Acts of Violence (18 page)

When I heard the
click of their door, I continued around the corner. Their two apartments were 304
and 305. At the end of the corridor was 308 and 309. I could go left or right.
Still no signs. I took the wrong turn the first time, but it didn’t take long
to find the gleaming brass numbers: 3-1-7.

There was nothing
different about the door. Nothing special or outstanding. I felt like there
should be. No sign of cameras, though if Webster really wanted to spy subtly,
they wouldn’t be detectable by eye.

After a deep
breath, I knocked three times on the polished, dark brown door.

Silence. Then an
unpleasant screech, like something hard scraped across a polished floor. Heavy,
slow footsteps. Definitely a wood floor. Not that it mattered. Just seemed to
inflate each second to infinity. I wished he’d hurry the hell up. After what
felt like a couple of minutes, the footsteps stopped at the door.

There was silence
again for a couple of seconds. I realised he was examining me on the
peep-screen. I held my badge up to the little round sensor. Thought about how
Webster could probably just hop onto that feed, rather than placing his own
cameras. Given that he’d allowed Jarvis’ real name to be used in the tenant
register, though, I doubted he’d find reason to bother.

The clunk of a lock
came next. The brass doorknob slowly rotated. I took a deep breath again. The
door opened a few inches before an old-fashioned chain stopped it. The face
through the gap threw me. I hadn’t expected this. But it made some kind of
sense, I guess. At least made sense of what the girl said in the tunnel. Made
things more difficult though.

‘The hell do you
want?’ Jarvis demanded. ‘You know what time it is? I was about to go to bed.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr.
Jarvis,’ I said, and noted the slight widening of his eyes. Then the slight
narrowing. He’d hoped this was a random door-to-door or something. ‘But this is
important. I need to talk to you about Leonne.’

He stared at me for
a moment. His expression couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be blank or
defiant. The longer he glared, though, the more his lip began to quiver. The
more shiny his eyes became.

He slammed the
door.

I considered my
options for a moment, delaying the anger that would erupt inside me soon. Then
I heard the scrape of the chain. A faint green ripple across the doorway as
Jarvis deactivated the security shield. Probably just as well I’d kept my cool.
My first instinct would have been to kick the door open again. But a shield
like that was designed to allow only the slow moving through, like a hand
knocking on the door. Something quick, like a kick, would have had me flying backwards
into the wall.

The door opened
again. All the way this time. Jarvis turned and ambled back into the apartment.
I stepped in. Closed the door after me, once I’d checked the immediate area for
Webster’s goons. I wasn’t about to let my guard down now, on the edge of uncovering
answers. Finally.

On the way past his
glass coffee table, Jarvis’ shin knocked its edge. The movement against the
polished wood floor produced the unpleasant screech. The old man swore a few
times before collapsing into his armchair and rubbing his shin.

And an old man he
was. Probably about seventy, I guessed. It wasn’t the creases of his face that
had surprised me when he opened the door. It was the colour. He was black.

‘Well?’ he
demanded. Idly gestured to a cream couch on the other side of the table. I
crossed to it. He grasped the walking stick beside his chair. Fiddled with it
nervously. Nervous, but still defiant. I noticed a bruise with a small cut in
the middle of it, right above his eye. Someone had paid him a visit.

‘What was she to
you?’ I asked, sinking too far into the couch. Might as well get straight to
the point. ‘She was too young to be your daughter. Granddaughter?’

A pearl of salt
water escaped his eye. He caught it quickly with the back of his hand. ‘Pour me
a drink.’ He jabbed his stick towards a drinks cabinet in the corner of the
room.

I felt a flare of
heat inside. But I’d waited this long. Come this far. I could afford to wait long
enough to fix a drink. Two drinks. The amber liquid came from a thick glass
decanter, but the synthesiser was badly hidden behind a dying houseplant. I
guessed Jarvis liked to feel as though he enjoyed the finer things, but this
was synthed just like everything I drank.

He pulled the glass
out of my hand as though every second it wasn’t to his lips was another second
of agony. In the blink of my eye, the glass was empty. I sat again, taking care
not to lean all the way back this time. Took a sip. It made my gums tingle and
lovingly burned my throat.

‘Leonne,’ I said.

The way he glared
at me made me think for a moment that he might deny knowing her. ‘Yeah, she was
my granddaughter. So the hell what?’

‘So the hell what?’
I tried not to shout. ‘So she was murdered and c—’ Maybe the other part wasn’t
necessary information for him. ‘And I’m the one they’re trying to put away for
it.’

His eyes flicked up
at me again. Full of fire. His knuckles went pale with the force of his grip on
the walking stick.

‘Obviously I didn’t
do it, or I wouldn’t be here,’ I said, in the hopes of placating him. I
probably shouldn’t have told him at all. It kind of slipped out. I guessed my
detective routine was blown.

‘Who the hell are
you?’

‘My name’s Jack
Mason. They tell me I killed your granddaughter. I disagree.’ I took another
sip to give me a moment to plan the next sentence. ‘If I don’t find out what
really happened by tomorrow morning, I’ll be packed off to Anshan and the real
killer will get away with it.’

Jarvis just looked
at me. I could tell he didn’t know what to think. Part of him probably wanted
to split me open with that stick. Even if I was telling the truth, it would
still kind of feel like he was taking revenge just because the accusation was out
there. I remembered seeing one of the other suspects in Lucy’s investigation.
He was being taken into an interrogation room just as I was being dragged out
of one. I’d wanted to jump on him. Hit him again and again. And I knew damn
well he’d done nothing to her.

‘Pour me another
drink.’

The heat flared
again. ‘No. Not until you give me something. Answers would be more than
acceptable. Let’s start with what she did for Webster. And why is he hiding you
away in this fancy apartment. Seems like an odd thing to do when he doesn’t
like anyone with skin darker than this couch.’

‘The hell should I
tell you anything?’

‘Should I sit
closer? Maybe you can’t hear me from over there. A few hours from now, the
killer will have got away with it.’

‘And out of the
goodness of your heart,’ he jabbed the stick towards my chest, ‘you wanna help
find him.’

‘No, that’s your heart’s
incentive. Mine is not being executed. I don’t think Webster had her killed,
but I’m pretty sure the whole thing is because of him.’

Jarvis sat in
silence again. I stayed quiet too, since he seemed to be trying to come to a decision.
Most people would take that as their cue to lay it on heavier. I knew from
experience that didn’t help things. Just made it harder to think. And I needed
him to think.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Simplify it.’

Jarvis glared at me
again. But it was less defiant this time. He was ready to talk. He didn’t give
a shit about me, but if there was a chance I’d hurt those responsible, then
he’d give me the ammo.

‘Guess I ain’t long
for this world now anyhow.’

He kept glancing at
the decanter. I sighed. I could use another anyway. He held the glass up for me
before I even stood.

‘Twenty-somethin’
years ago, my wife worked at Cole Webster’s mansion.’

‘Oh,’ I said,
bringing his second drink. And mine.

‘Yeah, I guess with
scum like him, that’s all I gotta say.’ I nodded. Tried to make it sympathetic
or something. ‘Leonne was his. Not my granddaughter.’

He stopped and
masked the quivering lips by emptying the glass in one go. Again.

‘What happened?’ I
pressed.

‘Elva was about ten
years older than me. Too old, really. She died giving birth. She always wanted
a kid, but not like that.’

‘So that’s why
Webster looked after her…’ That was stupid. I hadn’t meant to say it like that.

‘Looked after her?’
he shouted. Or as close to it as an old man with not much voice left could get.
‘He used her as a slave!’

‘I’m sorry,’ I
said, the moment I got the chance. Thought I’d best try to undo my stupidity
before he got too angry. ‘I worded it wrong. I meant he gave her a job and an
apartment. Black people usually disappear pretty quickly in this town.
That’s
what I meant.’

It wasn’t much of an
appeasement, but he calmed down a bit. I passed him my glass, since I hadn’t
drunk my refill. That appeased him more.

‘So she’s Webster’s
daughter, and that’s why he gave her an apartment and a job. But it doesn’t
explain why he’s put you up here. Guilt? Doesn’t sound like him. You got
something on him?’

‘Not exactly.
Leonne paid him off. Well, worked for nothin’. If she hadn’t, he’d have got rid
of me. And I ain’t talkin’ about a first class ticket to Orion.’

I was confused.
Webster wasn’t the sentimental type. Like I’d said, guilt didn’t sound right. But
neither did this. He could have made her work for nothing anyway. I couldn’t
make sense of it. I told him so.

‘She’d work for him
for nothin’ and hand over all her tips. Minus a weekly food allowance. In
return, he’d let me stay here. And in return for lettin’ her do that, I pay him
nearly everythin’ I get from my pension.’

‘You paid him to
use her as slave labour?’

His eyes flashed. Nostrils
flared.

‘I pay the bastard
so he won’t keep her in a cage and sell her like all the others!’

My heart leapt. He
did know something.

‘What others? What
do you know about his operation?’

‘More than she
did.’

The talking seemed
to be tiring him. I doubted he did much of it. Probably didn’t socialise.

‘You have any
coffee?’ I asked. An adrenaline shot straight into his heart might have been
better, but he probably wouldn’t agree to that.

Jarvis shrugged and
jerked his thumb at the synthesiser. Not real caffeine, but it would have to
do. I couldn’t have him getting too tired to tell me what he knew. After
pushing aside the plant so I could get to the synthesiser, I went to look for
mugs.

So Webster had a
nice little circle going on with these two. Basically, she paid him off to keep
Jarvis safe. Meanwhile, Jarvis paid him off to keep Leonne safe. I didn’t think
there was a story behind why the old man would do that. I kind of understood
how he’d see her as his own. Why he’d have to protect her.

Now I understood
why she hadn’t said anything to me. Why she hadn’t gone to the cops or tried to
get off this rock. They were both trapped by the danger posed to the other.

What I didn’t
understand yet was why Webster had referred to her as an experiment. It
couldn’t just be that she was black. The hell kind of experiment would that be?
See if blacks can serve drinks too? Hardly. Even he wasn’t that stupid and
racist. How much money would a barmaid’s tips and an old man’s pension bring
Webster? There was still more to it.

While the second
cup of coffee poured, I tasted the first. It wasn’t too bad. Better than the
diner’s.

‘Mr. Jarvis,’ I
said as respectfully as I could. He took the coffee, but didn’t seem interested
in drinking it. ‘You are, as far as I can tell, my last chance to find who killed
your daughter.’ Calling her that seemed to stir him. ‘I need you to tell me
everything you know about what Webster does. Did Leonne ever tell you about his
operation?’

‘I told you. I know
more than she did. My wife couldn’t work at his mansion and not know about any
of it. Made her sick to the core. Leonne didn’t know nothin’ about it. Thought
it was a legit mining operation.’

‘But you know
better.’

‘She thought she
was fighting back against Webster by trading insider information to his
competitors.’

‘What competitors?’

‘Exactly. There’s
no one else out here. But she was naïve and gullible, and believed it.’ I
thought it was closer to the truth to say she was just desperate for a way to
hit back at Webster.

‘So what was she
trading?’

‘She was passin’ on
information
for
Webster.’

‘Wait…’ Something
clicked. ‘How was she passing on information?’

‘Bastards implanted
her with a data chip.’

That was what
someone had cut out of her! It might not have been the most important piece of
this puzzle, but it was one of the biggest. I was relieved to finally know what
the hell it was. Well, kind of know.

‘What kind of data
was on it?’

‘Do you know what
he does down there? Some mining, sure. But that’s just a front. He sells
people. Trades ‘em when he doesn’t have enough of his own to sell. That’s what
was on the chip. Timetables, prices, stock, drop-off locations. All that shit.’

I stayed quiet. The
girl was an integral part of the operation and she didn’t even know it. That’s
why she was an experiment. I’d hoped for something a little more revelatory or
something. It didn’t feel big enough somehow, but that was my get out of jail
card. If I could find who cut it out of her and get it back, DeMartino could
pull the data off it. I doubted it would have been destroyed. The problem was I
had no idea who had it. Webster obviously didn’t, or he wouldn’t have had
Little Dick ask me quite so persistently.

‘Who was collecting
the information from her?’ I asked.