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

“Did you learn anything at the constabulary?” Fitzwil’s tone was tense.

“Only that Nat had left hours before we arrived. The chief constable also said two of Stalo’s soldiers had been seen yesterday.” Vari paused and glanced at Anouk. “Anouk saw Stalo outside the headquarters.”

Fitzwil grimaced and spat on the ground. “That’s not good.”

“No.” Vari chewed her lower lip, her emerald-green eyes wide with worry. “Nat hasn’t sent any messages, has he?”

Fitzwil shook his head. Anouk’s chest tightened. If Nat disappeared now or… No, she didn’t want to think of it.

“Is it typical of him not to send word?” Anouk asked. She didn’t like the idea, but in this case, she hoped it was only that.

Vari looked at Fitzwil, and something significant passed between them. “No, it’s not typical. He’s in trouble and we need to find him.”

Fitzwil just nodded.

Anouk moved her eyes back and forth between the couple. The task sounded overwhelming. The city was huge and Nat could be anywhere. Then Anouk remembered the Gadget. If he had it when he went to the constabulary, he could be… anywhere.

“Do you know where to start?”

“No.” Vari sighed. “We’ll eat and wait for a while. And if we don’t hear anything from him by nightfall, we’ll go look for him.”

* * *

The sun had vanished behind the trees, and the shadows merged with the thickening darkness. Anouk, Vari and Fitzwil had eaten dinner and were sitting around the campfire. They kept glancing towards the entrance of the park, and even the slightest sound made them spin.

The shadows twisted and danced at the perimeter of the fire, following the movements of the flames like marionettes dancing to the puppeteer. Beyond it, the blackness hid the other features of the park. Nat had neither shown up nor sent a message. Different scenarios ran amok in Anouk’s head. What would be her options if the worst had happened? None of them were good, and in every one, Stalo had the upper hand. Determined, she pushed them away. Nat had to come back or she had to find him. He wasn’t dead—she forbade it. She gritted her teeth. Drag her here and then go and die? Unacceptable.

She glanced at Vari and Fitzwil. “He’s not coming tonight, is he?”

They shook their heads, their faces grim.

“We…” Fitzwil whipped his gaze towards the entrance.

The crunching sound of gravel came from the path. All three rose swiftly and turned towards the source. Fitzwil and Vari grabbing revolvers from their waist made Anouk’s heart jump. They must have known it wasn’t Nat. She unsheathed the katana from her back and held it in front of her, clutching the hilt. Her hands shook as she stared in the direction of the approaching steps.

She tried to command her hands to stop their trembling, but with little success.

A young boy, around eleven or twelve years old, trotted into view, waving a note in his hand. Anouk blew air out of her lungs and lowered her sword. Vari and Fitzwil lowered their guns but didn’t holster them.

The boy stopped, eyeing their weapons with a wary expression. His dark coat and trousers had been patched more than once, the cap on his head was a size too big and it dropped over his eyes when he took a slow step back.

He lifted it from his eyes and called, “Miss Herring?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Anouk walked to the boy.

“Mr Walla sent this note for you.” The boy handed the folded paper to Anouk.

Fitzwil darted and seized the boy by his arm. “Where’s Nat?”

The boy squeaked and tried to pull his arm free. “He said to bring this message.”

“That’s not what I asked. Where is he?” Fitzwil tightened his grip.

The boy cried out in pain and started to sob. “He’s at the dockyards, sir. You are hurting me, sir.”

“Vari.” Fitzwil nodded towards the boy.

Vari took something from a bag at her feet and walked over to the boy. His eyes flung wide open, naked fear showing. He tried to kick Fitzwil and Vari, but Fitzwil’s firm hold kept him in place.

“What are you doing? Let him go,” Anouk said. The panic in the child’s eyes pained her, and she stepped in to intervene.

Vari stopped her. “We are not going to hurt him. Just find out if he’s telling the truth.”

“How?”

“With this.” Vari lifted a small brass box up in front of her. Two gauges and a switch covered its flat surface. Vari took a pen-like brass stick attached with a thin cable from the side of the instrument. She turned the switch, and the gauges stirred alive.

“This doesn’t hurt—at least as long as you tell the truth.” Vari turned to the white-faced boy and placed the point of the brass pen on his temple. The boy winced, but there was no reflection of pain in his eyes, only fear. A faint crackling sound came from the apparatus when Vari moved the pen.

“Now, tell me where Nat is?” Vari said without taking her eyes off the gauges.

The boy answered in a high-pitched voice. “He’s at the dockyards.”

“Is he hurt?”

“No.”

“Where exactly did you meet Nat?”

“It was in that abandoned Ibars’ warehouse. He asked me to bring the message, nothing else. Please, let me go.”

Vari nodded to Fitzwil. “He’s telling the truth.”

Fitzwil released the boy’s arm and the child sprinted away. The cap flew off his head, landing on the path. Veering back, he picked it up before vanishing into the darkness.

“That was unnecessary and harsh. He’s only a child whom Nat engaged as a messenger.” Anouk waved the note in her hand.

“Yes, but he’s been used to set a trap for you. The man who gave him the message wasn’t Nat.” Vari put the instrument back into her bag. “Besides, this is an older model of the Sniffer. It harms no one, but it’s amazing how effectively these things can make people talk. Well, those who don’t recognise the apparatus, that is.”

Anouk frowned. She wasn’t sure she approved of the method. “How do you know it’s a trap? You didn’t