Meryn reached for the mic again, and Varl knuckle-slapped him so hard he leapt back with a bark of pain.
‘I’ve got Commissar Hark standing by,’ the vox said. ‘Is this a good time?’
‘It’s fabulous, Stronghold,’ Varl replied.
Daur, Banda and Rawne had entered the club’s monitor room. Varl held the mic out to Rawne.
Rawne took it. Meryn glared at Varl.
‘Stronghold, this is Rawne.’
‘Stand by, major.’
The vox crackled.
‘Rawne, this is Hark.’
‘Reading you, sir. I take it we’re secure?’
‘As far as we can be sure. We’ve slipped a bypass into the Inquisition’s listening watch that we’re hoping they won’t notice. What’s your situation?’
‘We’re holed up in an establishment in the vicinity of Selwire Street.’
‘That’s the Oligarchy?’
‘It’s pretty central,’ said Rawne.
‘All right, I’ll find it on a chart. So you all got out of Section alive?’
‘That’s right,’ Rawne replied. ‘I can confirm seven alive, no injuries.’
‘Rawne, are you armed?’
Rawne glanced at the others. Even Varl was looking serious.
‘I can confirm seven armed,’ Rawne replied. ‘Why the question, Hark?’
‘It won’t come as a staggering surprise to you, but we’re looking at a bad situation, major.’
‘Is this planet-wide?’
‘I can’t confirm or deny, Rawne, but from the intelligence I’ve got, it looks like it’s confined to the Balopolis-Oligarchy region, which means you’re smack in the middle of it. Confirmed Archenemy hazard.’
‘Strength?’
‘Unknown, but we’re thinking no bigger than an incursive or expeditionary force. Watch yourselves.’
‘Understood,’ said Rawne.
‘It’s more complicated than that, Rawne,’ said Hark over the link. ‘Gaunt’s in trouble, and you might be the only real help the Ghosts are able to offer him.’
‘I read you, Hark,’ said Rawne. ‘Tell me everything you know.’
By the time the call transmit was finished, Ludd, Beltayn, Dalin and Merrt had joined Hark and Rerval in the temple house. Hark signed off and handed the mic back to Rerval.
‘Rawne’s gang is alive, and we know their position,’ Hark said.
‘Gang?’ Ludd echoed.
‘Got a better term for them?’ Hark asked. ‘Bunch of criminal idiots, perhaps? Recidivist morons?’
‘Gang’s fine,’ said Ludd.
‘We can stay in touch with them as long as the bypass goes unnoticed,’ said Beltayn.
‘And how long will that be?’ asked Dalin.
‘If we’ve got any luck on our side, young man,’ said Hark, ‘long enough for us to learn Gaunt’s whereabouts, and pass that intelligence on to Rawne.’
‘Let’s hope, in the meantime,’ said Ludd, ‘that Major Rawne doesn’t take it upon himself to do anything else.’
‘Such as?’ asked Hark.
‘Well, you told him to stay put. You told him to stay with that vox-set, where we could contact him,’ said Ludd. ‘What if he decides to… go somewhere?’
Hark let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Even Rawne wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?’
‘Of course not, sir,’ said Beltayn.
‘So long as it’s up to him,’ said Dalin.
Daur walked back into the parlour’s main area. Elodie was sitting at the bar, nursing a small amasec. The muscle, Xomat, was still taped to the chair by the back wall. He looked entirely unhappy about his predicament. Leyr was catnapping on one of the parlour couches.
‘Drink?’ Elodie asked Daur.
He shook his head.
‘What’s the story?’
Daur began to flip through the pack of cards he’d left on the bar top.
‘We’ve managed to contact our regiment, on the sly. There’s stuff happening, but the full picture’s not clear. Orders are to sit tight, and wait for further instructions.’
‘And are you going to do that?’ Elodie asked.
‘Yeah,’ said Daur.
‘All of you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I only ask, because following orders doesn’t appear to be your lot’s strongest suit.’
Varl walked into the parlour.
‘Is there any danger of food in this place?’ he asked.
‘You know where the kitchen is,’ Daur told him.
Varl sighed, and left the room again. From the bar, they heard him shout, ‘Cant? Can you cook or can’t you?’
Elodie smiled and got down off her bar stool. She went around the bar to find the amasec for a refill.
Daur suddenly looked up. Urgent voices had begun to issue from the monitor room. Daur looked at Elodie and they hurried out of the bar together.
‘What’s going on?’ Daur asked as he strode into the monitor room. Banda, Meryn and Rawne were studying the pict-feeds coming from the club’s various security viewers.
‘Company,’ said Rawne. He pointed at one of the screens. ‘Which door is that?’
‘Service,’ said Banda. ‘Freight access, at the back.’
‘Do we know these handsome gentlemen?’ Rawne asked.
Elodie slipped into the room alongside Daur and peered at the viewer. The exterior lighting was bad. There were perhaps six or seven men approaching the club’s service door from the loading dock on Conaut Row.
‘I don’t recognise them,’ she said. ‘Wait. Run it back and freeze on their faces as they pass under the light.’
Rawne played with the viewer’s control toggle, and the feed ran backwards jerkily.
‘There?’
‘Yes,’ Elodie said, and studied the fuzzy image more closely.
‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘I think that’s Csoni.’
‘Who?’ asked Meryn.
‘One of Urbano’s infamous partners?’ asked Rawne.
‘I wish,’ Elodie replied. ‘Lev Csoni is part of a business cartel in direct competition with Urbano’s crowd. We’ve had trouble with them before. They’ve been looking for an excuse or opportunity to knock this club out.’
‘And with the city shut down by a freak snowstorm–’ Daur began.
‘Safeties off, everyone,’ said Rawne.
He went up the snow-laced steps and knocked on the front door of the mouldering old tenement.
Half a minute passed. He was about to knock again when the door opened. A young, slightly scruffy man in a black, buttoned suit and a cravat peered out at him. He looked rather confused.
‘Can I help you?’ the young man began to ask, and then stopped, and instead said, ‘Wait, wait, aren’t you Colonel-Commissar Gaunt?
‘Hello, Mr Jaume,’ said Gaunt.
TWENTY-THREE
Headshots
‘I don’t understand,’ Jaume said. ‘Was our appointment rearranged, or…?’
‘No, Mr Jaume,’ said Gaunt, ‘this is a rather more improvised visit.’ He stepped into the hall, past the mystified young man, and looked around. Like the building’s front door and entrance, the hall had an air of impressive, sober dignity. The floors were varnished and blacked, the walls were painted in dark, subdued colours, and the hall chairs and drapery were silky blacks, purples and maroons. It felt like the foyer of an upmarket bordello.
But there was an underlying scruffiness. Gaunt noticed immediately the odd chip in the paintwork, the hasty way the drapery had been gathered and pinned, the faint smell of musty dampness that scents of lilac and lavender could not quite disguise.
‘I wonder if you could enlighten me,’ said Jaume. He was staring at Gaunt. It seemed likely that, just as Gaunt had seen through the initial impression of Jaume’s premises, so Jaume was seeing past the initial impression of Gaunt. He was seeing the dirty, scuffed clothes, the two-day stubble, the various bruises.