“Nothing yet. Human, as you told the director, and we agree with your assessment that they aren’t local,” Frollo answered. “No chips in them, and their fingerprints and descriptions don’t ping on our database.”
“You thought that they had some training?” Girard asked Hallie.
“I did.” Hallie took a sip of the coffee. The hit of caffeine was barely muted by the milk. “Not the same training that you get, but they were able to fight back.” She frowned slightly, looking across the table at Girard. “I’m happy to try and question them, but if they aren’t talking, I wonder if we could get information another way? Would you be able to find out where they’ve been staying?”
Girard’s brows lifted and he sat back in his chair, gaze going unfocused for a breath or two before a smile lifted his mouth. “Oh, yes. I’ve never tried that before, but I’m getting a clear hit and direction.”
“Then let’s go,” Frollo said, putting down his bright yellow mug.
“Any chance I could get a shower and change of clothes before we head out?” Hallie asked, realising she was still dressed in her soft house clothes, and her shoes, at least, were not suitable for moving around outside. “And, perhaps, some breakfast?” The meal the night before had barely begun before the shooting started.
“Of course,” Girard said, before Frollo could speak. “If you want to shower and change just now, we’ll have some breakfast ready for you when you come back down.”
As good as his word, when Hallie came back down to the kitchen, dressed in another outfit of wide-legged linen trousers and knee-length tunic, there was a plate of food and another mug of coffee waiting for her. Frollo and Girard had been joined by one of the women and another man from the tactical team. They had a paper map spread out across one end of the kitchen table and Frollo and Girard seemed to be discussing approaches to the target building.
Hallie took her place, feeling a little self-conscious about eating in front of the others, but relaxed when the man and woman took seats at the table as well, their own plates in front of them.
The meal was scrambled eggs and slices of fresh bread which had been lightly toasted. To thehochlenaround her it was probably a simple, everyday meal, but Hallie still hadn’t got used to the easy availability of eggs. There were very few chickens in low city. She tried to savour the meal even as hunger drove her to finish it quickly.
When all the plates were empty, the woman stood up and fetched a cardboard box from one of the counters on the side.
“Investigator Abbott asked me to get this for you, ma’am,” she said, and put the box down in front of Hallie.
Brows lifting, Hallie lifted the lid and was immediately overwhelmed by a cacophony of scents all vying for attention. Looking inside, she saw a collection of small, stoppered glass vials, packed with what looked like straw. Lifting one out, she read the label. “Vanilla root. Oh. These are spices.”
“You said you wanted some for Rosalia. I asked Dechtire if she wouldn’t mind getting some from the market. She’s a good cook in her own right,” Girard said.
“Thank you,” Hallie said to Girard, smiling, and then turned to the woman. “And thank you as well. Rosalia will absolutely love this.” She looked back into the box and tried to calculatejust how many vials there were and what the cost was. She knew Girard well enough to understand that he’d have given Dechtire more than enough money for the purchases, so she’d have to ask Girard what she owed him later, when they didn’t have an audience, and thank him again. For now her heart warmed. It wasn’t just that he’d remembered her mentioning that she’d wanted to get a gift for Rosalia, but also that he’d known enough about the people around him to select Dechtire in particular for the task. Hallie suspected that a lot of his own people overlooked Girard as being a bit quiet, and not as classically good-looking as manyhochlenmen were. But she far preferred his thoughtful manner and kindness to anyone else she had met.
“I did some other shopping, too,” Dechtire said. “Investigator Abbott asked me to get something I thought you might like. Said you hadn’t had time to shop, and probably wouldn’t get time now.” She picked a paper-wrapped, thin package from the counter and set it on the table next to Hallie. “Quite honestly, I couldn’t resist either. I got a couple for myself. I got a selection for you, though. Hope you like them.”
“Oh,” Hallie said, drawing the word out as she opened the paper wrapping to reveal some of the patterned silk scarves she’d admired at the market. “These are beautiful.”
“The artisans who make them here are second to none,” Dechtire said.
Hallie picked up the first of the scarves and stared at the fine silk. It was deep red with threads of silver around the edge and a deep blue pattern of stylised leaves across the body. There was also a deep blue scarf with silver and deep purple that immediately made her think of Cotovatre and a golden-toned one that made her think of Rosalia. The final scarf was spun of the palest lilac with more silver at the edges and patterns of slender lines of purple and green.
“These are just wonderful. Thank you so much,” Hallie said to Dechtire. “Really wonderful choices.”
“It was hard to go wrong,” the woman said, a hint of colour in her face. “But, thank you, ma’am.”
“And thank you,” Hallie said, turning to Girard. He smiled back at her.
“I’m just sorry we won’t have time for you to go and look yourself,” he said.
“I think this makes up for it,” Hallie said, carefully folding the scarves away and setting the paper bundle on top of the box. “So, what’s the plan?”
Chapter seven
Alittlewhilelater,Halliewas crammed into the black van that Oreste had driven the day before, with Dechtire in the driving seat. Frollo had suggested that he take the wheel and had been unanimously voted down by every single member of his team. Far from being offended, he’d just grinned and nominated Dechtire for the job. As no one protested, Hallie guessed that the woman was a far safer driver than Frollo. Even with the safe driving, Hallie felt a pang of sorrow when she looked at the driving seat and saw it wasn’t Oreste.
The basic plan was extremely simple. Go to the address that Girard would lead them to, then search it for information about the attackers. There was a lot more detail underneath it, but Hallie liked the directness of Frollo’s approach. She also wasn’t surprised that he’d wanted to move, to go straight to the address, rather than waiting to see what information she and Girard might have been able to get out of the captives they had left back at the house.
Every member of the tactical team was in the van, along with her and Girard. Frollo had made sure that the two prisoners were as secure as possible but had decided he’d rather risk leaving them than go into an unknown situation without his full team.
The house which they eventually reached was towards the outer edge of the city, where the buildings were all single-storey, apparently made of mud and looking as if they might collapse at any moment. The roofs were made of sheets of corrugated metal or strips of blue plastic that flapped in the faint breeze and Hallie shuddered to think how unbearably hot it must get inside. All the same, this close to the edge of the city, there was an increased risk of being smothered by sand blown off the desert, so some kind of covering was needed.
The address that Girard led them to was one of the larger buildings, its walls a muddy red colour, the pitched roof made of sheets of metal, but with several openings that might be for ventilation. Under orders from Frollo, Hallie and Girard waited beside the van in the early morning heat as the tactical team entered the building. It didn’t take long before Frollo appeared in the doorway and beckoned them in.
