It was a mistake to assume that onlycriminalgangs ruled the Quarterlands. All Quarters were ruled by gangs, but plenty of those were committed to their own kind of law and order, and happy to enforce it by any means necessary.
Josiah’s Quarter had been ruled by Letitia, a huge, fearsome woman who’d order violent offenders to be thrown out of the highest window without a second thought, but who loved little children and was at her happiest with her big dark arms wrapped around a baby or two. Matt had instilled a massive respect in Josiah for “Tish”.
“Don’t ever cross her,” he’d warned. “She might have rocked you on her knee when you were so high, but she’ll give you the Quarterlands Splash in an instant if you ever screw her over.”
Josiah never did. He instinctively recognised a natural leader when he saw one. He wished he was one, but he knew his own nature was too solitary to elicit the obedience and adherence of followers. Esther was a superb leader, and Peter had been outstanding, but while he could lead a small team, he knew his limitations. He simply didn’t care enough to want the devotion of the mob.
Now, he’d entered an area where his presence was sure to be noticed. Before long, the leader of this Quarter would want to know what he was doing there. Mostly, they were cautious where the authorities were concerned, so Josiah wasn’t in fear of his life – yet – but he knew he had to tread carefully all the same.
The rooms were warmer in the interior as the jerry-rigged generator enabled people to plug in little electric fires. The whole place was a fire hazard, of course; the Quarterlands always were, and many blocks like this had gone up in flames. Still, a dedicated sparky or two would run all the electrics in the building, in return for a small fee. Those who couldn’t pay the small amounts required to live in any kind of comfort werecondemned to live on the edge in the outer areas, by the water and at the mercy of the elements and their fellow men.
Josiah passed through the remains of old shops and offices, now turned into a shanty town and full of families and loose collections of people who operated as families. They sheltered under cardboard blankets next to open braziers, burning any detritus they could get their hands on. The lights would likely be on for only a few hours a day and the place would always be cold. People huddled together for warmth, doing deals, having sex, playing chess, or just talking.
The one thing Josiahdidmiss from the Quarterlands, and God knows there wasn’t much, was that sense of camaraderie. Tish had run a tight ship and the kids were always safe. If anyone threatened a child – or worse – Tish would see they took the Splash before morning. Word got around: kids in his Quarter were looked after, cherished even. It wasn’t a good life, but it was better than many Quarterlanders led.
His way was suddenly blocked by a group of armed Quarterlanders, who appeared out of nowhere.
“Going somewhere, stranger?” one of them asked, standing right in front of him. “You’re not from our Quarter. This is Harbord territory. We run things here.”
“Thank you for your greeting,” he said carefully. “I’m looking for someone.” Keeping his movements slow, he opened his suit jacket and drew out his ID. They gave him – or at least his badge – a grudging respect. He pinged up holopics of Alex and Neil. “Seen them?” he asked.
“Nah.” They didn’t even bother looking, but he’d known they wouldn’t. Nobody in the Quarterlands would get involved in outside business, and if Neil was one of their own, they’d protect him. But Josiah knew for a fact this wasn’t his home, and if he didn’t live here, then he wasn’t one of them.
“This man abducted the other.” He pointed. “He’s also wanted for murder. He’s not one of you. He’s an accountant. If you protect him, it won’t go well for you.”
“Is that a threat?” the man in front of him demanded. He was big, clearly used to being the largest in any confrontation – so he looked rattled at being confronted by someone even bigger.
“Yes.” Josiah shrugged. “I’m not messing around. This man’s life is in danger.”
“Aw, are you in love with him?” a small, scrappy woman with spiky blonde hair sneered.
“Yes, I am.” He said it pleasantly with a smile, and her expression changed.
She peered at the holopic of Neil. “Seen him around. You’re right, he’s not one of us. He’s got powerful friends, though.”
“I know he works for the Cabot. You them?”
“Us? Fuck no. We don’t mess with the Thorities, and they don’t mess with us. We don’t run drugs. We’re clean.”
“Any idea where I can find him?” Josiah asked, seeing she was half-minded to be helpful.
“No.” A shutter went down. “The Cabot are hardcore. Not worth the hassle.”
“Where are the Cabot based? Can I speak to them?”
“Sure, but you’re in the wrong place. You need to look over there.” She pointed at the tall building opposite. “If you want to find that man, that’s where he goes. When they call him, he comes running.”
“Thank you.” He turned and began walking.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” she yelled after him. “The Cabot make good money off their croc farms. If you interfere with that, they’ll give you the Splash as soon as talk to you.”
“I don’t want to interfere with that. I don’t care about their croc farms. I just want Alex back,” he told her, continuing on his way.
“Good luck then, you poor sod,” he heard her mutter as he ran off.
He kept his gun drawn as he left the Harbord Quarter. The Cabot Quarter promised to be a good deal more dangerous. He had to leave the building he was in, throwing a cash card to a boatman to take him across the stinking water to the tall building the blonde woman had pointed at. He was stopped at the entrance by two men with guns.
“I need to speak to the boss of the Cabot,” he said, holding up his Inquisitus ID.
