“I’ll take a tea.” Maeng said immediately, calling the server over with a snap of her fingers. “When exactly did Jacques send you on this particular wild goose chase?” She shook her head, a little smile carving itself onto that stone visage. “That boy, I swear.”

“This afternoon, actually," I said, finishing my sandwich and wiping errant crumbs onto the plate. “So not very long ago. Just enough to find out that you were hanging out with the dad he hired us to look for.”

The tea was already being brought towards our table. Rather unusually quick service for the Broiler, honestly. Maeng snatched the steaming mug out of the waiter’s hands, holding it tightly in her grip as she tipped it back and took a long pull of tea. I raised my eyebrows. It’s hard not to be impressed by someone gulping down that much boiling liquid.

She put down the tea and sighed, a strange sound with her raspy voice. “We’re getting straight to the point, I see. Okay, then. Jacques, how much did he pay you?”

“A big fat stack of zero-dollar bills. My brother insisted.” A lot of adjectives had sprung to mind for that last sentence, but I really wasn’t in the mood to air my dirty laundry out in public.

“So one of those types, then.” I couldn’t read the exact emotion in her voice. “I hope you can make him understand why I did what I did, then. I’ll say it as simple as I can. I called Jean out there, into that grubby little bar he probably spent half his whole life in, and I paid him enough money for him to leave this City and never come back.”

Maeng stared at me, waiting patiently for a reaction. Ryan mumbled something in his sleep, something like ‘pummeling’, turning his head and burying it deeper in the scarf.

I finally gathered up enough composure to ask a question. “Mind giving me a reason why you did that?”

She shrugged. “The one you’d expect. He was a drunk. A quiet drunk, sure, at least as far I’ve known him. Not the kind to do anything to the family. But not the kind to dig himself out of the hole he’s in, either.” Her voice quavered for a moment, lost in memories. Her eyes were magpie black with that same dark and relentless gleam. “Mina never listened. I don’t think she ever learnt how, that stupid little girl, and that son of hers ain’t much better. So this is the best solution I could come up with, see? Paid him all the money he could possibly spend. Cut him off from them quick and easy. Everyone’s better off that way.”

I twisted my ring again and again, hating myself a little for it. Something about that habit felt too vulnerable to show her, too raw. I didn’t think Jean Rustin had been the man she thought he was, or maybe part of me was hoping he wasn’t. The man had gone home first thing each night, hadn’t he? Only took the money he trusted himself to spend to the bar. Loved his wife and kids from what I could tell, about as much as anyone does.

I shook my head. “So he – he just walked off with the cash? No goodbye call to the family? Didn’t even go home to pick up his wallet or anything?”

She shrugged. “Probably blew a decent chunk of it on paying for his buddies’ drinks. But, you’ll go back to Jacques and Mina now, won’t you? Tell them a good story, one that they’ll buy.”

“It would have to be a better one than the one you just told us, unfortunately.” My brother sat up from the table. His hair was all mussed and his eyes a little groggy, but his voice was crisp and clear as ever. I didn’t have a shadow of doubt he’d been listening for most of that conversation. Bastard.

“Ah. So you’re finally awake.” Maeng said. “You catch up on your beauty sleep, sonny?”

But my brother would not be deterred. “You can’t possibly tell me a man like Jean Rustin would just walk out of his own life without a second thought, Ms. Maeng. For all his faults,” My brother glanced at me then, and I saw his eyes were sympathetic, “I don’t think there’s any indication he’d do such a thing without any preparation. And if he was the type to have a sudden change of heart and start splurging his money… well, that night there wasn’t any evidence of that at all. No record of him even buying anything that night to begin with. A man can’t be ridiculously reckless and endlessly cautious in the course of the same night. But I think you understand that, don’t you? Somehow I doubt someone like you would rush down here in the middle of your shift if you didn’t think there were something, or someone, for us to find out here. I’m willing to bet that roll of money you offered him is still tucked in your wallet right now. ”

“And what if it is?” Her smile turned into a baring of teeth. “What difference does it make, in the wider scheme of things?”

I twisted my ring one last time, then laid my hands flat on the table. “Because if he didn’t disappear for two days because he took your money, it can’t be for a very cheerful reason, can it? Maybe you’re not wrong to think his family would be better off without him. But is that the same thing as thinking he deserves to die? Or that your sister and her family deserve to find out what happened to him from the evening news?”

“I –” Yuna Maeng lapsed into silence. Ryan seemed content for things to stay that way. He’d unwrapped that purple scarf from around his neck, clutching it in his hand like a snake he wished to strangle. He sniffed, muttering a faint word to himself. Just loud enough for me to make out now.

Formalin. That word sparked a memory. But I didn’t have time to unpack it before Yuna took a deep breath. “What do you want me to tell you? I didn’t even know the man all that well.”

“For starters, what he was doing when you left. What was happening around you, if there was anyone else in the vicinity. Every little bit helps.”

“Right. We didn’t part on the best of terms, I guess. He didn’t take too kindly to me trying to pay him off. He was still nursing the beer I’d bought him.” She frowned. “The bar was busy, crowded really, but none of his friends were around yet. That’s why I wanted to meet him early there. You know, get him all comfortable and ready to talk, without anyone else to cut in. And…” Her frown deepened in concentration. “We were sitting in the corner. A bunch of guys were playing pool nearby, but not that near, if you know what I’m saying.”

Her eyes went to Ryan, or rather to what he held in his hand. “And there was someone else, someone wearing a scarf just like that. A little old lady, ’bout as tall as I am, maybe a bit more. I think I’ve seen her around before. You know, the ones who go around collecting old cans and bottles. Oh, and I think she collects second-hand clothes, too.”

*

“Stay where you are this time. Just send me directions, all right? And keep yourself safe.” Ryan cut the call, cursing under his breath, and glanced over at me. I was still counting out change for the taxi driver, who took the money silently and drove off into the distance as quickly as possible. Smart guy.

“I’m guessing that was Theaker?” I asked, following him down the street. He climbed down to the ledge alongside the river, stepping through mountains of garbage bags. My brother just grunted in response, which for him was an unsettling lack of eloquence. He wasn’t exactly walking into lightpoles at this point, but I wasn’t too upbeat about following him underground, either. He tossed the purple scarf in my direction, the fabric fluttering in the air a little before I caught it. “Smell this.”

With a little apprehension, I held it up to my nose. I didn’t expect to find much. Ryan’s trained his nose to be like a bloodhound’s, after all. But there was something there, a smell so faint and musty I probably wouldn’t’ve noticed it at all if he hadn’t brought it up. It was harsh, and a little hospital-like. But also not really?

“It’s Formalin. Basically a liquid form of formaldehyde. Used mostly for preserving living tissues, and occasionally as an embalming agent.” I tried to think of a good reason why junk collectors would be in contact with something like that. “Uh, maybe they picked this off someone who was working with chemicals? You know, like those people who stuff hunting trophies?”

“Maybe.” Ryan agreed, ducking under a stack of rusting rebar. He rubbed his head. “But unfortunately, that’s not the only thing that worries me about Miss Judith and Arjuni. At least hear out this line of thinking, and tell me if I’ve hallucinated something.”

I grinned. “Well, at least you’re willing to admit the possibility at this point.” Ryan shoved back a hanging branch the winter had stripped of leaves. Sure enough, right there was a concrete ramp leading down into the darkness. The cat-comb symbol was marked on it in red. God, even a toddler could probably make it to this spot. And given there was a playground not too far away from here…

“The thing about people like Adrian Aiello is that they tend to prefer meeting all their needs in-house. It’s more reliable, yes, but for them a sense of control is an end in itself. And if he was regularly paying people to shore up his supply, there had to be some kind of reason why they weren’t inducted into his organization by now. So on that alone, there’s reason to look beyond a few normal muggers getting ambitious.” He frowned down at his flashlight. “It’s probably best we go in the dark for this.”

“And I’m going to veto that particular suggestion. It’s not like people won’t hear us down here, anyway.”

“Fine. Here’s my second point: why use the catacombs at all? Sure, they’re big and full of hiding places, but they’re also terrible to navigate and not exactly empty either, especially at this time of year. And you have to remember most of the people we know disappeared were drunks, probably not likely to put up a fight. You could just bundle them into a car and take them to wherever you want. But most of these events happened so close to entrances to the catacombs. That’s a pretty solid indicator something more is going on.”

“Yeah, but counterpoint: I can’t imagine even fully grown men just manhandling a drunkard into some of these entrances. Maybe once they’re in the tunnels, sure, but I’m sure someone would’ve seen them carrying bodies in from the sidewalk. Miss Judi and Miss Juni wouldn’t…” My voice died off as I remembered that monster of a cart, the whole contraption painted bright blue, with that little opening towards the handles. “You don’t seriously think they put people into that thing?”

“I didn’t get a proper look at it.” Ryan admitted, “but it would fit an adult with room to spare, especially if that adult was unconscious. Leading a drunkard outside to a dark spot and bundling them inside wouldn’t be too much trouble, especially if not done alone. And I’m sure for most of their targets they wouldn’t even need to go to such lengths.”

I nodded, weighing it all up in my head. “And pretty much nobody sees those two as a threat, yeah? No one would bat an eye at sharing a drink with one of them, or notice if a little something was dropped into their glass. Holds together well enough.”

“But hardly damning evidence.” Ryan acknowledged. “But I want to remind you of just one more thing. When you first met Miss Arjuni and Miss Judith, do you remember how our conversation with them ended?”

I blinked, straining to remember. “I was talking about how all those rich kids from Doldrum like coming all the way down to Slalom, so they could tell their buddies about how they’d hung around the slums.” Then I recalled how Miss Judi had immediately started coughing her guts out, and her companion had immediately made excuses to leave. “Wait a second, so you’re saying that was the exact moment they realized the last guy they’d picked up might be someone important?”

Ryan winced. “She was clearly acting out the coughs, but I didn’t think too much about it at the time. It could’ve been for any number of reasons, after all. But yes. The timing lines up far too well. They probably found his ID, looked up his name, then panicked and tried to get rid of him as quickly as possible. The nail in the coffin, as far as I’m concerned, is when I called Theaker and he told me that he’d seen Miss Judith and Arjuni around here.” He pointed upwards, “Several old meatpacking factories in this area.”

“Oh.” Add it all together, and I had to admit those two were worth taking a second look at. It also occurred to me that they could still be pushing that cart down these tunnels.” A rat chittered close by. “You should switch off that flashlight now, right?”

“I probably should. We’re getting fairly close to Theaker’s spot. Actually –” I felt him tense next to me, and that was enough to make me immediately draw my gun. It came out cleanly, and I had it raised in my hands just in time to see Miss Juni (the short one) point her own revolver at my brother’s head. It was a Colt Single Action, old and poorly cared for, with spots of rust along the barrel. But I wasn’t willing to bet on it not doing its job, especially since I had no idea where Miss Juni’s companion was until she spoke from behind me.

“Put the gun down, there’s a good boy.” Miss Judi (the tall one) said. “It’s a real shame all this went down the way it did. We made such a muddle of it all, didn’t we, Juni?”

“Oh, we did, and that’s our own fault entire. But that is what pushing your luck gets you, doesn’t it?” Miss Juni shook her head, keeping her gun hand steady and her finger on the trigger. For his part, Ryan looked furious, even humiliated for letting them get this close without noticing. Honestly, in his state I was impressed he’d noticed them at all.

“Really, love,” Miss Judi continued, so close I could swear I felt her breath at my ear. “Just put the gun down. We won’t shoot you down here unless we have to, not with the City’s strike force teams trying to cordon down the whole system. It’s a fool’s game to even try to shut down the catacombs, but enough risks have been taken this evening, don’t you think?”

I took a deep breath and knelt down, sliding my Smith and Wesson onto the floor. I kept the safety off, hoping Judi would do something stupid and shoot herself when she picked it up, but she was remarkably careful as she did it. Just my luck.

When she stepped into view, despite her cheerful smile, her eyes were cold and calculating, already envisioning us on the operating table.

“What’s your blood group, dear? It wouldn’t do you harm to say so, don’t you think? But I won’t insist on the information. It’s an easy test to take, after all.” They told Ryan to turn off his light and provided their own, a dim flickering electric lantern. Marching ahead of them, I couldn’t see anything ahead of me at all.

Ryan would usually be talking constantly at this point, fishing for vulnerabilities. But as we walked, I realized he was struggling to marshal up any plan at all. My mouth went dry at the thought of speaking myself, my mind going again and again to the barrel behind me, to the cold little bullet in the chamber just itching to make its final journey.

My dad once said the foremost skill in war is waiting, even when the adrenalin fades and the dread comes creeping back in. For the first time, I understood what he and Ryan had been trying to tell me. There’s a difference between being a good shot and being a good killer. But it was too late an hour for that revelation, wasn’t it?

They led us through tunnel after tunnel until I noticed there were electric lights above me and white tiles below, until they opened one door and walked us towards another big steel-plated one. I saw Ryan’s eyes widen as he put the pieces together before I did.

Judi wrenched open the door, and I felt the wave of cold before I saw anything. We were shoved inside, and the door was closed with a loud and awful clang. One look at the room, covered in white, made me guess it was a meat locker. It was on the small side, and most of the equipment was gone, except for three dark lumps huddled together for warmth. They didn’t move when we were let in, and part of me was too afraid to check if they were breathing. Not Ryan, though. He was already stumbling forward, about to shrug off his jacket. I reached out and grabbed his arm.

Let me remind you that we were wearing winter gear. Even then, the cold was leaching through my muscles, my fingers already going numb. It was like being submerged in nearly freezing water, and I’m speaking from personal experience here.

“You have your… your lockpicks, right?” I clenched my teeth, which were already on the verge of chattering.

Ryan wavered, glancing towards the bodies, but he nodded. I led him to the door. His fingers kept twitching as he tried to bring something out of his sleeves. There was a glint of metal and something fell, clattering on the ground. I leaned down to pick it up. It was his Swiss Army knife. It was surprisingly compact for the amount of tools he’d ordered to be stuffed into the thing. I’d turned down his offer to order one for me a few months ago. Might as well add that to my list of regrets.

I flicked out the knife attachment, weighing it in my hand. With the blade extended, I was surprised at how light it was, how balanced. Was this thing designed to be thrown?

My brother was already kneeling beside the lock, silvery little picks ready in his hands. It was probably more prudent to just wait and listen for a while. Make sure our captors weren’t having a conversation outside the door or something. But I understood Ryan wanted to get help for the other people here as soon as possible.

Plus, if we waited any longer I wasn’t sure Ryan would be coherent enough to pick the lock properly. Even as it was, it took a few attempts. He dropped the picks more than once. But on the fifth try, I could tell he was making more progress. There were even a few faint clicks as he worked this time. They were rudely interrupted by the sound of a gunshot on the other side of the door. A loud gunshot, unmistakable.

I tossed the knife in my hand, catching it by the blade, just as Ryan’s picks pushed in the last tumbler of the lock. He shoved the door open.

No one outside must have seen that coming, which probably saved both of our lives. At the edge of my vision, I saw someone slumped against the wall. Right at the center was Miss Judi, raising my gun to fire. I threw the knife.

Throwing knives are awful weapons, to say the least. I’ve seen them bounce straight off skin before. But I’d picked the right target, the right knife, and was at the right range. The blade sank into Judi’s eye and she howled, dropping the weapon and clutching at her face. The pistol fell straight to the ground, the force of the impact sending a bullet into the ceiling. The sound of the shot rang through my ears and into my skull. But I was already diving for the gun.

Miss Judi was kneeling against a wall when I got back up. She still had her hands on the knife still wedged in her socket but it was Theaker, Theaker, who was shedding the most blood. They were leaning beside the door, their clothes already soaked black from the bleeding. How had they gotten here? Why had they…?

Ryan was already trying to stench the wound when Miss Juni stepped out from behind the corner. She hadn’t even raised her revolver. Juni glanced at her screaming partner and pursed her lips, as if she’d just burnt an omelette. “Well, there’s no chance the police didn’t hear that now. Hell, I’m sure they’re hearing it up on the sidewalks. It is what it is, I suppose. Well, is there no chance of – ” Her hand went into her coat, quick as a cobra. But Ryan had told me about that trick before, and my eye is even quicker.

I shot her in the head. Three times, it turns out, before the body hit the ground. I’d do it another thousand times if I had to.

I’ve had to dredge that memory up more times than I can count, for all the friendly and unfriendly questioning, and for the sessions spent on the couch. And all that remembering has blurred it all. What comes to mind now, more than her face or the killing, is the numbness around the memory. That quiet little void that never really fades.

*

Theaker got a bullet lodged right in the clavicle, and after some ointment and a bandage, they were all right. One of the three people who’d been shut up in the meat locker wasn’t so lucky, and the other two weren’t exactly in glowing health, either. And that’s not even bringing up everything left in the rest of that little building, all the rooms I had been carefully led past up to the surface.

I got through the first round of questions right after Theaker started theirs. Even afterwards, I didn’t have the courage to go up to them. Who knew what would have happened if they hadn’t followed us? Maybe we would’ve gotten out, maybe we wouldn’t. But they still thought we were worth risking everything for. Even though we… even though I, had done nothing to deserve it

How are you even supposed to respond to that? ‘Gee, thanks a bunch’?

One of the nicer policemen had actually driven my car here when I tossed them the keys. I was drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, looking at the book I’d left on my dashboard, and thinking.

Ryan opened the car door, nearly collapsing into the car seat as he pulled on his seatbelt. “Judith – her name’s Judith Whitman, as it turns out – she might be willing to speak against Aiello. There’s probably a lot of evidence of their transactions in that building too, though it’s going to be hard to make sure Aiello’s friends in the department don’t get their hands on it first.”

I turned the car key, feeling the vehicle shudder to life. There’d been a short snowfall in the hours we’d spent underground, blanketing everything in white and grey. “It sounds like there’s a lot of maybes there.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t downplay it, at least.

“Rustin and the other woman, they’re still in the ICU, right? Do you think they’ll pull through. Ah, what am I saying, how the hell would you know? But I guess I had to ask, get some idea if we made any difference – ”

I couldn’t sustain anything more than that, thinking about Jacques and Mina and little Jeanette. My eyes went to the book still lying on the dashboard. Strange Endings, by Dean Gage. It had been my little book club’s last attempt at a concrete discussion. The book was about our Sun swallowing the Earth, and the heat death of the universe, and every other inescapable ending that would happen across the next few billion years. It had led to pretty much a whole round of existential crises, and a subsequent collective ranking of candies to bring up people’s spirits.

That’s just where that logic ends, doesn’t it? If nothing really lasts, then everything that matters is contained in those beautiful little moments. And in the people who are made up of those moments. They're all we have.

“I’m sorry.” My brother said, his eyes still closed. “I was off of my game today, and I… led you down to the catacombs. Nearly got you killed. There’s no forgiving that.”

“Hey, you know you can’t tell me what I can or can’t do, right? We did something good today. Just keep yourself together, all right? Get some sleep, slap some more paint on those weird little canvases of yours, visit a concert or two…”

“Hmph.” He chuckled. “You’re right. I really have been neglecting my hobbies, haven’t I? Not to mention friends, dating… maybe I should give Elvira another call. I was kind of hoping to see her today, actually, but things didn’t pan out. Oh well.”

I frowned. I’d heard that name before. It was familiar. Too familiar. A faint, deeply irritating face came to the forefront of my mind.

“Elvira? You mean Elvira Presley? Detective Elvira Presley?”

I glanced towards him, about to demand an exploration, but this time he was well and truly asleep.