2. CHAPTER TWO
Chapter two
The car turned out to be a large van, sleek and black, with more than enough seats for all of them and, perhaps more welcome than anything else, air conditioning.
It was driven by Oreste Minga, who had become a familiar face for Hallie over the past two weeks.
It had been a surprise, for her at least, to arrive at their first destination and find Oreste and his cousin, Kasmo Minga, waiting for them.
Girard had explained that Oreste and Kasmo had been assigned to provide household support, and from the way he had spoken, Hallie had realised he felt that was both expected and ordinary even though Hallie had no idea what that might mean.
Household support, Hallie had come to realise, covered all the mundane daily chores she’d been used to dealing with herself as well as some extras, such as Oreste doing some driving.
Kasmo seemed content to stay in and around whatever house they all happened to be staying in, while Oreste seemed to take every opportunity to get out and about.
They were alike enough to be brother and sister, sharing the same pale, cool brown skin and dark brown hair and eyes.
As much as she had grown to value and like Oreste and Kasmo, Hallie still wasn’t completely comfortable with having people looking after her, even if she had to acknowledge it was extremely useful to have someone else to take care of meals and chores and to do things like drive a vehicle to pick her up when she’d finally caught her target.
Girard was, naturally, perfectly at ease with other people looking after him and it gave Hallie a bit of insight into what his daily life had been before he started working with the investigators.
By the time they’d arrived back at the house where they’d been staying and working for the past week, Hallie had cooled down for what felt like the first time in days. The wound on Girard’s head had stopped bleeding, although he was still moving carefully when he got out of the van.
“Kasmo will bring some refreshments to the office shortly, for you and your guest,” Oreste said. He was politely ignoring the fact that the guest was wearing flexi-cuffs.
“Thank you,” Girard answered, and waved for Hallie and Manju to go ahead of him into the house.
They were in the wealthier part of the city now, where one or two-storey houses sat in their own grounds, often painted pale colours and partially shielded from the weather by fences or trees around the outside with garden courtyards in the middle.
The houses were sprawling buildings, taking up a great deal more room than the crowded-together, older buildings closer to the seafront.
Despite the oppressive heat beating down on Hallie’s head and shoulders in the brief walk from the van to the front door, the air here felt cooler than down by the sea.
Their temporary base was a two-storey building formed in a U shape, with a large courtyard in the middle full of lush green plants and the gentle sound of running water.
The house was surrounded by more green plants and a tall fence that kept it separate from its neighbours.
It was quite different to any building Hallie had stayed in before, and also quite beautiful, from the soft coral pink walls to the dark wood shutters on the outside, with tiled walls and floors on the inside in muted colours and geometric designs.
Whoever had built this house, or come up with the design for the courtyard houses, had been something of a genius, as far as Hallie was concerned, because even in the high heat of the day outside, the inside of the house felt pleasantly cool, the sound of running water from the garden courtyard carrying to every room in the house.
She stepped through the open double doors and turned, steering Manju through the reception hallway, along the wide corridor and into the large room that she and Girard had been using as their office.
The room took up one of the short ends of the ground floor of the building and, whatever its original purpose, now housed two desks and office chairs and a metal filing cabinet, all looking completely out of place and starkly modern against the terracotta floor tiles and pale blue wall tiles, as well as a long dining table with several high-backed chairs with soft cushion seats set around it.
At one end of the table a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall provided another jarring note of technology.
Hallie led Manju to the table and frowned at him for a moment, hesitating, before removing the flexi-cuffs.
She didn’t think he would try to run immediately, and giving him a little bit of freedom might encourage his cooperation.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the chair farthest from the door.
To her amusement, Manju put his hand over his heart, bowing, before he took the chair she’d indicated.
Hallie pulled off the headscarf she’d been wearing and tossed it onto the nearest desk before taking a seat that put her between Manju and the door.
She wasn’t surprised when Girard took a seat at the end of the table so that they would both be able to keep an eye on their so-called guest.
Before either Hallie or Girard could ask questions, soft footsteps sounded along with the faintest clink of glass or china and Kasmo came into the room carrying an enormous tray piled with a tea service and what looked like a mountain of small bits of food.
The tea service still looked exotic to Hallie’s eyes.
The pot was tall and elegantly curved from a rounded base to a tapered top, formed of delicately patterned, gleaming silver and surrounded by tall glass cups in delicate metal frames.
Far different to the plain pottery mugs she was used to, or the fine china tea sets she had seen once or twice.
And it wasn’t just the container that was different.
The scent of the tea carried to Hallie’s nose and she tried and failed to suppress a sneeze.
The aniseed tea that the locals favoured made her sinuses itch, and the flavour was not much better.
“I brought you some mint tea, ma’am,” Kasmo said, setting the tray down at the end of the table and nodding to the smaller but still beautiful silver teapot on the tray.
“Oh, thank you,” Hallie said, truly grateful. The fresh mint tea would be welcome after the long, hot day.
Kasmo smiled, teeth bright against her cool brown skin.
Like Hallie, she wore a pale linen tunic and trousers, although she seemed far more comfortable in the heat than Hallie would ever be, her hair twisted into a neat, long braid down her back.
Kasmo busied herself offloading the tea service, setting the pot next to Girard, arranging plates, cutlery and napkins in front of Manju, Girard and Hallie, leaving the mountain of food in the middle of the table, in easy reach of them all, before finally setting a tall glass and a taller, elegant glass pot beside Hallie, filling the air with fresh, green mint.
That done, Kasmo took a critical look around before nodding her head, satisfied, and leaving the room as briskly as she had entered.
“Please, help yourself,” Girard said to Manju, waving to the tower of food. It wasn’t just one mass, Hallie realised, but dozens of small, bite-sized items arranged on several plates stacked on top of each other.
“Do the Conclave Investigators conduct all their interrogations like this?” Manju asked, sounding genuinely curious. He had a gleam of mischief in his eye that made Hallie want to laugh. He was not at all what she’d expected from the descriptions she’d been given.
This certainly wasn’t the way Hallie usually questioned her targets, but after four days trudging through the city she was tired and sticky from the heat and welcomed a more civilised setting.
Not to mention that Girard was injured, although he was hiding it well, and sitting at a table having afternoon tea was a far less strenuous way of getting information than almost any other alternative.
“We’re not interrogating you,” Girard told him, handing across a glass cup, filled with deep red aniseed tea.
Manju took the cup with care and a word of thanks, but the mischief was still in his face. “Not an interrogation? Then I am free to leave?”
“But why would you want to, when we’re offering you refreshments?” Hallie asked, in a light tone. “I can promise you that Miss Minga is an excellent cook.” Not as good as Hallie’s roommate, Rosalia, but Kasmo still had superior skills in the kitchen.
“I am sure she is,” Manju said. He took a sip of his tea and made an appreciative noise, then picked up the fork beside his plate, selecting a few pieces of food from the tower.
Hallie took some food as well, partly because she was hungry but mostly because she wanted Girard to eat something to fuel his healing, and knew he wouldn’t eat unless she did.
She waited while Manju sampled the food and made more appreciative noises, then turned his bright gaze, still full of mischief, to her. “Well?”
“We’ve been looking for you for a few days. You are a difficult man to find,” Hallie said, sitting back in her chair.
“I try to be,” he answered, outwardly calm.
“You have a formidable reputation as a broker for less than legal activities,” Hallie continued.
“Oh, come now, we were getting along so well,” Manju said, putting his hand on his heart as if she had wounded him. “Such ugly words.”
“Smuggling,” Hallie said, refusing to be charmed by his play-acting. “Passing on information. Weapons trade.”
The mischief had vanished from Manju’s face, although he was still outwardly calm. His dark eyes met Hallie’s and she could almost see his brain working, calculating the best approach.
“So, how can I assist the Conclave Investigators?” he asked.