Page 8 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Chapter Three

Josiah

The address Reed found for Ted Burgis took them to a rundown street opposite a massive lost zone. They pulled up a short distance from a square block of old estate housing, now half buried under water. Even inside the duck, with all the windows closed, the stench coming from the estate was foul.

“Quarterlands,” Alex murmured.

The flood defences were holding, but only just. The waters were being kept at bay, but the street they were on probably flooded regularly.

“Yeah. Not the nicest neighbourhood.” Josiah peered out of the duck window at the address he’d been given, which was a squalid-looking shopfront. There was a green army aid flag painted on the makeshift sign above the shop.

“So, Ted’s address is an army shop,” Josiah said. “That’s interesting.”

Army shops were common near any large lost zone.

In the chaotic years immediately after the Rising, the army had commandeered shops as bases from which to provide food and medical aid to the stricken population.

Nowadays, the government refused to feed anyone who didn’t voluntarily submit to living in a work camp, so the old army shops had become cheap food banks run by locals.

The name had stuck, though, and they were still called army shops, long after the army had stopped handing out free supplies.

The banks were basic, the choice limited, and the food frequently substandard or downright illegal. Nobody came here by choice.

“Wait here,” Josiah ordered. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

The stench hit him full-on when he opened the duck door. He was familiar with it from growing up in the Quarterlands, but even so, he almost retched. It took him a few seconds to acclimatise, then he crossed the street, stepping over several puddles of raw sewage on the way.

There was a small pack of feral kids hanging around outside the shop, which made him feel almost nostalgic.

When he was a kid, he’d often lurked outside the army shop near his Quarter.

It had been a much dirtier place than this, and he’d often searched the trash at night with gangs of Quarterlands kids, looking for food deemed not good enough even for army shop customers.

The kids were jeering at two bundles of rags lying against the shopfront.

As he drew close, he saw the rags were, in fact, a couple of drug addicts, high on sable.

Growling, he advanced on the children, waving his ID and stun gun at them.

They took off like a flock of angry crows, yelling obscenities as they dispersed in the direction of their Quarter.

He glared at them menacingly until they’d disappeared and then grinned.

Had he ever been that bad? Probably. He checked the two drug addicts, but they were completely out of it and seemed unharmed.

Stepping over them, he pushed the door open.

The shop was small, cramped, and dimly lit – they usually were, as their proprietors couldn’t afford much electricity.

This one looked like all the army shops he’d ever known: there were no shelves, just piles of boxes, mostly containing miscellaneous cans of food stored in no particular order.

Battered tins of tuna and pineapple were side by side with loaves of stale bread.

This place was cleaner than most, though, and there was a reasonable selection of goods.

It was one of the better army shops he’d seen.

The man behind the counter looked up as Josiah entered.

He was tall and muscular, with the kind of tough air you needed to run such an establishment – nice enough to paying customers but not, under any circumstances, to be crossed.

He was packing the mountain of tins on the counter into a box.

When the box was full, he stacked it onto a pile on the floor behind him and started work on another.

As Josiah drew closer, he saw the man had a long scar snaking down one side of his face. Scarface. Josiah felt a thrill of recognition; he hadn’t doubted Alex’s story, but it was good to know that it was checking out.

“You in the right place, mate?” the man asked, taking in Josiah’s expensive suit. “This is an army shop. Maybe you didn’t see the sign above the door?” He picked up another box and began throwing tins into it.

“I’m in the right place. Are you Ted Burgis?”

“Yeah. Why?” Ted asked warily, pausing with one can in his hand.

“I’m Special Investigator Josiah Raine of Inquisitus.” Josiah showed his ID.

“You’re that bloke off the news,” Ted said, returning to his packing.

“Made quite a name for yourself, running around tracking down indies.” He looked distinctly unimpressed.

“What’re you doing here? If it’s about the local kids, they’re not doing any harm.

They just come here to get warm now it’s turning cold.

Sometimes they spill out onto the street and get a little lively, but?—”

“I’m not here about the Quarterlands kids,” Josiah interrupted. “I’m investigating a murder.”

“Around here? You’ll be busy, then.” Ted snorted. “Someone gets killed over there every night.” He jerked his head at the big Quarter opposite his shop.

“This murder didn’t happen around here,” Josiah told him, watching him closely. “It happened near Lewes, around seven years ago.” Ted’s hands stopped in mid-air. “It was the murder of a young woman called Solange Alajika. I believe you knew her?”

Ted resumed throwing the tins into the box, but Josiah noticed that his hands were shaking now.

“Where did you say you were from again?” he asked.

“Inquisitus Investigation Agency. I understand that you knew Ms Alajika – that you were in a relationship with her?”

“Oh, yeah? Who told you that?”

“Another witness to the murder. Because you did see her being murdered, didn’t you, Ted?”

Ted stopped packing and looked at him, sizing him up. Josiah let him look, while slowly bunching his gloved right hand into a fist.

“You’re a tough guy, sure, but we both know I could take you in a fight,” he said.

“In that suit?” Ted raised an eyebrow.

Josiah grinned. “Come on, Ted. Fighting isn’t an option, you know that. You’re suspicious – I understand that – but you can trust me.”

Ted crossed his arms over his chest, his face sullen. “What do you want?”

“Justice for Solange. Isn’t that what you want, too? You did once.” Ted stood there, unmoving. “She was the love of your life, and she was murdered,” Josiah continued. “Who wouldn’t want justice for that? I know I would.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Josiah moved in close, deathly quiet. “I know that when someone you love is killed right in front of your eyes, and you can’t stop it, that leaves a permanent mark. I know what it does to a man, and how he feels about it after.”

Ted began to shake in earnest now. Those little tremors that had started in his hands rippled out, consuming him. He wrapped his arms around his body to suppress it, but it continued.

“Now is your chance to get justice for her, Ted, if you’re brave enough to take it. She deserves that, doesn’t she? She was a kind, beautiful, funny woman. You loved her.” Josiah took out the folded-up photo of Solange that Alex had given him. “Remember this photo, Ted? You should – you took it.”

Ted held the photo with shaking fingers. “Where did you get this?” he whispered. “Did Tyler send you? Is he testing me? He promised he’d leave me alone if I?—”

“If you did what, Ted? If you never talked about what he did to Solange?”

“It’s been a long time since I saw any photos of her.

I don’t have any of my own. I managed to steal a print of this one, a long time ago, but I never had the original.

” Ted traced his fingers over the picture.

“Tyler owns this place. He lets me stay here, rent-free, for as long as…” He folded up the photo abruptly.

“For as long as you stay quiet about what happened that night? So, he still owns you, then?”

“No! I’m a free man now. I don’t wear nobody’s ID tag and chip anymore.”

“You’re not free while he pays for the roof over your head. He’s still buying your silence.”

“I can’t help you.” Ted pressed the photo back into Josiah’s hands. “Please leave.”

“I know you’re scared, but she deserves better than this.

She loved you. She’d want you to step up and be strong now, Ted.

It’s time.” Josiah rapped out the words, every inch the dogged investigator, thirsty for justice.

“She’s waited long enough out there, wrapped up in that rug, lying at the bottom of the cold, dark water.

She’s been waiting for seven years, Ted – don’t make her wait any longer. ”

Ted’s scar was standing out, livid red on his pale skin. “Please… just leave.”

“I can’t do that, Ted. See, I didn’t come here alone.” Josiah put the photo back in his pocket. “There’s someone outside who wants to see you.” He went over to the shop door, tapped on it, and beckoned Alex in. “You can say no to me if you like, but I’d like to hear you say it to him.”

Alex stepped out of the duck and walked slowly towards the shop.

“Who is it? Who is that?” Ted asked hoarsely, trying to see over Josiah’s broad shoulders.

“You know who it is. You gave him this photo when you gave him this mission. You tasked him with bringing Solange’s killer to justice, and that’s precisely what he’s trying to do. He just needs your help.”

Alex pushed open the door, stepped cautiously in, and then stopped.

He stood, frozen to the spot, as if he couldn’t believe who was in front of him.

Ted looked equally dazed. Josiah watched them both warily, aware of the tension in the small shop, prepared to throw himself between them if need be.

Then, suddenly, Ted vaulted over the counter and charged towards Alex.

Josiah was about to reach for his stun gun when Ted scooped Alex up, pulled him close, and wrapped him in a big bear hug.

“Alex? Oh shit… I can’t believe it’s you, after all these years. Alex. Alex!”