Chapter 28 #2
Hallie tried to hide a smile, and heard a few gasps from the Reunion settlers.
She wasn’t surprised that Nicholas Rigg was wanted by the Conclave.
She assumed that the director must have looked up his name when Girard’s radio message reached him.
Or the young and eager Jasper Clayton had done so when he’d relayed the message.
“Outrageous,” Nicholas sputtered, face flushed. “You have no authority here.”
“He really said that?” the director asked, addressing his remark to Girard.
“He really did, sir,” Girard answered. “He seems to believe it, too. Or pretends he does.”
“What’s the warrant for?” Hallie asked, partly through curiosity and partly to simply annoy Nicholas.
“He was convicted of theft with special circumstances. Sentenced to fifteen years’ detention,” the director told her.
“Those really must have been special circumstances,” Hallie said, brows lifting.
“Threats of violence against children and actual violence against their parents were involved,” the director said.
“Seems like a pattern with him.” Hallie’s voice was hard, memory of the caged children still vivid.
“All lies,” Nicholas said, almost shaking with rage.
He turned on his heel, stalking away from the director.
Not a stupid man. But he’d lingered too long, and had made an error of judgement in coming here himself rather than sending his lackeys.
As he turned to face the ATVs and the armed men he’d brought with him, he discovered that the Conclave tactical team had quietly and efficiently disarmed all of the men and removed their weapons.
The weapons were in a tidy pile not far from the ATVs, with the men in a line a short distance away, closely watched by a quartet of armed hochlen.
Hallie could see both anger and nervousness on the captives’ faces.
She just hoped they had more sense than Nicholas and wouldn’t try to do anything stupid.
“Commander, will you arrange accommodations for the prisoners along with the others?” the director asked.
He got a crisp nod from Commander Rojas.
Peredur glanced at Nicholas, still standing a short distance away.
“I will be speaking to the Conclave later today and they’ll decide what they want done with you.
Until then, you’ll stay with the others. ”
“Outrageous,” Nicholas spluttered again. His brain seemed to be stuck on that word. “You cannot treat me like that. I am the principal of this island and I will have your respect.”
“You don’t deserve any respect. And whatever place you’re held in, I can assure you that it will be more comfortable than a wooden cage,” Hallie told him, anger getting the better of her.
“Well said,” Girard murmured, loudly enough for Nicholas to hear.
Nicholas’ control snapped. He surged forward, lunging at Hallie.
She stepped to one side and stuck her foot out, sending him sprawling, face first, onto the churned up gravel.
He let out a howl of pain and fury and tried to gather himself up, doubtless wanting to try attacking her again.
Before he could do so, two armed hochlen were on him, one with a knee in his back, the other producing a pair of flexi-cuffs.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” Commander Rojas asked, with apparently genuine concern.
“Goodness, yes,” Hallie said, with a laugh. “Thank you,” she added.
“Sir, let me secure the prisoners then I’ll join you in the kitchen,” the commander said to Peredur.
“Of course. If you’ll come with me,” the director said to the Reunion settlers, “we were going to get you some coffee before that rude interruption.”
Donall was openly smiling as he watched Nicholas, spitting curses and struggling against the cuffs, being led away.
Sylvie had a slight frown on her face as she turned to the director. “If he was convicted, how come he found his way here?”
“The conviction was before the investigators were formed, when custodial arrangements were, well, different,” the director told her, beginning to walk towards the front of the house.
“Master Rigg managed to escape during a transfer. We don’t take these things lightly,” he assured her.
“It’s unfortunate that he’s been free for such a long time. ”
“He’s going back to jail?” Donall asked.
“I expect so, yes,” the director answered. “I can’t answer with complete certainty until I’ve spoken to the Conclave, but I expect they will want to add some time onto his sentence as well.”
Making an example of him, Hallie thought, and wondered if the Conclave might also demand that their investigators trawl through the streets of New Hope and Reunion for any other escapees or people accused but not yet convicted.
As they stepped into the house, the director turned to Hallie.
“You’re welcome to join us, Miss Talbot, but I wondered if you’d give Captain Gould a hand with going through Jonah’s office? He’s found a lot of records to piece together.”
“Happy to, sir,” Hallie said, recognising an order when she was given one, and it would be no hardship to indulge her curiosity as to what might be uncovered in Jonah’s records. She spared a moment’s regret for the coffee she’d been looking forward to, then headed into the office.
The office looked quite different in daylight.
The shattered glass had been swept up and the curtains pulled back to reveal a temporary repair of heavy-duty, almost transparent plastic sheets replacing the window panes.
There was a fire lit, giving out more than enough warmth to counter the winter chill in the air and the draft which Hallie could feel coming around the plastic sheets.
The furniture was all old and heavy, possibly dating from the original owners, but Hallie couldn’t see a speck of dust anywhere and wondered who had found time to clean everything.
She didn’t think that Jonah had been one for housekeeping.
Elyan Gould was sitting in the chair behind Jonah’s desk, and for a moment Hallie wondered if he’d actually been there all night.
Then she realised he wasn’t wearing his flight suit but rather the same type of hard-wearing trousers that the investigators favoured, along with a dark wool jumper.
He also looked like he’d had at least some sleep.
There were no shadows under his eyes today, and he greeted her with a smile.
“I told Peredur that another pair of hands would be welcome. Did you get the short straw?” he asked.
“In a way, although I am interested to know what’s in here.” Hallie glanced across at the sofa, somehow surprised to find it was empty.
“Mourant woke up not long before dawn. We set up a cot for him across the hall and he’s resting there,” Elyan said.
“Is he going to be alright?” Hallie asked.
“The medics seem to think so, yes.” Elyan got to his feet and came around the desk. “Let me show you what I’ve looked through so far.”
The pilot had made good progress through the mess of Jonah’s office.
It was the kind of chaos that made Hallie suspect Jonah had known where things were, but no one else had.
Somewhat to her surprise, and in sharp contrast to his lack of tidiness, the smuggler and self-styled governor had kept decent records, almost as if he’d been running a legitimate business.
The pilot had set aside a couple of ledgers from the papers he’d looked through for closer attention from the investigators.
The first was a ledger for what Jonah had styled special cargo, which made her think of the hut down at the harbour with its metal cages.
From the notations, Hallie thought she was right that all of the occupants of those cages had been veondken.
She also approved of Elyan Gould’s instincts in seeing this as something worth spending more time on.
And in another contradiction, the handwriting in the ledgers was mostly neat and precise.
She spent a moment wondering if Jonah might have had someone else write the records up for him, but suspected he would not have wanted to have someone else knowing too much about his business.
So she worked on the assumption that the handwriting was his.
The other ledger Elyan had pulled out was for something Jonah had titled volunteers, and reading the notes and entries, Hallie realised he’d been documenting the men he’d sent off to Findo Trask’s fighting rings.
There wasn’t much information there, but Hallie began to wonder if, taken together with the details that the medical examiner and forensic team had put together, they might one day be able to identify the dead from low city.
Perhaps give their families some answers.
It gave her a little jolt of hope to add to the events of the day so far.
The pilot had also sifted through a great deal of random bits of paper, and begun to categorise them.
There were purchase invoices from a variety of suppliers, some of which seemed to be for boat parts, and some of which seemed to be for food and other basic supplies.
He still had a large pile of papers to go through and suggested that Hallie turn her attention to the remaining ledgers.
Hallie settled down to read. The ledgers she opened contained records of goods from weapons and ammunition to food and drink and other supplies such as fuel.
And then, opening another ledger and expecting to find another catalogue of goods and dates, Hallie instead was confronted by a loose page which was mostly taken up by a vivid colour photograph of Brock, his face almost unrecognisable from bruising, one eye swollen shut.
Under the image, in crude block capitals, was a brief message.
He’s still alive. Do what you’re told if you want him to stay that way.
“What’s wrong?”