Old business
Alex Juniper had contemplated enough of this bombshell. He had stepped outside for a spell, pacing the corridor outside his office in frustration. There was no point for his captive to witness this, something that Misu had relished administering. He needn’t have taken it so personally. This was all business – a business Misu was keen to get back to discussing.
A total of four times Juniper stared at the frosted glass of his office, his name and title established in proud black lettering, stopped by the potential outburst that rose within him. On the fifth time he momentarily suppressed the rage and re-entered. This time Misu’s smile was lacking and she watched him with great interest. She took the lead with the conversation after Juniper seated himself.
‘Tell me, Marshal, what exactly did happen to Wilheim Fort? Pretend for a moment that I missed the newspapers and am deaf to the wire. Enlighten me in your own words.’
Juniper drummed his thick fingers upon his desk, the rhythm softened somewhat by this morning’s bounty list requiring a signature.
‘Mister Fort was well past due to be removed in a permanent sense by the time I had gotten hold of him. Sadly we don’t do that any more. Not on any account of mine you understand. The mayor was averse to hangings, insisting that the practice was outlawed. Oddly enough this change of heart was had around the same time Mister Fort was going to gain a rope necktie of his own. See, the mayor’s new idea of justice was to clap men in iron and let them rot. Not as barbaric apparently.’
‘You don’t agree?’
‘Sinful men never change their ways.’
‘And innocent men can’t object after having their necks stretched.’ Misu raised her feet, placing them, crossed, over the corner of the desk. ‘But please do continue.’
Juniper swallowed his anger away and continued. ‘Given time, Mister Fort got tired of his accommodation and decided he wanted out. Under considerable protection he was sprung from the cells and rode off into the Sand Sea. Accomplices, you see, many of them. I lost thirteen men that night, thirteen good men who took a long time to replace.’
‘And his whereabouts now?’ The woman picked beneath her nails in turn, inspecting them with scrutiny.
‘Nobody knows. We heard talk that he was still operating but I don’t see how that’s possible. We stripped him of his assets when he was convicted; businesses were folded up. Unless he had some stashed reserve of money somewhere he certainly hasn’t the funds to do anything. That is, again, if he is alive.’
‘He is. I can assure you of that,’ Misu murmured, glancing under her brow. Juniper folded his arms and leant back in his chair, its squeak a sudden interruption.
‘And you know this how?’
‘You were not entirely incorrect when you accused me of being in cahoots with him.’
‘I knew it.’ Juniper straightened up. Was this woman dumb enough to confess her wrongdoings in front of him? Apparently so.
‘Now, now, Marshal, hear me out. Take note that I told you things willingly. Some time ago our friend decided that he would punish all those who rode the Gambler’s Den. Its owner, specifically, was the target of cruelty, drawing all of us into quite the horrid situation. I told you of my arrival because I couldn’t just pull on in and have people see us having this little chat. I needed people to believe exactly what they saw.’
‘And what did they see?’
Misu chuckled, clapping her bound palms together in celebration.
‘Why, you doing the right thing of course! Arresting a villain, marching me away, the whole shebang. Here, in private, we can talk candidly.’
‘About what?’
Her face fell once more and she sat straight, her legs brushed from the desk by a sweep of Juniper’s hand. They landed with a thump.
‘Wilheim gave me an order – and cargo. He instructed us to run from the outer reaches of the Sand Sea, up to the north, each time making drops of contraband to his men. Ignore whatever whispers may have reached you. I assure you, Marshal; he’s very much in operation from what I’ve seen.’
‘What’s the cargo?’
With a slow inhalation, Misu appeared to brace herself for an outburst. ‘Sixty-one bales of Red Root.’
Juniper slammed his fist down upon the desk in rage. His face suddenly twisted in red fury, tolerating these games was a courtesy, but now to be so flippant about the scale of her misdeeds? It would not stand with him. Now he lorded it over her, raising himself from his chair, snorting through both nostrils akin to a bull.
‘You brought that here? To my city?!’
‘Fourteen now. I’ve got them stacked to the roof in Car Six.’ Misu eased her chair back slightly, subduing him with her tone. ‘Calm yourself, man. You’re too excitable. This isn’t some sort of act of defiance or whatever you’ve gone all purple for. Listen to what I have to say and everything will become apparent.’
Juniper bit into his lip, stemming his breathing, though keeping his frustration in check was a monumental task that he had rarely been required to do before.
‘You must be aware by now that on the southernmost route, there’s been arrests, significant arrests of gang leaders since we passed through. Correct?’
‘I suppose.’
‘I’ve heard that you even attended a few of the scenes. Had your photo taken and whatnot. Even made the front page of the papers. What good work they say you’re doing. You’re a clever man, Marshal. What would you put that down to?’
‘Happy coincidence I’m sure,’ he grouched.
‘Coincidence nothing. Every stop we made, I tipped off the Bluecoats at the first opportunity we had. I don’t like them any more than you do, so I have been sending Wilheim’s dealers to you one after another. Are you not going to ask me why I am doing this?’
‘A character flaw I’m sure, but indulge me. Not that your reasoning matters.’
‘Wilheim Fort took Franco hostage. We were pulled in somewhere one night. He was there one hour and gone the next. No clues. Not even a whisper of a struggle. The man simply vanished.’
‘Maybe he was just tired of your company.’ His words trailed off, finding them to be surprisingly tasteless, even for him.
‘Cute, but back to the seriousness in hand. I had visitors of the gruff and stabby kind, messengers on his behalf who offered the terms of his release. I pick up the Root from the south, deliver the goods on a set path, I get him back in one piece.’ Misu shrugged. ‘It’s that simple.’
‘And what of the Gambler’s Den?’
Misu scowled. ‘What about it?’
‘Is it your intent to reclaim?’
‘I’m not following. Are you implying that you have it? We passed the … the spot where it crashed. Didn’t the city have it hauled away?’
‘Nothing of the sort. Think anybody would tolerate putting a hand on that thing? Your devotees would be up in arms. It vanished in the dead of night: there one minute, gone the next.’ Juniper leant back, his chair groaning in annoyance. ‘Caused quite the commotion I must say. At first I thought you to be responsible but couldn’t work out where you would have got such manpower to move it in a matter of hours, let alone where you could stash it without being noticed. Now me, I couldn’t care what happened to that horror. It needed to be dragged to the nearest yard and broken down but I figured that some might have a degree of sentimentality and so I thought it was best left well alone. I dare say others would seek it for a trophy of sorts. A mutual acquaintance possibly. Someone with a grudge.’
‘Like you said, it’s just scrap now. Nothing more,’ she muttered. A fine lie.
‘Quite. Admittedly these revelations are nothing of a surprise to me.’
‘What may surprise you, is that during a rather joyful excursion, we managed to have words with one of Wilheim’s men. A grotty little rat called Falkner. Sure his mouth was shut for a while but we coaxed some pretty words from those lips of his. Valuable words on all accounts. Words you would like to be privy to.’
Misu watched as Juniper hung on her last syllable.
‘You know, Marshal, my throat is awful dry. Confessing is a considerably hot business.’
Juniper’s brow fell. He begrudgingly rose from his seat and made his way to the drinks cabinet, populated with decanters and different-coloured liquids. His fingers reached a tin cup.
‘A nice glass, if you please,’ Misu requested, batting her eyelids.
Juniper half-filled a crystal tumbler with the clear liquid, walked back, and slid it towards Misu. She took an achingly long, slow slip, punctuating it with a pleased gasp.
‘You were saying?’ Juniper prompted.
‘Ah yes. That one foolish little man let slip details of Wilheim’s location.’ Misu sipped once again and gestured. ‘I know where he is.’
‘Where?’
‘A little mining place in the Badlands. Abandoned now, of course.’
The Badlands. It made perfect sense. There were rocky crags and haunting valleys, which would take months to search. These were dotted with handfuls of old mining communities, a few swallowed by the desert and any one of these could be used as a base of operations.
‘You know exactly whereabouts he’s set up shop?’
‘Exactly,’ Misu affirmed.
Juniper snorted in disillusion. For a moment he believed her to be clever. ‘And you’re giving up your only bargaining chip for free? I could say this conversation never happened, arrest you for trafficking, and be done with this whole affair. What would stop me doing anything but?’
‘Because, my dear, you want Wilheim as much as I want Franco Del Monaire. By all means, turn up there and begin a little firefight. Start a noisy little ruckus; see how far you get. How many escape routes do you think he has in place for that very eventuality?’
Juniper grunted in grievance, though knew that she was ultimately correct.
‘Things seem pretty simple,’ she concluded. ‘I need your help and you need mine. It’s mutually beneficial wouldn’t you say?’
‘You would assume as much.’
With a jangle, Misu reached her arms forward and shook her cuffs. Juniper looked at them, quite unimpressed. As a response, she shook them once more, the chains clattering all the louder.
‘Be a dear, would you?’ she purred.
Juniper took the key from his belt loop and thrust it into the lock. With a turn, they fell open. Misu rubbed her wrists once more, sore, but now unburdened.
‘As I was saying: to do this, we’ll need men. Some of these good men that you preach on about, I suppose. Can you trust yours?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘No, Juniper, can you trust them?’ Misu repeated, sterner.
‘That won’t be an issue.’
‘Are you in?’
The marshal took a look at the people out in the streets, going about their business. They went about their routines, without fear, without terrorization because of the law imposed. For Alex Juniper, this had to be maintained no matter the cost. No matter the bargain.
‘And if I was?’ he asked.
Misu got to her feet, rubbing away the cuff burn. She took in the same view out of thin, lead-lined windows, standing beside the lawman and looking over Windberg as it continued its daily repetition. She retrieved her duster and hat from the clothes stand, and prepared herself for what would come next.
‘Then here’s what I would propose.’