Night Study
Page 62
“They’ve been here for ages, sir. All promoted from within.”
“I see.” The garrison was way overdue for an inspection. It was partly his fault for avoiding the area all these years. “I think it’s soon time for an update and some fresh blood.”
They smiled.
“It won’t be until after the hot season.” And only if the Commander didn’t declare war on Sitia.
“It will be worth the wait, sir,” Jaga said.
Valek finished eating and returned to his rooms. A pile of MD-1 uniforms waited for him on the small table. He checked for intruders before collapsing on the bed.
The next morning, Valek changed into a basic laborer’s uniform. The black pants had a row of white diamonds down the outside of each leg. A row of white diamonds cut across the chest of the black tunic. Throughout Ixia, laborers were men and women who filled in where extra people were needed for a project or job. They had a variety of skills from construction to harvesting crops, and they frequently traveled from one city to another. In other words, the perfect cover for Valek.
He transferred a few things he’d need into a well-worn rucksack, tied his hair back with an old piece of string and altered his appearance just enough to throw a casual observer off. Most Ixians only knew his name and wouldn’t recognize him. When he exited the garrison, he stopped and rubbed dirt over the white diamonds on his clothes. Satisfied that he looked the part, Valek headed southwest to Gandrel, where the most recent and boldest burglary had occurred.
Six hours later he arrived in town. He reported to the local checkpoint and showed them his papers.
“Reason for visit?” the man asked in a bored voice.
“Repairing fishing nets for the fleet,” Valek answered. Once the cold season ended, the fishermen spent the warming season readying their boats.
The man grunted, stamped Valek’s paper and handed it back all without once glancing at Valek. If the rest of the security personnel matched this man’s attitude, then no wonder the Storm Thieves had no trouble stealing their weapons. Pathetic.
Valek visited the Sail Away Inn next. The innkeeper rented him a room, but the few other workers ignored him. Extra laborers usually arrived at the coast at this time of year. Since supper was a couple hours away, the common and dining room were empty. He waited in his room. It didn’t take long for a servant to knock. She carried towels and a bath kit for him.
Opening the door wide, Valek stepped aside, letting in Agent Annika, who explained about the amenities of the inn until the door closed.
“Where?” Valek asked.
“Four-fifteen Cannery Road, second floor, sir. There’s an entrance in the back, through the alley. Endre’s there now. His shift doesn’t start until later.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded and left. He followed soon after. Every town in Ixia had at least one inn and a security office—the two best places to gather information. Valek had an agent in both. Larger cities warranted more agents. And the agents shared a safe house or apartment as a base for their covert operations.
The yellow paint peeled from the wood of building number four-fifteen, which was wedged in the middle of a row of houses. The pungent odor of fish guts fogged the street. Valek looped around to the alley and climbed the metal ladder to the apartment.
Endre yanked open the door before Valek reached it. The burly man held a dagger, but his fierce expression smoothed with recognition.
“Welcome, sir,” Endre said as Valek entered the small unit—half of it was living space, the other used for work.
Valek noted with approval the maps of the area covering the table with the thieves’ targets already marked. Times, dates and stolen items had been listed next to each.
“Any news, Endre?”
“Since the hit on the security office, no other incidents have been reported, sir.”
“Any progress on finding the thieves’ hideout?”
“No, sir. Security officers from Gandrel, Krillow and Coral Caye have searched every cove, building, boat, port and wooded area.”
Valek studied the map. “Looks like they hit every town along MD-1’s coast. I thought the targets were random.”
“At first they appeared random, but reports were slow coming in from some towns. They didn’t make the connection to the storms right away. But even so, if you look at the times and dates, there’s still no pattern.”
“And no one knows where and when they’ll strike next?”
“No, sir. But Annika is working on finding a few informers. She’ll report back here after the supper crowd.”
“Tell me about the theft of the weapons.”
“They struck in the middle of the night during a nasty downpour. The guys on duty didn’t hear a thing and frankly didn’t think the thieves would have the gall to rob us. Up until that hit, the Stormers took mostly money, equipment, tools and food. But they left nothing behind but puddles on the floor.”
“Stormers?”
“It’s what the officers call them.”
Ah. “Any boot prints?”
“No. Just the water.”
“Fresh or salt?” Valek asked.
Endre’s thick eyebrows smashed together like two caterpillars butting heads. “We didn’t check. I’m assuming fresh from the rain. Why would it matter?”
“You tell me.”
He ran a hand over the short bristle of his black hair. “Salt would mean they came up from the beach.”
“I see.” The garrison was way overdue for an inspection. It was partly his fault for avoiding the area all these years. “I think it’s soon time for an update and some fresh blood.”
They smiled.
“It won’t be until after the hot season.” And only if the Commander didn’t declare war on Sitia.
“It will be worth the wait, sir,” Jaga said.
Valek finished eating and returned to his rooms. A pile of MD-1 uniforms waited for him on the small table. He checked for intruders before collapsing on the bed.
The next morning, Valek changed into a basic laborer’s uniform. The black pants had a row of white diamonds down the outside of each leg. A row of white diamonds cut across the chest of the black tunic. Throughout Ixia, laborers were men and women who filled in where extra people were needed for a project or job. They had a variety of skills from construction to harvesting crops, and they frequently traveled from one city to another. In other words, the perfect cover for Valek.
He transferred a few things he’d need into a well-worn rucksack, tied his hair back with an old piece of string and altered his appearance just enough to throw a casual observer off. Most Ixians only knew his name and wouldn’t recognize him. When he exited the garrison, he stopped and rubbed dirt over the white diamonds on his clothes. Satisfied that he looked the part, Valek headed southwest to Gandrel, where the most recent and boldest burglary had occurred.
Six hours later he arrived in town. He reported to the local checkpoint and showed them his papers.
“Reason for visit?” the man asked in a bored voice.
“Repairing fishing nets for the fleet,” Valek answered. Once the cold season ended, the fishermen spent the warming season readying their boats.
The man grunted, stamped Valek’s paper and handed it back all without once glancing at Valek. If the rest of the security personnel matched this man’s attitude, then no wonder the Storm Thieves had no trouble stealing their weapons. Pathetic.
Valek visited the Sail Away Inn next. The innkeeper rented him a room, but the few other workers ignored him. Extra laborers usually arrived at the coast at this time of year. Since supper was a couple hours away, the common and dining room were empty. He waited in his room. It didn’t take long for a servant to knock. She carried towels and a bath kit for him.
Opening the door wide, Valek stepped aside, letting in Agent Annika, who explained about the amenities of the inn until the door closed.
“Where?” Valek asked.
“Four-fifteen Cannery Road, second floor, sir. There’s an entrance in the back, through the alley. Endre’s there now. His shift doesn’t start until later.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded and left. He followed soon after. Every town in Ixia had at least one inn and a security office—the two best places to gather information. Valek had an agent in both. Larger cities warranted more agents. And the agents shared a safe house or apartment as a base for their covert operations.
The yellow paint peeled from the wood of building number four-fifteen, which was wedged in the middle of a row of houses. The pungent odor of fish guts fogged the street. Valek looped around to the alley and climbed the metal ladder to the apartment.
Endre yanked open the door before Valek reached it. The burly man held a dagger, but his fierce expression smoothed with recognition.
“Welcome, sir,” Endre said as Valek entered the small unit—half of it was living space, the other used for work.
Valek noted with approval the maps of the area covering the table with the thieves’ targets already marked. Times, dates and stolen items had been listed next to each.
“Any news, Endre?”
“Since the hit on the security office, no other incidents have been reported, sir.”
“Any progress on finding the thieves’ hideout?”
“No, sir. Security officers from Gandrel, Krillow and Coral Caye have searched every cove, building, boat, port and wooded area.”
Valek studied the map. “Looks like they hit every town along MD-1’s coast. I thought the targets were random.”
“At first they appeared random, but reports were slow coming in from some towns. They didn’t make the connection to the storms right away. But even so, if you look at the times and dates, there’s still no pattern.”
“And no one knows where and when they’ll strike next?”
“No, sir. But Annika is working on finding a few informers. She’ll report back here after the supper crowd.”
“Tell me about the theft of the weapons.”
“They struck in the middle of the night during a nasty downpour. The guys on duty didn’t hear a thing and frankly didn’t think the thieves would have the gall to rob us. Up until that hit, the Stormers took mostly money, equipment, tools and food. But they left nothing behind but puddles on the floor.”
“Stormers?”
“It’s what the officers call them.”
Ah. “Any boot prints?”
“No. Just the water.”
“Fresh or salt?” Valek asked.
Endre’s thick eyebrows smashed together like two caterpillars butting heads. “We didn’t check. I’m assuming fresh from the rain. Why would it matter?”
“You tell me.”
He ran a hand over the short bristle of his black hair. “Salt would mean they came up from the beach.”
