Broken People (Serial)

Ten

After delivering Cole to The Nightingale Circus, Dale hadn't dared leave the attic. There hadn't been obvious witnesses at the scene, but someone was bound to notice something, and people talked. It was better not to draw the attention of the police or the lowlifes in the city. But being confined in the attic didn't work for him, either. Having a contingency plan would have helped, except he had no connections in the city. Betting everything on Cole had been a huge mistake, but he'd had no other option at the time.

Since going over it again and again was bound to give him a headache, he forced himself not to pace along the windowed wall. His steps would be heard from the floor below, worrying Mrs. Potec. She already had given him the evil eye this morning, a sign she was aware of his past night's activities. Thank God his superiors weren't. The last note sent to inquire when he would be ready to report back to work had nothing to do with that. But he was due another month of sick leave after the last repairs and upgrades made to his enhancements, so he was good.

With the radio volume turned low, Dale only half-listened to the news. Lacking inhabitants, this wing of the building wasn't wired for most purposes and, therefore, had no cable. Dale could do without a TV, but the slowness of the clock hands on the wall drove him mad. A quick glance told him it was past three in the afternoon. A couple more hours left until the circus opened its gates. They had told him not to come back and bother them, they would keep him informed of their progress, but he fully intended on going back.

A light flashed in the corner of his eye, and he followed the bright spot moving on the cracked wall before turning to look outside the window in search of its source. Something gleamed on the balcony up the street. He reached for the binoculars and focused on the culprit. A necklace with a big stone hung on the window handle, reflecting every ray of sunshine in the street.

This was an unusual sight in the city, even knowing the window belonged to the biggest jeweler in town. In the two months he'd been there, he had never seen the Golden Lady hang her jewelry out to dry. Someone had placed it there on purpose, making sure the light reflected into his room. A signal of some sort—or so he told himself. He owed Aurore, and he wanted to get a feel for her so he wouldn't be caught unprepared when she requested her payment.

Dale snatched his jacket and headed out. Although sunny, it was colder than he expected. He started up the street, the cold making him feel alive. He inhaled the fresh air. It was too early for the food stands to cloud it with their blasted smoke. A portly housekeeper argued with a vendor over a knitted basket. Everything felt normal in the world.

Little Rosie held out her hand when Dale passed by her corner, and he dropped a coin in her palm. No use to try and keep a low profile now. The kid reported to Aurore anyway.

He was expected. The guards stationed at the building entrance, without bothering to search him, let him in and signaled him to go upstairs. He found Aurore seated at her desk, a few dozen precious stones spread on a velvet cloth in front of her. The necklace from the window lay discarded in a box on top of a pile of folders. Dale had never seen a crystal so big, but gems weren't his trade.

"I don't appreciate being used as your secretary, Mr. Armstrong." Aurore's blue-gray eyes shot him an annoyed glance.

Since he didn't know what this was about, Dale preferred not to say anything. He'd felt less anxious the first time he met her because he had nothing to lose then. He did this time, and the presence of his guns failed to comfort him.

"Nifty things, these." Aurore wiggled her fingers, and their tips sparkled under the bright light of the desk lamp. "One doesn't have to wear gloves to handle the stones." She pushed the magnifying glass away, turned off the extra light, and laced her fingers on the desk. "Do you wear gloves in your line of work, Mr. Armstrong?"