64. Jack
SIXTY-FOUR
JACK
An hour later, Jack found himself walking down the streets of New Hope with Captain Sloan and a dozen armed soldiers. Passersby nodded hellos to the group. The citizens of New Hope even smiled at them as they passed.
Jack would never have thought the sighting of New Hope guards would bring smiles to civilian faces. Within their own walls, the soldiers of New Hope were loved. In the Outland, the city of New Hope and all of those inside were viewed as elitists, too good to be bothered with the rest of the world.
Jack walked down the street, peering inside shop windows boasting sales of expensive furniture, the latest fashion trends, and more. One shop stood out from the rest. A bright red-and-gold banner hovered over the door. It sported a sign reading: Weatherby Eyewear.
On the other side of the giant glass window, a multitude of eye patches, glasses, and goggles beckoned to onlookers.
Jack had to remind himself to focus. With difficulty, he tore his eyes from the beckoning call of the store.
Another few blocks down, Sloan stopped. Jack recognized the alley he had run into with Aareth the day before.
He felt the bruises where the would-be assassin had struck him during her escape.
“I thought we were going to visit Doctor Livingston.” Jack gave Sloan a sideways glance. “What are we doing here?”
“We are.” Sloan scrunched her brow as she looked at the red-bricked store with a sign that read: Lovegood’s Fine Leathers and Hides. “I want to take a look at the spot where the assassin took her shot. I was given a report this morning. It just so happens that she left her weapon behind as well.”
“Do you think that will help?”
“Maybe.” Sloan shrugged. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Somehow the assassin has to be involved with the events in Burrow Den.”
A well-dressed man interrupted Jack and Sloan from any further conversation. He wore a gold monocle and an ebony top hat. He approached the pair with a determined stride, fury written across his aged face.
“Captain Sloan.” He ignored Jack for the moment. “If you will kindly tell me when my store will be able to reopen? Daylight is a commodity I cannot spare to waste. Every minute that passes is a minute I’m not making money.”
“I understand, Mr. Lovegood.” Sloan crossed her arms over her chest. “But your business was the scene of a crime, and not just any crime; an attempt on the Queen’s life. I’ll be sure to tell my men to expedite the process, but even so, your store will be closed for a few days, at the minimum.”
“Oh, very well.” Mr. Lovegood bit his lip so hard, Jack thought it would bleed.
Choosing not to contend with the captain, he vented his frustration.
“Arguing with the Crown is pointless. It seems their only interest these days is sending our funds to the Outland and assisting communities far beneath us.”
Before Sloan could form a rebuttal, Mr. Lovegood was off with a swoosh of his long traveling cloak. A harsh scent of soap lingered in his wake.
“People really have no idea what’s going on outside these walls, do they?” Jack asked.
“There’s an elitist faction that would rather count their piles of gold than to even think of offering assistance to their own family.” Sloan curled her lip in disgust. “Come on, there’s Lieutenant Baker.”
Jack followed Sloan as she crossed the temporary barricades marking the business as a crime scene. She exchanged quick salutes with the soldiers on duty.
“Any more news on our assassin?” Sloan addressed the sharply dressed lieutenant. “Tell me we have something to go on.”
Lieutenant Baker saluted Sloan and smiled at Jack. The last time Jack had seen the lieutenant, he had been escorting him and his father to New Hope for an audience with the Queen.
“Hello, Jack.” Lieutenant Baker offered a gloved hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. He was a hero.”
“Thank you.” Jack accepted the handshake. “He is.”
“Besides the weapon and the eyewitness accounts,” Lieutenant Baker said, clearing his throat, “we haven’t much else to go on.”
“Did you trace the weapon’s origin?” Sloan drummed her fingers on the hilt of her mage sword.
“Yes. It wasn’t made or bought in New Hope, as far as we can tell.
” The lieutenant reached into his uniform pocket and brought out an aged leather notebook, flipping to a heavily marked page.
He read on, “It’s primitive, probably purchased in the Outland years ago, and changed hands a dozen times since. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes,” Sloan said.
Jack and Sloan followed Lieutenant Baker into the building that smelled of fresh leather and tanning chemicals. The first floor was a spotless storefront with rows of leather—gloves, cloaks, hats, and clothes for any occasion. The lieutenant gave them a tour as they headed for the stairs.
“As you can see, the first level is open to the public. The next levels are where workshops that manufacture the products are located.”
“Was the store open when the assassin broke in?” Jack wondered aloud as they entered through a door in the back corner of the room that provided a spiral stairwell to the roof.
“No, Mr. Lovegood closed the store for an hour during the ceremony. The assassin entered the store through a first-story window.” The lieutenant jogged up the stairs, with Sloan and Jack following close behind.
“Whoever she is, she’s an expert. The window she’d entered through wasn’t broken or even damaged. She picked the lock.”
The trio climbed the remaining stairs, lost to their own thoughts. They passed door after door of work levels until they arrived at the top. Jack was still thinking of the assassin, if she had any connection to the other inhuman hitman he had met during their locomotive journey to Burrow Den.
Two more soldiers saluted them as they entered the roof. Sloan and the lieutenant returned the motions. There wasn’t much to the roof at all. A few vents allowed curling steam and smoke to escape during work hours, and a waist-high ledge bordered the square space.
Jack walked to the edge and looked out into the city. New Hope was a bustling hive of activity. Thousands of people walked to and from stores and houses; large buildings poured smoke into the air. The noise accompanying the scene was a mix of white sound.
“She took her shot from right here.” The lieutenant’s voice drew Jack back to the reason for their visit.
He was pointing to a section of the roof where a long rifle lay on the ground.
“She must have seen Jack and Aareth spot her. That’s the only reason I can assume she left her weapon.
The city inspectors have already come and gone. They’re checking leads as we speak.”
“Curious.” Sloan walked over to the rifle. She lifted the weapon from its resting spot. “That a professional would leave her weapon behind, even if she was in a hurry.”
Sloan examined the weapon from all angles before handing it off to Jack.
Jack accepted the long instrument of death. His dealings as a mage sorcerer in the Outland had brought him across dozens of rifles. The one he held in his hands now was a model he was familiar with. It had undergone a few enhancements.
“It’s a 1/14 Reaper.” Jack paused as he let his hands play across the smooth, wooden stock and up to the black scope resting on top of the long barrel. “But it’s been modified. This rifle usually comes with a shorter barrel, and this scope is something I’ve never seen before.”
“Upgraded to shoot farther and more precisely,” Sloan mused as she raised an eyebrow and took another look from their vantage point to the palace steps. “Someone knew exactly what she was doing, so how did she miss?”
Jack searched the rifle up and down. Besides what he had already pointed out, there wasn’t much else unique about the rifle. He handed the weapon back to the lieutenant, who accepted it with care.
Jack followed Sloan’s gaze and wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. The shot from the rooftop to the palace steps was a long distance, but not impossible. For someone with this kind of weapon and training, it would have been hard to miss. Did she mean to miss?
“And the mask?” Sloan asked the lieutenant. “Has anything like that been manufactured in the city?”
“The inspectors are running that lead down as well.” Lieutenant Baker let out a heavy sigh. “But it’s a big city. Helmets like that aren’t common, but anyone with a shop and access to metal could have made one.”