Page 3

3 The Brief

My office was my sanctuary, a brooding refuge from the vileness of the world, a lonely dark place for quiet reflection and grim solitude I often craved.

The curtains were always closed, leaching the room of any light. Many an hour did I spend in here, staring at the dark timber walls whilst pondering the intricacies and singular jadedness of a criminal mind … and my own.

An old oak desk held many scratches and dents from a long line of detectives who had haunted this space before me. Each of those nicks and scars I knew as intimately as my own, had run my fingers over every one of them, as a silent tribute to the echoes of times past.

One wall was shelves of books crammed tightly and haphazardly against each other. Most were dissertations on the criminal mind. Some were merely escapes from life, echoes of the tortured minds of the previous inhabitants who had left parts of their soul behind.

Along another wall were grim timber cabinets filled with meticulously ordered files of my cases. Order replacing the chaos and mayhem of the crimes, cold arrangement of my notes replacing the emotional turmoil of the victims.

In this place, I was more at home than anywhere else. In this place, my mind quietened, my blood cooled, my body rested from the frenzied energy of life.

I poured a small measure of brandy into two glasses. I was not one to imbibe in the morning, but the gesture allowed me to turn away from the Gendrian who so far had been burning against my senses. The moment allowed me to compose myself, to get away from the chaos of my own thoughts and feelings. When I turned around, what little peace I found for those brief moments fled, to be replaced with restless energy and deep resentment.

I was not one of those dainty Herms like Ezra. I was of the size to most Gendrian men, and taller than most of their women. Yet this agent dwarfed me with his feral bulk and obscene height. He was watching me closely, with a startling predatory gleam in his eyes. The sensation going through me was one of being stalked. It brought out my own fighting instinct, and I felt that he might be aware of that also, and it amused him.

‘Please, take a seat Agent Wild,’ I said, as placed his glass on the table in front of him, before lounging back in my winged leather armchair.

I crossed one leg over the other, flashing my red stilettos, the only brazen colour in the office.

With a mild upturn of his lips, which seemed more admiring than scornful, he prowled forward and took a seat with that unwavering air of authority. His black hair glowed in the flickering oil lamp on my desk, and the light played with darkness in his eyes. Every cell of my body seemed attuned to this man, trained on him in tense anticipation.

He sat down, much as a man in his own element, with calm authority and undeniable belonging. For a many long breaths we measured each other, stretching the already taught silence between us. Most found it hard to hold my gaze for long. Ezra said I had the gaze of someone who had ventured to the depths of hell and returned with the devil inside me. And those who gazed too deeply into my soul would meet the devil themself. Perhaps the devil had indeed marked me. But whatever it was that people saw in my eyes made them look aside in short order. The man before me did not.

Those cold, blue eyes held my gaze unwaveringly as if challenging the devil to come out and play. ‘May I begin by congratulating you on solving the Slasher Harry case, detective.’ He spoke with lazy ease, as if the matter was of no consequence. ‘Though it seemed to lack your certain usual finesse in execution styles you often chose.’

I took a sip of my brandy, mulling its flavour. It was the rare twenty-five-year-old much prized vintage I purchased recently with half my commission after solving Jadie Lovjoy’s kidnapping and reuniting the child with their parents. It was a sordid gift that both mocked my age and marked the tenth year since Ma’s murder.

‘Execution?’ The flavour lingered on my tongue, smoky, smooth. I closed my eyes to savour the aroma rolling over my tongue just a little more. ‘I presume you mean a tragic accident where the suspect tripped and fell into an industrial mulcher …’

‘Feet first.’

‘… whilst running away.’ It was rare I treated myself to such fine delicacies, and it grated a little that the agent had not touched the glass I gave him, one which a vain part of me had hoped might impress the ape.

‘You shot him before he fell into the shredder.’

I opened the top drawer, and pulled out the box of Espanian cigars, the best money could buy. ‘If I did, it was no doubt in self-defence. For example, if he was reaching for his gun. Cigar?’ I held out the opened box to the agent.

A cynical, knowing smile touched his lips. ‘No. Thankyou. I no longer indulge in this particular vice.’

‘Which vices do you indulge in?’ I asked nonchalantly, as I took out a roll and cut the cap before placing it in my mouth and lighting it.

His icy blue eyes heated and a wicked glim flashed in them. But he did not answer, instead returning to his questioning. ‘The suspect had his arms raised, held no weapon and was clearly surrendering … just before he fell into the shredder with a hole in his chest.’

I drew the smoke into my lungs, regarding him. No one knew that. I chased the bastard down alone through the tree shredding facility on the edge of the city. The workers fled the moment our team burst through the doors armed with rifles and revolvers. I glimpsed Slasher Harry leave via the back stair and gave chase, whilst the others secured the site and spread out looking for the suspect.

I caught up to him on the maintenance platform, above the grinding tree shredder. The noise was deafening. No one could hear us, no one could hear a gun shot. Slasher Harry put his arms up and smiled. That smile that brought out the devil inside me. My finger snapped closed on the trigger. He staggered back, tripped and fell, but managed to hold on to the ledge with one hand. I looked down at him but did not reach to save him.

‘Fuck you, Herm,’ he had gritted out, before letting go.

Seems either this agent was there, or someone who reported to him, someone who was not on my team.

Maybe another person would be afraid now, anxious certainly. If this agent was trying to scare me, he would be disappointed. I had not felt fear in ten years. Had barely felt at all. Terror, grief, love, remorse, joy … all were echoes of my past. Even those emotions I did feel were mere echoes of what I once used to feel. I did not view it as a lack of any type. It gave me a sense of power over those who thought they could frighten or intimidate me.

I tapped cigar ash off the tip into the silver ashtray. ‘A curious account, Agent Wild. You must not have read my report, one which contains the actual details leading to the murderer’s tragic demise.’ I took another sip of my brandy, relishing the mix of smoke and fruit.

‘Why did you shoot him, Rockhall?’ he asked with quiet curiosity, devoid of judgement or accusation.

Again, I stared into the eyes of a hunter, trying to grasp the reason for these questions. The intensity in his eyes, the all-seeing darkness lurking there made me itch to crack open my soul and show him the devil that lived there. Perhaps I would have done if I thought it would shock him.

I drew another lungful of smoke, before releasing it slowly from the prison of my body. ‘What I think you are truly asking me, Agent Wild, is whether I am glad the bastard is dead. This I will not deny. As to shooting him … Well, let us just say I have not seen the autopsy report, so I have no record of the man being shot.’

His smile spread darkly and admiringly over his lips, transforming his features into something so compelling, I used an excuse to tap more ash of my cigar to look away. ‘Indeed, detective. Seems that industrial shredders rarely leave enough for an autopsy report.’

‘Hmm. That is indeed unfortunate. Still, it does beg a question of my own. Indulge me, if you will, in return. In what capacity were you there at the scene yesterday. Was it as an accomplice or merely a witness? No one knows Slasher Harry better than I, and I know he was not a national security risk. Merely a bastard who like to torment young Herms.’

‘I was there merely as an observer, detective. The case was not of interest to us, but your performance was.’

‘Bastards like him do not deserve prison, Agent Wild,’ I said at length, because for some reason, faced with this man’s soul-searing gaze, I felt the need to remind myself of that fact. ‘His last victim was …’ My voice choked up and I used the moment to draw a deep breath of smoke as images of blood on the carpet of my home flashed through my mind.

‘A child …’ he said into my silence with a note of something that sounded awfully like sympathy.

Nothing riled me more than pity. ‘Only fifteen,’ I said coolly, adding professional detachment to my voice. The same age I was when … I took a breath, blocking those memories. ‘He butchered them before killing them. They were his thirteenth victim, at least those we know about.’ Again, I kept my voice professional, merely reporting the facts of the case.

‘Womanising’ is what GLF and others of their ilk called it when they sliced Herms before killing them.

The agent showed no reaction or emotion, but merely regarded me as if trying to probe the deepest parts of my dark soul. ‘You have a very grim reputation, detective. More Gendrian suspects end up dead during your apprehension than by any other officer.’

I put out the last of my cigar. ‘I catch more than any other detective, and far too many of them choose to violently resist arrest. But let us get to the point here, Agent Wild. I don’t buy that bull of a story you were spinning for Fanigan. How about you tell me exactly why you are here? From your questions, I’m getting a very strong feeling that you are here to investigate me.’

‘My questions are merely points of curiosity I wanted to indulge. One’s views on the nature of justice are rather revealing of one’s darker parts of their mind. And yours is indeed darker than most, is it not, Ari?’ The quietly intimate use of my personal name sent a strange shock through me. It felt like a caress over my body, a lover’s whisper into my mind.

‘Detective Rockhall,’ I corrected him, straining to hide how much he had unsettled me with such a sensuous use of my first name. ‘Or just Rockhall, if you wish to forgo the title. Only my lovers may use my first name.’

‘Do they indeed,’ he uttered mockingly whilst eyes glinted with some secret knowledge and amusement. ‘As I already explained, we are seeking for your assistance in this matter with the Mayor.’

‘I see,’ I said dryly. ‘The Office of National Security needs my help to free the Mayor and his family, as they believe the entirety of Stateguard, currently trying to do the same, are unable to do what I alone can achieve.’

‘The matter is more complicated than that. We believe that it’s the intent of GLF to execute all the hostages, and their attempts at negotiations are a ploy.’

‘And am I to presume that your own agents, the likes of Black Hawk, Wolf and Serpent, who are indeed far better versed in matters such as these are currently unavailable to assist you. Surely your elite team of agents in in the not-so-secret service who have toppled governments of countries larger and more powerful than our own can manage to take on a few of the GLF lunatics? Or are these most renowned and brilliant agents currently scratching their heads, wondering where to start? Naturally, the Office of National Security, decided to bring in a detective from a second-rate security firm to assist them.’

Agent Wild regarded me thoughtfully before replying. ‘Indeed not, detective. You are correct. We are more than capable of taking care of this matter. However, there are elements in this case, which I believe make you an ideal candidate to assist us with them. Whilst being a perfect opportunity to demonstrate whether you do indeed have what it takes to join the secret service as an agent. We have been following your career for quite some time, detective, and we believe that this may be the case that proves whether you are indeed right for our team. And just so you have no misapprehension, you are being recommended for the First Division.

For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. The First Division was led by Black Hawk themself. A secretive and highly coveted spy master. It was simply too convenient, too easy, too much like a perfect cake handed to me on a golden plate. I was far too jaded to bite. Every Herm child, myself including, dreams of joining the ranks of famed Black Hawk and Serpent, Silver Spider and Golden Fly. Every child had a hero amongst the legends who thrilled the papers with their exploits and adventures. Their names, though never their faces, were often splashed across the broadsheets linked with some high-profile assassinations or foiling attempts to cause mayhem in our country by a criminal mastermind. Golden Fly was my own favourite, who had vanished from papers some years ago, and I often wondered with regret whether death had found them.

I took out another cigar from the box but did not light it. I rolled it thoughtfully in my fingers before tucking it into the front pocket of my suit for later. ‘So, you are here to recruit me,’ I said, without the excitement I might have felt had I truly believed it. Or perhaps if I had even been able to feel more than a whisper of emotion. Even hatred and rage had long ago subsided to cold pursuit of justice by day and pleasure by night.

There was a beat of careful, considering silence before the agent casually inclined his head in agreement.

I tapped my fingers on my desk. ‘Tell me, how does a Gendrian get a post with our secret service? Surely it is the last place one might want to employ an enemy.’

His face betrayed nothing, his gaze remained steady, unmoved. ‘ Are we your enemy detective?’

The question should have brought an immediate denial, a concession that our countries were no longer at war. That there had not been a war between binaries and Herms for over a hundred years.

Instead of replying I turned my face to the framed painting above the fireplace. It took up much of the wall, an imposing peace which I was told had hung there since the building was used as Gendiran Military headquarters. It depicted a brutal battle from three hundred years ago between Herms and Gendrians. One of many from the time which ultimately led to Hermian independence from Gendrian governance, and the end to mutilations and Herm breeding restrictions. It was a violent, bloody piece of work, with severed limbs, swords imbedded into bare Herm chests, axes into skulls. It was a tragic piece of art, showing Gendrian victory over Herm uprising. Men charging on horseback to joyous victory. In the distance, impaled on steaks, Herm bodies were picked apart by crows. Every Herm in this building hated that painting, except for me. I thought it beautiful and tragic. That such delicate brush strokes could bring to life the horror of those days, could make death so palpable. Sometimes I fancied I could smell the blood and flesh strew across the battlefield, smell the smoke rising from the city walls in the distance.

‘The war is over.’ A quiet, rumbling voice broke through my reverie and I turned to find the Gendrian agent had followed my gaze and was also regarding the painting.

I blinked and the painting was replaced by a flash of blood on carpet … Ma’s mutilated body … a bloodied knife coming for me … a deep, merciless laugh … an unshaven jaw …

‘Three hundred years since that battle, and Gendrians still mutilate my kind.’ I said with calm numbness that never truly left me since a Gendrian had mutilated and murdered my Ma. ‘You are an enemy to me, Agent Wild, one who hasn’t yet given me a reason to kill you.’

With a hard purse of his lips, he leant and reached to my desk and pushed the file towards me which Tay had given me. ‘Instead of looking for enemies in empty shadows, how about you focus that singular militant energy of yours on bringing in villains.’

I opened the file.

There were lists of names and addresses, and photographs of people I recognised. ‘That’s Jamie Carlson CEO of Secureforce… having dinner with Kyle Snow?’ I looked up at Wild. ‘He’s the head of National Security and your boss. ‘Why am I looking at his picture here?’

‘That is what we would like to find out. You see, this photograph was taken two days ago.’

‘A day before GLF seized the City Hall.’

‘You are not going to tell me this is a coincidence, now are you, detective?’ he asked a little mockingly.

‘It’s too much of a leap to link your boss with what is happening in the city hall, unless you have evidence other than this photo.’ I threw it contemptuously back at the file.

He spread his arms in admission. ‘We have nothing but this photograph and suspicions, as well as a spate of unsolved murder cases from the past of our own agents. Hence our line of enquiry and interest in this case.’

I tapped my fingers thoughtfully. ‘Is Kyle Snow aware of your interest in this case?’

His silence was my answer.

‘Sounds to me like you’ve gone rogue, Agent Wild.’

‘It is one of the multitude of reasons why I’m here.’

‘You need a detective outside of your organisation to look into the GLF activity quite independently. Especially a detective with a score to settle who is known for being … less than sympathetic towards Gendrians. I expect I have been quite thoroughly profiled by you.’

His lips quirked wickedly, and his gaze flashed with heat. ‘Oh, quite thoroughly indeed, inspector.’ His sensuous voice was whisky and smoke and went straight to my quim and cock at once.

Again, I chilled ever so slightly at those suddenly heated blue eyes, as another pair of blue eyes behind a black mask gazed up at me from long ago, his smile sensuous and wicked as those lips parted and …

I tore my gaze from the agent’s, sat forward and pulled the file towards me.

There were more photographs of different people with names, dates, places scribbled on the back. There were receipts for small and large amounts, which I briefly perused through, but little else.

I turned another piece of paper, a death certificate of one of the members of GLF with a photograph of a body lying in the street. I closed the file. ‘Is this all you have for me to go on?’

‘You have solved cases on far less than what I have given you here, detective,’ he pointed out. ‘There is of course this as well, which came to my attention only this morning.’ He put his hand into his pocket and produced another photograph, which he pushed down the table towards me. ‘This is Thomas Grant and the man in the hat he is speaking with is the leader of the group who have seized the City Hall last night, known only as Shade.’

It was the last thing I heard, as my world narrowed to the face of the Gendrian man in the picture. Everything faded away, as time grinded to a standstill, then its grinding wheels began to roll back.

At first as a flash of blood … so much blood on the carpet …

Then those awful wheels of time ground louder and faster, pushing me at pace towards that precipice from which there was no escape, a cascade of images of Ma lying there covered in their own blood … of body parts removed … of the cold knife slicing onto my stomach, the foul stench of his rotten teeth and the laughter … Cruel laughter mingled with the sound of my school bag falling to the floor … with the sound of Pa’s cries of aguish …

Agent Wild was saying something I could not understand, for my chest was tightening, something was crushing it, squeezing, until breath became impossible. Flashes, images … my chest constricting. I knew these signs, knew where they led, had been there before, though not for many years …

I was moving, staggering, the decanter in my shaking hands, liquid sloshing into a glass, the decanter hitting the lip of the glass clumsily, uncontrollably.

Blood … so much blood … torn clothes.

Don’t let him see … do not crumble, Ari.

I downed the contents, kept my eyes closed and just focused on breathing, trying to push away those indelible images, trying to force those cogs of time to start spinning forward to my present.

All the while the bastard’s face swam before my eyes. He was looking down at my Ma’s body, bloodied knife in hand. My school bag dropped out of my hand. Those cold eyes, filled with so much hate, slowly rising to me. My feet unable to move. The same face that laughed as everything inside me broke. The laughter drew closer and closer as my gaze fixed in his bloody knife, before he rammed it into my stomach. And then I was lying on the floor, dying. My Pa’s wild creams as they cradled me in their arms.

‘Breathe, Rockhall.’ A hand suddenly covered mine over the glass decanter, and I ricocheted back into the present. ‘Perhaps I should pore before you smash the glass,’ said a deep steadying voice, whilst his musky scent filled my head.

Fuck. I snatched away my hand, relinquishing the decanter in the process, moving away abruptly from the large, solid form of Agent Wild.

I ran my hands through my hair as he poured me another measure, before handing it to me. ‘I know Grant’s not the prettiest Gendrian in the city. Still, surely a detective of your stature has seen uglier bastards in your line of work.’ His words were mocking, but there was concern in his features.

Hell, just what I needed, to crumble like a child in front of secret service.

I drank more of the brandy, as I returned to my desk. ‘Long night last night, you know how it is,’ I said in a slightly wobbly voice. ‘Just a slight hangover.’

Silence.

Then … ‘I’m not buying it, Rockhall. You know that man. You have seen Thomas Grant before. Never seen anyone go green so quickly at a sight of an ugly face. Wouldn’t happen to do anything with Casey Rockhall’s unsolved murder, now would it?’

Of course, secret service knew every last detail of my life, especially one that so thoroughly destroyed my soul. ‘I guess there is little hope that your file on me misses anything out.’

‘We thoroughly screen everyone we think of employing. I even know your second-grade teacher’s name was Mrs Eccles.’

Mrs Eccles was the only binary who had taught in our school, until she lost her job and later left for Gendria. It seemed many of the Herm parents objected to Mrs Eccles teaching the students that the natural order of things — as god intended — was for there to be only men and women, and everything else in between was destined to be the fodder for the devil’s fire.

Involuntarily, I grinned. ‘I used to love her classes, especially when she preached those sermons of hers about hell and damnation. Did you know the devil is a Herm?’

He chuckled, dark and rumbly that felt like a punch to my gut. ‘Funny, I always thought the devil to be a she and it wore my ex-wife’s face.’

Ex-wife. Strange how unpleasant that sudden revelation felt, like something delicate and wonderous just slipped away from my grasp, something I had yet to understand and explore. I don’t know why the idea that the agent had an ex-wife, a she, he once loved enough to want to wed in their Gendrian fashion would grate so. It should not have come as a surprise. He was a man , a damned handsome one at that, and they mated with women . It’s not like he could carry and birth a child himself. Gendrians needed their women for that.

‘So, mind telling me why you nearly threw up at the sight of Grant? And just so we are clear, I can guess well enough without you telling. I merely want to hear it from you.’

I stared at the photo in front of me. I guess I needed to hear me say it, too. ‘He was the bastard who butchered my Ma.’

The bastard was never found, nor have I ever come across his face again until now. He was the reason I became a detective. I have been looking for him ever since. And now I had a name to go with the face. Thomas Grant.

‘And stabbed you,’ Rain Wild said quietly, too quietly, with a strange tightness in his voice.

I did not answer. Secureforce won the contract to investigate that crime, and their file on the case was as thick as a brick. Everything was in there, except the identity of the murderer. I blamed myself for that, I never could give a clear description of his features. They blurred and moved in my mind, slipping away and fading, and the artist just could not get it right. It was the only thing in my life I could not recall with any clarity. My Ma’s bloodied body and the knife was what imprinted on my mind with startling clarity. The bastard’s face was never clear in my head. But I would recognise him anywhere.

‘This changes things, Rockhall,’ said the agent. ‘Can’t have you on this case with emotions driving you. I need clearheaded thinking.’

Those words were sobering and strangely amusing. I lifted my gaze to him and gave out a laugh. ‘Emotions,’ I said, chewing the word curiously. ‘Seems your profilers missed some things about me after all, Agent Savage.’

‘Wild,’ he said blandly. ‘Just call me Wild.’

‘Emotions are the one thing that do not drive me. Because I do not feel . I’ve spent my life looking for the bastard. I spent years going over that file with my Ma’s dead body plastered all over it, reliving every second of it, and feeling none of the things I should feel. Do you think taking me of this case will stop me from hunting Grant down like a rabid dog? I can assure you, I have never been more clearheaded.’ I opened the file again and without taking my eyes of him, pulled out a seemingly random sheet of paper from a stack of others. It was not, random. I pushed it towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow at me and picked it up to examine it. ‘A long list of bank accounts beside initials. What do you see here, Rockhall? Or rather what do you want me to see?’

‘Line twenty-three,’ I said without taking my eyes of him. ‘The account number for initials TG correspond to those used by the Central Bank on President Street. The amount indicates a significant backer behind his funds.’

Wild lifted his gaze to me. ‘Impressive. You have eidetic memory. You could not have looked at this page for more than a few seconds.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Another thing your file on me does not mention? Seems your profilers are sloppy.’

He threw down the sheet and leant back in his chair. ‘How many actually know of this little trick of yours, Rockhall?’

This time my grin was genuine. ‘You are the first.’ I replaced the sheet in the exactly the same place inside the file where I found it.

‘Not even your Pa?’ he asked with another quirk of his brow.

‘It took me a long time to realise it was an unusual skill. By the time I did, I had no need to talk about it with anyone.’

He was pensive. ‘Had I realised, we might have approached you sooner.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up over it,’ I said dismissively, rising to my feet. ‘Now if you are done with this interview, Agent Drizzle, I have a case to solve.’

He remained seated. ‘What exactly is your plan?’

‘My plan is to get myself a job at the Central Bank.’

‘I see. You plan to use Andie Lang to get it,’ he said it so casually, I staggered to an abrupt halt, stunned speechless.

That was exactly my contact at the bank I meant to use. Andie Lang was one of my past lovers. And not just any lover, but one of my most intense relationships, though brief it was.

He grinned smugly. ‘I guess our file on you is not as useless as you might have me believe. It’s been what, five years since you last saw Andie?’

‘How the hell can you possibly know that?’

He looked up nonchalantly as if trying to recall details of a holiday abroad. ‘Didn’t end all that well, if I recall correctly. Then again, you never were the one Herm type of person. Unfortunately for Andie, your tastes always strayed from monogamy. Whilst Andie’s most definitely tended towards the more … romantic ideals of your time together. Broke their heart, did you not? My feeling is that you are more likely to earn a slap than a job from your contact .’

My face heated. Hell, I could not remember the last time I blushed. In fact, I honestly don’t think I ever had. ‘Impressive,’ I ceded. ‘Except for one part you got wrong about me again.’

‘Oh really, and what is that?’

‘I will be working at the bank by …’ I glanced at my pocket watch. ‘Quarter past ten this morning.’ I strode to the door and added over my shoulder. ‘And I’ll be braking Andie’s heart again by the end of today.’

‘But they will slap you,’ he called out after me, and I could feel his piercing gaze on my back, the type of gaze that roused my cock before I closed the door behind me.