Border Lines (Reachers Book 2) Page 5

  “Just three votes?”

  “All three. If there is any disagreement, then the whole decision goes to government and things get a lot more complicated for me. Everybody attending the meeting must agree that my proposal is sound and should be implemented immediately,” she said. “And I have to stay out of it. If they suspect I was even remotely connected to manipulating the vote I'll lose everything. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Charlie said and rubbed his face. “You know who the men are?”

  “I can provide you with names. You understand that is where my help ends. I will give you half your money upfront and then we don't speak until the vote is cast. My men will not protect you. I will have no association to you. Nobody can suspect I am in any way connected with you. Reachers and border control officials are not a good match.”

  Charlie smiled. “You picked us because we killed Pinky. Nobody would suspect we're on the same side.”

  She nodded. “That's right. You'll also be travelling back and forth across the border so I can highlight what a danger the current system is, in case anyone has any doubts.”

  “Why are they voting against you?” Rachel asked. It was a good question.

  Riva sighed. “I honestly don't know. The proposal is solid. I'm going to save them millions and my men will do a far better job. This is a good deal and that's how I secured the other nine. I didn't have to bribe or threaten anyone. But this whole situation is happening too quickly to work out the how's and why's.”

  “Okay, we'll get it done,” Charlie said.

  “What about Darcy?” Rachel snapped and Charlie wasn't sure who she was angry with. “Are you going to hold him here to make sure we get the job done?”

  “If you have a better place to take him be my guest,” Riva replied. “He's welcome to recover here. Darcy is an old friend. And I'm heartless Rachel, but I have no intention of killing my family priest.”

  Riva checked her watch. “The vote takes place in six days. We'll meet back in the old church when the job is done on day seven. You'll get the rest of your money then.”

  “And we're supposed to take your word on that?” John said. “Your old man wasn't so keen on paying us for a job well done last time.”

  “And I'm not going to ask for the money you stole from him. I am not Pinky, and I do my business very differently. So yes, you will have to take my word.”

  She handed Charlie a file. “This is everything I have on the objectors.”

  Charlie opened it. The first photograph was a man in his forties. He looked familiar, but Charlie couldn't place him.

  “Harvey O'Connor. He owns the Voice, edits it too, at least he claims that's what he does. I met him recently and he was hostile. But he's an asshole to everyone, I don't think I'm getting any special treatment.”

  “So you don't know why he would block you?” Charlie asked.

  “Aside from trying to piss me off? No. He's never been interested in national security before. He's only on the council because he owns the London media.”

  The next photograph was a face Charlie immediately recognised. He glanced at his brother, just briefly, forewarning him of who was coming.

  “That is Colonel Mal Moore. He's the big power in homeland security. So far the rest of the board are more interested in the savings I can make to Moore's potential security hazards, but if he keeps talking someone will eventually start listening. Even if he votes yes this man is going to be a problem.”

  Charlie dared another look at John. John couldn't see the picture – he didn't need to – both men had Colonel Moore's face imprinted on their memories.

  “Okay, one we want to silence quickly. What about the last one?”

  The last was younger.

  “Now this one is a mystery. He's new to the board. A healthcare spokesman. His predecessor left under a cloud, something about another man. Anyway this guy, Doctor Janus Curtis, is standing in. He'll vote in this decision before they appoint his replacement. All I know about him is he's the head of Great London General Medical Centre and he's hinted that he will vote against me, although again I have no idea why.”

  Charlie closed the file. He'd read it and re–read over the next few hours until he memorised every detail.

  “First we'll find out why they're objecting. After that,” Charlie paused. “What kind of action are you wanting? Do you want these guys taken out?”

  Riva sat back and eyed Charlie with interest. She was trying to work him out and that made him shift slightly to push up his bravado.

  “Nobody can know that I had anything to do with the outcome of the vote. Nobody can call the final decision into disrepute. You get me that result, you can dress them up in tutus and hang them from the border wall for all I care.” She rose, drawing the meeting to an end. “If you compromise my position, I will have you killed. If you try to betray me, I will have you killed. We will not speak again. You will not come here, you will not try to contact me. If you pull it off, you can pick up your money and anything that has passed between us will be dealt with.”

  Charlie rose too, Rachel and John followed. Charlie shook her hand. There was nothing further to say.

  With the file in hand he marched to the car. Riva's men ignored them. He got in the passenger seat while John started the engine. As soon as they hit the main gate Rachel leaned forward.

  “Do we vote whether we take the job?” she said sarcastically.

  “It's a good job.”

  “Working for Riva.”

  Charlie glanced at his brother who was maintaining a firm staying out of it stare.

  “This is what we do and part of my job is to get us work. I'm good at this Rach you've got to trust me, it's about the only thing in life I am bloody good at nowadays.”

  She sat back, hopefully satisfied. “So are you two going to enlighten me?”

  “About what?

  “About the little look you gave each other when Riva was talking about the colonel. You know him don't you?”

  “Oh yeah, we know him. It looks like all of our dark past is being remembered today. John you find us somewhere to hole up for the week, somewhere comfortable. Drop me and Rach off, we'll meet you on the border, we've got some things we need to attend to before we cross.”

  John frowned, but he knew better than to argue.

  10

  When Rachel lived in S'aven she avoided the outside as much as possible. The streets had never been a safe place for anyone and she was always aware of how easy a target she could be. When the lights went out the nocturnal predators went hunting and anything small and weak was easy prey. She was used to walking quickly, being aware of everything around her and focusing only on the road ahead. Using her powers in public was dangerous and, before she met Charlie and John, she was always too scared to do it. But now she was strolling through the market place and it was liberating. Rachel thought she would feel afraid. She thought at least she would have taken her steps more cautiously. But she was a different person now and it seemed every threatening shadow realised just how dangerous she was.

  Charlie walked alongside her. His walking was getting better and if they kept up his physiotherapy he might even make it without the crutch one day. Although if Rachel was honest she would just settle for him staying sober. It hadn't been easy keeping the addiction at bay, especially when they had to hide it from John. She reassured herself that they were still fighting strong. Charlie was open with her, albeit subtly. He'd hold her hand now and again when he felt vulnerable and she'd push the addiction away for him.

  She felt his hand reach for hers. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He smiled and shook his head. “Actually I thought I'd give you some support for a change. This is your old stomping ground after all.”

  “No, this was Rachel Aaron's old home. Rachel Smith is a newcomer.” She winked at him and squeezed his hand. “You sure you're okay? You said you were reliving some old memories earlier. With your past that's never a good thing.”


  “Nothing I can't handle,” he replied. “You want to double check? Dip into my head and see if I'm about to relapse?”

  He was serious. That was their deal. He'd tell her the truth and if she doubted him she'd read his mind and maybe even take it over if he was about to do something stupid. The trust he placed in her was immense and a responsibility she didn't take lightly. If Charlie hit the drugs again they were all done for.

  “No, I trust you.” Which was mostly true – she trusted that he was trying.

  “Are you sure?” he said.

  “You mean because I wasn't happy about you taking the job without asking us?”

  He stopped walking, letting the crutch take his weight. “This is how we operate. I take the jobs. I know what we can do and I know what risks are worth taking. It's important that we act as a collective, even if we're not. Our clients need to feel like there is a leader and I've always taken that role. You have to trust that I'm not going to do anything stupid. John does, that's about the only thing that he does trust.”

  But would he if he knew you had been making those decisions high or in withdrawal, she thought.

  “John said you knew who hurt Darcy,” she said, changing the subject.

  “I was hoping you weren't going to ask me,” he confessed with a slight laugh. He started walking again. “It isn't a secret or anything. I would have told you if Riva wasn't there.”

  “Then why were you hoping I wouldn't ask?”

  “Because Sol is a story I don't like reliving unless I absolutely have to. I will tell you, I'll tell you everything. Just not now. Let's concentrate on the job.”

  She agreed with a broad, infectious smile. “So you going to tell me where we're going or is that a big mystery too?”

  “Last job we pulled we screwed up. I'm not making that mistake again.”

  “Yeah, that's great, but I was sort of hoping for a location.”

  “Promise you won't tell John?”

  She eyed him with suspicion. “Where are we going?”

  “Promise me and I'll tell you.”

  “Fine, I promise I won't tell your brother – who by the way trusts you to make all the decisions.”

  He nodded, satisfied. “We're going to talk to Roxy.”

  “Roxy? As in the Roxy who sold me out! Are you crazy?”

  He laughed. “Probably.”

  “John's going to kill you. He has made a list of all the things he's going to cut off Roxy the next time he sees him. Charlie, he even put the list in order.”

  “I know, that's why John is looking for somewhere to sleep and we're here instead. All we're going to do is ask him a couple of questions.”

  “Why? We can't believe a word he says!”

  He pulled her close and ruffled her hair. “That's why I brought you.”

  Lulu's screamed out in neon pink over a shiny black door. The club sank to the depths of S'aven, dipping two floors underground into a sordid underworld. The building had sustained fire damage in the upper bedrooms, most of which were still under construction. But a few of the windows flashed glimmers of light and lewd exchanges in the four storeys above. It was a slender building, well kept despite the obvious burn marks and, with the other surrounding pubs and clubs barely able to keep panes in windows, Lulu's was obviously the glamorous beauty spot in S'aven's lust–filled smile.

  A bouncer, as big as the doorway he was guarding, blocked their way. He was one of Riva's, dressed in her patented body armour and logo. It was pretty clear she meant what she said about her not helping, the bouncer refused to move aside for them, despite Charlie's protests – Rachel was wearing trainers and unless she took them off they weren't getting in. Rachel reached out and touched the bouncer's arm – a subtle gesture with enough power behind it to force a man three times her size to step aside and not think twice about it. She loved being able to use her powers like that, especially when she could show off in front of Charlie.

  Inside Lulu's the theme was animal print. The patches, stripes and patterns made Rachel dizzy, but the rest of the punters were too drunk to care that their drinking hovel looked like the inside of Doctor Dolittle's nightmares. And who else but Rachel would be focusing on the decor when mostly naked men and woman tottered around with drink trays and smiles promising a thousand sins? Her eyes focused on a set of abs as it manoeuvred around the tables until Charlie nudged her impatiently.

  “Focus,” he hissed.

  There were rich men and women lolling around in secluded booths, with whores or groupies or just people having a good time. She guessed they were from London, slumming it in S'aven, where depravity was a little easier to find and then leave behind. But Lulu's wasn't totally depraved – not like some of the whorehouses in the neighbourhood. These whores were here freely. Clean and tested frequently too. Lulu ran a tight ship and she looked after her staff, this much even Rachel knew.

  If they pulled off the job they could blow their whole fortune in Lulu's in just one night and, as Rachel stared at the party around her, she couldn't deny she wasn't tempted. But then her eyes were drawn to the stage at the back of the room and the man clutching a microphone like it was keeping him from falling off. His voice was rich with broken promises and tainted with despair and arrogance. There was a drunken slur to his words. By the look of him he'd been drunk for days. His blonde hair had tangled in places, falling over his face as he dipped to reach the lower notes. Circles adorned his eyes, marking his drinking binge like tree rings – how many days? How many weeks? And, as she looked closer, Rachel swore it was the same suit he was wearing when he put her into the boot of Riva's car.

  “Roxy looks rough,” she murmured.

  Charlie frowned, more concerned than she'd expected given what Roxy had done to them.

  “Let's get a table,” he said, gesturing to a free one in the centre of the room.

  They weaved around the other tables and secured a seat with a prime view of the stage. On closer inspection Roxy looked worse. This wasn't just a few late nights. This was something deep rooted. There was sadness in his eyes and bitterness in his voice. As he sang out the words Rachel realised he meant every morose thing he said. When she had last seen him he was closing the boot of Riva's car and she was so angry with him for that, but to see him like this, so lost and vulnerable, made her relent just a little.

  She stared up at him transfixed by the sudden change in character. The confident outgoing Roxy was gone. He barely looked at anyone, keeping his eyes on the distant bar or just closed. Rachel's glare grew deeper. She concentrated, filtering out the sounds around her, fixing her attention on Roxy and only Roxy until she could feel him vibrating in her head. Look at me! She yelled internally and Roxy's eyes snapped open. He saw her and confusion turned to surprise, stumbling through his song. Quickly, he recovered himself and twisted the microphone stand in his hand. Putting on the bravado she recognised, he resumed his song like a different person. But it was all an act and they both knew it.

  He tipped his head to them and finished his song. The crowd noticed the change in music and applauded loudly, bellowing for an encore until a voluptuous woman wearing nothing but a yellow python started belly dancing. Roxy kissed the dancer on the cheek, patted the snake, and jumped off the stage. He waved to the barman and sat down at the table with them – a pretend king in a pretend castle.

  “Try as I might I'll never compete with Belinda,” he said, gesturing to the woman.

  “Is Belinda the snake or the dancer?” Charlie replied.

  Roxy laughed and his drink arrived. “You guys want anything, on the house?”

  “No, we're good,” Charlie responded and Rachel scowled at him – it didn't matter who did what to whom, you never turn down a free drink.

  “So what brings you this way? I take it, given I'm still breathing, your handsome brother didn't come with you.” Roxy checked behind him just in case.

  “He's busy. We came for some information, figured you might owe us some of your omniscient insig
ht.”

  “Owe you? How'd you figure that, I gave you my share?”

  Rachel folded her arms. “You nearly got me killed.”

  He grinned at her, a little of his old self returning. “Tell you what, I'm in a good mood anyway. Ask away and I'll see what I can do.”

  Rachel assumed this was as good as she would ever get to him confronting what he did and apologising.

  “What's happening with Riva Morris?”

  Roxy scowled, pondering the implications of the question before he answered. “Riva, now that is quite the success story. You know I think she should be thanking you after what you did for her. With that good for nothing husband of hers in the ground that woman has gone from strength to strength. That little security unit of hers took over the import watch, stopped two attacks in a month. And suddenly she's offering men to everyone. Hell, we've even got one on the front door, everybody does.”

  “And you're comfortable with that?” Rachel asked.

  “Listen, they haven't got a sense of humour between them, but I tell you they do their job brilliantly. We have no trouble now, it doesn't matter who they send. They're always good. Mum swears by them. Ex–military the whole lot, brains fried on whatever it is the military gives soldiers these days, but they follow Riva's instructions to the letter. What's your interest? You worried she might be out for revenge – I doubt it, but if you want to be sure ask Mum, they've been pretty friendly since old Pinky Morris had his brains blown out. She's around if you want to speak to her.”

  “That would be good.”

  As though he were eager to get away from them Roxy skipped off backstage. A moment later he poked his head back out and beckoned them through.

  Backstage was where the real party was happening. Girls and boys led excited punters through red corridors, giggling manically as though it was a game. Rachel was pushed aside as two twins skipped through, breasts bouncing in unison. They both slapped Roxy on the backside and laughed when he told them to get back to work. She nudged Charlie. “Focus!” she said and moved after Roxy, up a flight of stairs and into the back rooms marked strictly private.