Jessika pulled her pink jacket over her head as they scurried from the vehicle to the entrance. The rain was becoming a monsoon deluge, hitting Yuri from every direction as the wind whipped it around, plastering his hair against his scalp.
“So you and Lucius?” he said. “I didn’t know. How long’s that been going on?”
Raindrops slithered down the puzzled expression on her face. “What?”
“He seems like a good guy.”
“Wow, my opinion of your detective superpower just took a massive dive.”
“I know what I saw…”
“No, you don’t.”
“You need to inform HR.”
“
“I knew a guy, back in the day; basically a good guy, but a dick with it. He and one of my operatives hooked up. They didn’t follow company procedure. It didn’t end well.”
“Good pep talk there, boss, thanks.”
“Just saying.”
She shook her head in bemused dismay as they slipped into the block.
“Give Poi Li a visual,” Yuri told Boris. The altme would relay the feed from his tarsus lenses.
Joaquin Beron was a small man, a good head shorter than Yuri. His dark hair was styled in braids tight against his skull to try to negate a receding hairline. Tattoos glowed softly on his neck, snaking down below the collar of his green overalls. Yuri got Boris to run a scan on the patterns, but they weren’t listed as any gang type.
Joaquin Beron was in the workshop at the rear of the building, sitting on a chair. The tactical team had followed Yuri’s directions perfectly. His ankles had been zip-locked to the chair legs, hands fastened behind his back. Two of the paramilitaries stood on either side, large carbines held ready—not threateningly, but with easy confidence.
Jessika was shaking the water from her jacket as they walked across the concrete floor, surrounded by big fabricator units that were humming away efficiently.
“Seems like a legitimate setup,” Lucius said. “I can pull some specialists in to go through his network if you want?”
“No need,” Yuri said.
“You guys,” Joaquin challenged, his voice high with bravado. “You are in shit so deep! I got rights, you know. My lawyer’s going to bust your balls for this!”
Yuri smiled down at him. “For what?”
“You even got a warrant?”
“Why would I have a warrant? I don’t work for a government.”
“Huh? Then who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Yuri, and I’m conducting a small experiment.”
Joaquin turned a troubled gaze at the statue-like paramilitaries. “What fucking experiment?”
“To see how smart you are, Joaquin.”
“What the hell is this?”
“I’m going to talk now. I want you to listen. Understand?”
“Go fuck your whore mother up the ass, you piece of corporate shit!”
Yuri pointed to the paramilitary on Joaquin’s left. “Do you have a knife?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take it out and stab Joaquin here, just above his knee. Don’t puncture a major blood vessel. I don’t want him bleeding out before he’s told us what we want to know.”
“What the actual
“Yes, sir.” The paramilitary drew a Bowie knife from his belt scabbard.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Why, what’s going to stop him?” Yuri asked pleasantly.
“No way. Don’t. Okay, I’m listening, all right? I’ll listen to you. Just don’t—”
Yuri held up a finger to the paramilitary. “That’s good, Joaquin. Now it’s important that you realize I’m prepared to cripple you just to get you to shut up before we even start the real session. So I’m thinking if you annoy me, I’m going to start walking around to see what kind of power tools I can pick up. You’ll have plenty, I’m sure; you’ll need them for your business. Big ones, small ones, very sharp ones, badly blunt ones…Am I right? Now try and imagine how I can use them. And on what bits of you.”
Joaquin pushed himself back into the chair, panic making his breathing heavy.
“Now where were we? Oh, yes, I was going to say something. Think of this as your starter question for ten points—or in your case, you-get-to-keep-the-toes-on-your-left-foot points. Baptiste Devroy. Who is he?”
“I can speak now?”
“You may speak now. But let’s keep it short and focused, shall we?”
“He’s my cousin. I don’t ever see him, honestly.”
“But you’re in contact, aren’t you?”
“Some. Maybe a little. Yeah.”
“Not anymore you won’t be. As of an hour ago, cousin Baptiste will never be talking to you ever again—nor anyone else.”
“Christ, what did you do?”
“I did nothing. Our London division dealt with him.”
“London division…Who are you people?”
“People who only a terminally stupid asshole would piss off.”
“Shit on a stick!”
“You’re talking too much, Joaquin.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Of course you are. So now you have to decide how far you’re going to go to protect your cousin and his friends against how much of yourself are you prepared to lose. Got that?”
“Yes.”
“So. Cousin Baptiste, he sent someone here yesterday, didn’t he?”
Joaquin nodded urgently.
“Okay, good boy. So: two questions left. One: Why?”
“I don’t know, please, I swear on my own fucking mother, I don’t know where they go.”
Yuri stiffened. “They?”