The men were immediately alert, pointing their guns at his head. He returned the favour, and they gazed at each other warily.
“I’m not here for your drugs. I’m looking for someone who’s abducted my… boyfriend.” He had no idea if Alex would regard himself as that, but now wasn’t the time to mull over the complexities of their relationship.
“Wait here. We’ll see if that’s a conversation we want to have.” One of the men disappeared, while the other continued to train his gun on him. He didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, the first man returned, accompanied by a small posse of thugs. Josiah repeated his speech, and there was a definite flicker of recognition when he showed them Neil’s holopic.
“Come with us. Give us the gun. You can have it back when you leave –ifyou leave.”
“I’ll hang on to it, thanks,” he said politely. Esther would give him hell if it went missing and turned up as a murder weapon somewhere. He didn’t expect them to agree to his terms, and he was right.
“Suit yourself,” came the reply, and that was the last thing he heard as a gun was swung into his face and he went down hard.
When he came to a little while later, his head was pounding and blood was dripping down the side of his face from where he’d been hit. He wasn’t surprised by how it had gone down. He’d banked on them being curious enough to bring him to their leader rather than giving him the Quarterlands Splash, and on that score it seemed he’d been correct. Josiah was Thorities – the enemy as far as the Cabot were concerned – but also too dangerous to just throw out of the window.
He took a moment to orient himself. He was sitting in a chair, his arms tied tightly behind his back with what felt like rope. He kept his eyes closed in case he was being watched, not wanting anyone to know he was conscious, and silently examined his body for injury. Apart from the head wound, he was unharmed. He flexed his hands but the rope was firmly tied, so he either had to talk his way out of this or hope that Reed rescued him.
He moved his feet slightly, checking cautiously, and discovered that his legs, at least, weren’t tied. He also found that not only was his gun missing but the knife he kept hidden in his sock holster had been taken, too. He could tell by the lack of weight in his pocket that his holopad was also missing, not that it would be much use to him here. The Cabot undoubtedly had jamming devices in their territory, so there was no chance of anyone tracing his nym.
He heard a scraping sound, then footsteps, and he sensed someone standing in front of him. The boss of the Cabot? Or someone else?
“You can stop pretending that you’re still out. I saw your feet move.”
He opened his eyes and was startled to find himself face to face with Neil. He hadn’t expected to find him so soon, or to find him seemingly in charge.
“Long time no see,” Josiah rasped, his throat dry.
“You left me no choice,” Neil snapped. “I wasn’t going to stand by and let you accuse me of a murder I didn’t commit.”
“If you’re innocent, why not just clear your name and have done with?”
“Oh, please. As if you haven’t rigged the whole thing so that I’ll be found guilty,” Neil spat. “Then you’d get to keep Alex all to yourself.”
“That really isn’t how it works.”
He was in a large, brightly lit room, which was a surprise in the Quarterlands, where electricity ran at a premium. Seeing that it was full of industrial machinery, he realised he was in a croc processing plant.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said. “Or, should I say, your boss has. You’re just the numbers man, aren’t you, Neil? You don’t run the Cabot cartel. Whereisyour boss?”
“Duke doesn’t visit the plant very often.” Neil shrugged. “He doesn’t live in the Quarterlands. He’s got a fancy house on the coast.”
“Duke?” He raised an eyebrow and wished he hadn’t as his head ached. The blood was still running freely down his face.
“The boss of the Cabot. Not his real name, of course. He calls himself that because he says he lives like one off the profits he makes from all this.” Neil gestured at the croc factory behind him.
“I can’t believe it sits well for a man like you, working for an illegal drug factory.”
Neil’s face crumpled in annoyance. “What choice did I have? Nobody would employ me or even buy my IS contract. It was this or end up in the Quarterlands.”
“Well, you’ve kind of done that anyway,” Josiah said, glancing around the place.
“I wouldn’t have come here if I thought you knew who I worked for. I assumed it’d take you longer to discover my involvement with the Cabot.”
“Where’s Alex, Neil?” Josiah asked quietly. “Is he here?”
Neil crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what you mean.” He was a terrible liar. There was something amateurish about him, petulant and defensive. He wasn’t exactly a hardened criminal.
“Sem identified you,” Josiah said quietly. “The man you hit in my house?”
Neil chewed on his lip anxiously.
