The Black Carriage
Every time the carriage wheels bounced over the uneven cobblestones, the brass lamp suspended from the ceiling swayed back and forth.
The lamplight tilted across the cracked leather upholstery. I propped my swaying body up on an elbow.
The moment consciousness returned, the first thing I did was grope around myself.
Wallet, gun, bag.
It was the ironclad instinct of an overworked part-timer who, even after passing out drunk on the last subway home in my past life, would check his pockets before opening his eyes.
I patted down my waist first. The revolver was still tucked in its holster. By my feet sat the duffel bag I had dropped on the pier.
She had returned both the weapon and my luggage.
Thank God.
As I pushed my upper body upright, a dull throb radiated through my jaw. My inner cheek was torn, tasting of copper and blood. I caught my breath for a beat, testing my teeth with the tip of my tongue.
"Can you speak?"
A low, smooth voice drifted from the opposite bench.
Irina Weiss.
Having folded her ink-black longcoat behind my head as a makeshift pillow, she was left wearing only a black dress shirt and a wine-colored vest. Stripped of the heavy outer layer, the slim taper of her waist and shoulders became striking—the unmistakably slender frame characteristic of an elf.
Her monstrous, person-sized greatsword was strapped securely against the backrest beside her with leather harnesses. With one hand, she gently braced the slumped shoulder of Martin Hess.
Martin lay tilted across the bench beside her. Dark crimson had begun to seep through the tight pressure bandage wound around his left upper arm, but his chest rose and fell in steady, rhythmic breaths.
"How far are we from the docks?"
My jaw joint was so stiff that the words scraped out in a dry raspy rasp.
"We departed roughly ten minutes ago. We have yet to fully clear the outskirts of the South Gate industrial district. If you experience dizziness or double vision, inform me immediately."
Irina's cool, languid grey eyes swept over my pupils and jaw as if performing a clinical examination.
Pretty considerate for someone who just nearly knocked my head off my shoulders.
I tentatively stretched my right leg. The ankle rotated without resistance, but the second I locked the knee straight, a sharp, tearing ache flared along the inner thigh, the muscle fibers pulling taut as wire.
Getting into another brawl right now was out of the question, but hobbling along or firing a gun seemed manageable enough.
"Where are we heading?"
"For now, we are evading the Central Branch's surveillance. I have located a physician to treat Mr. Hess, but we must first confirm Department Head Beltz's whereabouts."
Her composed explanation made my brow furrow.
"You didn't just come for Martin?"
"To be precise, my mission is to verify the survival of both Mr. Martin Hess and Department Head Gerhard Beltz, and secure them. Having lost track of the department head, I simply followed Mr. Hess's movements first."
Resting my chin in my hand, I scrutinized Irina closely.
A Section Chief from ARC Headquarters Security Bureau. Elves were notoriously hard to age, but on the surface, she looked like an effortlessly poised beauty in her mid-to-late twenties.
Her true age was anyone's guess. But right now, her age mattered far less than which side she was actually on.
Might as well hear her out. It's not like I have any ammo left anyway.
I gestured toward Martin with my chin.
"Department Head Beltz is alive, too."
The fingers Irina had resting on Martin stiffened imperceptibly. Her half-lidded, drowsy gaze snapped wide.
"Do you know... where the department head is?"
"Before that, spill why you rolled into Belok all by your lonesome. You expect me to trust you just because you flashed an ARC headquarters badge?"
Even as the carriage swung through a sharp turn, Irina kept Martin steady so he wouldn't pitch forward. She unclasped a black leather dossier hanging beneath the lantern and unfolded a crisp, neatly pressed sheet of paper toward me.
At the very top were the intake inspection stamp of the Headquarters Security Bureau, a crimson wax seal, and matching dispatch and receipt dates. The dispatch date was eight days ago—exactly as Beltz had claimed.
Sender: Gerhard Beltz, Department Head of Route Development, ARC Central Branch
"This is a copy of the formal investigation request Department Head Beltz slipped past the Central Branch's surveillance via our direct, sealed courier box," Irina explained. "It explicitly documents discrepancies between the branch ledgers and on-site payout funds, as well as naming the surveyor in possession of the physical voucher ledger."
Irina looked down at the unconscious Martin.
"The man holding that proof is Martin Hess. Headquarters determined that prior to dispatching a formal auditing tribunal, we needed to verify both individuals' safety and the authenticity of the primary evidence. To prevent any mole within the branch from destroying the evidence, I was deployed alone without advance notice."
"A continental conglomerate sends just one person?"
"An initial on-site inquiry leaves far fewer footprints when conducted alone. The moment you move in numbers, lodging, coaches, meals, telegraph logs—everything falls under the surveillance of the branch security division. If there proved to be nothing amiss, it would simply end as an unnecessary trip for me. Should worst come to worst, that is when I call in the full weight of headquarters."
I committed the intake number and seal to memory. Showing it to Beltz would confirm its validity soon enough.
What weighed more heavily on my mind than the paper, however, was how she had acted back at the docks.
If she were in league with the Central Branch conspirators, she wouldn't have drawn her blade to shield Martin, nor would she have left my revolver at my hip after knocking me cold.
"He's at Orban's office."
When I let the words drop, Irina's eyes lifted from the parchment to my face.
"Second floor of the laundromat building on the west side of the Old Town. Orban Fixer Office. Department Head Beltz is holed up there right now. He took a bullet and got patched up, but moving him by force will have him coughing up blood in seconds."
"So this fixer named Orban has been harboring the department head."
"Not harboring—my boss hauled him out of the South Gate drainage canal half-dead and patched him up. The two of them have been running a secret inquiry together for a while now."
Irina didn't immediately call out the new destination to the coachman. She slipped the dossier back inside her coat, mentally assessing the tactical situation for a moment, before asking:
"Does the Central Branch Security Section know the location of that office?"
"They paid a visit yesterday. We didn't open the door, but they know both the boss's identity and mine. They even marked the entrance of the alley as searched, so there could easily be a stakeout waiting nearby."
"In that case, heading straight there is out of the question. You know the geography of Belok's back alleys far better than I do, Sonya. Would you direct our route?"
Look at the Section Chief, she catches on quick. Corporate elites really do get right down to business.
I parted the leather curtain by the width of two fingers and peered outside.
The carriage was rolling along the South Gate thoroughfare lined with dye houses. The sun sank behind the factory smokestacks, and laborers pouring out from their shifts crowded the roadway.
Glancing behind us, I spotted a battered freight cart and an open two-wheeled cab trailing at a consistent distance.
"Tell the driver. Turn right at the next intersection and cut onto the textile market's main street. We need to slip through the market interior and exit via the north gate."
Irina slid open the small wooden hatch connecting to the driver's box and relayed my instructions crisply. When the driver seemed about to voice a question, Irina's tone dropped into something cold and unyielding.
"Follow Sonya's directions from here on out. Match your speed to her orders as well."
"Understood, Section Chief."
The carriage wheeled sharply right, sliding into the bustling alleys of the textile market.
I rose to shift to the opposite window. At that moment, my right knee refused to straighten completely, and my balance gave way.
Irina's slender hand shot forward reflexively. Yet she didn't forcibly seize or pull me.
She simply kept her open palm hovering beneath me as a support until I braced against the window frame and regained my footing, withdrawing her hand quietly once I settled.
She left the choice of whether to accept help entirely to me.
"You overexerted yourself at the docks. Is your leg still refusing to extend?"
"I thought you were one of the Central Branch hitmen coming to drag Martin off to be slaughtered. When an on-site bodyguard is about to lose her client, who has time to hold back?"
"So that is why you charged in. I suppose I must have looked like one of their operatives."
"I believe you now, Section Chief. Happy?"
Irina tilted her head slightly.
"May I ask what decided it for you?"
"You didn't hand Martin over when the branch thugs showed up. If you were with them, you'd have hog-tied me and taken me in, too. And you didn't take my gun."
"I will protect both of you."
I glanced sideways at the right sleeve of Irina's shirt. The spot where my fist had slammed down was swollen red. Taking the full brunt of a ten-year augmented human's grip bare-bodied had to have left a nasty, deep-purple bruise.
"How's your arm?"
"There will be subcutaneous bleeding, but the bone is intact. A fraction harder and I might have dropped the greatsword."
"You threw it away first, though."
"I did not drop it; I discarded it. Had I kept the blade in hand, I feared I might have killed you, Sonya."
The corner of Irina's mouth curled up in a subtle arc.
"Keep that in mind."
Man, displaying that kind of competitive streak with that deadpan face.
Instead of answering, I picked up the ink-black longcoat beneath my head. Dusting off the sawdust and grit clinging to the wool, I folded it neatly and set it beside her.
Irina accepted the coat, resting it across her lap and smoothing down the hems.
The textile market was an absolute madhouse of merchants haggling over bolts of cloth and handcarts laden with fabric. While the carriage slowed to a crawl, the sheer density of the crowd swallowed our path, completely shaking off the two suspicious cabs trailing us.
Even after breaking out of the north gate, we took the long way around the fish market and the train station plaza. Only after confirming our tail was gone did we slip into the alleyway behind the laundromat.
"This is as far as the carriage goes. Pull up in front of that stonemason's yard."
The carriage came to a halt in a quiet vacant lot two alleys over from the office.
Just then, Martin, who had been curled on the bench, coughed dryly and blinked his eyes open. His hazy brown eyes darted between Irina and me.
"Section Chief Weiss...? What... happened to Department Head Beltz?"
"He is alive, Mr. Hess. We are bringing you to a safe location where the department head is waiting, so please rest. Any more exertion will reopen your wound."
Martin turned his gaze toward me.
"Did you come looking for me?"
"The department head asked me to find you. The boss was looking for you, too."
"Thank you. If you hadn't come, Miss Sonya, I don't know what would have..."
Rubbing my aching jaw, I clicked my tongue.
"Next time, don't run around with a bullet hole in your arm. Go find a doctor first. Chasing after you nearly blew my knee out."
Martin attempted a weak chuckle, only to wince as pain flared in his arm.
"I'll remember that."
Before stepping down, Irina glanced down at the massive greatsword strapped to the seat. Her fingers hovered over the leather buckles, hesitated, and then she simply pulled her longcoat back on, leaving the sword behind.
"Leaving the blade?"
"I have no wish to alarm your president. This time, I ought to present the paperwork first."
"Would have saved a lot of grief if you'd done that before cleaving my bullets in half."
"I intended to explain then as well, but you immediately shot a lead slug into my shoulder, didn't you?"
Having no defense for that, I shut my mouth.
Irina climbed down first and offered a hand. I could have hopped down on my own, but if my right knee buckled on the landing, it would look pathetic. I quietly took her slender wrist and stepped down.
Her wrist was thin, but her grip was rock-steady.
The coachman followed, supporting Martin. We slipped into the dim, narrow alleyway behind the laundromat.
On the second floor of the agency, a light was burning behind tightly drawn blackout curtains without a single gap.
Standing at the back entrance, I tapped out the designated secret knock.
Rap, rap, rap. — Rap-rap.
From within came the scrape of a worn chair against the floorboards, followed by the heavy clunk of an iron deadbolt sliding back halfway. Orban's sharp eyes peered through the narrow crack.
"Sonya!"
The boss's eyes quickly scanned the bruise on my jaw and my limping gait. His brow furrowed tight, but he forced his voice into its usual dry, swaggering drawl.
"I sent you out to find one guy, and you come back looking like you got dragged through a meat grinder... Can you even walk?"
"Yeah. Brought Martin back."
I jerked my thumb toward the tall, striking elf woman behind me.
"And I picked up a Section Chief from headquarters, too."
"Where the hell did you learn to treat people like salvage?"
"Learned it from you, Boss."
Orban drew in an exasperated breath, his eyes catching the gleaming silver ARC emblem pinned to Irina's vest. He didn't swing the door open, keeping one hand buried inside his coat over his sidearm while blocking the threshold with his frame.
"Identification first. We've had a few too many uninvited ARC guests today."
Irina calmly reached inside her longcoat and produced a silver identification badge.
"Irina Weiss, Section Chief of ARC Headquarters Security Bureau. I have come to verify the survival of Department Head Gerhard Beltz."
While Orban scrutinized the crimson wax seal and headquarters authentication number, the creak of bedsprings sounded from the back room, followed by a hoarse voice echoing down the hallway.
"...Section Chief Weiss?"
Beltz.
Irina turned toward the sound, the tension finally easing from her shoulders.
"You are unharmed, Department Head."
"To think we would meet in a place like this... Excellent work."
She was definitely who she claimed to be. Beltz wouldn't sound that relieved just hearing her voice otherwise.
Only then did Orban slide the deadbolt the rest of the way and throw the door wide.