The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One V. Timlin (mobi reader .txt) 📖

“No one will ask for our services. It’s evening and everyone is busy seeking entertainment. So, no one raises an eyebrow if two rat-catchers snoop around dark alleys and backyards. That’s expected.”

“You really are getting the hang of the verb to snoop in its different forms,” Anouk said in a dry tone.

Nat grinned.

* * *

Anouk stayed right behind Nat as he navigated through the winding narrow streets. A metal, cage-like rat trap rocked back and forth on the strap of his backpack, making faint clinking sounds when it hit a buckle. As Nat had assured her, people didn’t give them a second look.

She had never seen a rat-catcher, but according to Vari and Fitzwil, she and Nat would pass. A black scarf under the top hat hid Nat’s unruly curls while a half-mask covered his mouth, hiding his features. Anouk had the same set of clothing and gear, except she wore a cap under which she had tucked her hair. From a distance, no one should be able to identify them—or so they hoped.

If someone offered them an assignment, Nat would wave a written order from the district council to clear the area of the rodents. It was forged, of course. Fitzwil’s handiwork. It would fool Anouk, but she wasn’t sure if it would fool the locals. Nat had chuckled at her question about this chance and said it was highly unlikely anyone would demand to see the document, let alone approach them in Flower Estate on their way to Madam Valeria’s, but it was good to have one just in case. Anouk sighed. Fingers crossed they wouldn’t come across a real, professional rat-catcher.

She scanned the surroundings, her heart pounding. Although no one paid any attention to them, her skin crawled—they were approaching enemy territory.

She brushed the side of her coat with her hand, touching the brand new Phines under it like a talisman. The weapon gave her the same sense of security as the katana. How silly she had been to hesitate about owning and carrying one. Her reasons had been based solely on her preconceptions and distant memories from childhood. She was an adult now, and her father hadn’t been part of her life for thirty years. Besides, she couldn’t have hidden her katana under her rat-catcher costume nor passed off the elegant blade as a tool of the trade.

Nat turned a corner and with long strides, he headed down another street. Soot-covered terraced buildings framed the lane. The tight-crammed houses were like the walls of an open sewer; noises of life echoed between them, forming a cacophonous symphony that wouldn’t ease until nightfall, an hour away.

Nat slowed his pace. “Keep your eye out,” he said over his shoulder and his voice barely audible.

Anouk nodded. The traffic grew busier, telling her they were nearing Roister Street.

Nat’s head turned from side to side like clockwork as he scanned the street. Anouk did the same, pretending to be searching for signs of rats. Initially, the thought of sighting those long-tailed rodents made her shudder in disgust. Now, though, she wasn’t sure which one she preferred, rats or confirmation of Madam Valeria cooperating with Stalo.

She tried to spot the same thing as Nat, a potential anomaly in the mass of people—something that could signify danger. In truth, all she saw was danger lurking in every face, carriage and wagon.

“I don’t think I make a very good bounty hunter. More of a paranoid one,” she muttered.

“Paranoia is good. Keeps you alive,” Nat said without taking his eyes off the crowd.

He stopped abruptly by a street corner, and Anouk almost bumped into his back. She gazed over his shoulder. Her stomach knotted. Madam Valeria’s brothel loomed across the street like the headquarters of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

It was early evening, and the traffic in front of the premises was already busy. When Madam Valeria was this successful, why would she collaborate with Stalo? Anouk could think of one reason that might sway the madam on his side—the Gadget and coordinates to her world.

If it were up to Anouk, she would tip off Chief Constable Loka, just in case, and let him raid the place. Cooperating with Stalo or not, that woman was doing something illegal, Anouk was sure of it, and the chief constable should know about. But alas, it did not work like that. So she glanced at Nat and asked, “What?”

Nat faced Anouk. “Let’s first check the alley where Shannah’s body was found.”

“By all means. As long as we move out of sight of that whorehouse. Lead the way.”

They walked past Madam Valeria’s brothel. Anouk studied the windows from under the brim of her cap; red curtains were drawn over them, but judging by the light sieving through, the life inside continued and business ran as usual. Were they mourning their murdered colleague? Anouk didn’t believe Madam Valeria would dwell on it too long. She appeared to be the kind of entrepreneur who put business first—always. Anouk gave a mental shrug. Guess that was why the place was so popular among the men from all levels of Rondon society. Well, at least among the men with money.

“Oi, you’ve no business here,” came an angry call behind them.

Anouk and Nat spun on their heels to meet the caller. A short, plump man glared at them, standing with his legs apart and his fists on his hips. He wore a similar dark suit as Anouk and Nat. His black top hat towered on his head like a chimney. A brown terrier at his feet bared its teeth, adding to the threat.

“This is my block.” The man lifted his dark bearded chin. “I’m Madam Valeria’s official rat-catcher. You’ve no business here.”

Oh, wonderful, so they were as territorial as the rodents they hunted.

Nat bowed without taking his hat off. “Good afternoon, my good man. We have an order from the district council to act in this area.”

The man narrowed his eyes into slits. “I wasn’t notified. I demand to see the