26

  Lieutenant Conway took a steadying breath as he paused outside of the Capn’s office. He wiped a gnarled hand over his lined forehead and then scratched the stubble on his cheek. He looked down at his untucked and thoroughly creased shirt and considered tucking it in. Conway sucked his teeth and opened the door without knocking. Sitting behind a large wooden desk was a diminutive Dwarf. Captain Mallory of the Valderia PD was a creature of short patience and low tolerance for foolishness. He had a bright orange beard, a pallid beetroot tinged complexion, and a face so chiselled he could cut rocks with it. He looked older than the last time Conway had spoken to him properly. That was six months ago when Mallory had yanked the carpet from under his feet and had him suspended pending investigation for assistant Sally Nairo and Ridley in their missing Diamond case. Just as suddenly, Conway had been reinstated by letter and was given his own division, the Drug Enforcement Squad. It was a joke of an assignment, though. No one cared about drugs in the city. It was a posting with just two detectives, and his office had been kept in the basement. But that suited Conway fine. The further away from the brass he was the more likely he would actually get some good police work done.

  And he had been left alone until the OD’s started. Once they made the papers and the children of rich people started dying, then all of a sudden everyone was anti-drugs and wanted the streets cleaned up. All of a sudden, Conway found himself the head of over a dozen detectives in the most important division in the PD. And now the piper was demanding payment.

  “Rod, thank you for coming,” Mallory said curtly, indicating with one of his cement block hands for Conway to sit, and reluctantly he did.

  “Cap’n,” Conway said with an equally curt nod.

  “I’m going to cut right to the meat, Rod. What have you got for me?”

  “I left my sack of presents down in the basement. I didn’t realise you wanted me to bring it with me.” Conway said with his usual level of disdain when talking to authority.

  Mallory clenched his teeth, the muscle on the side of his head twitching.

  “You know what I mean,” he growled.

  “It’s all there in my report, I dunno why you needed to drag me up here. Do you want me to read it to you?”

  “I was hoping you would have more than this,” Mallory said, jabbing his finger at the report on his desk. “A handful of low level thugs and a couple bricks of Burn? Is that it?”

  “We’re not trying to arrest street level dealers,” Conway explained patiently. “We’re trying to buy our way up the food chain.”

  “Ahh yes I see. After weeks of investigation and hundreds of hours of overtime, you’ve got the name for a single Gnome, Tiko?”

  “Yes sir,” Conway said. “He’s the wholesale supplier.”

  “And Tiko is who? Where can we find him? Do we have eyes on him?”

  “We’re trying to run him down at the minute. PD doesn’t know a lot about him.”

  “Of course they don’t!” Mallory snarled, slamming his hand on the desk. “None of these Gnomes use their real names! Half the time they assume each other’s identities on a whim!”

  “We know he operates an underground restaurant out of Little Kang,” Conway said, forcing his tone to remain even.

  “I could have guessed that! Which one?”

  “Gossip says it’s called the Golden Bowl. It operates under a doctor’s office.”

  “And why isn’t that in the report?”

  “Because I haven’t confirmed it yet. We’re still trying to get some eyes in there, but it’s difficult.”

  “Bloody Gnomes,” Mallory grunted. “You’ll never get an officer in their undercover. Gnomes don’t hire or work with anyone outside of their species.”

  “This is why we’re working on it still.”

  “Not good enough, Rod. Bodies have been dropping for weeks! The mayor is in a flap, that animal Stubbs is breathing down my neck, and the papers are having a field day with all of this. Did you see this morning’s headlines?”

  “I don’t read that crap,” conway said waving a dismissive hand.

  “Well the Mayor does! And his voters do! They called us incompetent! Said we can’t stem the flow of drugs into the city! That sort of talk is damning for us!”

  “I appreciate that but…”

  “No buts, Rod. I dragged your arse of the shelf and put you in charge because no matter what has happened between us I know you’re a good detective. But, maybe, you spent too long on that shelf and you’ve got rusty.”

  Conway glared at Mallory.

  “I need results,” Mallory said. “I need a big time player in manacles, and I need Burn on the table! A lot of it! Do you understand me? If the chatter is saying this Tiko is a player, then I want him arrested!”

  “For what?” Conway said. “We can’t tie him to anything. The only evidence we have is a lowlife Burn seller from the RatHoles that fingered him to save his own neck. It’ll never play in court.”

  “Then find some evidence! If he’s Triad then he’ll be up to his dirty little fingers in it!”

  “Like I said, we’re working on it…”

  “You’ve got 72 hours,” Mallory said. “By the end of the week, I want someone in manacles, and I want the press to see lots and lots of confiscated Burn on the table. Understand?”

  Conway bit back the hundreds of different insults and curses he wanted to hurl back at Mallory.

  “Understood.”

  “Good. Now go do your job.”

  Conway rose stiffly and walked out of the office, his fists trembling with unspent rage.

  *

  “Wot do you think’s got the Lieutenant so pissed?” Wally asked as he stretched out in his chair and cracked his back.

  “I don’t know, but I hope it’s not got anything to do with us,” Timmy said as he copied out his notes from the field into a dossier.

  Conway had stomped back to his office and slammed the door so hard papers fell off the walls. After that, they had seen Sarpele slip into his office. That had been nearly twenty minutes ago.

  “Probably about that Tino feller,” Wally guessed.

  “Tiko,” Timmy corrected. “Johnsen and Bailery haven’t had any luck getting eyes on him?”

  “Naa, they’ve been out in the rain for two days and nights now like mugs. Said the place is a fortress, one way in and one way out.” Wally leaned forward and lowered his voice. “They did say they’ve seen a bunch o’ them Gnome Triad gangsters comin’ in and out. So we’re definitely in the right place.”

  “Gnome Triads,” Timmy repeated, his little eyes widening slightly. “They’re bad news.”

  “The worst,” Wally agreed. “I hear they're all into poisons and torture and stuff. Yer see at least wiv a Goblibn, they’ll rip yer to pieces there and then. But Gnomes, they like to take their time wiv you. Cut you all up and pour poisons into the wounds, that’s wot I’ve ‘eard.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Short leg Tammy told me.”

  “An always reliable source of information,” Timmy said, trying not to roll his eyes.

  “Everyone knows these fings,” Wally said, waving a hand before stretching out like a cat before a fire.

  “You always say that, but I don’t know these things!”

  “That’s coz you’re not from the cobbles like me,” Wally said, jabbing his thumb at himself.

  “I am!”

  “No you’re not. Bet you wasn’t even allowed to play on your road until you was grown up!”

  Timmy pursed his lips. Wally was right, but he also never had anyone to play with, so he never found out if he was allowed to go further than his road. Inside was a much safer place for Timmy growing up.

  “Edgewater! Washbottom!” Conway’s gruff voice snarled at them from across the office.

  Wally jumped so hard in his chair he tumbled over backwards.

  “Yes sir?” Timmy said.

  “My office, now!”

  “Oh no,” Wally muttered as he pulled himself up to his feet. “This ain’t good.”

  “How do you know?” Timmy said as he closed the dossier he had been working on.

  “Coz nothin’ good ever happens to us,” Wally moaned as he followed Timmy.

  “Not true,” Timmy said. “Remember when we found that box of grapes and we were allowed to eat a few?”

  “Mmmm yeah,” Wally said. “That was me best day as a copper.”

  Timmy knocked on Conway’s door.

  “Get in here!” Conway barked.

  They walked into the cramped office and found Conway behind his desk and Sarpele lurking in the shadowy corner.

  “Sit,” Conway growled.

  “Yes sir?” Timmy said as they took their seats.

  “You two are going back undercover,” Conway said.

  “Really?” Timmy said.

  “Why?” Wally moaned. “We was rubbish at it!”

  “Not according to Sarpele you weren’t,” Conway grunted.

  “You two were fabulous,” Sarple said, patting them warmly on their shoulders.

  Timmy looked up at him and blinked in surprise. He looked completely different again. He was wearing a fine pinstripe three piece suit, in a deep plum colour. He had a striped black and purple tie with a golden tie clip. His dark, greying hair was slicked back, and he was clean shaven. He even smelled different. His cologne was sharp and masculine and filled every inch of the small office.

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  “I need eyes in the Golden Bowl restaurant,” Conway said. “We’re suddenly in a rush and there’s no way I’m getting a copper in as staff. So, you three are going in as businessmen out for a boozy dinner. Sarpele’s pulled a couple strings and managed to get you reservations for tonight.”

  “Businessmen?” Wally said. “Wot’s that?”

  “Fellers who sit around and talk out of their arses for a living,” Conway growled.

  “Oh right,” Wally said nonplussed.

  “You’ll need to suit up and clean yourselves up a bit. Sarpele has just the thing for you both!” Sarple said, his voice strong and authoritative.

  “Good,” Conway said. “At some point in the night, I’ll need one or two of you to slip away and do some poking around. All I need is you to get eyes on something that tells us there’s Burn in the place.”

  “Can’t we just raid it anyway?” Timmy asked. “Aren’t these underground restaurants illegal?

  “Somewhat,” Conway replied. “But if we raid and don’t find anything, we tip our hand to Tiko and he goes underground.”

  “Prey should never know they’re prey until it’s too late for them,” Sarpele said.

  “Exactly. Sarpele will tell you the rest. I need you moving sharpish on this. Cap’n wants someone’s head and if it ain’t a Villain’s, it’ll be ours.”

  “Yes sir,” Timmy and Wally said.

  *

  “I still don't get it,” Wally said as their carriage entered the main Broadway bisecting the Nortern boroughs and leading straight to Little Kang. “Wot do we do?”

  “We do business,” Sarpelle hissed the word ‘business’. “We buy things. We sell them. We do deals. We make acquisitions. We shmooze.”

  “My mate Lenny the Wart sells nuts at the market down Qondy Lane and ‘e don’t ‘ave to dress like this.” Wally tugged at his short collar.

  “No he’s a market stall owner, businessmen are involved in business,” Sarpele corrected.

  “He’s in the business of sellin’ nuts,” Wally countered.

  “But that doesn’t make him a businessman.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Sarpele signed and smoothed back his hair.

  “Okay, I have a friend, I modelled this character off of him. I’m Dominick Devares, but my friends call me Domingo…”

  “Why?” Wally asked.

  “They just do, okay? Anyway, Dominick he’s in the business of acquiring product in wholesale quantities.”

  “So he’s a wholesaler?” Wally said.

  “No. He’s a businessman. Because he buys in bulk from several retailers, then he repackages and markets the product in smaller quantities.”

  “So he’s a trader?”

  “No. He’s a businessman. Because he puts his own branding on the product and sells it at a massive markup while hiding where he actually got it from.”

  “So he’s a liar?”

  “No. He’s a businessman.” Sarpele gave him a little wink.

  “So businessmen scam people?” Timmy, who had been following the conversation closely, summarised.

  “No, they do business,” Sarpele replied. “We’re arriving at Little Kang soon. Listen to pull this cover off, all you’ve got to do is act like you’re the most important person in the room. Like no one else matters, no one else has a life, like they’re all just little paper cut outs there to serve you.”

  “Businessmen sound like a bunch of knobs,” Wally muttered.

  “Now you’re getting the idea,” Sarpele said, flashing him a smug grin. “Now let me get a good look at the two of you.”

  They sat up straight and adjusted the uncomfortable suits Sarpele had given them. Wally was dressed in a pinstripe suit similar to Sarpele, but his was midnight blue. He wore a crisp white shirt, which was probably the cleanest shirt Wally had ever worn, and a matching midnight blue tie. He had jewelled cufflinks and shiny pointed shoes with no laces. Timmy had poured himself into a plain black suit. They had tried a vest, but it wasn’t big enough and the jacket couldn’t be buttoned up. He had a striped black tie and a shining pair of shoes with laces. Embarrassingly, he had almost torn his trousers when he bent over to tie them. Sarpele had told them that while the suits mattered, it was all about the accessories. He had given them a gold pocket watch each, jewelled cufflinks, and a silver pen for their breast pockets. He had also given them gold lighters, even Timmy didn’t smoke, and Wally only smoked when he could nick one from someone. Sarpele had told them that rich people subtly communicated their wealth with such small, unnecessary luxuries. He had also forced Wally to have a haircut and a shave, taming his wild mophead with a pair of sharp scissors and a handful of some foul smelling goop that made his hair rock hard once it dried. Timmy was told he was fairly presentable as he was.

  “Good, you look like a proper pair of tits,” Sarpele said with another flashing grin. “Right, remember you’re a pair of junior account men.”

  “I’ve never been good with numbers,” Wally moaned.

  “No, not accountants, account men. You get new clients and manage them for the business, and I’m your senior. What’s my name?”

  “Oh errr…” Wally said.

  “Domonick Devares, but your friends call you Domingo,” Timmy said.

  “Correct.”

  “So we call you Domingo?” Wally asked.

  “No, you’re not my friends, you’re my juniors. You’ll call me Mr. Devaras, understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is our business?” Timmy asked.

  “It doesn’t matter, anyone who asks isn’t worth your time answering. We’re here celebrating a big business win, okay?”

  “Yes,” they chorused.

  "Err what game were we playin'?" Wally asked.

  "What?" Sarpele said.

  "You said we won sumfin'"

  "No, we... had a goood day of business, made lots of gold."

  "Oh right," Wally said. "That game."

  “Good. No Timmy, you’re Thomas Habblebery,” he said. “And Wally, you’re Waldo Cavvastock.”

  “Waldo?” Wally scoffed. “What a silly name.”

  “Right, we’re here. Remember, your cover starts the second we step out of this cab.”

  They nodded.

  Sarpele kicked open the cab door, flicked a gold coin to the cabby, and stepped out into the teeming frenzy of Little Kang. Timmy was awestruck by the place. It was so alive. So frantic. The kaleidoscopic neon lights captivated him. Timmy had grown up with mostly candles and the odd Glowlamp, but this was a whole new world of colour. Massive mushrooms growing from ceilings and walls pulsated vibrant neon colours in shades he could barely describe. All the writing, in that funny Gnommish scrawl, all the pictures, they were all done with the same neon paint. He barely knew what to look at; he was so overwhelmed. And that was just the buildings, let alone what was in those building. There were shops of every description, and many Timmy’s simple life experiences couldn’t describe. He had no idea what half of them were, but they were everywhere. Every spare foot of commercial property was occupied and selling services and goods Timmy had never seen. Apothecaries, massages, herbs, spices, foods, rumination, eye doctors, ear doctors, podiatrists, noodle bars, pet shops, the list just kept on going. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, but a cold, calculated utilitarianism to the whole affair. And the creatures! There were Gnomes everywhere! Timmy couldn’t even believe this many Gnomes lived in the city, let alone in a small corner of it. Little Kang teemed and buzzed with the energy of the creatures. He had never seen Gnomes so much as raise their voices before, but here they were: drinking, eating, shouting in their foreign tongue, laughing, some were even vomiting quietly in corners. It was the end of the work day so the streets were flooded with grey suited Gnomes on their way home from work stopping to snatch a quick half pint or a takeaway order of spicy noodles. They would stop and chat frenetically with another Gnome and then move on with similar speed and efficiency. Everything in Little Kang seemed to occur at a breakneck pace.

  “Timmy!”

  Timmy tore himself away from the wild sights around him and saw that Sarpele and Wally had already waded through the mass of Gnomes and crossed the street. Timmy quickly huffed after them, bumping into many Gnomes along the way. They didn’t seem to mind. Being bumped into, brushed past, and nudged out of the way seemed to be a cultural thing amongst Gnomes. Timmy squeezed through a gaggle of female Gnomes drinking from a small barrel and shrieking hysterically. Timmy had a sneaking suspicion they were talking about him, but he didn’t have time to worry. He met up with Wally, and Sarpele led them down the street and then ducked into a narrow side alley. This was perhaps the cleanest and neatest alleyway Timmy had ever been in. All the trash was neatly piled and tied down waiting for the collection, there wasn’t even any vermin or puke. Sarpele stopped outside a bland looking metal door with a picture of a sick Gnome pulsing above it.

  “Here we are,” Sarpele laughed and slapped Wally hard on the shoulder.

  Sarpele cleared his throat and knocked authoritatively on the door. After a few seconds a small, purplish face appeared at the window next to the door.

  “Private room under the name Devares,” he said, flashing the Gnome a gleaming smile. “Trust me, you’re gonna love the noodles here. Best in the city,” he said to Timmy and Wally.

  The window shut and Sarpele kept grinning. He smoothed back his hair and tugged at his shirt collars. He stood like he hated being still. He bobbed and fussed with his suit and grinned and smoothed back his hair. He looked like a proper knob, so full of himself. Timmy realised again how good Sarpele was at disappearing these roles. He couldn’t even imagine him as the crooked old man he had been only a short while before. Now he believed Sarpele was Domonick Devares and had never been anything else in his life.

  The door opened and a female Gnome in a traditional, heavy cotton wrap bowed deeply to them.

  “Mr. Devares, thank you for coming. Please follow me.” She had a very gentle voice, barely above a murmur, but she spoke clearly and confidently.

  She turned and led them through a drab doctor’s office.

  "Gee, I hope you ain’t got none of these sick people are working down there!” Sarpele said and then laughed as if he had said something witty.

  He shot a glance at Timmy and Wally and they both began to nervously titter.

  “Oh no Mr. Devares,” The Gnome said, laughing softly. “I assure you, hygiene and cleanliness are of the utmost importance to my people. If you would come this way and watch your heads, please.”

  They hunched over and followed the Gnome down another flight of stairs hidden in a backroom of the surgery. The Gnome opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, and they were transported to a whole different land. The floors were covered in bamboo, as were the walls, and there were exotic plants twisting and growing out of the strands. They were some of the most beautiful flowers Timmy had ever seen. Instead of an open planned restaurant, the Gnommish preferred private dining. Every room was walled off with more bamboo and had a sliding door in.

  “If you would please take your shoes off,” the Gnome said to them, bowing again and indicating a small shoe rack outside their room.

  “Honey, these shoes are genuine black maw alligator, they cost more than a house.” Sarpele said. “Make sure you look after them.”

  “Of course, Mr. Devares.” The Gnome bowed again and kept her eyes firmly planted on the floor.

  Sarpele kicked off his shoes as if their cost meant little to him, and then he left them haphazardly on the floor for the Gnome to collect. Despite knowing this was all an act, Timmy really wanted to punch Sarpele right on his nose. Timmy and Wally kicked off their shoes but placed them on the rack. The Gnome picked up Sarpele’s shoes and carefully placed them on the rack, straightening all of their shoes until they perfectly parallel at a uniform distance from one another. She then stood up and slid their door open for them. The room was sunken into the floor with small, comfortable looking sofa benches built into the side s of the sunken circle. There was more foliage decorating the room and even a small water feature behind the seating. The room was small but very cosy. Timmy could easily imagine spending hours in this place.

  “Have you been to us before?” The Gnome asked as she stepped aside to allow them in.

  “First time here,” Sarpele said as he walked by her into the room. “But I’ve had plenty of Gnommish grub. Start us off with two bottles of that rice wine you lot love so much. Then give us a couple shots of something sweet, and then we’ll do a tray of beers.”

  Timmy’s eyes widened at the impressive drinks order. Sarpele threw himself into the cushioned sofa and began unbuttoning his top button.

  “Bring us some of those crab cake things and something else spicy and crunchy. Something salty too. We’ll order food after we’ve had a drink.” He then waved a dismissive hand at the Gnome.

  “Of course, Mr. Devares.” The Gnome bowed deeply and shut the door after Timmy and Wally.

  Timmy struggled to fit his bulk in the tight space of the room. After a while, Wally shoved him from behind, and he flopped into the sofa, almost knocking over the table. Sarpele looked around and held a finger to his lips.

  “I’m telling you boys, until you’ve bagged yourself a lady Gnome, you ain’t really lived. The things they teach those girls will make your eyes cross!” Sarpele let out another loud laugh and slapped the table. He held his finger to his lips and then gave them a gesture to join in.

  “Oh… yeah right… I’ve always wanted to… shag a Gnome bird.” Wally said, slightly too loudly.

  “Well after the job you two done today, I’ll buy you a couple after we eat. Ever had a hot oil massage from a naked Gnome?” Sarpele said, watching the shadows under the door.

  “What?” Timmy said, his eyes widening in surprise. “They do that?”

  “Of course! You see what I mean about you kids, you ain’t lived yet! You got a lot to see and fuck!” Sarpele laughed again, and they joined in.

  There was a knock and then the door slid back. The Gnome had returned with a laden tray of drinks. She knelt down at the door way and passed over two trays of drinks and food. She bowed again.

  “When you wish to order more, simply press your finger to the mushroom next to you,” she said, pointing at a softly glowing mushroom next to Sarpele. “I will be with you shortly after.”

  "Say sweet thing, you're not on the menu are you?" Sarpele said, looking the Gnome up and down lustily.

  The Gnome gave a bashful, and entirely rehearsed, titter and closed the door behind her.

  “Don’t go far, these won’t last us long!” Sarpele shouted afrter her.

  Sarpele lit a smoke, clamped it between his teeth, and began pouring shots. He handed them a glass each and raised his.

  “To business done good and a pile of fucking gold!”

  “Pile of gold!” Timmy and Wally repeated, they clinked their glasses and down the fiery spirit.

  Timmy almost spat his back up. He had never drunk anything so strong before. He could feel the vapours pouring out of his nose.

  “You’re such a lightweight, Habblebery!” Sarpele laughed.

  He began pouring them more drinks and forcing them to down them. This went on for so long, Timmy had forgotten why they were there, he was just having a great time. He was steadily munching through something deep fried and salty while Wally was chortling and snorting into his beer at some joke Sarpele had made. They clinked glasses for no reason and down them, guffawing like fools, but Sarpele had fallen silent. They looked up and Sarpele’s face had changed again. He was back to the drab undercover detective they had first met.

  “That should have thrown them off our scent,” he muttered.

  Timmy swallowed a half chewed mouthful, suddenly remembering what they were supposed to be doing.

  “Time to get down to business.” Sarpele said, his tone deadly serious.