Uncharted Waters (Case 2, Chapter 16)

Case files were, by definition, never complete. For the most, they had just enough info to convey the general feeling of the case, along with a few specialist notes. There wasn’t a soul that didn’t know about the Midnight Ten massacre. Details had leaked to all the media, some more accurate than others. When it came to the local police, though, there was nothing.

All the reports, as few as they were, had been sent directly to Central Metropolis Police, who had run it up the chain to the governor’s office. It had taken me a lot of time, money, and favors to get the little info I had, and even that wasn’t much. There had been no witnesses, other than myself, no footage of the event; and, above all, not a single speck of evidence. The only widespread information were statistics: number of dead, amount of damages, radius of the affected area, time of the incident, and speculation that the “attack” might have come from the sea.

Every police officer, retired or not, I had tracked down had given a slightly different account. None of them had been there in person, after all. The only thing they could agree upon was that they had been ordered to drop the case and let someone else handle things.

I wasn’t surprised by the sloppiness. I had come to expect it from slum cops. Yet, I’d have hoped that H-Sec would do a bit better.

The case sheet Clayton had given me was clearly not the full report. According to the markings on the bottom right corner, it was page two of seven. First pages were generally useless, and there’d be a lot dealing with my treatment and questioning, but I still had the feeling there was a lot I was missing.

“A man of your word,” I whispered as I tucked the sheet into its hiding place.

Little or not, he had risked a lot by giving it to me, and to be frank, there were two snippets of info that I wasn’t aware of. One was the presence of commercial polymer fragments of a type I wasn’t familiar with. Chances were that it was a high-end material, which was why they had kept it from the general public. The other surprising fact was that the force responsible for the destruction and slaughter had come from land.

I took a few charms from the ashtray I’d brought from my old place and went to the terrace. The sun had started to rise, creating a fine cyan line on the horizon. Mornings weren’t something I was well acquainted with, but the page Clayton had brought had kept me up all night. At this point, it was better to use a quick pick-me-up than go to bed. There was no telling when I’d be called to assist with something.

The fresh smell of bread and pastries rose up from the floors below. I didn’t know much about the bakery who’s building I was above, and I didn’t care. That aside, I had to admit that they knew their craft. The blend of aromas was enough to make me want to have a taste. Then again, with the quality of ingredients they used, it would be difficult to mess things up.

“Monsieur!” someone shouted from below. “Monsieur Waters!”

I looked down. A boy in his late teens stood on the edge of the street, dressed in the typical green and white outfit of high-end food joints. I couldn’t quite place his accent, but that fact that he’d kept it meant it came from Earth.

“Monsieur Waters.” The boy waved. “Would you like to come down for some petit-déjeuner?”

“Sure thing.” I had no idea what “petit-déjeuner” was, but as long as he was offering, I might as well take advantage. “Just give me a minute.”

Activating the charms, I went back in. After my recent move, I’d been left with only two sets of clothes. One was the ward outfit H-Sec had so generously provided me with. The other I’d taken from my old place mostly for sentimental reasons, though mostly if I wanted to set foot in a slum again.

Loosening my form, I put on my work clothes, placed the temp permit in the vest’s front pocket, then put on my wristcomm.

I closed the windows and the terrace door—placing a few charms on each—then left. Nixen had made a point to give me a set of two keys for the front door. I didn’t believe in locks. They were easy to bypass, and even when they weren’t, they didn’t prevent a thing. A good charm had a better effect.

A few steps separated me from the edge of the roof. The architect who’d designed this must have had a nasty sense of humor, since he’d gotten every detail right but had almost deliberately skipped the staircase out of spite. If so, he sounded like my kind of guy, or girl.

I stepped on the edge, then expanded part of myself along the wall, trickling down the side of the building as if I were using a personal elevator. The trick must have looked a lot more impressive than it was, for the boy’s jaw hung open.

“Wrong side?” I asked casually as I made my way to him.

“Err, no, no, monsieur,” he quickly said. “It’s just… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Don’t worry.” I tapped his arm. “You’ll get used to it pretty quick.”

“Err, yes. Of course, monsieur. Please.” He rushed to the only table placed outside and invited me to take a seat.

The only things there were a small cup of steaming coffee and some decadent French pastry I remembered seeing in movies. Apparently, no one had told him or the bakers that dough tasted like shit to water spirits. The aroma coming from it was nice, though.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked as I took a sip of my coffee. It was so dense that it would make half a gallon in the slums.

“Occasion?” the boy asked.

“For all this.”

“We thought we’d make you feel welcome. You’re our guest ‘ere.”

Only someone rich and connected could say that. Then again, the fact that I was working for H-Sec probably also came into play.

“I’m ‘enry,” the boy introduced himself as he sat across from me.

“Neptune,” I responded.

“They say you’re the first…” he paused.

“Uncharted,” I helped him out.

“The first uncharted that’s worked forEich-Sec.”

“As far as I know.” I finished my cup of coffee and put it back on the table. “You don’t get a lot of spirit customers, do you?”

“No. Only a few.”

Sheesh, kid. Forget uncharted. Am I the first water spirit you’ve seen up close?

A rune carriage approached from the sky, mercifully putting the conversation on pause. It had the H-Sec crest on it and enough charm lights to let me know this wasn’t a social call.

People from the neighboring buildings rushed to their windows. Cynically, I expected half of them were expecting I’d be taken away.

“Waters!” Detective Clayton shouted from the front window even before the carriage had fully landed. “Come here! We got a big one.”

“Yes, sir, detective.” I stood up.

“Monsieur.” Henry stood a moment later. “Your croissant.”

He looked down at the table. I did as well. With a smile, I grabbed the wheaty pastry and rushed to the other side of the carriage.

“Thanks!” I waved with my free hand. “I’ll have it on the way.”

The moment I jumped in, the rune carriage was already on its way up.

“Sorry for the early call.” Clay barely glanced at me as he split the air. “The whole division’s going crazy.”

“You could have called,” I said, still holding the “croissant.”

“Not on this one. The Lt doesn’t want the media to get a whiff before we secure the scene.”

Keeping the media from sniffing out a major crime was more difficult than convincing a dock syndicate to play fair. Hundreds, possibly thousands of crimes outside of the watermark every month, to no fanfare at all. When it came to metropolis events, though, they were faster than a lightning eel.

“Want this?” I offered the French pastry his way.

“A golden croissant?” His eyes lit up. “You sure?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks!” He grabbed it with his right hand, while still directing the carriage with his left. “Haven’t had one of these since college.”

“So, about that big case.”

“Right,” he said, mouth half full. “Caspian Elmo’s dead.”

“Elmo?”

Benedict Elmo was one of the first spirits that came into contact with the first Earth expedition. Some described him as a traitor, some as a hero, but either way, he was a figure to be reckoned with. Pretty much every registered spirit had him to thank for being allowed to live in the metropolis area. Even those in the slums had to admit that a lot of the services allowed to us came thanks to him. On the flip side, he’d had a seat on the city council ever since its creation. The last few years, there was talk that he’d give the seat to his daughter, but there was no indication that would ever happen.

“Yes, that Elmo.” Clayton munched on. “Sorry about this. I didn’t have time to have breakfast.”

Given the condition of my previous place, I was the last to judge.

“Where?”

“Outside the city library.”

The murderer definitely wasn’t shy. The city library was one of the most heavily guarded public spaces there was. Being close to the city council building, the secondary court, and the governor’s administration building, the library was the place where the rich and powerful went to make deals and discuss matters of importance. From what I knew, such people didn’t usually kill others: they drowned them in litigation.

Now I understood why H-Sec was rushing this. The grandson of a prominent water spirit found dead in such a location was great for headlines and a nightmare for law enforcement.

“How?” I asked.

“Here’s where it gets weird. Shredded by gargoyles.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“Talk about irony.”

The grandson of the water spirit who’d practically introduced registration, killed by gargoyles. It was safe to say that I had never heard of such a case. Gargoyles would mercilessly attack any spirit that crossed the watermark without an escort or permit. I knew for a fact that the Blue Dock Syndicate would shove troublesome debtors across the line just to send a message.

It was said that the rune tech that went into the living statues was tamperproof. Many had tried, some claimed to have succeeded, but I had yet to see a case that could be replicated.

“H-Sec sure knows how to pick them.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Clayton looked at me sideways. “Will you be able to handle it?”

“Because of the gargoyles?” I lay back in the seat. “I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t like I could quit on a case because I didn’t like it. It was no secret I had no respect for the original twelve. Few in the slums did, but in my case, there was a bit more to it. Back when I had witnessed the slaughter at the docks, I was visited by a few important people. Most of them were no longer in office and probably couldn’t remember me if they tried. There was one thing that I did remember, though: in all that time, the head of a dock syndicate was the only water spirit that lent me a head. None of the registered bothered to see me, even when I was treated in the metropolis area, none at all.