Acts of Violence (17 page)

Premier club. It was
ridiculous. The club was in the heart of the west side. The east side was the
rich side. The side with all the gambling houses and other clubs. But he set up
The Web here. And it worked. The social elite – or at least their spoilt brats
– packed the place just about every night. Probably thought they were on an
adventure, crossing into the peasant quarter.

This time, there
was only one other customer in the place. A middle-aged guy trying not to fall
asleep in his dinner. From the colour of his hands I guessed he was one of
Webster’s miners. On his way home. The paranoia got to me again. I thought
about the train sitting over the tunnel. That was the only way for the miners
who didn’t live out by the mines to get back to the city. It had been sat there
a good while now. Over an hour. Could this guy have been here that long? Maybe
he was planted here.

I shook my head.
Just like the nerves, the paranoia was new to me. I wasn’t used to being
hunted, but it pissed me off that I wasn’t handling it better. I told myself to
get a grip.

The directory was
in the form of a bulky old datapad. The chunky attachment at the top was
probably a security device to stop me running off with such a valuable item. Ironically,
it took some searching before I found the search function. I entered the name ‘Harold
Jarvis’.

One return. No comm
ID was listed, but it had an address. Apartment 307, The Lakeside Rooms. Another
damn place owned by Webster. It was probably the fanciest apartment complex in
Harem. The richer citizens lived there. It was nowhere near the lake. As far as
I knew, Webster had wanted to build it out there, but the ground was too wet
and unstable. He’d moved it out to the east side and kept the name.

I checked the time
at the top of the screen. Nearly ten.

I grudgingly paid
for the brown sludge and left. The miner was asleep by then. Didn’t wake. Around
the corner, two cabs were double-parked so the drivers could chat. I climbed
into the back of one.

‘East fifteenth,’ I
told the driver. ‘Lakeside Rooms.’

He just nodded. Waved
goodbye to his friend and pulled away. Another infrared thing above my seat
dried me out again. They were everywhere in Harem. To dry the city that’s never
dry. There was a factory over on the north side of town that made the things.
One of the few sources of work for Harem citizens. There wasn’t a lot for a
colony to do. Luckily for us the factory, and a few other places, sold their
products off-world, which kept some money flowing in. Otherwise it just swirled
round and round Harem like water in a drain. Without that bit of off-world
income, we’d have sunk out here. We were pretty much self-sufficient in
everything but that most important of things: food. Next to nothing grew in and
around Harem, and you could only live on synthed food for so long.

I slid low in the
seat. Made it look like I was dozing. Didn’t want Webster’s goons spotting me.
We were heading straight into their territory after all. It would be just my
luck if they did, just as I was about to get answers. Hopefully, anyway.

It looked like we
were headed for the tunnel. I asked the driver to take a different route. He
told me it would cost more, but quickly turned onto a new street anyway, in
case I changed my mind.

With each block, my
nerves increased. It was a different kind of nerves this time. Something laced
with hope. This Jarvis guy might actually be able to give me the information I
was after. If he couldn’t, I’d have no choice. I’d have to find my way to Cole
Webster’s mansion. I doubted I’d survive it. But it was either that or go on the
run, and on a rock like this there was nowhere to run to.

I found myself
fingering the cigarette packet again. Still a few left inside. I hadn’t even
thought about smoking since the club. I even had a lighter now. Maybe I’d quit.
I’d almost managed it until last night. Yeah, I’d quit for good this time.

An increase in
angle and pressure against my back told me we were about to pass into the east
side. Where the rich lived and played. Of course, ‘rich’ was a relative term.
The poor of Orion would look down their noses at Harem’s elite and laugh. Harem
didn’t get to be so large because of well-off and important people deciding to
make it their home. It got big because of people who weren’t wanted anywhere
else. Except maybe by the law. Some of the inhabitants, for example, were
descendents of pirates who hit a big score and had to find somewhere to lay
low. Most had become relatively normal citizens by this stage though.

There was no point
thinking how likely it was that every other person I saw in this part of town
was in Webster’s pocket. How likely it was that he’d know where I was
practically before I did. I had to find the information DeMartino and Lawrence
needed. So I had to find Jarvis. So I had to go into the east side. So it was
unavoidable. No point thinking about it.

Instead, I wondered
if the girl had survived the storm drains. They’d have been pretty flooded.
She’d probably have had to swim through them. I didn’t know how far they went.
Maybe the current would have pulled her through. Maybe it would have pulled her
under. Held her there till she stopped struggling. Shame. Meant I wouldn’t get
my good coat back. Meant I wouldn’t get any more information from her. But
she’d seemed tough. I thought she had some fire inside pushing her on. She’d
probably kick Death in the face and take his scythe rather than go quietly.
Then go claim Webster’s head with it.

From my position
low in the seat, I could see that the lightning had stopped. For now. Rain
still fell, but it pattered on the windshield instead of hammering. The further
into the east side we travelled, the worse the light pollution got. All I could
see in the sky was an orange haze.

We passed a street
sign. It said simply, ‘E 15’. My stomach lurched. We were there. The cab
started to slow.

East Fifteenth
Street. Few streets in Harem had any kind of real name. Those that did could
mostly be found here in the east side though. The city was arranged kind of
like an H. The east and west sides continued all the way up and down the sides
of the city. Technically the diagonals of a compass. The north and south sides
were the smallest areas, nestled in the little squares either side of the
horizontal line. That line was the train line. Cut straight through the middle
of town before turning around the southern marshes and then down to the mining
operation. Then from there, back out east to Anshan.

My stomach lurched
again. The cab sat still against the kerb. The driver held his hand out. Must
have told me the fare, but I hadn’t heard. I handed him a fifty to be sure and
waited for the change. It was an awkward number. Something with a seven. The
smallest credit chips were fives. Conveniently meant I had to tell him to keep
the difference.

I checked the time
before I climbed out. Ten fifteen. He’d driven slowly because of the wind. Better
than wrapping us around a lamppost I guessed. Taken a more indirect route too.

Outside, I barely
felt the rain. The wind had died down now. It was like another city. Brightly
lit, clean. Still raining. That was a given in Harem. But it was gentle rain. Maybe
these rich people bribed someone for nicer weather.

I stared up at the
building. Lakeside Rooms. The name was emblazoned in gold lettering on a thick
black oval sign to my left. The sign swayed gently, suspended between two
wooden posts in the grassy area between the road and the semicircle driveway.
The building itself was white stone and glass. There was nothing special about
the design, but there was an indefinable air of fanciness and upper class about
it.

I skirted the
sodden grass and crossed the pristine driveway. Wide stone steps led up to a
wooden door. Even at this time of night, it was open. A small porch area for
tenants to store umbrellas and overcoats. Then on through a sliding glass door
that seemed to know the difference between me standing to take in my
surroundings and wanting to go through it. The air inside was warm.
Uncomfortably so. My fingers tingled. Swelled in the heat.

The lobby of the
place was big. It was like the entrance hall of some grand mansion. Two curved
staircases swept up to the next floor, both polished wood. Between the
staircases was a reception desk. I guessed the man behind it had opened the
glass door for me. From the look on his face at my approach, I also guessed
he’d done so before taking a good look at me.

‘Can I help you,
sir?’ He was careful not to put any ounce of respect into the last word.

‘I’m here to see
Harold Jarvis,’ I told him. Held up my badge.

The receptionist,
or concierge, or whatever he was, carefully looked me up and down. His piercing
little eyes looked as though he was staring right through my clothes and my
skin to see that my blood was definitely not cop colour.

‘The name is not
familiar…Officer,’ he said.

‘Detective. You’ve
got, what, two hundred tenants here? You know them all by name?’

He took on a firmer
tone. ‘Perhaps not, but I certainly
recognise
the
names of those who reside here. And this Mr. Jarvis is not one of them.’

‘Perhaps you’d do
me a favour and check the books. Just in case.’ I smiled. ‘Long way to come
from the precinct for a quick “no”.’

The more I pressed
the issue, the more uncomfortable the guy looked. The white shirt had become greyer
around the armpits. He kept straightening his red waistcoat. His eyes kept
flicking down at something. I couldn’t see what. A gun, maybe. Or an alarm
button. I leaned on the top of the reception desk to wait. He couldn’t go for
anything, gun or button, with me so close.

‘Very well,’ he
yielded eventually. ‘If you insist.’

‘I do.’ I smiled
again.

His eyes flicked
over what he could see of me again. He didn’t like me much. Didn’t like having
someone who looked like me in his nice clean lobby. Or foyer. Or whatever the
correct hoity-toity word was.

He dragged a moist
finger down his screen. From my side, it looked like he was just waving the
finger in mid air. Maybe he was. He certainly didn’t look like he was actually
searching for the name.

‘As I said, there
is no one by that name residing in the Lakeside Rooms,’ he announced after what
he probably thought was a sufficiently unsuspicious period. His eyes flicked
down again. He took a casual step towards whatever it was.

I’d had enough of
his shit.

‘I think you’re
lying. And I don’t have time for it.’

I slapped the badge
down on the desk. His eyes instinctively followed it. Meant he didn’t register
fast enough when I reached over the desk and grabbed him. Yanked him towards
me. Then reached to the back of his head with my other hand. Drove his head
straight down and through the desk. It didn’t actually go through, of course,
but that’s the strength I was aiming for. It ensured his lack of consciousness.

As he slumped and
dropped to the floor, I hoped he didn’t bash his head again there. He was a
pompous ass, but I didn’t particularly want to have killed him. I already had
the cops on me for a murder. Two, in Lawrence’s case.

After making sure I
wasn’t being watched – a little late now – I stepped around the desk. It was a
panic button of some kind. I didn’t know if it alerted the cops, or went
directly to Webster. Like everything so far, I suspected the latter. This guy
knew who I was. Or at least had a good idea. Or maybe he was just meant to
alert Webster if anyone ever asked for Harold Jarvis. That boded well for me.

A quick search of
the concierge and his desk sadly didn’t produce any guns, so I moved on to his
computer. An equally quick search of this told me that a ‘Jarvis, H’ lived in
apartment 317. Looked like Webster was confident that his efforts to hide Jarvis
were solid enough that he didn’t need to worry about using a fake name for him here.

A small break room
behind the reception desk proved to be ideal for the storing of unconscious
asses. There were no communication devices in the room and the door locked with
a key. I locked him in and threw the key off to the side somewhere.

I decided to take
the stairs. It was the paranoia again. I didn’t want anyone seeing the elevator
moving, or what floor it was going to. I considered sending both of them to a different
floor – neither to the third – but that was probably taking it too far. I was
meant to be getting a grip, after all.

The transition of
my footsteps from thick carpet to wooden steps was deafening in the otherwise
silent lobby. Despite the urge to rush to 317, I forced myself to walk
casually. The cream coloured walls of the two floors were pretty bare. Four or
five paintings prevented it from being too empty, though for the life of me I
couldn’t work out what they were paintings of. A single arched window in each
of the side walls showed the orange haze, distorted by raindrops. In the middle
of the ceiling was a round…thing. It looked like there was meant to be a
chandelier hanging from it.

At the top, my
footsteps were silenced once again by fawn-coloured carpet. It wasn’t
immediately obvious where the next staircase was, so I turned and followed the
balcony back around towards the front wall. I found the staircase concealed
behind a thin wall above the porch. The outside wall was entirely glass. I
looked out at the shining gambling houses, bars and restaurants. They all
begged me to come inside and unload my pocketful of credits. All I was
interested in was seeing that the driveway was still empty.

On the third floor,
my stomach was twisting and turning again. I just hoped to hell this Jarvis
character could tell me what I wanted to know. What I needed to know.

As I was about to
turn off the stairs, I heard a door open. Whispering. A giggle. Faint, soft
footsteps hurrying somewhere. I peeked round the corner. Saw an arm
disappearing through a door, pulling a thirty-something blonde behind it. The
opposite door clicked shut. Secret lovers. Not a threat.