Tim Akers - Heart of Veridon

“Complicated,” I said.

Emily explained. Part of the deal Tomb had going with Valentine involved safe houses. Tomb was one of the most successful of the old families, one of the few to maintain both power and money. They had interests all over Veridon. Valentine was borrowing some of those interests, to hide people and things he needed put quietly away when there was trouble. Emily was aware of the deal, and took advantage. The Cog was buried in one of Tomb’s houses, safe as it could be.

Right where we couldn’t get to it. Right where we’d have to be crazy to break in.

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“What, The hiding places? I arranged the deal.”

“Not according to Valentine. He told me it was true, that he had been talking to the Tombs, but no one knew it. Not even you.”

Emily flinched and sat down. “Let’s chalk it up to self interest.”

“How?” I asked.

“I’ve been snooping around Valentine, months now. There’s a lot of money going into that operation that’s just disappearing.” She gave me a sick look. “I’m just trying to get a piece. Looking out for myself, I guess.”

“And you found out about his secret deals with one of the Founding Families?” Wilson asked. “That’s some deep secret you dug up.”

“It wasn’t easy. The Tombs were overconfident. One of their couriers…” she looked embarrassed and shot me a hot look. “He likes me. So. I found out.”

“Well. You could have mentioned that earlier.”

“You don’t react well, when I bring up that side of my life.”

I shrugged. Wilson chuckled. “So what now?” he asked.

“You put it there,” I said. Emily was facing away from us again, a little pale. “You can get it back. Right?”

“I was about to say. That’s what I was trying to do, while you were laid up at Wilson’s.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s gone.”

“Gone? What, like someone came through and cleared the place out? Stole it?”

“No, just it. Just the Cog. Everything else was the same, near as I could tell.”

“You tell anyone else you put it there?”

“No.”

“So someone magically guessed that it was there, broke in, and took just that.”

Emily squirmed. “They didn’t break in. There are signs, trustlocks that have to be maintained. Someone in on the deal had to take it. No one else knows the patterns.”

“The deal? The one between Valentine and Tomb, you mean?”

“Yeah, that deal.” Emily turned to look at me. She looked sorry. “So someone on the inside. Valentine’s people, or Tomb’s. No one else knows.”

I sat back. Trustlocks were tricky. It took a combination to open them, a combination based on the configuration of the lock. And when you closed it again, it never went back in the same way. Had to be set. The whole deal was based on one use-codes and algorithms. You could pick them, but you couldn’t put them back without the codes, least not in a way that the next guy opening it wouldn’t notice. Tamper-proof. They got used a lot, by people who didn’t trust each other.

“So one of Valentine’s. Or one of Tomb’s.” I rubbed my eyes. “Valentine doesn’t want any part of this. So let’s say it’s one of Tomb’s. Let’s say the Lady Tomb has this thing, now.”

Wilson sighed. He had taken up a spot in the corner of our little room, sitting on his hands and watching us argue. “What does that mean to us?” he asked.

“If we’re serious about figuring out what’s going on here, it means we have to go get it,” I said. I took my revolver out and laid it on the coat, then started to disassemble and clean it.

“Yeah. So what? We break into the Manor Tomb and steal it?”

“Probably not,” Emily said. “That’s probably too much of a task, even for the great Jacob Burn.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I kept focused on the pieces of the revolver. A simple puzzle, a task I knew. “Probably asking too much that she has it on display somewhere. Probably going to take talking to her.”

“You want me to handle that?” Emily asked.

“You’ve had contact with her?”

“No, I just…” she stuttered to a stop. “No.”

“No, you haven’t. I have. This is my job. This is just the sort of job Valentine hires me for.” I sighed and sat quietly for a minute as I finished up with the revolver. When it was together again I put it into my shoulder holster, then stood up. “Stay here. I’ll be back, soon enough.”

“Like hell,” Wilson said. I paused at the door to the basement and turned. He was standing.

“You don’t trust me?” I asked.

“Better. I don’t even know you. You’re asking us to stay here, to stay put, while you go running around the city. The Badge is looking for you, Jacob, and they’re looking for us too. They catch you, it isn’t going to be long before they get us.”

“Look, I do this kind of job all the time. It’s what Valentine pays me for. Look smart, talk to the pretty people, maybe threaten some milksop then get out.” I turned back to the door. “All the damn time.”

“It’s not like that this time, Jacob.” Wilson walked over to me, wedged himself between me and the door, and crossed his arms. “This isn’t some drug deal, okay? I’m going with you.”

“A bug,” I turned to Emily and waved my hand. “Em, maybe, but I’m not taking a bug.” I stopped talking when I felt the steel against my cheek. I turned, slowly.

“We don’t use that word,” Wilson said. “Civilized people like us don’t use that word.”

“Right. Sorry,” I muttered. He lowered the knife. “I just don’t think Tomb is going to be too friendly to me showing up with an anansi. That’s all.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sheathing the knife. “You’ll tell them that we’re friends.” He looped his arm through mine and pulled me toward the door. “Good friends.”

“Be careful, kids,” Emily said. I think she was chuckling.

“Yes, dear,” I said.

I clambered out of the flooded basement, swirling my coat on over my shoulders. Dusk was settling down on the streets of Veridon. The frictionlamps were humming.

“And while we’re out, we can look for some engram beetles, for your pattern,” Wilson said with a sharp smile and a tug on my arm.

I thought of the sharp legs clawing their way down my throat, the blood and chitin flaking off my lips when I woke up. I grimaced.

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll look.”

It worked like this. The Families on the Council, both the Founders and the new breed that’s buying them out, they have their own servants. Drivers, butlers, handmaidens, stablers… the whole domestic scene. They have their own little brute squads, too. House Guard. Housies, we called them. They, you know, guard the house.

Tomb’s House Guard was nowhere to be seen. The Manor Tomb sits in the older part of town, just on the edge of what could be called respectable real estate. It was high up in the city. It started out posh, but the years had built up and the wealth had migrated. Now the smoke from the Dunje-side factories formed a putrid strata that clung to the streets and scraped against the walls up here. Rich as the Tombs were, they couldn’t afford to move their address. Grandpa was inside, and grandpa was immobile. And when grandpa went, the whole family went, the writ of name already mortgaged off to one of those new families. So. The manor stayed.

The Manor Tomb was an impressive place, all stone and wrought iron, the brows of the mansion scowling at the street below. The wall that surrounded the grounds was stone, and the gate was well maintained and usually guarded. Not today. Today, the gatehouse was empty. Perfect opportunity, right, except for the street around the manor. The street was full of officers of the Badge. They looked like they were preparing for a war, agitated, the men clutching their weapons as they faced away from the manor, like they expected Veridon to rise up and invade the place. Lots of Badge, with equipment and officers and marching orders. It didn’t look right.