Sylvie had a slight frown on her face as she turned to the director. “If he was convicted, how come he found his way here?”
“The conviction was before the investigators were formed, when custodial arrangements were, well, different,” the director told her, beginning to walk towards the front of the house. “Master Rigg managed to escape during a transfer. We don’t take these things lightly,” he assured her. “It’s unfortunate that he’s been free for such a long time.”
“He’s going back to jail?” Donall asked.
“I expect so, yes,” the director answered. “I can’t answer with complete certainty until I’ve spoken to the Conclave, but I expect they will want to add some time onto his sentence as well.”
Making an example of him, Hallie thought, and wondered if the Conclave might also demand that their investigators trawl through the streets of New Hope and Reunion for any other escapees or people accused but not yet convicted.
As they stepped into the house, the director turned to Hallie.
“You’re welcome to join us, Miss Talbot, but I wondered if you’d give Captain Gould a hand with going through Jonah’s office? He’s found a lot of records to piece together.”
“Happy to, sir,” Hallie said, recognising an order when she was given one, and it would be no hardship to indulge her curiosity as to what might be uncovered in Jonah’s records. She spared a moment’s regret for the coffee she’d been looking forward to, then headed into the office.
The office looked quite different in daylight. The shattered glass had been swept up and the curtains pulled back to reveal a temporary repair of heavy-duty, almost transparent plastic sheets replacing the window panes. There was a fire lit, giving out more than enough warmth to counter the winter chill in the air and the draft which Hallie could feel coming around the plastic sheets. The furniture was all old and heavy, possibly dating from the original owners, but Hallie couldn’t see a speck of dust anywhere and wondered who had found time to clean everything. She didn’t think that Jonah had been one for housekeeping.
Elyan Gould was sitting in the chair behind Jonah’s desk, and for a moment Hallie wondered if he’d actually been there all night. Then she realised he wasn’t wearing his flight suit but rather the same type of hard-wearing trousers that the investigators favoured, along with a dark wool jumper. He also looked like he’d had at least some sleep. There were no shadows under his eyes today, and he greeted her with a smile.
“I told Peredur that another pair of hands would be welcome. Did you get the short straw?” he asked.
“In a way, although I am interested to know what’s in here.” Hallie glanced across at the sofa, somehow surprised to find it was empty.
“Mourant woke up not long before dawn. We set up a cot for him across the hall and he’s resting there,” Elyan said.
“Is he going to be alright?” Hallie asked.
“The medics seem to think so, yes.” Elyan got to his feet and came around the desk. “Let me show you what I’ve looked through so far.”
The pilot had made good progress through the mess of Jonah’s office. It was the kind of chaos that made Hallie suspect Jonah had known where things were, but no one else had. Somewhat to her surprise, and in sharp contrast to his lack of tidiness, the smuggler and self-styled governor had kept decent records, almost as if he’d been running a legitimate business.
The pilot had set aside a couple of ledgers from the papers he’d looked through for closer attention from the investigators. The first was a ledger for what Jonah had styledspecial cargo, which made her think of the hut down at the harbour with its metal cages. From the notations, Hallie thought she was right that all of the occupants of those cages had beenveondken. She also approved of Elyan Gould’s instincts in seeing this as something worth spending more time on.
And in another contradiction, the handwriting in the ledgers was mostly neat and precise. She spent a moment wondering if Jonah might have had someone else write the records up for him, but suspected he would not have wanted to have someone else knowing too much about his business. So she worked on the assumption that the handwriting was his.
The other ledger Elyan had pulled out was for something Jonah had titledvolunteers, and reading the notes and entries, Hallie realised he’d been documenting the men he’d sent off to Findo Trask’s fighting rings. There wasn’t much informationthere, but Hallie began to wonder if, taken together with the details that the medical examiner and forensic team had put together, they might one day be able to identify the dead from low city. Perhaps give their families some answers. It gave her a little jolt of hope to add to the events of the day so far.
The pilot had also sifted through a great deal of random bits of paper, and begun to categorise them. There were purchase invoices from a variety of suppliers, some of which seemed to be for boat parts, and some of which seemed to be for food and other basic supplies. He still had a large pile of papers to go through and suggested that Hallie turn her attention to the remaining ledgers.
Hallie settled down to read. The ledgers she opened contained records of goods from weapons and ammunition to food and drink and other supplies such as fuel.
And then, opening another ledger and expecting to find another catalogue of goods and dates, Hallie instead was confronted by a loose page which was mostly taken up by a vivid colour photograph of Brock, his face almost unrecognisable from bruising, one eye swollen shut. Under the image, in crude block capitals, was a brief message.He’s still alive. Do what you’re told if you want him to stay that way.
“What’s wrong?”
Girard’s voice cut through Hallie’s focus and she lifted her head to find that she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, an empty mug of coffee and an equally empty plate beside her. She didn’t remember eating or drinking, or Girard coming into the room. The fire had died down and the room was shaded as if it was late afternoon.
Girard crouched down in front of her. “You made a sound like you were hurt. What did you find?”
“This,” Hallie said, turning the paper and showing him the image and the message. As she lifted that page out of the way,she realised that the front of the ledger contained more loose pages with more photographs and similar messages. “I guess this is how Jonah and Brock kept Rhodda in line.” Then she turned another page and found a familiar address written on the ledger in neat handwriting. She made another sound of distress. “No, it’s not all for Rhodda. This is Devin’s address. See.” She turned the book for Girard to see and another page slipped out. This one had bold handwriting on the back of the image.Findo - This should get the old man’s attention - J.The image was a particularly graphic one of a shirtless Brock showing bruising all over his torso as well as his face.
“So Jonah and Findo were using Devin’s grandson to force his hand, get him to cooperate. Make the shock collars for Findo’s fighters,” Girard said. He settled on the floor in front of her.
“I knew there had to be something,” Hallie said, and became aware she was crying. Her mind was full of the image of Devin as she’d last seen him, tortured to death in the shop where he’d spent most of his life. “Devin thought he was protecting his grandson. He didn’t deserve any of it.”
“No, he didn’t,” Girard agreed. He took the ledger from her with exquisite care. “We’ll take this into evidence. Jonah’s dead, but when we catch Findo Trask, this will be more proof against him.”
“And against Brock,” Hallie said, brushing the tears from her face. “He was in on it, too.”
