Page 2 of Gamma
He turns the tablet to show Apollo and me. It shows a top-down satellite view of where we are, in Houston, with the building’s footprint outlined, and a small red dot marking Apollo’s location.
“Since we’re close, I have more granular information.” Harris manipulates the screen, pulling the view to show the building in cross-section, with Apollo’s location marked in our specific location within the building. “If you’re in Europe and we are here, however, all I will be able to see is the basic satellite image, and the location will be approximate rather than precise. As we get closer, the program can build a more detailed composite model using…well, a bunch of technical mumbo jumbo that Lear would be better at explaining.”
“And all we can do is put that in him, send him in to them, and…what?” I ask, barely suppressing the fear and anger in my voice. “Wait? Hope they don’t just kill him and Yelena both?”
Harris shakes his head. “We’re pursuing other avenues of investigation.”
“Meaning?”
A shrug. “A lot of things, Rin. Underworld activity, sorting through suspects and who would stand to gain from Apollo’s demise or capture. Ownership of the building. Satellite imagery to see if we can figure out who’s in there. Lear has been cracking on this since Apollo called me. And if anyone on the planet can catch a lead in a situation like this, it’s Lear.”
Apollo looks at me. “You know them, not me.”
I lean against him, touch my fingers to where Uncle Harry put in the tracker—I can’t feel anything. “They’re the best in the world at exactly this, Apollo. And they’re my family. My parents trust them, with each other, and more lately, with me. They found you, right?”
Apollo frowns. “Indeed, and I took care to cover my tracks.”
Harris nods. “And you did that very well. There are just very few humans on this planet who are capable of hiding from a determined Lear Winter. And those who do have that capability, even they cannot hide forever. Even in death, you can’t hide from Lear for long. We are approaching this carefully, cautiously. We value life, and we never take action until we’re sure of the results, especially when there are innocent lives at stake, like this little girl.”
“Has anyone been in contact with her parents?” I ask, pointedly looking up at Apollo. “Darling?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know how to approach them.”
“So all they know is their little girl vanished. They don’t know why, or anything.” I frown. “Apollo, babe. Youhaveto talk to them. They deserve that much. This has nothing to do with them. It’s not fair.”
“Whatisfair?” he asks, rhetorically. “But I must admit, you are right. I cannot in good conscience allow them to suffer.”
Harris pats him on the shoulder. “Good man. We have a jet ready.”
Apollo glances quizzically at him. “You have a jet ready?”
A nod. “Yelena Konstantin was reported missing yesterday from Brooklyn. Four years old. Parents are Georgios and Elena Konstantin. Elena is your first cousin—your father had three brothers and a sister, and Georgios is your father’s brother’s child. Georgios runs a bodega and Elena is a housekeeper for a small motel. Yelena is their only child.” He glances at Apollo with something like reproach. “Most of us only get one family, Apollo. You have us—” he gestures at himself, the rest of A1S, “andyou have them. That’s a rare opportunity, Apollo. Don’t let fear keep you from it.”
Apollo sighs. “Fine.”
“You have to get to New York anyway, since the warehouse is in Queens.” He indicates to me. “You can go to New York together. If you approach your cousin with Rin at your side, it will be better. Makes you more…approachable, I guess. And I think you need her support.”
“You make me out to be a coward,” Apollo says, his voice bitter.
“No, not at all,” Uncle Harry says. “Family is tricky. Much harder than business. It’s not just numbers and rational things like profit and loss, or risk assessment and collateral damage reports. It’s personal. It’s emotional. And for you, I suspect it’s a pretty fraught proposition, all things considered. The other side of your family has its…difficulties.”
Apollo snorts. “Difficulties. A wonderful understatement.” He looks at the photograph of his cousin: she’s no more than four, small and adorable with a bob of black hair, wide, dark, serious eyes, and chubby little hands clutching a pink stuffed penguin. “This can only be the work of someone who feels slighted by my exit from the underworld. Someone involved in the trafficking ring I helped break up, most likely. That would be where I would start looking. I can provide a couple of names—people I suspected were associated with the trafficking but couldn’t verify a connection firm enough to warrant being included in the raids we conducted. I didn’t want to make unnecessary enemies, after all. It seems I failed in that endeavor, however.”
“The names?” Harris asks.
Apollo hesitates. “Take no action without confirmation of my suspicions. You do not want to go poking any nests, and the names I would give you…disturbing them without due cause would definitely constitute poking a nest.”
Uncle Harry only nods. “Of course. Not my first day on the job, Apollo.”
A snort. “Of course not. You took out my grandfather. No small feat, that.” Another brief hesitation. “Pyotr Alekseyevich Yevgeny is one, and Richard Isaac Spaulding is another. Yevgeny has connections to the Russian mob, but also to certain former Eastern Bloc powers who still wield influence in certain sectors. I know for a fact he owns whorehouses and runs many legal and quasi-legal prostitution rings, and it’s not a stretch to assume he runs illegal ones as well. I couldn’t find any hard evidence that he deals in underage girls which is what we were looking for—underage trafficking and kidnapping schemes.
“Spaulding is a rather…interesting figure,” Apollo continues. “And by interesting, I mean truly awful. Very seriously depraved and evil. You think my grandfather was bad? Spaulding is far worse. He’s an American expat based out of Prague. He deals primarily in narcotics, but his mule of choice is women—vulnerable ones. Spaulding has a notoriously violent temper, as well as a predilection for sampling his own wares, both the drugs and the women. His business model, if you can call it that, is to send his shipments via these women. They’re guarded, of course, to protect the goods. But the women are the mules, carrying the drugs, and they’re also a commodity themselves. Buy drugs from Spaulding, you get the drugsanda woman to play with when you take delivery…all for one flat price. I couldn’t find anyone with direct firsthand knowledge willing to talk to me, but it’s a sure fact that these women are exploited and manipulated, be it through money, family, or addiction. They’re left with few choices other than to work for Spaulding. My suspicion with Spaulding is that his dealings with human trafficking go well beyond using prostitutes as mules—if he uses them as mules, it stands to reason he trafficks in them, and with his temperament a known commodity, I doubt anything he’s associated with is going to be pleasant. If I had to pick one person I suspect being behind this, it’s him.”
Harris nods, taking notes on his tablet. “Both names are familiar to me, and I assure you, we will look into them—cautiously. In the meantime, the clock is ticking, so you two need to get in the air.”
Apollo straightens, nods. “Very well.” He glances down at me. “Shall we?”
As if we’re taking a business trip. He’s still in his work attire: bespoke suit in a pale gray, with a black crewneck T-shirt under the blazer instead of a button-down and tie. His long, thick black hair is bound back, artfully trimmed stubble shadowing his jaw. He is a very contained person, not given to showing his emotions easily. Indeed, even now, unless you know him rather well, you’d be hard-pressed to see any sign of stress or unease in him. Even his voice is smooth and controlled.