It was a rare sunny day in Martinaise, and the people were, surprisingly, not rioting.
Maybe that was unfair, Kim thought to himself, as Harry handed him a sandwich he'd purchased from a food stall, and they leaned against the railing to watch the protests. Since the violence in March, Kim had braced himself every day for bloodshed and chaos, but other than some light looting and a massive amount of litter, the Union's takeover had been orderly and clean. Even Wild Pines had scrambled to negotiate with the newly forming company when it became clear just how well-connected Evrart was.
The current protest had the energy of a celebration. Wild Pines was arriving to remove the last of the property they'd managed to squeeze out of their consolation deal with the Claires. People were dancing and singing - a number of food stalls had been hastily erected around the square, selling everything from kebabs to chow mein.
Was that it, though? Surely Wild Pines wasn't about to give up their rights to the harbor just like that. They'd sent mercenaries to enforce the deal, mercenaries who'd been prepared to slaughter the entire city. It's not as though they couldn't afford to hire more, and knuckling under hardly seemed to fit the character of the rest of their interactions.
It was at this point Kim realized Harry was trying to steal his sandwich, which was hanging limply from his hand. Kim pulled the sandwich protectively to his chest.
"Detective, why did you buy me a sandwich if you were going to steal it?"
Harry shrugged, "It looked like you weren't going to eat it. And I finished mine."
Kim took an intentionally measured bite of the sandwich.
"And cool it with the 'detective' shit, all right? We' cool." Harry pulled out a pair of lime green sunglasses and slipped them on.
Kim swallowed the bite he'd taken. "We are not undercover. We are off-duty."
"So you're saying we'reunofficially undercover." Harry pulled finger guns at Kim.
"And in any case," Kim said, ignoring this, "I don't think it's possible for you to be undercover here, as half the population knows you personally and the other half has likely seen your picture in the paper."
"Nonsense, I'm a master of disguise," said Harry. He pulled off the brown blazer he was wearing and turned it inside out (of course it was reversible), revealing a pattern that strained the eyes.
"Well, that certainly makes it harder to look at you," said Kim.
"Exactly. Come on, Vacholiere, time to boogie down." Harry executed a surprisingly sharp spin considering the height of the heels on his boiadeiro boots. The spurs jingled.
Kim briefly wondered where he acquired the boots, then pushed the thought aside. "Go," he said, waving him off. "I'll eat my sandwich and catch up with you."
"Yessss, follow the sound of extreme disco." Harry pulled the finger guns again and danced away backward, joining the crowd. Once he was twenty feet away, the blobs of color marking the horrible blazer were the only thing that allowed Kim to distinguish Harry's blurry outline from the rest of the dancers.
Kim followed the blur as he finished his sandwich, his thoughts drifting back to Harry as he'd first known him. He'd grown so much. Sobriety agreed with him, and he was solving cases again. He seemed to be finally letting go of whatever his ex had done to him, but it wasn't until today that he seemed actually happy. And maybe it was just from the infectious excitement in the air, or maybe just the sunny weather, but Kim felt a smile tugging at his lips at the thought.
Suddenly, the shape he could barely make out as Harry stopped moving, standing rigid in the middle of the crowd. As casually as he could, Kim jogged over until he could see Harry clearly. He had the blank, zoned-out expression Kim thought of as his "winding up to say some weird nonsense" face. For a second it looked like a shadowy figure was whispering in his ear, but it disappeared as soon as Kim looked at it directly. Kim pulled off his glasses and started wiping them with his handkerchief.
"What's going on, detective?" he muttered. Without his glasses, he could barely make out Harry's expression even a few feet away, but he saw Harry shake his head.
"Something's wrong," Harry replied. "Something bad is about to happen."
"Okaay," said Kim softly, putting his glasses back on. "Maybe we should talk about this away from the crowd, yes? So we don't cause a panic?"
"No, we need to warn people." There was growing urgency in Harry's voice, and a few people surrounding them looked over in concern.
"Warn them about what?" said Kim. "'Something bad is about to happen' is not actionable information." He grabbed Harry's arm and started towing him back to the edge of the crowd.
Harry growled under his breath in frustration. "I just– something's coming. I can feel it." His eyes darted around the square, to the buildings above, looking for snipers, fires, anything to explain his feelings.
"Wait," said Kim, stopping abruptly. "Do you feel ok? Does your chest hurt?" He pulled off his glove and grabbed Harry's wrist, feeling his pulse, and stared at his watch, counting the heartbeats under his fingers.
"What?" said Harry, bemused. "Oh. The heart attack thing, with the impending doom? This is different."
Harry started for the edge of the crowd again, still casting his gaze about for impending danger, Kim followed, tugging the glove back on his hand.
"How could you possibly know the difference?" said Kim. "You only remember four months of your life."
"I, uh, had what you might call an 'incident' like six weeks ago." Harry shouldered his way between two brawny men dancing their hearts out.
Kim stopped short. "You what?" He dodged someone's flailing arm and hurried after Harry. "When you said you had the flu and needed a few days off, that was a heart attack?"
Harry stopped and turned his head, like a bloodhound scenting the wind. "It's this way," he said, starting to jog.
"You had a heart attack and didn't tell anyone?" Kim frowned as he said it, wishing it hadn't come out sounding so plaintive.
Harry sighed as he ran. "You know how it is," he said, avoiding Kim's gaze.
"No, I don't," puffed Kim, dodging around a woman dancing with her eyes closed. "I don't know how that is. Enlighten me."
"I wasjuststarting to feel like I had a handle on things. Like maybe I could leave…stuff…behind me. So I didn't want people thinking I was…unstable. Or more unstable than I already was." He paused. "I didn't want to disappoint…" he glanced at Kim, then away, "...anyone." He stopped abruptly, looking around, and Kim almost crashed into him. "I think this is the spot."
Kim bent over, panting. "Harry…I'm not going to…be disappointed…if you have a medical condition."
Harry gave a sad smile. "Even if it's self-inflicted?"
Kim met Harry's eyes and nodded firmly. "Even then."
Harry went back to scanning the buildings for danger, while Kim looked out over the river. After a moment, his eyes caught movement - someone was approaching at a dead sprint. He squinted, trying to make out details. They were wearing mostly black. There was a flash of light reflected when they turned their back briefly - someone from the RCM? Was that a shadow? No, they definitely had dark hair.
Kim tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Detective, is that Lieutenant Vicquemare?"
"Jean?" said Harry, turning. "Shit, he never runs unless he has to." He took off toward the waterlock.
"You would know," Kim muttered, hurrying after him.
"Jean, what's happening?" Harry asked, sprinting over to Jean as he staggered to a stop.
"You never…stay by…the fucking…radio," he gasped, bending over. "Have to run…across…the fucking…island…"
"Let me get you some water," said Kim. The man clearly needed it - he was soaked with sweat and his face was red.
"No…" Jean waved a hand. "No time…Wild Pines…sent…mercenaries. Take over…Martinaise."
Kim felt cold dread climbing up his spine.
Harry grabbed Jean's arm. "Mercenaries? How many?"
"...fifty," gasped Jean. He spit on the ground. Harry looked at Kim, horrified. Kim felt his breathing quicken. "Someone…called it in. Two hours ago. Might have been the…negotiator."
"Where are they? How long do we have?" Harry tightened his grip on Jean's arm.
Jean groaned, clutching his chest. "What time is it?"
"Two twenty-six," said Kim, glancing at his watch.
"Ten minutes, maybe. You two need to…get out of here."
Harry shook his head. "No, we need to warn people. Kim, take care of Jean." With that, he sprinted back across the lock.
"I'm serious, Kim," said Jean, grabbing Kim's arm. "You two killed three of their buddies. With no armor and inferior weapons. You humiliated these guys. They'll want revenge." His breath was still coming in wheezing gasps. "You gotta get out of here."
"We will. I won't leave Harry behind, though. Are you ok?" Kim pulled Jean's arm around his shoulders.
"I smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. And I just sprinted 8 klicks. How the fuck would you be doing?" He gave a hacking cough. "I'll be fine. My body just hates me right now."
"8 kilometers? Where's your car?"
"Somebody set up roadblocks. I can only assume it was Wild Pines, trying to stop anybody from giving advance warning. I drove off-road until the car got stuck, then got out and started running."
In spite of his growing anxiety, Kim was touched. Jeanhatedrunning. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
"Yeah, well," said Jean, embarrassed. "Just try not to get me killed with your stupidity."