Page 13 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Chapter Five

Josiah

Josiah slid into the duck and glanced at Alex, who was sitting, slumped, in the passenger seat, looking defeated.

“So that’s it,” Alex said wearily. “I should have known that Tyler would win in the end. He always does.”

Josiah laughed. Alex turned to look at him with an expression of such angry surprise that Josiah threw back his head and laughed even more.

“What?” Alex demanded.

“So, your key witness flunks out on you, and you assume that’s the end of it? God, you’d make a useless investigator.” Josiah started the duck. “I’ve only just opened this investigation – I’m nowhere near done yet.”

“You mean that?” Alex sat up eagerly. “You’ll keep going?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you’d read up on me, Alex – this is what I’m good at, and I sure as hell don’t give up after one little setback.”

“Sorry.” Alex flashed him a wry smile. “You’re right – I would make a really bad investigator.”

“You’re just green. I’m sure I can polish you up a bit, teach you a few tricks of the trade.” Josiah tapped the side of his nose.

“Really?” Alex looked pathetically excited. “So, I can be your sidekick – like Reed?”

“I’ve never wanted to kiss Reed, but yeah, if you like.”

Alex laughed. “So, where to now, Mr Investigator?”

Josiah glanced at his holopad and scrolled through the latest infodump from Reed. There were also several missed calls from Esther, but he ignored those. “Billericay,” he replied, slamming his foot down on the accelerator.

“Any reason?” Alex asked.

“Yup – according to Reed, that’s where we can find Mick Reynolds.”

Mick’s address was one of the old housing estates the government had built during the Rising.

Colloquially known as “cubes”, they’d been designed as an interim measure to house those displaced by the floods, but they’d ended up becoming a permanent fixture.

The estates were ugly – rows of pre-fabricated square boxes, built one on top of the other in glowering grey lines.

Each box consisted of one room that had to house an entire family.

Sixteen boxes formed a square, four on each side, with a shared bathroom and kitchen in the middle.

They towered sixteen storeys high, squatting on the skyline like scabs.

“Nice area,” Josiah muttered as he drew up outside the stark grey buildings. “Tyler doesn’t exactly reward his witnesses with luxury, does he?”

“I suppose if he gave them too much, they might be able to save it up, and then they wouldn’t need his ongoing… generosity.” Alex made a face.

They entered the block of cubes and walked up the stairwell. The stench of urine was almost overpowering, and the metal steps were worn and rickety. Mick lived on the top floor, but there was no reply when Josiah knocked on the door.

“Mick Reynolds?” He called out. “It’s Investigator Raine from Inquisitus. I have some questions for you.” There was still no reply, so he rapped on the door once more, making a loud din with his fist.

A woman with sallow skin and dark circles under her eyes poked her head out of the next-door cube.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped. “I’ve got a baby sleeping in here.”

“I’m looking for a Mr Reynolds?” He held up his Inquisitus ID. She glared at him. He smiled back. “Sometimes known as Big Mick?”

“Oh yeah, I know Big Mick – fat gut, always pissed, stinks of booze. He ain’t in.” She slammed the door shut.

“Another dead end,” Alex said gloomily as he followed Josiah down the dark stairwell and back onto the street.

“On the contrary – rather a good lead, I thought.” Josiah grinned. “Now, where’s the nearest pub?”

The Nobody’s Inn was a ramshackle old building that was slowly sinking into a nearby lost zone.

The interior had been shored up with concrete to stop the encroaching waters, and it stank of liquor and illegal cigars.

It wasn’t yet noon, but the place was packed with people in various states of sobriety.

Heads turned as they walked in, and a little ripple of conversation went around the room.

“I feel like prey,” Alex muttered.

Josiah grunted. “Between my suit and your face, we’re the most exotic creatures they’ve ever seen. We might as well be Martians.”

Alex moved closer to him. “Are we safe?”

Josiah ran a hand over his gloved knuckles. “You’re always safe with me, Alex.”

Alex glanced at him suspiciously. “It’d make your day if one of them jumped you, wouldn’t it? Much better than a punch bag in an empty bedroom. You’re a junkie, Joe.”

“Guilty as charged. Right – over to you,” Josiah said briskly, glancing around the place. “You know what Mick looks like.”

Alex walked through the pub with Josiah at his side, staring intently at all the faces. People stared back, but none of them were Mick.

“He’s not here. Another dead end,” Alex sighed when they’d made a full circuit.

“Maybe he’s out back.” Josiah strode over to a grimy door on one side of the bar. A burly bald man appeared from nowhere and reached out an arm to block their way.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yeah – through this door.” Josiah moved his jacket aside to reveal both his Inquisitus ID and his stun gun.

He took a cashcard out of his pocket and slipped it into the man’s shirt pocket.

“Or we could fight about it, if you’d prefer?

” He drew himself up to his full height, which was easily taller than anyone else in the room, and smiled pleasantly.

Baldie weighed it up and then gave a grunt and stepped aside.

“Aw, you must be disappointed. Nobody wants to fight you today,” Alex teased.

Josiah laughed and threw open the door. The back room was full of people sitting in a haze of smoke.

There were various shady deals going on – illegal cigars, croc, and sable were being traded from a number of rickety wooden tables. It was entirely what he’d expected.

“Over there. That’s him,” Alex whispered excitedly, pointing to a table in the corner where a big hulk of a man was nursing a glass of the cheap homemade brew that passed for beer in this kind of place.

The man’s thin dark hair was plastered to his head and he was wearing a heavily stained sweater that didn’t quite stretch all the way over his fat gut, leaving a roll of flesh exposed. He was clearly drunk.

The room fell silent as the occupants caught sight of Josiah, then it rapidly emptied as he made his way towards Mick. People grabbed their stashes and simply melted away in front of him. Nobody wanted any trouble.

Mick seemed oblivious, staring into his drink with bleary eyes. “I’m done for the day,” he slurred as Josiah stood over him. “Got nothin’ more to sell. All gone.” He pointed at an empty crate beside him, which had presumably recently contained some form of contraband.

“That’s fine. I’m not buying,” Josiah said, sitting down opposite him. Alex hovered, nervously, beside him.

“Then fuck off,” Mick growled.

“I have some questions for you.” Josiah pushed his ID across the table so it was under Mick’s nose.

The light dawned slowly and visibly on Mick’s face, and he looked up, taking in the now empty room and the fact that he was sitting opposite an Inquisitus investigator.

“It was only a bit of croc,” he said quickly, gesturing at the crate. “I don’t even like the stuff – all that crying bores the shit outta me. I just sell it on for a mate. Nobody gets hurt. S’all legal.”

“No, it isn’t,” Josiah said flatly, “but I’m not here about the croc.”

“What’re you here about, then?”

“Him.” Josiah pointed his thumb sideways at Alex. Mick squinted at him through the haze of cigar smoke, looking mystified, and then his expression changed to one of terror.

Without warning, he tipped up the table, grabbed the crate and smashed it over Josiah’s shoulders, knocking him to the floor, before making a run for the door.

Clambering to his feet, Josiah sprinted across the room and grabbed Mick’s sweater, pulling him to a halt just before he reached the exit.

Mick flailed and managed to get in a punch.

Josiah grinned; the blood trickling down his jaw made the blood in his veins pound in anticipation.

He swung a hard left hook to Mick’s jaw, landed another deep in his big gut, and then stood back as Mick fell to the floor.

He crouched down beside the whimpering man. “Let’s start again,” he murmured. Hauling Mick up and back to the upturned table, he shoved him onto his chair. “You obviously know why I’m here,” he said, sitting down.

Mick grunted and massaged his bruised jaw. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out and tentatively touched Alex’s sleeve.

“How ya doing, Alex, mate? It’s good to see you again.” It was awkward and yet surprisingly sincere.

Josiah glanced up at Alex and was equally surprised to see an expression of sympathy on his face. He had assumed these two didn’t get on, but maybe he was wrong. They certainly weren’t friends, but they had an oddly touching rapport.

“I’m fine, Mick.” Alex pulled over a chair and sat down beside Josiah.

“Been a long time. Thought about you sometimes,” Mick muttered. “Nothin’ soft. Just wondered how you was doing.”

“I’m okay. I’ve had a nice houder since Tyler sold me. He was good to me. Well…” Alex gave a wry smile. “He was better than Tyler, anyway.”

“That’s not saying much. Is it this bloke here?” Mick nodded at Josiah.

“No. Someone else. This is my current temporary houder. He’s an investigator.”

“And you told him, didn’t ya?” Mick looked at Alex beseechingly. “Please say you didn’t fucking tell him, Alex.”

Alex’s face became cold and implacable, his jaw set in a determined line. “Yes, I told him, Mick. I told him about Solange, and everything that happened that night.”

“You bloody nutter! Tyler will see us all go to hell for this.”

“Solange has been lying in the water for nearly seven years,” Alex retorted. “We can’t let Tyler get away with it.”

“You should’a left it alone. You can’t poke a hornet’s nest and not get stung,” Mick hissed.