“There’s an office at the back of the warehouse. See it? He’s in there. Plus something extra, just to sweeten the deal.”
“And I assume you’re not here at all. Clever.” Faulkner started towards the back. Danny trailed after him. There was no response from the PA. Mary Kelley, if that was indeed who it had been, was obviously done with them.
The office was a square along the back wall. The door was open, and Faulkner led the way inside. The room was bare, save for the two figures who sat within, both zip-tied to chairs in the centre of the room. One was a dishevelled man of middle age, the other was –
Danny froze.
The other was Ro. She sagged on her chair, her face bruised and bloody. She looked up as they entered, but the light was behind them and she obviously couldn’t make out their faces. Faulkner turned on the lights in the office, and her eyes widened. Thankfully, she said nothing. Faulkner glanced at her, and then turned his attentions to Holden.
“Hello, George. You’ve looked better.”
“Faulkner…” Holden said hoarsely.
“Clever trick with the drones, earlier. Shorting them out like that. Luckily, they’re easy to replace.” Faulkner circled him. “You went looking to the Kelleys for protection? Not your smartest move.”
“I am aware,” Holden said. “What now?”
Faulkner stopped in front of him. “Now I debrief you, George.” He glanced at Danny. “You know what that means, don’t you, Danny?”
“Means we’re to question him, Sarge.”
“Close. It means to question vigorously. Like so.” Faulkner swiped Holden with the back of his hand. Holden rocked in his chair, his cheek split and already swelling. Faulkner caught the back of his head, leaned in and gave him a sharp jab to the ribs. Holden wheezed and sagged. Faulkner stepped back.
“Right. Take notes, Danny.”
“Sarge, shouldn’t we take him – them – back to base first?”
Faulkner didn’t look at him. “No need. Now holster your sidearm and take notes.”
Danny did as he was ordered. His eyes kept straying to Ro, but she hadn’t spoken. She looked dazed. Out of it. He realised she might have a concussion. No time to worry about that now, though. He took out his Optik and began to record.
Faulkner hit Holden again – another quick jab. “Where were you hiding?”
“A lock-up… in Hackney,” Holden coughed. He rattled off an address, and Faulkner glanced at Danny to make sure he’d gotten it.
“And what about LIBRA?”
Danny frowned. He’d never heard that name before.
Holden had, though. “S-sold it.”
Another jab. Holden grimaced. “To who?” Faulkner asked.
“C-Coyle. Bloke named Coyle.”
“Coyle…” Faulkner hesitated. Danny wondered if he recognised the name. “When?”
“Few days ago. Didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“Until someone did. And then you tried to cover it all up. Wilson was one of the Kelleys’ drivers. What were you doing mixed up with him?”
“A– a mutual acquaintance put us in touch.”
Faulkner paused – and hit him again, twice. Back to the face this time, but the punches were pulled. Just hard enough to rattle Holden, not enough to stun him.
Watching, Danny could tell Faulkner had done this before. “Sarge, maybe you should lay off him.”
Faulkner turned. “Wish I could, Danny. But there’s bigger stakes at play here than you can see. Lives in the balance. Old George here, he sold some nasty equipment to some bad people. The sort of kit you probably saw in the sandbox – isn’t that right, George?”
“I– I didn’t know what it was for,” Holden began.
Faulkner slapped him. “IEDs, Danny. Ordnance for amateurs. And LIBRA, let’s not forget that.” He slapped Holden again, and the other man groaned in pain.
“What’s LIBRA, Sarge?”
Faulkner stepped back. “Nothing you need to worry about, lad. Now this Coyle, George – where is he?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a number, that’s all.”
Faulkner leaned close to him. “And where is this number?”
“On my Optik.”
“And where’s your Optik?”
“The Kelleys took it.”
Faulkner grunted. Then he hit Holden again, nearly knocking him over. “Anything else you’d like to say for yourself?”
“Go screw yourself, Faulkner,” Holden mumbled, through bruised lips.
Faulkner laughed. “That’s the spirit.” He looked at Danny. “What do you think, Danny? Is he telling the truth?”
“I don’t know, Sarge.”
Faulkner turned back to Holden. “I think he’s telling the truth. Of course, that means he’s a traitor to Albion. And what do we do with traitors, Danny boy?”
Danny didn’t say anything and Faulkner didn’t appear to expect an answer. Holden licked his lips and looked up at Faulkner. “I need to warn you – I’ve taken measures. Everything I know has been uploaded to my private servers. If something happens to me, if I don’t check in every four hours, it’ll get sent out to certain parties.”
“Like Sarah Lincoln, for instance?”
“Among others.”
“Good to know. The company thanks you for your service, George.” He drew his sidearm and Holden began to speak – maybe to protest, maybe to beg. But he never got a word out because Faulkner painted the concrete with his brains. The chair rocked and settled, Holden sagging in his bonds. Smoke rose from his head. Faulkner turned to Danny. “Right. That’s taken care of. Let’s go.”
“I thought we were taking him back to base,” Danny said hoarsely, staring at the body.
“No need. I already know what he did, Danny. And once we get to that lock-up, we’ll have the gear he stole and probably some records as well. George was always the organised sort. He probably made back-ups of his back-ups.” He gestured. “And, of course, we have his little friend here.” He smiled. “You’ve been a bit rude, by the way, Danny boy. Not introducing me to your sister here.” He looked at Ro, and Danny reluctantly followed his gaze. She was staring at Holden, a sick look on her face.
When Danny turned his attention back to Faulkner, the other man had his sidearm pointed at Danny’s face. “I’m not an idiot, Danny. And shame on you for trying to play silly buggers. How long have you known
