Wicked Bronze Ambition

12

The catch crew took Preston to his guest suite. More hospitably, Director Relway took me to his personal quarters, which doubled as his working space. Before he acquired his current status, that space had been two jail cells. Relway had removed some intervening bars and permanently locked the door of one cell. He had no privacy, although no one else occupied space in the area.

I could not be comfortable there, despite having visited before. Relway understood and savored my discomfort. He did resist the temptation to suggest that I reflect on what it would be like to become a permanent resident.

Deal Relway knows that no one else in the world is honest enough and trustworthy enough not to deserve being caged. Deal Relway is the world’s lone perfect pillar of righteousness.

I exaggerate, but not much.

His patience, tolerance, and self-control suggested that he had something on his mind. He thought I could help, somehow. He did not explain right away, though. He deferred.

He did say, “General Block isn’t in today, which is why Helenia came to me about you.” He paused. I didn’t shove anything into the silence. “She says you’ve stumbled across a new criminal enterprise.”

Had I said anything to give the woman that idea? Well, maybe she heard that, or at least said so after what I told her fermented inside her head before it came back out in a report to Relway. And the thesis was sound. That was why I had come to the Al-Khar.

“Let me try to tell it in one go and you ask questions after.”

“I’m listening.” He settled into a chair with very little padding, steepled his hands under his chin, and waited.

Like I said, Relway makes me uncomfortable. Crazy people always do. Though Relway is supposedly one of the good guys, he is also completely loony. Deadly loony.

The twitch in the right corner of his mouth said he was aware of the effect his behavior was having. He was enjoying my discomfort.

I told my story. I left out nothing. He wasn’t crazy enough to hassle Shadowslinger’s friends. He let me ramble, showing an impressive range of expressions as I proceeded; then he did homage to his normal disbelief by asking, “What did you leave out?”

“Nothing.” I have sometimes withheld something. We both knew that. He always ripped me about it and I always lied, claiming that I was doing no such thing. “Really, truly, swear on your favorite religious tract. This is a whole new kind of weird for me. Wait. Maybe I did. . Yeah. You could say I left out the fact that Shadowslinger, Bonegrinder, and all them probably wouldn’t want me talking to the law.”

“I took that into account.”

I offered a raised eyebrow by way of response.

“Hill folks think they’re above the law. I can’t reason out why they would set Preston and Elona on your trail, though.”

“Me, either.”

“Are you into anything else?”

“No. Just Strafa, these days.”

“The Windwalker. I envy you, Garrett. I truly envy you, being on a personal name basis with. . Never mind. Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Then he stopped, thinking.

I filled this silence. “Preston Womble. Elona Muriat. And Vicious Min. I really, honestly, never heard of any of them. But heading down to Macunado Street last night, with Strafa, I caught a whiff of Lurking Fehlske.”

Fehlske is in the surveillance racket, too. He is a genius at remaining invisible. He is like a ghost. Unfortunately, he is also allergic to bathwater.

Relway waved a hand dismissively. “His sort are in endless supply.” Putting me down without addressing me directly. “You still work for the brewery, right? Any possible connection there?”

“Who would mess with Max Weider?”

The brewing king is as powerful as the boss of the Outfit and Director Relway combined when it comes to having the financial wherewithal to impose his will. But Max isn’t that kind of guy so long as the world leaves him alone. However, there is no shortage of too stupid to survive.

“Still only the usual minor pilfering, then.”

“That never goes away completely, though there’s not much of that anymore. I’m good at what I do, Max is a good boss, and jobs are scarce. You don’t risk yours over pocket change.”

“What I figured. How about Amalgamated and the Tates? That situation has got to be touchy.”

That was something I would rather not discuss. But, “Yes, that has gotten complicated.”

The Amalgamated Manufacturing Combine produces a range of devices invented by Cypres Prose. Kip. I have a small share in AMC and have been its head security guy since the Combine was formed. Max Weider and Kip are serious stakeholders, too, but the Tates are the folks who run the business. I was involved with one of the Tate women for a long time. The involvement was why Kip partnered up with the family for financial and production backing. There was a lot of drama, high-level maintenance, and plenty of disdain from the other Tates. Then Strafa came along.

Relway said, “I would imagine. How bad do they want you to go away?”

“Me going wouldn’t break many hearts.”

He nodded, steepled his fingers again. “But they can’t push you out, can they? That would aggravate Max Weider. And Cypres Prose might walk with you.”

“I don’t know about that. Kip is really serious about Kyra Tate.”

“Who is also your pal, if I recall.”

“One light in the wilderness.” I had the angle of his thinking now. It was plausible, too. He could be right. Preston and his girlfriend, and the Min woman, might have to do with the past instead of the present or future.

“The old boys, the uncles, those guys worship bottom lines. They would suck it up and keep you around because you’re good at what you do.”

“Why, thank you, sir.”

“And one of the things you do best is irritate the shit out of everyone around you. How about the younger Tates? The ones with the bruised feelings? Are they capable of putting a tag on you?”

“Capable? Sure. Likely to do it? No. Tinnie wouldn’t turn stalker. She has quirks and hang-ups and twists of mind but only at neurotic levels. Kyra? Not at all. She doesn’t care about anything but Kip. And the boys are just glad that I’m gone. They don’t have to explain me anymore.”

Relway rubbed his fingertips together, wondering.

“I think even considering the Tates takes away from what’s really happening. Womble, Muriat, and Min have to have something to do with this Tournament of Swords stuff.”

Relway looked out to the hallway, frowning. There was a ruckus out there somewhere. “On balance, I’m inclined to agree. But there is the cousin, Rose Tate, a bad seed with lots of screws loose. Could she be trying to get leverage on the chief of security now that he isn’t protected by the rest of the family? Would she try to end your ankle-biting if she thought she could manage it without making Cypres Prose walk away?”

He showed that twitch in the corner of his mouth. In his special way he had just told me that he had a clear understanding of the dynamics inside Amalgamated and the Tate family. He knew that black sheep Rose had been up to wickedness the family wanted kept from the other shareholders.

Cautiously, I admitted, “Rose would be a possibility. Remote, but a possibility.”

“The most plausible possibility that I see.”

“Unless it has to do with the tournament nonsense.”

“Unless. Which, I suspect, we’ll hear more about momentarily. I imagine that racket has to do with Womble having given up everything else he knows.”

People argued heatedly in muted voices, moving slowly closer. One insisted that the Director had left instructions not to be disturbed. Another argued that it was imperative that he should be. The latter sounded like oddly shaped Helenia.

Relway composed himself, resigned to the interruption. “Did your Hill friends know you were coming here? How important is that?”