The Captain's Table, Brockton Bay
Glancing up at a familiar voice, Erwin looked over at the bar where Danny Hebert was collecting two pints from Pat. The much younger man paid the bartender, got a nod of acknowledgment, turned, and walked over to Erwin's table. Finishing off the dregs of his current pint, Erwin grinned as Danny handed him one of the pair he was carrying, then sat opposite him.
"Good man," he commented. "Cheers." Lifting his pint he clinked it against Danny's raised one, then took a long draft of it. "Excellent. Did I ever tell you about the time I rescued Queen Elizabeth from a kidnapper? A plot by Dogger's Bank separatists. Never hit the news, MI5 hushed it up."
"Queen Elizabeth the first, or Queen Elizabeth the second?" Danny replied dryly, sipping his own pint and giving Erwin a look. Roaring with laughter, the ancient man slapped the table.
"Quick, that's what you are. Just like your old man. Sarky, but quick with it."
"I do what I can," his companion replied with a small smile.
"All you can ask of anyone," Erwin agreed. He studied the other man over his drink, keen eyes despite his advanced age assessing and examining. "You look a lot better than you did a few months ago," he added after another sip, more quietly and seriously. "Your kid does too. I'm pleased you got out of that hole you were sinking into." He shrugged, drinking some more. "Seen it happen too much. Never easy, often very bad."
Danny sighed faintly, nodding. "We were not on a good course," he replied after some seconds. "Good fortune saved both of us. And Papa, wherever that old bastard ended up."
"Good for Papa," Erwin snickered, raising his half-depleted drink in a toast. Danny clinked his glass again. "Probably for the best he's not around though. Your kid and her friend would get even weirder if they had a role model."
Shuddering, Danny shook his head. "Don't even joke about that," he groaned, making Erwin chuckle. "The things she's worked out just from his notes is… horrifying. God knows what would happen if he turned up."
"Smart kid you raised."
"Mostly that's Annette," the other man replied, looking melancholic. Erwin knocked his fist sharply on the table.
"Stop that. Your woman wouldn't want you pining after her, especially if it harms your kid. She'd kick your ass and tell you to get on with life." His voice was hard, and Danny jerked a little at his tone. "I knew that woman. She was… let's say if I'd met her when I was your age, we'd have been legends." He smiled in a very bloodthirsty manner, quite deliberately playing it up although he was also being honest. Annette Hebert had truly been an extraordinary person and her daughter was very definitely a chip off the old block. One with a hell of a lot of the man in front of him in her too, who was much better than he seemed to think he was.
"We've all lost people, kid. We'll lose more. That's how life goes. Especially in this place. All you can do is keep pushing and try to make it better for the younger ones. Or at least go out with some other fucker's throat in your hands." He smirked as Danny gazed at him, then shook his head slowly.
"You are… very odd, Erwin," he finally replied, but he looked more cheerful. "One day I'll figure out what the hell it is you did."
"I've told you, Danny my boy," Erwin replied cheerfully, finishing his pint then turning and waving at Pat with the empty glass. "Loads of times."
"And if you're even slightly truthful you've done more bizarre things than six Parahumans, the CIA's blackest department, the X-Files, and Santa Claus all put together," Danny retorted with a sigh. Erwin just winked at him. "We won't even mention the lizards. Or the alien bugs. Or the goddam Fey."
"I get around," Erwin replied calmly, accepting the glass Pat handed him with a nod of thanks. The bartender didn't say anything but glanced at Danny who just nodded back and handed him some coins. He was still only a third of his way through his own pint. "And I've had an interesting life."
"So it would seem," Danny sighed.
"Well, anyway, what's the mission?" Erwin asked curiously after nearly inhaling a quarter of his new drink. It really was extraordinary beer, which is why he was so happy to give Pat his custom. Pity the fellow complained so much about money for some odd reason…
Danny looked around, as did Erwin. While Pat's place was half full, everyone else was both well known to both of them and out of earshot anyway. Even so, Danny leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. Reaching into his coat he retrieved a fairly thick envelope and slid it across the table. Erwin picked it up, weighed it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment, then opened it. Inside was a surprisingly thick stack of bills, several sheets of paper, and some photos. He removed the last two things and spread them out for examination while putting the envelope in his pocket.
Moving the photos around so he could see them all, he studied them expressionlessly for a minute or so, then turned his attention to the paperwork, which consisted of quite a lot of information on the girl shown in the photos. Printouts of PHO posts, various articles from web sources, and a short dossier that had clearly come from a police source. He tapped that one thoughtfully and looked up at Danny.
"Called a friend in the BBPD, asked for a favor," he replied to the unasked question. "That was all he could get without raising suspicion."
"Huh." Erwin nodded slowly, returning to reading the documents carefully. When he finished, he sat back and thought for a while. "Something very wrong with all this."
"That's what we thought," Danny nodded. "Kurt's pretty sure the truth is not what the official story says."
"I can pretty much guarantee it isn't," Erwin replied, mulling over the information. "It never is. Feds always keep something back. But this is… more wrong than usual. Someone's playing games."
"Any idea why?"
Erwin shrugged. "Not yet. Could be anything. Someone fucked up and tried to cover it up, someone got embarrassed, might even be an honest mistake although I'll give up drinking for a month if it's that." Danny smiled a little as Erwin chuckled. "Haven't had to give up drinking yet."
He straightened the documents and folded them up, putting them into his pocket as well. Picking up one of the photos, which was much newer than the rest and not from an internet source, he examined it again, paying close attention to the details. "Shot about a week ago?" he commented, studying the wound shown, which was a bad one. Serious infection based on his experience.
"That's what Janice thinks, yeah."
"Lot of noise over by the Merchants about then," he said thoughtfully. "Still not sure what it was about. This girl… yeah, that might fit. Could be some sort of run in with that asshole Hookwolf. Runs dog fighting rings, lots of dead dogs, lots of money. Bad news really and gets in the way. Heard there might be one right on the boundary between the Empire and the Merchants. Could be she got caught up in that."
"We thought that if she'd run into the Empire she'd probably be dead or captured, not shot and escaped," Danny commented.
"Maybe. Hooky boy is dangerous, yeah, but he's not smart. If she ran fast enough she might have made it out, then run right into the druggies. And they might have distracted the Empire long enough for her to get clear. They tend to shoot first then forget what they were aiming at."
"Tell me about it," Danny sighed. "We're going to have to do something about those fuckwits at some point."
"After your girls get finished with the Empire," Erwin grinned, making Danny rub his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "Ten says they get Cricket next."
"Oh, god, don't do that, Erwin," Danny moaned. "It's ridiculous already."
Guffawing, Erwin drank some more beer. "It's also fucking hilarious. Bet Kaiser is about ready to pop an aneurysm. Serves the bastard right. Never liked him."
"Who does?" Danny asked tiredly. "Anyway, regardless of what happened to nearly kill the girl, we need to find out what the real story is behind her. Or we'll have problems. So will she."
"She safe for now?"
"I can guarantee no one is going to find her, and she'll be absolutely fine for the time being," Danny assured him. Erwin nodded slowly. That kid had some interesting tricks indeed…
Perhaps he should talk to her, offer a trade? Might be fun…
Knowing her mother, she'd likely jump at it.
He grinned to himself and Danny gave him a suspicious look, which only made the grin widen. "OK. I'll see what I can dig up," he said, putting the photos in a stack, selecting one that showed the Lindt girl glowering at the camera, and sliding the rest back to Danny. The other man stuffed them away inside his coat again. "Might take me a few days."
"No hurry. If you need more cash, let me know."
"This should do fine, Danny." Erwin smiled nastily. "Some of the people I'm going to have to talk to, I won't need money. A baseball bat, maybe…"
Danny held up a hand. "I don't want to know."
"Plausible deniability. Just like old times, eh, kid?"
"I remember the old times, Erwin," Danny growled. "I don't want to remember the old times, but I do."
"Fun, weren't they?"
"You have an extremely strange idea of what 'fun' is you ancient lunatic." Danny stood up, finished his beer, then took Erwin's glass when he did the same. "See you around. Try not to get killed. I'm sure someone would miss you."
Erwin was still laughing when Danny left Pat's, smiling rather evilly.
"Yeah, he's definitely back," the old man said under his breath while watching the door close, before he started making plans.
Technically abandoned warehouse, Brockton Bay
"That's everything you wanted."
Erwin accepted the cardboard box, opened it, and rummaged through the contents. Satisfied, he nodded and closed it again. Tucking it under his arm he handed the young man a wad of cash. "Pleasure doing business with you."
"I'd like to say the same but you scare the crap out of me, so all I'll say is please don't come back for a long time," the other guy said uneasily.
Snorting with laughter, Erwin shrugged. "You'll get over it. See you around, kid." He left the building carrying a box emblazoned with the logo of a well-known fruit company, whistling to himself. Behind him, Leet closed the door and made absolutely sure it was locked, and all the alarms and more lethal precautions were set. Not that it would help. It never did.
Tottering into the back room he dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands. Never again. He was never going to play poker with Erwin again. It wasn't worth owing him a favor no matter how well he paid…
When his friend got back with the chinese food he was still sitting there trying to work out where his life had gone wrong.
PRT Headquarters, New York, New York
Commander Ken Sanderson, PRT, walked into his office in the main branch, closed the door, turned on the light, and took his armored jacket off with a sigh of relief. The damn things were much heavier than you'd believe without wearing one and an eight hour shift made him ache by the end of it. He was, at thirty eight, getting a little too old to recover instantly like he used to be able to, as much as it pained him to admit that to himself. At least as the man in charge he mostly got to watch the younger troopers run around like idiots and tell them where they were going wrong, so there was that.
Moving to the coffee machine he reached out to press the start button before the smell he'd been subconsciously recognizing since he entered made him pause. He stared at the machine, which was still slightly dripping coffee from the nozzle, while the display showed the one-shot coffee pack he'd preloaded it with that morning was now empty. "Fucking bastard, who stole my coffee?" he snarled. That was an expensive blend he very much liked and he was down to his last three packs.
A creak from behind him made him freeze, and was followed by a slurping sound. "This is damn good coffee, but I still prefer a decent beer," an all too familiar voice, one he'd hoped he'd never hear again, said with a certain amount of amusement in it. He sighed heavily and turned around.
"Oh, fuck it. You."
"Me, laddie, yeah," Erwin said, saluting him with his own coffee before finishing it off, then putting the cup down on his desk. "How you been?"
"Fine, right up to the point you turned up," Ken growled. "How the fuck did you even get in here?"
"Your security needs some work," the old man replied with a smile which had too many teeth to be entirely friendly.
"Christ. You're a pain in the ass, Erwin." Ken moved to his spare chair and slumped into it. "What do you want this time? And if I give it to you will you go away and leave me alone?"
Erwin handed him a sheet of paper. He took it, read it, and looked back with raised eyebrows. "Hellhound? What about her?"
"I want your internal data on her. Not the crap you tell the public, the real information. Because we both know there's more to the story. There always is."
"Why?" Ken asked suspiciously.
"Got my own reasons," Erwin assured him.
"I'm sure you do. I'm not sure they'll be good ones. What's your interest in her?"
"Can't say. But it won't affect you, so what do you care?"
Ken stared at the ancient man who he was all too aware was much more dangerous than he looked. He certainly wasn't sure he'd actually prevail in a fight even though Erwin was at least twice his age. The way he moved made it all too clear he was in remarkably good condition despite his age and was as strong as a horse. Ken knew that too, from past experiences he still didn't like to think about…
Erwin had a history. One no one seemed to really know the full extent of. Possibly because no one who did was still alive, and he wasn't sure if that was from old age, or… other reasons.
The saying about old men in a business that killed people young floated through his mind and made him suppress an internal flinch. What did it say about ancient bastards?
He wasn't sure he wanted to contemplate that. So he finally sighed and stood up. "Get out of the way," he said as he walked over to his desk. Erwin obligingly shoved the chair he was sitting in back so Ken could access his keyboard. Sliding his ID card through the reader, the commander put his thumb on the fingerprint pad and waited until it beeped, then typed in a twelve digit code with one hand and the ease of a lot of practice. He didn't bother hiding it from Erwin as he was pretty sure the man already knew it. Shortly he was navigating his way through the internal menu structure of Parahuman threat reports. When he found the right one, he keyed in his authorization and hit print. The laser printer across the room spooled up with a faint whine, pages beginning to extrude one after another a few seconds later.
Erwin rose and retrieved the document when it finished printing after half a minute or so, the printer whining down into silence again. Ken sat in his chair now it was vacant and watched the old bastard scan the pages one after the other, his face grim. He had a very fast reading speed, the commander thought as he waited. Glancing at the emergency alarm button discreetly hidden among other switches on his desk phone, he mulled pressing it. More out of curiosity about what would happen other than any real thought it would result in Erwin being apprehended.
Then he considered the likely damage that would occur, and how he was the nearest person to the old man, and decided against it. When he looked back Erwin was grinning at him as if he'd read his mind. Going back to the document he finished reading it. "Well, now. Isn't this interesting," he commented, folding the pages up and stuffing them into a pocket of his thick coat then zipping it up. "I think I need to talk to a few other people. Thanks, laddie, this helps."
"Helps what?" Ken asked, finding himself somewhat curious despite himself.
Erwin just tapped his nose, smirked, and slipped out the door without a sound in a display that was somewhat worrying. Most of the people Ken knew in the trade couldn't move as silently as the far older man could. Mind you, Erwin had probably taught half of those over the years, and the crew he'd once run with could have schooled pretty much anyone without any effort at all.
Ken sighed, glanced at the alarm button again, shook his head because it was already too late and would only raise questions he didn't want to get involved in, and stood up. Going over to his coffee maker he replaced the pack his uninvited guest had helped himself to, then waited while the machine gurgled and hissed to itself. When he was holding a cup of something strong enough to make him feel like an actual human again, he wandered back to his desk and dropped into his chair. Idly wondering what the fuck Erwin was up to, he reached to close the file open on the screen, then paused.
Leaning a little closer he started reading.
When he finished some time later, and had also checked a few other linked documents, he leaned back and tapped his fingers on the desk. "Interesting," he muttered, considering the situation he was starting to understand, before he pulled the keyboard close to him and started writing a report. It might not help the Lindt girl, but Ken had seen enough shit in his life where politics had fucked over people who didn't deserve it that he felt maybe for once someone should get a break.
And he felt a momentary dark amusement at the idea that someone had let Erwin loose on this, while wondering uneasily who the hell would be able to do that. And why they'd bother...
FBI Building, Baltimore, Maryland
FBI Special Agent Liam Davies opened the door of his car in the underground car park below the FBI building on Lord Baltimore Drive, got into the driver's seat, and put the key in the ignition. Starting the vehicle he checked the mirrors, then reversed out of his assigned space, before heading to the exit. Having scanned his ID card at the barrier, he drove up the ramp once the gate lifted out of the way, waited for an opening in traffic, and pulled out onto the main road. Soon he was traveling north at sixty miles an hour towards home, feeling that he very much deserved to have a beer, eat dinner, talk to his family, and get an early night for once.
It was fair to say it had been a very long week.
Reaching out he turned the radio on and prodded buttons without looking for a moment until he got some music he liked, then drove along relaxing and humming to the tune.
"Never much cared for that one," a gravelly voice said from behind him about five minutes later as the song changed. A hand came past him and turned the radio off. Liam jerked the steering wheel hard enough that he nearly hit the car in the next lane, corrected violently with a string of swear words, his heart hammering, then when he finally got the vehicle under control again looked in the rear view mirror.
A smirk met his horrified eyes.
"Oh, Christ. Erwin…"
"You've heard of me then." The craggy face of the man in the rear seat, and how the fuck hadn't Liam noticed that, showed a rather forbidding grin, teeth flashing for a moment.
"There are entire filing cabinets full of documentation on you," Liam managed to say, after swallowing very hard indeed, his mouth dry and cottony. His good mood had evaporated like spit on a stove.
"Really? That's interesting," Erwin replied calmly, looking amused as he relaxed behind Liam. Neither of his hands were visible at the moment which didn't make the FBI agent even slightly more happy about the situation he'd found himself in. "No, keep driving," he added as Liam unconsciously began to slow down. Accelerating again, Liam matched the speed of the other traffic. "What does it say?"
"Things I'd prefer not to think about," he admitted, feeling an unpleasant sensation of having the rug completely yanked out from under him without the slightest warning. He had absolutely no idea why the legendarily lethal man behind him would have picked him to talk to, and was very much hoping that it was only a talk he wanted.
The alternative wasn't something he wanted to contemplate.
"Got a summary?" Erwin asked with a hint of a laugh in his voice.
"Hope he doesn't turn up," Liam finally said, after some seconds. The sound of laughter didn't make him relax even a tiny bit.
"Yeah, I can probably tell you who wrote that," Erwin chuckled. "Take the next left." His voice didn't change at all from the mild amusement it had contained the whole time. Swallowing again, Liam changed lanes, then indicated to make the turn. Once he'd done that, he accelerated again, sticking exactly to the speed limit. This road was much less trafficked and the street lights were further apart, the orange glow illuminating the inside of the car in flashes several seconds apart.
After another mile, Erwin said, "Right here. Then second left."
Liam followed the directions without a word, still trying to work out how to extricate himself from what had suddenly turned into a horror movie scene.
He found they were driving down a dark road into a patch of woodland, the lights of housing developments some distance away. Considering how close they still were to the city itself, this area was oddly deserted. Which wasn't worrying at all…
"Turn right just there, drive twenty yards, and stop the car," Erwin instructed. Liam did so.
Silence fell, the ticking of the engine as it started to cool loud in the still, cold, evening air. Keeping both hands firmly on the wheel, and very aware of the gun under his arm although also aware there was no way he could reach it in time, Liam met Erwin's eyes in the mirror. "Now what?" he finally asked.
Erwin moved, and Liam, despite himself, flinched. However rather than a weapon, when the old man's hand came past his shoulder, it was holding a couple of sheets of paper. Very carefully Liam accepted them, reached up with his free hand very slowly to turn on the interior light, and started reading. He recognized the name of the subject of the pages immediately, although he hadn't really thought about it for over eighteen months.
"Rachel Lindt. You were the lead on the team investigating her case before the PRT kicked you out," Erwin commented. "Then you got reassigned to Baltimore three weeks later. Been here ever since. What happened? That report is missing information."
Liam looked in the mirror again, then back at the document he was holding. "Why are you interested in an old case like this?" he asked, despite himself feeling curious enough to risk annoying the person behind him. Erwin's deep voice chuckled.
"Need to know, lad, and you don't. Let's just say I have a reason and leave it there."
Trying not to sigh as he'd almost expected the answer, Liam shrugged. "It was a typical case of the PRT grabbing anything even vaguely connected to a Parahuman," he finally said, deciding he didn't have much of a choice. And it wasn't like he much cared if the other federal organization ended up with Erwin going after them. There wasn't a lot of love lost between the FBI and the PRT after all. "We got called in by the local cops when they found human remains. Or what was left of them. They were so… damaged… that their own people couldn't even work out for sure how many victims were involved. Small town cops, you know?"
Erwin grunted.
"So we investigated. We managed to prove there were four fatalities. Blood was found belonging to one more person, a female, but only a small amount. Traces of hair and blood on a wooden rolling pin were a match to blood droplets on the ground near that swimming pool," he went on, indicating the photo of the crime scene. "But they didn't match any of the known victims. We also found footprints leading into the land surrounding the yard, but they couldn't be tracked more than half a mile before we lost them. The size of the prints along with the tread pattern of the sneakers that made them were consistent with a female child approximately four feet six inches tall, roughly ninety four pounds in weight. Stride length said she was running, placement said she was limping."
"Matches the report. Go on."
"The house was totally destroyed, like something the size of a car had gone through it several times. And we found paw prints. Big ones. About the right size for an animal the size of a car… And probably about half to three quarters of a ton in weight."
"A dog?"
"Not according to the zoologist, but he had no idea what it was. Of course, we found out later. The PRT got involved, they jumped into the middle of our investigation, and we found ourselves sidelined. They did their own investigation and their report said that the missing child, Rachel Lindt, had Triggered as a Master/Shaker specializing in canines, used her powers on a dog, then made it kill the entire family. Put it down as a mass murder with intent. And of course their press release made the kid out to be nearly as dangerous as Jack Slash or some fucking thing. She didn't turn up for another two months, but when she did, they went after her with prejudice."
He shook his head. "And fucked it up. Multiple times. It's almost embarrassing how many times the girl got away, and how much damage she caused in the process. Of course the PRT always managed to make it out as entirely her fault but if you want my opinion they share the blame, if not have most it it down to her. Everything we managed to find out before they booted us was that she mostly wanted to be left alone, but they kept riling her up."
"OK. So what's your theory? What do you think really happened, instead of what they say happened?" Erwin sounded curious.
Liam looked at the mirror again. "The report the FBI finally filed backed up the PRT conclusions."
"Of course it did. I asked what you think happened, not what your superiors filed."
He sighed. "From what we found out the girl was being fostered after having been taken from her own mother at an early age due to neglect, and the woman doing the fostering was mostly in it for the money. Had a deal going with the local authorities. We were just about to dig up enough to prove that before the PRT got involved and everything went to shit. A corrupt judge, cops on the take, that sort of thing. Seen it before."
"Yeah. Me too." Erwin sounded thoughtful.
"There was circumstantial evidence that the foster mother was, at a minimum, strict to the point of abuse. And a little too fond of corporal punishment. The Lindt girl was practically feral due to her own mother's problems, and that didn't make a happy mix. She didn't have any friends, her foster siblings apparently didn't get on, and they were all stuck with a woman who saw them as a source of income instead of children. I'm pretty sure she only fed them enough to keep them alive, because why waste money on food?" He shook his head in disgust. "Blood and hair on the rolling pin suggests that she hit the kid at least once, on the head. Probably multiple times. I don't know if she was trying to kill her but we found enough evidence to think she wasn't too bothered if she did."
"And the girl Triggered as a result during the attack…"
"That'd be my guess. Either directly due to being battered, or that was just the final straw. The scene was so fucked up it was hard to even establish that much and there was no chance of getting a better idea of what really happened. The only one who knows is Lindt and no one's ever bothered to ask her. Assuming she would tell you, of course. Or possibly even remembers. Everything else was smashed to hell. Nothing left but rubble with body parts mixed in. Fucking mess it was."
He paused, then, remembering another detail, added, "One thing did strike me as odd at the time… The pool cover was ripped open from underneath. Like something was in the pool and just tore through it."
"Huh…" Erwin nodded slowly. "I see. So why do you think the PRT got so aggressive about covering up the truth? They make it out as if Lindt went looking for someone to murder."
Liam snorted. "They fucked up, couldn't catch her at the time, got their asses handed to them in the process, and she made them look like idiots. I'm also pretty sure that the local PRT liaison was in bed with the judge. Money was definitely changing hands. It was in the best interests of everyone who dropped the ball if the truth just conveniently happened to disappear, and the public love a good super villain story. Blood and guts sells, you know that. Happy stories of people just getting on with life don't."
Erwin chuckled again. "Yeah, that's a point, for sure."
Liam put his head on the back of the seat and sighed. "So it was basically political. The PRT got egg on their face, the local authorities were corrupt, the witnesses were ground meat, and the public wanted someone to blame. They got Lindt, the PRT got a lot of publicity for saving innocent victims of a villainous Master, and the people who profited from the whole fucking thing paid someone enough to get our people reassigned. Everyone involved on our side got moved away, and it was made quietly but firmly very clear that we should forget about the Lindt case. This report ended up being filed, not that we had any input into the process. It's accurate enough in the details but misses out our conclusions because they conflict with what the PRT wanted the record to say."
"And she's been running ever since."
"Yeah. Although from what I heard the last time someone tried to catch her she got so enthusiastic about her response the PRT has quietly backed off because people are starting to ask awkward questions about their competency." He couldn't help smirking a little himself at his own comment. Memories of what had happened still niggled at him.
"Strangely enough as soon as they stopped provoking her she pretty much faded into the background," he added, almost amused. "Just like it was them starting things instead of her."
"How unlike the PRT," Erwin commented with a grin, making Liam shake his head. He was still nervous but apparently the man behind him didn't have immediate violence in mind, so he'd relaxed a little. But he was still keeping his hands in plain view.
"That fills in some blanks. Thanks."
"So now what?"
Liam didn't get a reply. Looking up at the mirror, his eyes widened. Then he carefully turned his head and examined the back seat.
Which was empty.
The door was slightly ajar, but there wasn't a trace of the old man anywhere. "How the fuck did he do that?" Liam whispered out loud. Peering around him through the windows he couldn't see any trace of Erwin anywhere. Eventually, shivering despite himself, he leaned back and pulled the door properly shut, made certain that the central locking was engaged, and started the car.
Driving back the way he'd come he hoped very much that his visitor didn't have any more questions. And that if he did he'd write an email or something, rather than scaring the absolute shit out of him.
2801 Holland Drive, West Plains, Missouri
Judge Timothy Yatton rolled over in bed, then blinked sleepily. It was dark, still, and quiet, the wind in the trees outside his bedroom clearly audible. Wondering what time it was, he reached for his nightstand and picked up his watch, squinting at the glowing hands. Four AM. That was far too early to be awake, he thought with irritation.
The other side of the bed was empty as his wife was visiting her sister, having got a message from her that day that something doubtless trivial then blown up out of all reasonableness had happened. Miriam was like that. Over dramatic at the best of times and a shrew with it.
It was probably being alone in bed that had woken him, he thought rather blurrily, as he put the watch down again then closed his eyes. Or possibly the two helpings of ice cream he'd decided to sneak out of the freezer since his wife wasn't here to keep him on his diet. He had a sweet tooth and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt him…
The light over his desk snapping on without warning made his eyes fly open in shock. Jolting upright, he looked towards the desk, then froze when he spotted the gun aimed at him. His eyes fixated on the weapon which looked far, far too large, deadly, and above all well used, for comfort. After a long few seconds during which he felt his heart rate spike enough to cause his doctor to look at him with warning, he raised his eyes to meet those of the man holding the gun.
Those eyes showed absolutely no mercy, being cold and dark. The face they were set in looked like it was made of stone, and was topped by white hair. At the back of his mind he found himself confused at how this person was clearly significantly older that he was, but most of his attention was occupied by the much more important fact that he had a gun aimed right at his heart from less than ten feet away
"Good morning, Judge," his highly unwanted visitor said evenly, his voice powerful but quiet, and rather harsh. "Sorry about the little surprise but I needed to see you alone."
"Who the hell are you?" Judge Yatton demanded, anger suppressing the common sense approach of being a little less confrontational.
"Call me Erwin," the man replied calmly. "No, don't move, just stay there," he added, motioning very slightly with his weapon as the judge shifted position. "Got some questions for you."
"My office hours are more than adequate, you realize," Timothy snarled. The man holding him at gunpoint grinned rather worryingly.
"But a nice little night time chat is much more memorable, wouldn't you say? I've always found that. People tend to listen to me when I talk to them under these circumstances. On the other hand if I turn up at your office in the middle of the day who's to say if you'd even bother to let me in?" He chuckled. "Wouldn't actually keep me out of course, but that's by the by. Well, now, let's have a little talk, shall we?"
"What do you want?"
"The truth about Rachel Lindt, Maxine Porter, and your relationship with the latter," Erwin said mildly. Timothy froze again, suddenly feeling very worried. "I know about the payment from the state you two were splitting. Quite a lot of money, wasn't it, all those kids. Paid for your boat, that nice car outside, the swimming pool… Surprising how much you can skim off the top in your position."
"Who are you?" Timothy whispered.
"Just a friend. Not one of yours, of course. But I'm generally well disposed to most people." Erwin waggled the gun. "Who did you pay off in the PRT?"
"I didn't…"
"Oh, you did, and you know you did. And I know you did. Let's have a name. Or do I have to get a little… insistent?" With his free hand Erwin removed a device from his pocket and flicked a switch on it. The gun-like machine, clearly Tinker Tech of some sort, emitted a faint whine and a number of lights on it flickered a few times. "This won't kill you, but… Well, let's just said its probably not something you want to experience," he added conversationally, thumbing a control on the rear of the thing that made the whine get louder.
Swallowing, the judge looked around for some route of escape. Unfortunately he didn't see anything that would help. His own gun was in a case under the bed, and there was no way he'd reach it in time. No one lived within a quarter of a mile of his house, something that had been a selling point when he'd bought it, but now something he was regretting. Not that he expected yelling even if someone was close enough to hear would help much… And the security system he'd spend far more money on than he liked to think about clearly wasn't worth it, as this bastard had walked right through it without a peep.
He was kind of fucked.
So, in the end, he started talking. Erwin sat and listened, asking questions now and then that made it obvious he knew a lot more about certain events than was even slightly good, and occasionally lifted the Tinker device threateningly when Timothy was reluctant to continue. Sweating like he'd run a marathon, he finally finished, his interrogator nodding in satisfaction.
"It's good to get things off your chest sometimes, isn't it?" Erwin commented cheerfully as he turned the thing he was holding off and put it away somewhere. Unfortunately the pistol in his other hand was still pointed steadily at the judge.
Timothy glared at him, but didn't dare reply.
Erwin looked at his watch and nodded. "And with time to spare. Excellent. I do love it when a plan comes together." He stood, the gun not wavering, and grinned at the man in the bed. "Give my best to your wife. I hope Miriam's problem wasn't too annoying."
Staring, Timothy finally managed, "That was… How?" He realized he'd been outplayed from the start.
"Needed you alone, and no reason to worry the missus, right?" Erwin chuckled. "Thanks for the information. See you." He pulled something else out of his pocket and before the judge could react, pressed a button on it. The desk light went out, and Timothy blinked in the sudden darkness, before lunging for his bedside lamp. When he turned it on, though, the doorway was empty.
It took him only thirty seconds to retrieve his gun, then with that in hand he very cautiously moved towards the door, listening carefully. Not a sound could be heard, except for the fridge downstairs clicking on and humming faintly.
By the time he'd assured himself he was alone the pre-dawn light was breaking in the east. Sitting at the table in the living room, his weapon near his hand, he thought about what had happened for some time, before getting up and finding his phone, which he used to make calls to certain other people. Rather to his horror, he found two of them didn't answer and the third one relayed a similarly disquieting tale.
He was still trying to work out what to do when the State Police turned up with a warrant to search his financial records, and a recording that made him go pale with anger and fright.
It's safe to say that it was not the best night he'd ever had.
PRT Field Office, St Louis, Missouri
"Lieutenant Richard Nellis?"
Rich turned around at the voice. "That's me."
The PRT Major standing behind him nodded. "You're under arrest."
Completely taken aback, Rich could only gape for a moment. Before he recovered, two of the five-man squad accompanying the major grabbed him, yanked his arms behind his back, and put cuffs on him, before very competently patting him down. While this happened the other three opened his office, which he'd just come out of on his way to the cafeteria, and disappeared inside it. Moments later he was being frogmarched away, the whole thing having happened so fast he was still sputtering.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded furiously when he recovered enough of his wits to speak.
"We have evidence of your collusion with Judge Timothy Yatton, your brother in law, over among other issues the case of Hellhound, AKA Rachel Lindt. You are under arrest for corruption, bribery, conspiracy, criminal damage, criminal abuse of federal powers, and an impressive list of other charges." The major didn't sound happy.
Rich felt his stomach plummet.
He remained silent as they took him out to a PRT internal affairs SUV and shoved him into it, and during the entire four hour drive to the nearest PRT headquarters in Kansas City. The whole time he was trying to work out where he'd slipped up, and who had talked. And, of course, how the hell he was going to get out of this.
The Captain's Table, Brockton Bay
Erwin nodded to Danny as he sat down, accepting the pint he was handed with a murmur of thanks. He took a long satisfying drink from it, then put it down on the table.
Reaching inside his coat pocket, he pulled out a large envelope, nearly an inch thick, and slid it across to the other man, who looked at it, then picked it up and peered inside.
"You've been busy," Danny commented after a moment, stashing the envelope away.
He grinned a little. "I like a little adventure now and then. Keeps the reflexes sharp."
"So you've mentioned before," Danny replied with a nod. They drank some more beer each. "I saw the news. Seems corruption is rife in certain places."
"Yeah. Terrible thing. Lots of lives impacted by people who can't keep their hands clean," Erwin sighed, shaking his head sadly. "One would hope that the people in a position of power would do right by us little people, but so often that's not the case. But every now and then someone manages to shine the cleansing light of day into the dark corners of government, and all sort of things scuttle out into view."
Danny's lips were twitching. Erwin winked at him and finished his beer. "But what would I know of that? I am but a humble fisherman. Retired at that."
"Of course you are." Danny nodded and waved for a refill. "Everyone knows that."
"Yep." Erwin lifted his new glass and clinked it against that of his companion. "Your health."
"Cheers."
They sat and drank in companionable silence, while around them dock workers laughed and enjoyed themselves.
Life was good sometimes.