Titan Song Dan Stout (top 20 books to read txt) 📖

milk ring across the backs of my knuckles, walking it from right hand to left and back again. All that physical therapy hadn’t been for nothing.

“Vandie blames me for her uncle’s death, and now knows Paulus once held the keys to redistribute the city’s warmth but chose to do nothing. She arranged the sinkhole in hope of punishing both of us. But how did she do it?” Rumple watched the dance, legs gathered under him, eyes as focused on me as Paulus’s had been at the jail. I flicked the ring and he dove for it, chasing the bait with the entirety of his heart and soul. I grinned.

All this was conjecture. I needed proof. The one person who knew the full story of the bodies was Paulus. And maybe—just maybe—I had the leverage to make her talk.

34

SINCE OUR LAST CONVERSATION, PAULUS had been moved from the special observation cell. That meant it wouldn’t be easy to speak to her without being overheard. After a flurry of early morning phone calls, I’d put together a plan.

First, I booked time in a jailhouse examination room. Then I stopped by a newsstand to pick up a copy of that week’s Sporting Digest. The cover photo was Larkin Hall, the big Gillmyn enforcer for the Old Orchard Carabella Club.

At the jailhouse entrance I signed in and surrendered my weapon. Copy of the Digest in hand, I made my way to interview room 18. Waiting on my arrival were a pair of guards. One I didn’t know, but the other was a red-faced human named Mitchell. I held up the magazine. The headline screamed THE ALL NEW O2C2! and promised an extensive write-up on page thirty-two.

“I know you’re a fan,” I said. “Story starts on page forty.” I handed the magazine to Mitchell, who flipped to page forty and found the envelope with a stack of eight-tael bills. He nodded, then disappeared.

The other guard stepped aside, and I entered the interview room, where Paulus and her lawyer were waiting.

I took my seat and faced Paulus. “I want to talk about the bodies in the vents,” I said. “Your lawyer is welcome to be present.”

“You’re lucky I was available on short notice,” Jankowski said. She wore an expensive suit of gray on gray.

“I think your client will want to be fully forthcoming in this interview.” I stared at Paulus. She held my gaze and said nothing.

The far wall was dominated by a mirror. Contrary to popular belief, that wasn’t so that observers could watch the interview. It was there so that the detainee would spend time wondering if there were. Feeling watched made some people less likely to act out, and made others more likely to talk. Either way, this sit-down had been arranged quickly enough that Auberjois and any other interested parties in the Bunker didn’t know what I was up to. And part of the payment to Mitchell was to ensure no one wandered in during the next quarter hour. The rest of the payment would pay off shortly.

In the mirror, I saw the red light on the camera blink off. I stood, walked to the camera, and unplugged the feed. In a few seconds, Mitchell would flip the power back on, but there would be no video evidence of me disconnecting the camera.

Jankowski jumped up. “What in the Hells do you think you’re doing?”

I answered the lawyer, but kept my eyes on Paulus. “I’m clearing the board. And I’m waiting to see if you follow suit.”

The lawyer grabbed her bag. “We are done here.” She turned. “Guard!”

Paulus raised a hand as Jankowski strode to the door. “Leave us be.”

“Absolutely not.” The lawyer slammed a hand against the door. No one answered. “This is an attempt to intimidate you.”

That actually pulled a genuine smile from somewhere deep in Paulus’s withered soul. “Do I look intimidated?”

Jankowski frowned. “You look overconfident.”

“Two weeks ago I skewered a man on live television, then went home and ate cookies.” She paused, and Jankowski showed a sudden interest in her briefcase. “Wait outside, counselor. If you hear screaming,” she leaned forward, “delay the guards so I’ll have more time to play.”

I knocked on the door. “Guard!” It swung open a crack, and I made eye contact with Mitchell’s friend. It opened wider. Shooting me a glance that made it clear I could expect some kind of written protest, Jankowski hustled past me.

Once the door closed, Paulus said, “I assume that whatever strings you pulled are limited, so I suggest you make this quick.”

“I want to talk openly,” I said. “And if you talk openly with me, I’ll see about getting you a deal.”

“A deal?” she said. “I doubt that. Otherwise that charming little beetle of a man Flifex would be here.”

I shifted in my chair, but didn’t deny it. Just like charges, decisions about deals belonged to the city attorney. I moved on to my next point.

“If someone else is arrested for tampering with the vents, you’ll go free. And if you’re honest with me, I think I can find the person who’s guilty.”

“To call these charges weak would be generous,” she said. “I’ll walk out of here no matter what you do.”

I reached into my coat pocket. My fingers brushed against the empty shoulder holster and I wished I’d hidden away a backup. Instead, I fished out copies of the notebook pages I’d taken from Vandie’s office. I slid them over to Paulus.

“Second paragraph in,” I said, and focused on Paulus’s face as she read.

The ambassador’s eyes darted across the page, then slowed, stopped, and started from the top, reading every line. With each shift of her pupils, her lips grew tighter and her cheeks darkened.

“Your buddy Heidelbrecht apparently didn’t keep secrets that well,” I said. Paulus didn’t respond. “He doesn’t name our mutual friend,” even with no camera, I wasn’t about to mention Gellica directly, “and he doesn’t even specify what exactly he was up to, poking around in the geo-vents, but he