40

  “Wait, hold on… say that again.”

  “Which bit?”

  “The bit about the giant fucking Goblin in Haney’s warehouse!”

  “Oh right yeah,” Wally said, looking instinctively at Timmy.

  "Well, we were searching the warehouse, and as we were going upstairs, he came down.” Timmy explained.

  “The Goblin?” Conway said.

  “Yes sir.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “‘E was a massive bloody Goblin,” Wally said. “Like all green with big tusks and a fancy suit.”

  “A fancy suit?”

  “Yeah like wot Sarpele was wearin’ when we went undercover in that noodle spot. Looked proper tasty.” Wally said.

  “Was he armed?” Conway asked.

  “Probably,” Timmy said. “But he didn’t draw a weapon.”

  “But he definitely ‘ad one,” Wally added.

  “And what did he say?”

  “Not much,” Timmy replied. “He said he was just a concerned citizen seeing if we needed any help and that he was going to leave.”

  “And you let him?”

  Timmy and Wally looked down at their shoes. Conway sighed and sat back. He knew that was unfair. They were two rookie officers that had already been beaten half to shit; they didn’t stand a chance against a red blooded Goblin gangster by themselves.

  “It’s alright boys, that’s not on you.” Conway breathed heavily and looked up at the ceiling, his brow creased in thought. “What the hell would a Goblin be doing at a Human gangsters warehouse on the Landlord’s side of town?”

  “We think he was the same Goblin from the Gnommish restaurant,” Timmy said.

  “What?” Conway said, sitting up.

  “The one who was all cut up and bleedin’,” Wally said.

  “Chaw’Drak?”

  “Yeah ‘im.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure,” Wally said.

  “We got a pretty good look at him,” Timmy added. “I’m sure it was him.”

  “Ruf’Gar Chaw’Drak was in that warehouse?” Conway tapped his index finger on the desk and narrowed his eyes, the deep wrinkles on his forehead furrowing in thought. “First he’s turning up at the Gnome’s restaurant now he’s breaking into a warehouse being used to house Burn? What hell is going on in this city?”

  Timmy and Wally looked at each other and then back at Conway before shrugging.

  "Did he have anything with him?" Conway asked. "Did you see him take anything?"

  Timmy and Wally shook their heads in unison.

  "So what was he doing there?" Conway mused, more to himself than Timmy and Wally. This time they both shrugged their shoulders in unison.

  “I think it’s time we bring in Chaw’Drak,” Conway said.

  “You want us to do it?” Wally said, his eyes growing wide.

  “No,” Conway said, almost chuckling at the look on his face. “I’ll get some units to bring him in. I’ve got a different job for you two. The crates we found in Haney’s had Gnommish scrawl all over it. We also found this.” He held up a crumpled shipping manifesto. “We’ve had our own boys look at it, and they’ve translated it, but it sounds like a bunch of gibberish and names of places they don’t recognise. I’ve got a Gnommish snitch from out in the Foundries. He’s a cagey little sod, but he’s harmless enough. I want you boys to go down there and show him this. See what light he can shed on who we’re dealing with here. His name’s Coilus Depry, he’s one of them Rebel Kingdom Gnomes, so we don’t have to worry about anything getting back to the Triad. I’ve already sent word to him, he’ll be expecting you.”

  “Yessir.” Timmy and Wally said.

  “And I’ll be having a word with Ruf’Gar Chaw’Drak. Time to find out what he’s up to.”

  *

  “Is that it?” Wally asked, staring out of the window of the police wagon.

  “Yeah, must be.” Timmy said, poking his head out of his own window.

  Even the driving rain couldn’t stop the churn of the Foundries monstrous chimneys. The chimneys of the megafactories came into view first. They belched black and grey smoke into the miserable sky, signalling their arrival at the edge of the Foundries. Timmy and Wally stepped out of the police wagon and found themselves being given a wide berth. The misshapen denizens of the Foundries glared at them suspiciously with their haunting red eyes and scurried away into the labyrinthine alleys of their homes. The rain had made the Foundries somehow more miserable to live in than they already were. For once, ash wasn’t falling from the sky, but that was the only positive of the rain. The streets had never been properly cobbled, and now they had turned into rivers of mud. Black tar dripped from the building as decades of ash and soot were finally cleansed from the building fronts, mixing with the mud to create a mire that would be impossible to remove from the bottom of your boots. The noise was almost unfathomable. Due to the metal construction of almost every building, the tinny sound of rain pinging from them echoed and clashed all around the two rookie officers. It was overwhelming.

  “Where did this Depry feller say to meet ‘im?” Wally shouted over the cacophony.

  “He said there’s a pub on the outskirts,” Timmy shouted back. “We should be right here.”

  They looked for something that resembled a pub, but everything was just square boxes of rusted metal and mud. After a moment, they saw a door open and light peel out from the building. Inside Timmy caught a glimpse of something that vaguely resembled a drinking establishment. He tapped Wally on the shoulder and pointed. They staggered and slipped their way through the mud towards the little metal shack.

  The pub was exactly like any other pub but also completely different. It had a bar. It had some tables. It had a medley of sad drunks and a general buzz of low conversation. But the bar was made of scrap metal. The tables looked like stumps of great trees. The sad drunks had red eyes and metal appendages where legs and arms should have been. And the buzz of conversation almost stopped dead when they walked in. The place was so poorly lit that Timmy couldn’t even recognise the species of some of the patrons.

  “You see him?” Timmy whispered to Wally.

  He looked to his left and saw that Wally had already made his way to the metal bar. The Goblin behind the bar had an eye patch and a grizzled scar running through the left side of his face where his eye and ear were missing. He had nasty burns along one arm and a shock of grey hair on his head. He looked at them curiously.

  “What’ve you got on tap, mate?” Wally asked as he leaned on the bar and then quickly pulled his arm back when the sharp metal bit into him.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Ain’t got no taps,” the barkeep growled. “Got bottles of brown and shots of white liquor.”

  “Oh right,” Wally said. “Ermm… two bottles of brown then.”

  The barkeep slammed two bottles on the bar and popped them open with the claw on his thumb.

  “Ten penny,” he said.

  Wally eyed the fizzing drinks incredulously as he dropped the coins into the barkeeps waiting hand.

  “What’re you doing?” Timmy hissed at him. “We’re on duty, remember?”

  “Would look right suspicious to walk into a pub and not order a drink,” Wally said as he handed Timmy a bottle of lableless brown. “Didn’t you learn nuffin’ from Sarpele?”

  Timmy couldn’t argue with that.

  “Your man’s over there,” the barkeep said as he handed Wally back his change.

  “Who?” Wally said, trying to sound casual.

  “The Gnome.” The barkeep nodded his head and went back about his business.

  Timmy and Wally followed his nod and saw a small hooded figure hunched over at a corner table.

  “Cheers,” Wally said, nodding his head and took a sip of his drink.

  He spluttered and looked at the bottle before looking at the barkeep, who raised an eyebrow at him. Wally said nothing and turned to follow Timmy.

  “Are you Depry?” Timmy asked the figure in the corner.

  “You Conway’s boys?” he replied.

  “Yeah,” Timmy said.

  “Then I’m Depry. Have a seat.”

  They sat down and the Gnome removed his hood. He looked just like most other Gnomes but his skin had a reddish tint to it rather than the usual blue.

  “Conway sent us to…” Timmy began.

  “I know,” Depry said. “Let me see it.”

  Timmy took the manifesto from his inside pocket and slid it across the bar. Depry picked it up and flipped it open, his eyes flicking across the writing on it. His expression grew from indifference to something that Timmy couldn’t quite understand. It was somewhat akin to fear but not quite, more concern or even anxiety. Depry looked up and flicked the paper back across the table like he no longer wanted to even touch it.

  “What is it?” Wally asked, picking up on Depry’s odd reaction.

  Depry looked around the bar and licked his lips.

  “I would stay away from this boys,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “What does it say?” Timmy asked, and Depry shook his head.

  “You’re stumbling into a very dangerous game here. Best you don’t involve yourselves if you like all your bits where they are.”

  “We’re police,” Timmy said, trying to sound confident. “We don’t fear criminals.”

  “You should,” Depry whispered, his eyes flickering the candlelight.

  “Just… tell us wot it says and we’ll decide about that,” Wally said.

  “It’s not what it says, it’s where it’s from,” Depry replied. He downed the rest of his drink and pulled his hood up. “That there is Triad business. You know the Triad?”

  “The Gnommish Triad, right?” Wally said.

  “Exactly. That piece of paper has come all the way from the heart of the Empire itself. Whatever you boys are mixed up in, it involves the Emperor’s Triad, and I don’t want no business with them. I travelled thousands of miles to get away from the Emperor’s persecution, and I’m not trying to get involved in any of his dark dealings.”

  “Wait, you’re saying the Gnommish Emperor sent whatever this piece of paper came with?” Timmy asked.

  Depry snorted and shook his head at them with a wry smile on his face.

  “Not personally o’ course. But whatever was sent on this manifesto has come from his Triad.”

  “Like… the Triad in this city, right? The ones from Little Kang and all that?” Wally asked.

  Depry looked more uncomfortable now.

  “Yes. Exactly. If it was something illegal, then you want to be looking at them for it. After all, they’re the only Gnomes in this city doing crime, right? Giving the rest of us a bad name.” Depry stood up and nodded at them. “I don’t want anything to do with this, you understand? Tell Conway my debt is settled.”

  Depry spirited away from the table and was out the door in a flash.

  “So the Gnommish Triad is bringing the Burn into the city,” Wally said. “But we already knew that, right?”

  “But why was that other Gnome and the Goblin talking about taking it off the street if they brought it? And why would they be selling that much weight to a Human like Haney?” Timmy said, looking down at the manifesto in his hands.

  “Why would a Goblin be working with them anyway?” Wally asked. “It don’t make no sense.”

  “Let’s get back to the HQ. Maybe Conway had some luck with the Goblin,” Timmy said, raising his bottle to his lips before Wally stopped him.

  “I wouldn’t,” he said, pulling a face.

  Timmy put the bottle down, and they left the pub as quickly as they could.

  *

  Rufi sighed and looked around the interview room. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in one, not even close, but it was one of the first times he’d been in one and unsure of why. The coppers had been polite enough when they had brought him in. He wasn’t charged with anything and they hadn’t even put manacles on him. All he was told was that he was being brought in for questioning. It had to be about Haney’s warehouse and those two rookies. But how had they known who he was? He hadn’t let anything slip, and there was no other way for them to ID him. What would they say? Goblin in a nice suit? That described half of the residents of Goblin Town. It could have been that warehouse fire. Or even that dead drug dealer. Or half a dozen other things he had done since being put on the hunt for the Bad Batch. Ridley sucked his teeth and lit another smoke. The door finally opened and a grizzled, old grey haired copper walked in. He set a file down on the desk and placed a cup of coffee down in front of Rufi before taking a seat himself.

  “Ruf’Gar Chaw’Drak,” Conway said, his eyes roaming over the Goblin in front of him. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

  “Okay?” Rufi said, blowing a smoke ring. “And you are?”

  “Lieutenant Conway, head of the Drug Enforcement Squad.”

  “I didn’t even know we had one of those,” Rufi said, snorting derisively.

  “You know I once tried to lock your uncle up?” Conway said, getting comfortable in his chair. “Years ago now. Thought I had him on a triple homicide down on the Docks. Some stevedores turned up with their throat cut and their bellies opened up. Had the whole case right there but somehow your uncle just managed to wriggle out of it. Witnesses disappeared, files went missing, it was a very professional cover up job.”

  Rufi’s face remained bland and expressionless.

  “And now I’ve got his nephew sat here in front of me. Guess the apple does fall far from the tree does it?”

  “You charging me with something old man? Or we just having a stroll down memory lane? Coz I’m busy.”

  “Oh, I know you are lad.” Conway flipped open the file, holding it so Rufi couldn’t see the contents. “You’ve been a very busy boy the last couple of weeks.”

  Rufi eyed the folder and said nothing.

  “I mean the streets are buzzing right now and your name keeps popping up. Jacking up drug dealers. Homicides. More drugs. More beatings. I’ve even got one junkie who swears you had something to do with Cameron Haney’s warehouse getting robbed.”

  Conway looked over the file at Rufi, whose face was a frozen mask of indifference.

  “But nothing to charge me with?” Rufi said.

  “You don’t deny any of it?”

  “How long you been a copper?” Rufi asked. “Coz you should know by now, my job ain’t to deny shit. You’re job is to prove I did it.”

  “Such is the justice system,” Conway said, scratching the stubble on his cheek. “But you see, you haven’t asked the most interesting question yet.”

  “Which is?”

  “Why would the head of the Drug Enforcement Squad know so much about you? I mean, everyone knows Uncle Sam doesn’t get involved in drugs. But yet, here’s his blood nephew sitting in an interrogation room with me, and you haven’t even asked why.”

  Rufi shrugged and ashed his smoke into the coffee Conway had brought him.

  “You’re a copper, you don’t need a reason to bother innocent people like me.”

  Conway gave a dry chuckle and snapped the folder shut.

  “I’ve been investigating the Burn distribution in this city and your name keeps popping up. Why do you think that is?

  Rufi said nothing.

  “Is it because you’re involved in selling Burn?”

  Rufi took a drag of his smoke.

  “Does your uncle know?”

  Rufi’s smoke paused at his lips.

  “He doesn’t does he?’

  Rufi blew a smoke ring.

  “I have eyeball witness testimony from two sworn officers that they saw you in the back of a Gnommish Triad front conversing about Burn with a known Triad member in the Golden Bowl restaurant.”

  There it was. Just a second. The mask cracked. Rufi looked surprised. He gathered his face remarkably fast, but Conway saw it.

  “And then those two same officers saw you in a warehouse being used as a drug stash, just a few hours after we raided the place.”

  Those two rookie fucks were undercovers?

  Rufi clenched his jaw and forced his face to remain completely still. He dropped the remains of his cigarette in the coffee.

  “You see, I think you’re involved in the distribution of Burn. I think you’re working with the Gnommish Triad to supply Haney. I think something went wrong, and you went back to the warehouse to see for yourself. And I think you’re doing it all without the knowledge of your uncle.”

  “Quite an imagination you got there,” Rufi said calmly. “But if you got the evidence to make a charge stick, then why don’t you go ahead and charge me?”

  “Not quite yet,” Conway said. “But I just wanted to see.”

  “See what?"

  “Oh don’t worry, kid. I saw it.” Conway stood up and grinned at Rufi. “You’re free to go. For now.”

  Conway walked out of the room whistling. Rufi watched him go. He wanted to fly across the room and snap the old fucker's little pencil neck. Instead, he took a deep breath, pocketed his cigarettes and his lighter, and then looked at the coffee with the smoke floating in it. Smoke was peeling from the end of it, the last depserate spurts of life in it, as the dog end slowly drowned in the dark liquid. In a moment of petulant rage, Rufi flicked the cup off the table, spilling coffee across the carpet before stalking out.