Page 23 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

“He did. Mind you, he used to scare the bejeezus out of us kids. I always remember him giving me a clip round the ear for taking apart a fancy duck some idiot had left outside. Now I do the same to the kids here.”

“I hope mine’s safe, then.” Josiah grinned.

“It is. I’m hot on that kind of stuff. We don’t want the Thorities making a move on us. We’ve done well to keep ’em out of our business all this time. No offence.” He grinned. “Given that you’re Thorities now.”

“None taken, I am.” Josiah sighed. “But not the kind who clears out the Quarterlands.”

“Nah. I know. We’ve seen ya on the news.” Seamus nodded at a battered screen in the corner of the room, next to an ancient two-bar electric fire, which was giving out a faint heat. “Tracking down bad’uns and escaped indies and the like.”

“Don’t believe everything you see.” Josiah shifted uncomfortably. His reputation was a useful smokescreen to hide his role in the Kathleen Line, but he didn’t want his old childhood friend thinking the worst of him.

“Oh, I don’t. I don’t reckon you’ve changed much, really. Inside, you’re still a Greenfields kid. If they cut you, you still bleed Quarterlands sludge.” Seamus sat back in his chair and gazed at him thoughtfully. “Reckon I know why you’re here, Joe.”

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah. He said you’d come looking for him. I wasn’t so sure, but here you are.”

“He’s here?” Josiah felt his belly flip. This had been such an unlikely hunch, and yet…

“Yeah. Moved in last year. Nice fella, flashed us some cash, so we gave him what he wanted. He bleeds Quarterlands sludge, too, so he knew the drill. Dunno what he’s doing here, and he won’t say.

All he tells us is he’s waiting for something.

If you ask me, the only thing he’s waiting for is death.

He doesn’t look far off it. Weird yellow colour. Stick thin.”

“He has cancer.”

“Yup, I know. He’s getting treatment, goes to the hospital every few weeks.

Has the money to pay for it. Gets one of the kids to take him.

He must be able to afford a proper place on the dry, so I’ve no idea what he’s doin’ here, but I ain’t complaining.

He brings in some dosh for central funds.

” Seamus leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. “So, what’s it all about, Joe?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure, but he’s doing well for a dead man; he organised his own memorial service awhile back. He went to great lengths to make people think he’d passed away.”

Seamus didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, he’s an odd one, for sure. Speaks posh though he’s a Quarterlands brat just like you and me. But you speak posh, too, these days.”

“That’s Peter’s fault, and my time at Inquisitus too,” Josiah admitted.

“You sound like your mum now. She always spoke nice, your mum.” Seamus grinned.

“My boss, Esther, talks like Mum. Being around her has rubbed off on me. I didn’t do it on purpose, but I suppose I wanted to sound a bit more like a polished investigator and less like…”

“Quarrie scum?” Seamus asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I was going to say army sergeant. I’m not ashamed of where I come from,” Josiah said sharply.

“Nah, but you want to be this person now, I reckon. The one who wears fancy suits and speaks posh. You’re that rare thing - a Quarrie kid who made it out in the big wide world without selling himself. It’s okay, Joe. I don’t blame you. You always had a lot of your mum in you.”

His mother had been intelligent and fierce. All the kids had respected her, and she’d taught most of them to read and write. She’d taken Seamus and half a dozen other kids under her wing when their parents had either died or succumbed to their various addictions.

Greenfields had been a different place back then. His mother had passed away when he was thirteen, and his father a couple of years later. They were part of an old guard that had been slowly dying off, even then, and rival gangs had moved in soon after, making Greenfields a more dangerous place.

Josiah had decided to get out, but Seamus had stayed to fight for the soul of the place and had clearly won. Josiah didn’t regret his decision. Being back here reminded him how much he’d wanted to leave.

Yet now he’d been forced to return and face the ghosts of the past, and all because of a man he’d never met.

“I need to see him,” he said, standing up. He took a final gulp of his tea, draining it to the dregs, glad of the fire in his belly going into this next meeting. “Where is he?”

“Well… here’s the spooky part. See, he insisted on us giving him this one particular room.

He paid well and said there’d be more every month until he died, so…

” Seamus shrugged. “He’s a harmless old bugger, no reason to turn him down.

Means we can keep the lights on for longer and the central areas heated.

Keeps the little kids and old folks warm. ”

He hauled up his massive frame, grabbed a torch, and escorted Josiah out onto the concrete walkways. As they walked up a familiar stone staircase, Josiah had a sense of foreboding.

“Seamus, are you taking me where I think you are?”

“Yeah.” Seamus chuckled. “Sorry, Joe, but it’s what he wanted.

Reckon he’s a bit of a drama queen, but he wants things just so, y’know?

” The lights flickered, so Seamus turned on his torch, and they trudged through the gloom until they reached one of the highest floors in the half-submerged building. He paused outside a door and knocked.

“Gideon? I’ve got a guest for ya. Someone you’ve been waiting for.” He opened the door, then stood aside for Josiah to enter. “I reckon I’ll leave you to it,” he said, and then backed away, shutting the door behind him.

Josiah stood in the room he’d once shared with his parents and two other families, all squeezed into the small space, huddling together for warmth and a share of the heat from the little electric fire they jointly owned.

His parents had both died in this room, lying on an old mattress behind a raggedy curtain.

His mother had gone fast, there one day and gone the next, her poor heart worn out far too young.

His father had taken longer to die, slowly losing his battle against pneumonia over several weeks.

Josiah had sat next to him on the mattress and held his hand as he’d struggled to breathe.

The memories came rushing back and he took a moment to steady himself.

Then, slowly, the room came into focus as it was now.

It had been painted white and was in a much better condition than when he was a child.

There were a few pictures on the wall, a navy-blue, rather formal-looking sofa, a big mustard yellow armchair, and a comfortable-looking bed behind a painted screen with pictures of birds of paradise on it.

All furniture, no doubt, brought from the park home.

On the armchair in the centre of the room, next to a mahogany coffee table, sat Gideon Bart.

Seamus was right: he didn’t look long for the world.

His skin was paper thin, with a sickly yellow sheen, and his clothes hung off him, two sizes too big.

He was formally dressed in a grey suit with a purple silk shirt beneath it, a cravat tied around his neck, but his head was cancer-therapy bald and his dark eyes were rheumy and yellow, although still sharp as they studied him.

“Josiah Raine, we meet at last. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this day.

I knew you’d come.” His voice was cultured.

“Forgive me for not standing up. I have to conserve my strength these days. Come closer, my dear fellow, let’s take a good look at you.

” He beckoned Josiah forward into the light from the lamp flickering on the coffee table.

“Oh, Alex wasn’t lying; you are very handsome,” he declared, with a delighted laugh.

“In a brutish kind of way, but that’s rather my thing.

” He gave Josiah a coquettish wink. “Come now, sit down on the sofa. You must have many questions for me.”

“You could say that.” Josiah took a seat as instructed. “Starting with why you’re alive.”

“A necessary deception, and not for much longer, I fear, as you can see.” He waved a bony hand at his ravaged yellow face.

“Still, the wonders of modern medicine are keeping me going far longer than I had any right to expect, and Seamus has made me very welcome here. I gather it’s a much nicer place than when you lived here. ”

“Fewer people, more money. The world is recovering – slowly.” Josiah shrugged. “This wasn’t the first place I came to after reading your note, though. ”

“Oh. You went there , didn’t you?” Gideon looked both delighted and horrified at the same time.

“My beloved childhood home.” He gave a bitter snort.

“I thought you probably would, at first, but they’d never have let me back, and I needed a place where nobody else but you would look. It had to be here.”

“Why go to such lengths to lure me here, Gideon? What’s all this about?”

“Oh, I think you know why. In fact, I think you’ve worked most of it out already. I’d expect nothing less of the great Investigator Raine. Now, can I offer you any refreshments? I already have a cup of tea, but I can make you one.”

“No thanks, Seamus already obliged.”

“Very well. I’m all yours.” Gideon sat back in his chair with an exhausted sigh. “Did you bring your e-cuffs with you?” He gave a knowing little wink.

“Do I need them?” Josiah raised an eyebrow.

“Actually, no, if you accept my proposition, but we’ll come to that later.”

“You’ve clearly put a great deal of thought into this. Supposing I hadn’t figured it out? Supposing I hadn’t come in time?”

“I had made other arrangements.” Gideon waved his hand. “I’m glad you did, though. I wanted to meet you in person after all this time. It’s quite thrilling, like seeing a celebrity in the flesh, which I suppose in a way you are.”