The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One by V. Timlin (speed reading book .TXT) 📕

frowned. “If you wish, but you and Nat are partners. Partners have each other’s back, and he might need you now.”

Embarrassment scorched Anouk’s cheeks as much as her consciousness. She had insisted on helping and made the deal with him. Also, she owed him her life. If Nat was in trouble, she had to help. Besides, how would it look if his retired mother showed up asking after him and not his partner?

She nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

Anouk and Vari stepped into the busy street. A variety of steam-powered and horse-drawn carriages rolled past them. A driver wrestled with the steering wheel in the front of one such steam-powered vehicle. At the back, in the middle, a smokestack towered over the passenger cabin. The model was the same she had seen the day before when she and Nat entered the city. Its spindly wheels, rattling gears, drive-chains, and sparks billowing from the stack made it look like a demonic toaster oven. Anouk wasn’t assured of its safety.

After the quiet shady park, the road was blinding and deafening. Although the filthy haze hovered over the traffic and the buildings, the sunlight cut through it hot and bright. Vari put on a pair of tinted glasses and pulled the scarf from her shoulder over her head. Anouk pressed her cap deeper onto her head to shadow her eyes.

“Where is this Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters? Is it far?”

“It’s in the city centre, so we’d better take a carriage.” Vari waved one down.

The driver pulled over and stepped down, opening the cabin door for his passengers. He wore a navy-blue uniform and matching cap. On the cap band, block letters printed in gold told Anouk she would be served by The Rondon City Taxi. The goggles over the chauffeur’s eyes and the thick moustache under his big crooked nose reminded Anouk of Groucho Marx.

“To the Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters, please,” Vari requested, adjusting her pistol belt.

“Very well, madam,” the driver replied in a polite tone and bowed.

Anouk was staggered—the driver didn’t protest two armed women boarding his vehicle and because of his goggles, she failed to tell if he had even blinked in surprise. Such passengers would have surely been arrested without hesitation were the scene to take place in London.

The bench inside was dark brown leather and warm to the touch while the windows gave a murky view to the street.

The carriage jerked when it accelerated and a soft ‘chuff-chuff’ and clunks of the steam engine came from behind their backs. Soon the carriage was moving at a sensible speed, stopping now and then for pedestrians and other road users before jumping back into motion. Anouk scanned the colourful buzzing traffic, trying not to hear every clank coming from the engine.

Vari was gazing at the bustle of the streets. Anouk felt she looked troubled, frown lines deeper than usual on her pale face. Anouk lifted her thumb to her mouth and started to gnaw at the nail. Had Nat run into problems with some crazy and vindictive relative or ex-convict? They would find out soon enough, assuming—Anouk swallowed—the steam engine didn’t explode.

As they trundled northward, the streets grew busier, and the road quality increased. Buildings on either side rose high and thin, well-maintained and grandiose. There were no boards on the windows, crumbling facades or chipped paint on the doors and window frames—the pillared frontages spoke of wealth and power.

Vari touched Anouk’s arm and leaned closer. “We’re approaching the city centre.” Her voice was raised to compensate the cacophony of street sounds. “These are the government buildings and headquarters of chartered companies. The Constabulary HQ is in Victory Square.”

After a few more minutes, the carriage stopped in front of a large grey granite building. The driver opened the door and announced their destination, “Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters, madams.”

They both climbed out, and Vari handed a few coins to him. He grinned and bowed. “Thank you, madam. Have a nice day.”

“How much was the ride?”

“It’s not for you to worry about.”

Anouk shook her head. “It’s not that. I’m trying to figure out how much things cost here, so if I’m ever alone, I’ll know what a reasonable price is and what is ridiculous.”

“You never pay more than two ugions to the driver and that includes tip.” Vari started to ascend the stairs. “Let’s see if Nat is still here.”

Anouk studied the grey monolith as she followed. Small windows pierced the walls like loopholes, and the main entrance was a mere gap in the wall. The Royal Anglean Constabulary Headquarters was as inviting as she imagined the German Stasi or Russian KGB headquarters would be. She shuddered and glanced back to the square; the other buildings around it exhibited more decorative architecture. There was the possibility the enforcers head office was meant to keep people law-abiding with its sheer menacing appearance. Based on what Vari and Fitzwil had told her, the psychological threat failed to operate effectively.

Despite there being a booth, no guard stood by the entrance. Anouk and Vari walked through the door and entered a large lobby. The green marble floor glinted under electric lights, and the echoes of footfall and workplace chattering bounced off the white plastered walls, hitting Anouk’s ears in a steady clamour. Enforcers, in their black uniforms, came and went through multiple doors leading deeper into the building, or ran up and down the wide staircase on the opposite side of the hall. A few civilians roamed around, either being escorted by an enforcer or of their own accord.

Vari headed towards a brown wooden booth in the middle of the space. Over the square window was a sign announcing in white letters ‘INFORMATION DESK’. Behind the counter sat a sturdy middle-aged enforcer with a receding hairline and abundant moustache. His resemblance to a cartoon version of a walrus was striking. He viewed Vari and Anouk with suspicion.

“Yes?” the enforcer grumbled.

“My son Nat Walla came to see Chief Constable Loka this morning. I wonder whether he’s still with him.” Vari