Then she was back on the ground. She exchanged brief, sober greetings with the forensic team and medical examiner but followed Girard’s cue and walked past them to where the director was standing next to one of the large, black vans that the investigators favoured.
Even though she’d noticed how worn out he’d looked over the video link, seeing the director in person was still a shock.Peredur Roth seemed to have aged in the two weeks since Hallie had last seen him in person. There were deep purple shadows under his eyes and fine lines around his eyes and mouth that she was sure hadn’t been there before. All the same, he managed a warm smile for them.
“I’m glad to see you both back, more or less in one piece,” he said.
“Good to be back, sir,” Girard said.
“I wish there was time to let you have a day or two to rest and recover, but we’re on the clock.” The smile had faded and the director looked deadly serious.
“What’s happened?” Hallie asked, apprehension trailing across her skin along with the chill wind.
“We’ve assessed that there is at least one credible threat against the Conclave for their meeting that’s due to start the day after tomorrow,” the director said.
“That sounds bad, but what does it mean?” Hallie asked.
“It means that someone, or some group, has threatened to kill the whole Conclave if we can’t stop them before then. And, no, the Conclave won’t postpone their meeting. They expect us to deal with the threat and keep them safe,” the director answered.
No wonder he was looking exhausted. And there was no point in protesting, or insisting that the Conclave must change its mind and see sense. These were the highest ranked among the elite, the rulers of the world. They wouldn’t bow down to a threat, even on the advice of the director.
“Good thing I got some sleep on the plane, then,” Hallie said, turning to the director. “Where do we start?”
The start turned out to be a brief journey in one of the vans from the landing strip back to the investigators’ offices. Hallie had only seen the white, modern building from the outside on the day that she and Girard had taken the helicopter to Paradise, and found herself distracted as Peredur led them through a pair of doors leading off the parking lot and into a high-ceilinged space that was far more refined than any office building Hallie had ever been in before. There was a set of frosted glass doors to one side with the words Science Division etched on them, and Hallie noted both the camera above the door and the keypad to open the doors. She assumed that was where the forensic team and medical examiner worked and wondered if someone would give her a tour at some point. She didn’t particularly want to see the mortuary, but she was curious about the equipment that Isoud and the others had for their work.
Peredur led them in a different direction, through another set of frosted doors with another camera and keypad, and along a short, wide corridor to a gleaming wooden door. The door opened onto a large meeting room, which seemed to be their destination and despite the tiredness from the long flight and change in time zone, Hallie found herself disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to see more of the building. She would have to content herself with the meeting room, which was a novelty in itself - she’d seen this sort of room in television shows, but never in real life. It had a large table with a gleaming wooden surface almost entirely covered with papers and computers and tablets and evidence bags. There was one row of windows that looked out onto a wide expanse of grass bounded at a distance by a tall stone wall, but other than that the meeting room walls were covered with a few large screens, all of them blank just then, and large cork boards with photographs and notes on colour paper and red string.
As they walked into the room, Peredur’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and Hallie heard a muffled word that sounded like a curse. “I need to take this.” He headed back into the corridor, bringing the phone to his ear. “Nanters Gable, what can I do for you?”
The door swung shut behind Peredur, cutting off the rest of the conversation. Hallie racked her memory for a moment as the name was familiar, then placed it as one of the Conclave members. She couldn’t put a face to the name, and couldn’t help but wonder just how many Conclave members were calling Peredur on a daily basis.
She didn’t spend more time worrying about that as she had the contents of the room to study.
As Hallie moved to the long wall, she saw that the first board was covered with familiar images. The photographs that she’d taken back in Minamaan, before the house had burned. There were red circles around the abbreviation that she and Girard had discussed - DYN32 - and the handwritten noteFreedom through fire. Next to the photographs was a sheet of coloured paper with a series of abbreviated notes that made no sense to Hallie at first glance. Some kind of indexing system, she guessed, tying into the other boards and papers on the table.
She turned back to the room to find that Girard had taken a seat near the head of the table, at a spot that was relatively clear of papers, and concern spiked. It was not like Girard to rest when there was work to be done. The director was back in the room, standing at the head of the table, frowning down at his phone screen. He glanced up, perhaps sensing Hallie’s attention, then looked at Girard.
“You’re a bit pale,” Peredur said, concern shading his voice. “Do you need medical attention?”
“It will wait for a bit,” Girard answered. There was a tightness to his mouth and an unhealthy sheen to his skin that just deepened her worry.
“We’ll make this quick and then I’ll turn you over to the medics,” Peredur said, and held up a hand as if forestalling Girard’s protest. “No argument. We need everyone ready to work.”
“Alright,” Girard said. The lack of argument did nothing to calm Hallie’s worry.
“Before I forget, we’ve set up a new phone for you. We cloned your number and it has everything from the last backup.” Peredur dug into his pocket and handed over a sleek, thin mobile phone. It was the sort of cutting-edge technology that was out of reach for everyone in low city. Girard accepted the device without a second glance, tucking it away into his pocket. Then the director looked across at Hallie. “I’d like to hear from you both about what happened.”
Hallie took a seat opposite Girard and paused while one of the junior investigators - Dudon Sharpe, a young man she had met before - brought in a large tray laden with a huge coffee pot, mugs, and savoury muffins. The young man left the tray at Peredur’s request and headed out of the room. Hallie barely noticed, distracted by the scent of fresh baking as Peredur handed out coffee. She had inhaled the first muffin before realising that she hadn’t answered the director’s implied question.
“Sorry,” she said, heat rising in her face. She gave one longing look at the second muffin on her plate, then turned to the director and began as concise a summary as possible of the two visits to the house where the group of attackers had been staying.
By the time she’d finished, Girard had finished his share of the baking and had a slightly better colour in his face.
“Anything to add?” Peredur asked, looking at Girard.
“Not about the house, no, sir. Hallie has very good observational skills. But I may be able to add something about the equipment and the people who came after us.”
“Go on,” Peredur invited, standing up to refill their coffee mugs.
“They reminded me a lot of house security,” Girard said. “They were proficient with their weapons, and had clearly had some training, but not the kind of discipline or advanced training of our tactical team or any formal military group. If they’d had that kind of training, they would have stayed together as they went through the house and we wouldn’t be here, having this conversation.”
