Page 30 of The Shape of my Scar
They gathered in the glass-walled central room, dubbed the “Fishbowl.” Surveillance feeds blinked across one wall. Outside the glass, the rest of the compound was quiet, like a predator waiting to spring. An automated drone did sweeps of the property. Everything was always watching. Everything was always armed.
Lirian was already there, eyes locked on a screen. His fingers danced over the keyboard, fast and fluid.
“We’ve got names,” he said, not looking up while the printer spat out data. “Malcolm. Mid-level scum. Bit-part dealer. Keeps his hands clean, lets his boys do the dirty work. Then this dame, Trish Malcy. Romanian import, exact role unknown. Smart. Cold. Ex-special border force. Probably ex-KGB connections.”
“Site?” Thane asked.
Lirian shook his head. “Still digging. They’ve split them. Shell companies. Burn phones. Could be any industrial estate from here to Croatia. But we’ve narrowed their meeting point down to a coastal warehouse, three nights from now.”
Zel crossed his arms. “We swoop and grab who we can. Call the cops once we’ve got proof and bodies.”
“And the kids?” Maro asked. “Where the fuck are they?”
Silence.
Thane leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice rough. “We find Trish. Let me get inside her head and I’ll figure it out.”
Zel gave him a hard look. “You gonna have a problem fucking her?”
Thane didn’t blink. “She looks decent. I’ll think of blow-up dolls. And I’ll enjoy putting a bullet in her skull once we’re done. It’s not like I have a girlfriend who will complain.”
A grim smile passed between them.
They’d found five of the bastards from the old network so far. None had survived the encounter. None had left a trace that could be followed back to the Horsemen. Only whispers of fear remained.
“Alright. Lirian, put some feelers out and set up a meeting with Malcolm,” Zel said, standing. “We go dark. Two days. Get your heads on straight. Then we move.”
One by one, they filtered out.
Later, Zel stood alone outside, the cold air biting as he lit a cigarette. He needed the burn. The job was fucking with his head.
Behind him, the door creaked, and Thane stepped out, hands in his jacket pockets.
“Still don’t smoke,” he said dryly when Zel offered him the cigarette.
“Still don’t live,” Zel muttered, taking a drag.
“At least I fuck.” Thane stared into the woods. There was silence until he asked the question they had asked themselves a hundred times
“Do you think Dory’s alive somewhere?”
Zel didn’t answer immediately. Then, without turning, he asked, “You want the truth? Or the answer that’ll help you sleep?”
Thane exhaled sharply, rubbing at his chest. He stopped halfway, suddenly aware of the motion, as if it betrayed something.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
Zel glanced at him, flicked ash onto the wind. “Lirian’s stalking the doc again.”
Thane snorted. “Still?”
“Yeah. Blames her for saving him. For touching him. For looking at him like he was worth saving.”
Thane looked away. “He is.”
“I don’t think so.” Zel took another drag, eyes fixed on the trees. “I think none of us are.”
Chapter 15
