twitchier finger and a better aim.’

  Carl lunged at the male and shook him. ‘You lying sack of shit.’

  Marcus pulled Carl off him.

  ‘Let us go and I’ll tell you everything I know,’ said Johan. Marcus could see his strength slowly returned. He glanced at the waif. ‘You should kill her. She’s almost dead, anyway.’

  Marcus pointed the gun at Johan’s head. ‘No. You stay put at the mansion and act as my eyes and ears. I’ll tell Gaetano you’ve passed my test and are loyal to the family. And if you don’t do what I ask, I’ll skip the interrogation and go straight to the end. You get me?’

  Johan lifted his chin. His eyes were half closed. ‘I will help you in exchange for my freedom.’

  Marcus laughed hard. ‘Where would you go? Who’ll want someone like you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter where. But you need me and I need to get out of the mansion.’

  Marcus mulled it over.

  ‘You considerin’ this, Marcus?’ said a shocked Carl. ‘What if he’s lyin’ again?’

  ‘Well, if he is, he’ll be a dead liar.’ Marcus turned to Johan. ‘Agreed. Now, tell me what you heard.’

  Johan sat up straight. ‘I heard Gaetano say that he’s prepared to eliminate associates if the situation in Waverley doesn’t improve. I assume that means you and your dog here.’

  ‘Who you callin’ a dog?’

  Carl ran at Johan, but Marcus held him back. ‘Why?’

  ‘Waverley is the weak link in his network and the other factions are starting to notice, to the point that they think the Kings are ripe for a takeover.’

  Of course Waverley was the weak link, it was why Gaetano had given it to Marcus to manage, not Enzo, but he’d no idea it was that bad. Gaetano hadn’t mentioned anything. He wondered if this little excursion was just to get him and Carl out of the mansion. Right now, the others could be sat around Gaetano’s table discussing plans to get rid of them.

  ‘When’s this elimination supposed to happen?’ said Marcus.

  ‘Any day now.’

  23

  Isobel arrived at the tavern that morning wearing an old shirt and black slacks that Sal had given her. She missed her old clothes, her tunic and trousers. She’d brought them with her, but the military in the docking station had detained her bag and possessions.

  Ben appeared on the stairs and tousled his messy black hair. ‘Morning, Isobel.’ Isobel nodded at him. He smiled and looked her over.

  ‘What?’ said Isobel.

  ‘Nothing. I’m glad Sal found you something else to wear, that’s all.’ He paused. ‘Are you okay after what happened last night?’

  ‘Yes. Fine. Nothing I can’t handle.’ Her words came out sharper than she’d planned. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  Ben nodded and yawned.

  She looked around. ‘Where’s Albert?’

  ‘Probably at the market.’ Ben took the chairs down off the tables.

  ‘Sal’s expecting him at her place.’

  ‘When he comes back, I’ll go to the digital library, see what I can find on your husband.’

  Isobel’s heart beat faster. ‘Do you think the library will have what you need?’

  ‘No idea, but the building still has power. Not sure where it’s coming from.’
<
br />   ‘Do the criminals watch the place? How dangerous will the trip be for you?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘The factions don’t care about the libraries. There’s no information of use to them there. They don’t trust technology anyway. They prefer to do things old school.’

  Isobel positioned the chairs around the tables. ‘When has that stopped them before? They’re not exactly the most rational bunch of humans I’ve come across.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘They’re afraid that someone’s still monitoring what little tech exists.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like someone watches. Other times, it feels like the information is one giant cached copy. You know, a snapshot of what was once a live feed.’ Ben set another chair on the floor. ‘Tell me again about your husband.’

  Isobel had jotted down information for him after the first time they spoke. ‘Alex Sinclair. Thirty-six years old when I left. That makes him forty-four now. Last known address was Manhattan, New York. We never had any children.’

  ‘And that’s everything? Where did he work?’

  Isobel would not tell Ben about Alex’s job as an Earth Security Centre employee unless it was necessary. She didn’t need something else for the residents of Waverley to use against her.

  ‘Nowhere important. Will that be enough to find him?’

  Ben nodded as he got the tavern ready for opening. ‘I’ll find him. Don’t worry about that.’

  ☼

  Albert arrived back two hours later and Ben almost jumped on him the minute he walked through the door.

  ‘I have to go out,’ said Ben.

  ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘Just out. I need to do something.’ He glanced at Isobel.

  She dropped her gaze to the towel in her hand. What if Ben found something? What if her husband was dead? Would she be stuck in this neighbourhood for the rest of her life?

  Albert peppered Ben with a string of questions about where he was off to, about Kevin’s whereabouts.

  She looked up to see an agitated Ben bouncing on his feet. ‘Albert, I have to... do something.’

  Albert slipped off his coat. ‘What?’

  When Ben looked like he might say, Isobel shot him a look. Don’t tell him.

  ‘Something important. I can’t say.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Just be back before three. I need to go somewhere, too.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Ben. ‘Is it something to do with what Sal was talking about?’

  ‘Hush now. No need to worry.’ Albert picked up his hiking sticks and his satchel and shuffled towards the stairs. He said something to Isobel she didn’t catch. She felt restless at the thought of waiting hours for Ben to return. She had to do something.

  ‘I’ll be back as quick as I can,’ said Ben to her. Her chest tightened as he put on his coat.

  ‘Albert can look after the bar.’ She moved so she stood in front of him. ‘I’d like to go with you.’

  ‘I’ll be quicker on my own.’ He touched her hand. ‘I’ll try to get some info, I promise.’

  ☼

  The rest of the afternoon dragged on and Isobel’s patience wore thin. She’d helped Albert push back tables to prepare for some new guests, but that hadn’t taken long. The tavern was empty so with nobody to serve, she stared at the door. At least Old Pete hadn’t shown his face today. Maybe he’d found a different tavern, or he lay in a ditch somewhere sleeping off his despicable actions of last night. The ghost of his touch lingered on her skin and made her shudder. As long as he stayed away, she wouldn’t make trouble for the old drunk.

  Isobel startled when Sal burst into the tavern. She looked around the room and huffed out a breath when she saw Albert. ‘Thank God you’re here.’

  Albert rushed over to her. The pair had a strong friendship. It hurt Isobel to think of similar connections she’d left behind on Exilon 5.

  ‘What’s wrong, Sal?’ said Albert.

  ‘Marcus has sabotaged the generators somehow and life support is failing faster than we thought. We’ve got people streaming in from South, North and West looking for refuge. Too many to take in.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Gathering in Central Square. We have a lot of panicked people out there. If we don’t get control, we could have a riot on our hands.’

  Albert put his coat on and picked up his keys. ‘Bar’s closed until we sort this mess out. Isobel, we could use your help.’

  Isobel paused for a second, caught between waiting for Ben to return, and helping. But she remembered her torture at Bill Taggart’s hands, when she’d told him she would side with whoever needed help the most. Waverley was in trouble and maybe feeling useful again would distract her from her problems.

  Isobel nodded and waited outside for Albert to lock up.

  They arrived at the square to find it mobbed with people wearing gel masks and carrying whatever possessions they owned. The neighbourhood had few young people or those of mid age. The majority of people were Sal and Albert’s age. Isobel couldn’t see how they could fight off an attack from younger men like Marcus.

  Sal hurried over to a trio of older people. She returned a few moments later.

  ‘The reps are worried,’ she said to Albert. ‘We need to find some place to put the refugees.’

  ‘What about the old school?’

  Sal nodded. ‘Perfect. Let’s hope too many more don’t need relocation, or the school will soon be at capacity.’

  Isobel helped to divide the refugees into groups according to the languages they spoke. She, Sal and a group of volunteers from East led the refugees inside the school which had yet to be affected by the failing life support.

  ‘So the factions are targeting the generators at random?’ said Isobel to Sal. ‘Is the life support issue random, too?’

  ‘I don’t know anything at this stage. But I wouldn’t put it past Marcus to make it look random.’

  ‘Has he done this before?’

  ‘Generators, yes. Life support, no.’

  Isobel frowned. ‘It doesn’t seem like Marcus’ way of doing things around here.’

  Sal lifted a brow at her. ‘You don’t think he’s capable of killing innocents?’

  ‘I know he is. But he likes a stage. He likes to show off. This is too passive, even for him.’

  Sal stopped at the entrance to the school and gestured for the volunteers to take the refugees inside. She perched her fists on her hips and smiled at Isobel.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve been blindsided by this place for eight years and you’ve just summarised the actions of the criminals in about ten seconds.’ She shook her head. ‘I just wish you’d turned up sooner. We could have used someone like you initially, before Marcus got his claws into this place.’

  Isobel’s heart fluttered at the praise and that she’d been useful. She would help until she found Alex.

  Sal called inside the building. ‘How much room’s left inside?’

  ‘We can take a few more,’ said one of the volunteers.

  ‘I’ll stay here,’ said Sal to Isobel. ‘If you could bring the next batch up, I would appreciate it.’

  Isobel returned to the square but found only a few stragglers. She sensed this would not be the end of the refugees.

  She found Albert stood close to the square where a small group had gathered in front of him. A woman in her eighties spoke to them in hurried Italian. ‘Failing life support is bad news. We cannot cope.’

  Isobel approached Albert. She wanted to tell him her theory that Marcus wasn’t responsible for the life support issue. But she didn’t see how that would help amid the chaos. So she held her tongue.

  A visibly tired Albert turned to her when the group took over listening to the woman’s concerns. ‘I’m sorry you got stuck dealing with this mess. I wish things could have been different for you when you came back here. Have you heard anything about your husband?’

  ‘Ben is looking for him at the
digital library.’

  Albert shook his head. ‘I knew he was up to something. Can’t resist an adventure, that one. Has it in his blood.’ He looked at her. ‘Do you have the same spirit of adventure?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Really? So you haven’t tried to escape yet? Have you discovered the barbed wire?’

  She smiled. ‘You know I have.’

  ‘The barbed wire isn’t the issue. It’s that ridiculously high double wall.’ Albert sighed. ‘So why are you here?’

  His question confused her. ‘You know why. Marcus sold me as a slave and I can’t find a way out.’

  Albert shook his head. ‘No, I mean, why are you helping? Here in the square. You could have refused. You owe us nothing.’

  ‘What’s been done to these people is no different than what was done to me. While I find the people here are highly intolerant of me, I sense an underlying decency, too. I could do without the rules, though.’

  Albert snorted. ‘You should try living with the Germans. They have rules for everything.’

  More people streamed into the square just as an out of breath Sal arrived back. ‘The factions have turned off life support to more of the apartments in South.’

  ‘I’ll take the Italians back to the tavern,’ said Isobel. ‘Help them get settled.’

  Albert nodded. ‘I’ll stay here. This will take a while.’

  24

  Marcus couldn’t shake his sense of dread on the drive back to HQ. Johan’s information on Gaetano’s plans had rattled him. He’d thought about bringing back all three Indigenes alive, but Gaetano would get suspicious if he returned without killing at least one. The waif, even though she was close to death, was more useful to him alive. He would feed her more, use her to read the associates’ minds. Carl had buried Matthieu behind the safe house in Long Island where they’d spent the last twenty-four hours.

  Soft hearts didn’t survive in this business. It was kill or be killed.