23

“Excuse me? Captain?”

Captain Knox looked up from an inch-thick report, tossing it aside when she saw me. “Daggers. Come in. What have you got?”

“A whole lot of nothing, a few maybes, and one probable something.” I waltzed to the nearest chair, gripping its worn smooth back with anxious fingers. “We can discuss it later. In the meanwhile, what are you doing for dinner?”

Knox leaned forward, looking at me keenly over the tip of her nose. “You’re asking me…to dinner?”

I nodded. “I know a good place not far from here. Best burgers this side of the Earl. Steele took me there once upon a time.”

Knox rapped her fingertips on her desk. “Detective, I’m aware it’s difficult to work on an empty stomach, but has it crossed your mind that we might have better things to do with our time? You of all people should understand what we’re up against.”

“All the same, Captain, I think it might be worthwhile. It would give us an opportunity to talk. Alone.”

“We are alone, Detective.”

I didn’t say anything. I stood there gripping the chair.

Knox was bright enough to read between the lines. “Come to think of it, I could use a bite. Lead the way.”

Knox stood and waved me through the door. By some miracle, nobody descended upon us as we wove our way through the pit and out the front doors. Then again, everyone in the station knew of the situation with Steele by now, even perpetual shut-in Hunt. They knew better than to get involved.

Once in a rickshaw, the driver hauled us to The Bleating Goat, a gastropub not far from the station. Shay had taken me there for dinner one night early in our partnership. We’d talked about relationships. Mine, mostly—when we could hear each other over the din. A stiff breeze battered our rickshaw as we rode, bringing with it an unnatural coolness given the season. I was almost glad for my jacket.

When we arrived, I pushed through the front doors, reflexively clenching my jaw in a futile attempt to shield my eardrums from the noise. Even though it was early for dinner, patrons packed the booths and tables and stools at the bar, orcs and giant half-breeds with booming voices that couldn’t quite drown out the higher-pitched giggles of over-served gnomes. Glasses clinked and laughter roared, all while a grill spat and taps gurgled with the flow of beer.

A cute hostess wearing a form-fitting black top and pants noticed us and grabbed a pair of menus. “Table for two?”

“We should already have one,” I shouted over the noise. “A big guy, grayish skin, and his friend? A blonde dude with a disarming smile?”

The hostess replaced the menus. “Back right corner.”

We moseyed over, finding Rodgers and Quinto seated on opposite sides of a booth, sandwiched between a group of dwarves and what appeared to be a pixie bachelorette party. Their shrill laughter and the bride-to-be’s minuscule veil gave it away.

Captain Knox sidled in next to Quinto, and I took a seat next to Rodgers. The detectives each had a pint glass in front of them, two-thirds full in Rodgers’ case, though Quinto’s had little more than suds left.

Knox eyed the glasses. “And here I thought this was a work trip. Apparently we are springing for dinner?”

I had to speak up to make myself heard—as intended. “Might as well multitask while we’re here. I have a feeling we’re going to need the energy later. I didn’t say anything about beer, though. That’s on these guys.”

“It felt justified after today,” said Quinto. “Don’t worry. I’m only having the one.”

“You guys order?” I asked.

“Already on its way,” said Rodgers. “Burgers all around. Hope that’s okay, Captain.”

“It’ll do,” she said. “Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

I glanced at the door, checking for familiar faces. Snippets of fairy laughter and bawdy dwarf jokes swirled around me in the bar’s cyclone of noise. I lowered my voice nonetheless. “Sorry, Captain. I have reason to believe it’s not safe to speak freely at the precinct. There may be prying ears.”

“Given that our first and only time dining together was last night and that was initiated by Detective Quinto, I figured as much,” she said. “Who’s the snitch? One of the runners? The support staff? Or one of our own?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t have a name. But a cop. Maybe more than one.”

Knox’s eyes hardened, and the muscles around her jaw tightened. “Who’s your source?”

“A friend. A thief. Someone who works for the gangs. She owed me a favor.”

“That elven woman you saved during the Wyverns case?”

I blinked. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Please, Daggers. I know your file, and that case better than most given it’s the one that forced Captain Armstrong’s retirement and landed me at the Fifth. When you stormed off toward Coldgate Prison without expressing your intentions, I was forced to assume you’d visit a criminal you previously incarcerated. There are several folks there who you’ve put away but only one who matched the sketch Boatreng Davis showed me earlier. It was a small deductive leap from assuming you wanted to speak to him to you seeking the other member of your previous undercover competition. Besides, there can only be so many female thieves working for New Welwic gangs that you list among your acquaintances.”

“Dang,” said Quinto. “Remind me never to lie to you, Captain.”

“Or to leave anything out by omission,” she said. “But noted. Detective Daggers?”

“That’s right,” I said. “It’s Kyra. And I did go to Coldgate in search of Bonesaw, who we have reason to believe broke out of jail while in transport to Stinking Baths. He’s on the loose. Sorry for not telling you right away. I was in a bad place. Too angry. Too agitated. Too focused on who might be behind Steele’s disappearance and not focused enough on finding her.”

“I understand,” said Knox. “But don’t let your emotions get the best of you again. I can’t force Hunt to shut his mouth if he chooses to make a stink about your actions.”

“You know about Hunt? Of course you do. The point is I asked Kyra for a favor, and she delivered, at least to an extent. She suggested we might have one or more moles among us, which confirms my suspicions. Someone knew where and when to attack Steele. Someone with insider knowledge.”

Knox frowned. “We’ve had dirty cops in our midst, and we will again. We’ll find them and squash them. But our focus is on finding Steele. Did your contact give you a lead on her?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “The best she could provide is that there’s a meeting tonight between the most powerful gangs in New Welwic, around ten o’clock in the old King’s Theater. She didn’t know the purpose of the meeting, or who called it.”

“But you suspect the gang who attacked you last night might be behind it? The same gang responsible for Steele’s disappearance?”

I nodded. “Kyra had a gut feeling about it, too.”

Knox glanced at Rodgers and Quinto. “Detectives?”

Rodgers shrugged. “We don’t know for a fact that the ogre in Boatreng’s sketch is Bonesaw, or that Bonesaw escaped prison. We don’t have hard evidence tying Steele’s disappearance to the attack on Daggers last night, or know if her disappearance is gang related. We also don’t know why the city’s gangs might be calling a meeting. But if we assume the tattoo artist positively identified Bonesaw with the gang tattoo belonging to Daggers’ attackers, then everything starts to fall into place.”

Quinto nodded. “He’s extremely violent. He threatened Daggers and Steele during the Wyverns case, and he tried to kill Daggers. If he’s out, its not surprising he’s coming after them.”

“And he’s smart,” I said. “He might not look it, but he is. I learned not to underestimate him during the Wyverns case. If he could organize his own escape from Coldgate from behind those walls, I have no doubt he could’ve put together the attacks on myself and Steele.”

“Excuse me? Four burgers?”

A waitress came by with a tray. She distributed the food and left, but none of us dug in right away.

“So we assume Bonesaw’s involved in tonight's meeting,” said Knox after she’d left. “Why, exactly, is unclear. Maybe he’s called a meeting to talk to the other gangs, or the gangs are meeting to discuss his actions. Or something else we haven’t considered.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Knox. “Especially if Bonesaw is attending the meeting himself. Get him and we’ll get Steele, or at least get a bead on her—assuming she hasn’t broken free by then.”

Quinto snorted. “You’re optimistic.”

“I’m pragmatic, like Detective Steele. You realize she’s not sitting around, waiting for us to save her, don’t you, Daggers?”

“I do,” I said. “But this is Bonesaw we’re talking about. We need to act, and soon.”

“My thoughts, exactly,” said Captain Knox. “I’ll send our best to scout the theater. Then I’ll pull most of our officers from the scene of Steele’s disappearance. Spread the word that nobody’s going home until we find her. Once the scouts let us know the gangs have arrived, we’ll move in.”

I shook my head. “Will all due respect Captain, no.”

She looked at me keenly. “Why not?”

“Because we don’t know who’s reliable and who isn’t,” I said. “If word slips to the wrong set of ears, the meeting’s off, and then what? We’re at square one. Worse. The gangs will know we’re onto them and Bonesaw will grow angrier. And I’ll bet you anything that if we were to capture Bonesaw, he wouldn’t talk. He’ll probably have put in place measures to leverage Steele’s capture against us should anything happen to him. We can’t risk it.”

“I understand your concern, Detective,” said Knox, “but what would you have me do? Not put surveillance on the meeting you’ve argued is a focal point in Detective Steele’s abduction? Not make any move at all?”

“Of course not. I’m saying I should make the move alone.”

Knox glanced at Rodgers and Quinto. “Neither of you seem surprised.”

“He’s not done,” said Quinto.

“You mean this idea get crazier?”

“Hear me out, Captain,” I said. “What we need isn’t to barge into this meeting, nightsticks swinging. We need information. We don’t know where Shay is, what Bonesaw’s goals are, or even why the meeting is taking place. I can sneak in and get a measure of what’s going on. Before you scoff, ask these guys. Ask Captain Armstrong. I’m one of the best tails in the department, I can lose just about anyone who’s onto me if I sense them, and I can be surprisingly quiet when motivated. Trust me, I’m motivated. I’m also the one with the most on the line. If anyone should stick their neck out, it’s me.”

The Captain snorted. “Honestly, Detective, why are you telling me this? I know you well enough. If you thought this was the best chance you had of obtaining intel on Steele’s whereabouts, you’d do it without telling anyone, especially if you’re concerned about word getting out. So why are you telling me?”

“Because if things go sideways, I’m going to need help,” I said. “And because I care too much about Rodgers and Quinto to ask them to risk their necks in a futile effort to save me, especially one that would almost certainly get them in the deepest of crap with you if they were to go along.”

“For the record,” said Quinto, “I think the idea’s nuts. But he’s right about needing knowledge, knowledge we won’t get other than by spying on the meeting. And yes, Daggers, I’d happily put my neck on the line to save you. Steele, too.”

“Not me?” said Rodgers.

Quinto snorted. “You go without saying, pal.”

Knox eyed her food, her face inscrutable. “I understand the need for secrecy. But no matter how much the three of you care for each other, that won’t do a lick of good against a building full of hardened thugs. We need boots on the ground. I’ll get in touch with SWAT. Get a couple teams together, see if we can’t get a spellcaster on our side. I’ll keep it discrete. Go through alternate channels. Nobody will know. We’ll have to come up with a detailed plan. Times. Routes. The works. That way I’ll know when to move in if you don’t come back. Speaking of, how in the world do you plan on infiltrating a meeting between hostile gangs? Because if you think they won’t be guarding against intruders at a clandestine meeting, regardless of their intel, you’re crazier than I already thought.”

I smiled and picked up my burger. “With one of my most hated weapons, Captain. Research.”