by Nick Moseley
Trev hesitated. He didn’t want to lose track of Sarah, but neither did he want to leave Bumberger to have his skull fractured. With a stifled curse he vaulted the nearest stall and ran to intervene. The Line man was already swinging as Trev closed in. Letting out a wordless shout, Trev lunged in with his bat and managed to deflect the blow aimed at Bumberger’s head. It struck him on the shoulder instead, which was – judging by Bumberger’s scream – pretty painful, but a lot better than having a concave skull.
Both Trev and his opponent ended up struggling for balance. Trev, who didn’t have the disadvantage of a recently-tenderised crotch, recovered more quickly. His anger flared again. With no room for a full swing he took hold of the end of the bat with his left hand and drove it upwards. The blunt end caught the Line man under the chin and almost lifted him off his feet. He dropped into the mud and didn’t get up.
‘Shit,’ said Trev.
‘What is… who are…’ Bumberger gasped. He was clutching his left shoulder and looking up at Trev from a semi-crouching position. ‘Was that man..?’
‘Going to kill you? Probably.’ Trev took hold of him by his uninjured arm and pulled him away. ‘We’d better hide. The rest of them are coming.’
They ducked into cover moments before the running battle spreading out from the dancefloor reached them. The Line were retreating, but it was an organised retreat. They had enough armed thugs to keep the party-goers at bay, and they were gathering up their wounded as they went. As they neared the exit, the pursuing mob slowed and stopped. Trev spotted Miriam Kenton in the front rank. There was blood all down the left side of her face from a cut somewhere in her hairline, she’d acquired a baseball bat from somewhere, and she looked very, very angry. Trev was glad she was aimed at the Line and not him.
A strange quiet settled over the scene as the two groups separated.
‘We’re letting you go this time but you’d better not bloody come back,’ Kenton snarled, directing her words at the Line leader.
‘Letting us go?’ he snapped. ‘No. We came to gave you a warning, and we have. We are leaving.’
Kenton wiped blood off her chin. ‘Then sod off, before we change our minds.’
The Line began to stream out through the curtain. The biggest thugs stood guard, bats at the ready. As a group they were a lot less cocky than when they’d arrived, and a number of them were hurt. Some had torn and bloodied clothes; others were limping or struggling with other injuries; and an unlucky few were being carried out. Not all of that latter group were even conscious.
As the curtain swung closed behind the final black-clad figure, Trev blew out a long, frustrated breath.
‘I’m glad that’s over,’ he said.
‘That, I’m afraid, was not an ending,’ Bumberger replied. ‘It was a beginning. They will be back.’
‘And in greater numbers,’ Trev replied, unable to resist an obvious Star Wars quote.
With the threat gone, the partygoers were separating. The stallholders were returning to the market area to see what – if anything – could be salvaged. Others were tending to the injured, passing round first aid kits. A few people were drifting in the direction of the exit while the majority were standing around in small groups, talking. They had the characteristic look of people who have witnessed something bad and feel that they ought to be doing something, but aren’t quite sure what.
‘I ought to thank you for the rescue,’ said Bumberger. He put out a hand. ‘I am Berndt Bumberger, but people usually call me “B.B.” because apparently my name is amusing to British ears.’
‘Is it?’ said Trev, shaking the offered hand and keeping his face as neutral as he could as he introduced himself. He judged Bumberger – or B.B. – to be in his late forties or early fifties. His brown hair was receding from the front and cowered above the pink expanse of his forehead like a frightened kitten. Below the forehead was a narrow face with deep-set eyes, their corners crinkled with laughter lines, a beak of a nose, and a thin-lipped mouth that was currently quirked in a rueful smile.
‘Apparently so,’ he said.
‘Well, British humour isn’t really known for subtlety,’ Trev replied. ‘It’s mostly just terrible puns and knob jokes.’
B.B. laughed. He rummaged in his pockets and extracted a silver cigarette case. He extracted a cigarette and lit it, offering the case to Trev as an afterthought. Trev shook his head.
‘A terrible habit, I know,’ B.B. said, ‘but my only real vice.’
He rolled his shoulder and winced. ‘How is it?’ Trev asked.
‘Sore, but I don’t think it’s broken.’ B.B. exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air. ‘This was not the kind of evening I was expecting. I don’t see why a small group of people gathering to conduct their business in a remote location would be considered a threat to society. Perhaps I am missing the point somewhere.’
‘Some people are just arseholes,’ Trev replied, for want of a more insightful comment.
B.B. nodded. ‘No argument.’
Trev hesitated. Having lost track of Sarah and Barker, he knew that B.B. represented his only hope of tracking them down. However he didn’t think that the man would willingly sell out his clients. Trev would have to tread carefully.
‘Do you know what happened to my friends?’ he asked, in as casual a tone as he could manage. ‘Last I saw of them, they were going to see you for an appraisal. A woman with curly blonde hair and a bloke with a beard. Did you see them?’
B.B. took a long draw on his cigarette. His expression had changed into something wary. ‘I saw them,’ he finally replied. ‘And their… item.’
‘Did you see where they went?’ Trev had to work to keep his face neutral. So Sarah and Barker had been there to try to sell something.
‘They left.’ B.B.’s previous chattiness had evaporated. ‘Just before you came to my aid.’
‘At least they got out,’ said Trev, with mock relief. ‘Was the item of any interest?’
B.B. chuckled. There was little humour in it. ‘To many, I’m sure,’ he said, ‘but not to me. Do you know where your… friends obtained it?’
Trev shrugged. B.B.’s gaze was making him uncomfortable. They’d been getting on like a house on fire, but now B.B. was eyeing him like Trev had stopped him in the street and tried to sell him a time-share on the moon.
‘I know who you are, Trev,’ B.B. said. ‘I’ve heard your name around. You might not be a Custodian but you associate with them, yes?’
‘That’s not a secret,’ said Trev.
‘No, but it makes me wonder why you’d claim to be friends with two people who are trying to sell stolen property.’
‘Stolen?’
B.B. finished his cigarette and crushed the stub into the mud with his foot. ‘That item was stolen from a Fisher auction not long ago. But I’m sure you knew that already.’
‘Actually, I didn’t,’ said Trev.
B.B. gave him a searching look. ‘Perhaps I believe you, perhaps not. Either way, your friends are in trouble. There’s a large reward on offer for the item’s return. Nichola Fisher isn’t a woman to cross, you know. I’m proof of that.’
‘She’s to blame for your current situation?’
‘I was challenging her monopoly, so they set me up.’ B.B.’s forehead creased in a frown. ‘And that is the only reason I’m not going to report your friends and claim the reward. I’m enjoying the loss of face she’s experiencing. That item was bought for a very big sum and Fisher lost it. It’s really not good for her reputation, and that makes me smile. In Germany we call this feeling Schadenfreude. I’m not proud of it, but there you go.’
‘Right,’ said Trev. He needed to steer the conversation away from philosophical concerns and back onto facts. ‘Look, I’ll be honest with you. Only one of the two is my friend. The blonde woman, Sarah. I think the bloke with her is holding her against her will. He’s the one who stole the item.’
‘She didn’t seem like a hostage to me,’ B.B. said.
‘Even assuming I do believe you, I’m not sure how I can help you.’
‘Well, what can you tell me about the item he’s trying to sell? Is it dangerous?’
‘Not that I could tell. It’s a small bronze wheel with a single white crystal in the centre. I didn’t get any sense of power from it, and I know psychic artefacts as well as anyone. But if it’s worth as much as I hear it is, then there must be something about it. I just can’t tell you what.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Just that I wasn’t interested. I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t think the man would have appreciated being called a thief.’
‘Is there anywhere else they might try to sell it?’
‘There are other dealers less reputable than me,’ said B.B. with a shrug.
‘Can you give me any names? It’s pretty urgent that I find them.’
B.B. shook his head. ‘I’m not going to just give you a list,’ he replied. ‘These are people who’d be quite upset with me if they found out I was giving their details to someone so closely associated with the Custodians. But you did save my life this evening, so I am willing put the word out for you. If I hear they’ve been spotted, I’ll let you know. Give me your number.’
‘Great, thanks.’ Trev gave him the details. ‘Look, I really appreciate thi–’
‘Trev bloody Irwin!’ roared an angry voice.
Trev looked around to see Miriam Kenton stalking towards him. She didn’t look like she was in the market for a warm handshake and a hug.
‘I must be on my way,’ said B.B. hurriedly. ‘Good evening.’
He slipped off in the direction of his booth, leaving Trev to face Kenton’s anger alone.
Nineteen
‘What’s up?’ Trev asked. He had no idea why Kenton was so upset, but he didn’t want to compound things by looking guilty.
Kenton swung an arm, taking in the broken stalls, the people heading for the exit and the rows of injured.
‘That’s “what’s up”, you moron,’ she snapped.
‘I can see that,’ said Trev, teetering between puzzlement and irritation. ‘Why are you getting in my face about it?’
‘Why do you think?’ Kenton’s fists were tightly clenched.
‘You don’t think I brought those Line dickheads with me?’
‘Of course I bloody don’t. But it was you that provoked them, wasn’t it?’
Trev frowned. ‘Provoked?’
‘You swaggered up to them with your baseball bat and challenged them, Trev,’ Kenton said. ‘Or had you forgotten that?’
‘Ah. Well,’ said Trev.
‘Yeah. “Ah well”.’ Kenton’s stare was frighteningly intense. ‘They came here to put the wind up us. Smash some stuff. Make themselves feel tough. You turned it into a battle.’
‘What?’ said Trev. ‘Don’t tell me I’m getting the blame for that!’
‘You escalated it!’ Kenton jabbed him in the chest with a finger. Hard. Trev fell back a step. ‘Their leader had to respond to your challenge or lose face. And there’s the result.’
She pointed at a wounded man being helped past them. He had blood all over his face and was walking unsteadily. Trev hoped the man’s companion was taking him to a hospital; he looked well beyond the scope of sticking plasters and aspirin.
‘They weren’t here just to intimidate us,’ Trev replied. ‘They wanted to break a few bones. They all had baseball bats!’
‘We’ll never know what they intended to do, will we?’ Kenton shot back. ‘Because you set them off, trying to act the hard man.’
‘This is bollocks.’ Trev folded his arms. He could feel Bad Trev’s influence rising again and pushed against it. ‘You’re the head of security, right? So how did they get in here in the first place?’
Kenton threw up her hands. ‘My security team is here to throw out the odd troublemaker. We’re not set up to repel an invasion by a few dozen armed nutters.’
‘Is that what this is about? You didn’t stand up to them and now you’ve got your arse in your hand because someone else did?’
This time Kenton grabbed the front of Trev’s coat. ‘Are you really this stupid?’ she growled. ‘My job isn’t to start fights. My job is to protect the attendees.’
‘And you do that by letting them get beaten up?’
‘Christ, you really are this stupid.’ Kenton let go of Trev and shoved him away. ‘Listen to me, Irwin. Those Line pricks came here to make a statement. Warn us off. Smash our stuff. Whatever. Their leader said as much, didn’t he? Now you’d better believe that pisses me off. Enormously, in fact. But having your stall smashed down is a lot better than having your head smashed in, right? So we move everyone back to the dancefloor. Let the losers have their fun but keep the attendees safe, at least. Then some clown decides to show the world how tough he is, and suddenly everyone wants to fight. And what happens? A lot of people get hurt. And it’s your bloody fault.’
Trev was formulating an angry response when Miss Pine joined them. She was back in human form, though not unscathed. Her face was bruised and she was wrapping a bandage around her left hand, which looked badly swollen. She gave Trev a frown.
‘Thanks for the assist back there,’ he said. He hoped that she would back him up in the argument with Kenton, but her expression wasn’t promising.
‘What did I say to you before we came?’ she asked him. She carried on without allowing him to answer. ‘I said that something would happen. Something always happens when you’re around, doesn’t it? I also said I wouldn’t back you up when that something happened, but I ended up doing it anyway. Like I always do.’ She shook her head. ‘What did you think you were doing, challenging them like that?’
‘Pretty much the conversation we were already having,’ said Kenton.
‘What I wasn’t doing was just standing there and letting people’s livelihoods get trashed,’ Trev snapped. ‘Bloody hell, I thought people would be glad someone was prepared to face up to those bastards.’
‘And now we have a bunch of people who’ve had their livelihoods trashed and have a broken arm, or some missing teeth, or a concussion,’ said Kenton. ‘Well done.’
‘Look, whatever.’ Trev shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘If you want to see it that way, go for it, but my conscience is clear. Now, is there any way I can help with the injured? I can run a few people to the hospital if you want.’
The offer was intended as an olive branch. Kenton, however, wasn’t going to be placated that easily.
‘I think you’ve “helped” us all enough for tonight,’ she said. ‘I’d prefer it if you leave. And another thing: you’re barred. Don’t waste your time trying to get into another pax party, here or anywhere else.’
‘Come on, this is ridic–’
‘Just go, Trev,’ said Miss Pine. ‘You’re not helping yourself by arguing.’
‘You too, Louise,’ said Kenton.
‘What?’
‘I warned you, didn’t I?’ Kenton’s eyes were hard. ‘If you vouch for him, and he causes trouble, you both get barred.’
She pointed again at the injured party-goers. ‘I think that falls into the bracket of “causing trouble”, don’t you think?’
Miss Pine looked stricken. ‘Wait, Mim. Think about this. Yes, Trev attracts trouble, but he’s not to blame for the Line being here. They’re the real troublemakers.’
Changed your tune a bit, Trev thought unhappily.
‘There’s no point arguing with me.’ Kenton’s arms were folded and her jaw was set. ‘The decision’s made. I want you both gone.’
‘Mim, please,’ said Miss Pine.
‘You can walk out, or be thrown out. Up to you.’
Miss Pine took a breath as if she was going to continue the conversation, but a look at Kenton’s face was enough to tell her it would be futile. She turned and strode towards the exit, passing Trev without as much as a glance in his direction.
Trev faced Kenton. ‘Look, bar me if you want. I wasn’t planning on coming to these things regularly anyway. But don’t take it out on Louise. None of this shit was her fault.’
‘She knew the rules.’ Kenton shrugged. ‘And you know where the exit is.’
She turned her back on him and walked away. Trev felt a surge from Bad Trev and had to bite his tongue to avoid saying a number of things he’d immediately regret. Instead of giving Kenton an excuse to punch his face onto the back of his head, he opted to run after Miss Pine. She was almost at the exit, walking with her head down, hands shoved into her pockets.
‘I knew it, just bloody knew it,’ she was muttering as Trev caught up with her. ‘Could’ve just said no, could’ve ju–’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Trev said, cutting into her monologue. ‘Had a word with Kenton but she’s being unreasonable. Is there a way you can appeal that decision? Go to a higher authority?’
‘Go home, Trev,’ Miss Pine said. The anger had drained from her voice and she sounded tired. ‘I hope you got what you wanted from your evening.’
‘Come on, don’t be like that.’ Trev followed her through the curtain and out into the woods. ‘Kenton’s just blaming me for her own failure.’
‘It doesn’t matter, does it?’ Miss Pine still hadn’t looked at him. ‘What matters is that once again I’ve done you a favour and once again I’m regretting it.’
‘Come on,’ said Trev again.
Miss Pine came to a halt on the edge of the makeshift car park and finally faced him.
‘No, Trev,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to “come on”. I’ve had enough of you. Don’t call me again. Don’t visit me. Don’t even bloody talk about me. All right?’
‘Louise, look–’