Page 18 of Crocodile Tears

“Did he murder Elliot Dacre?” a blonde woman asked, shoving her microphone under Josiah’s nose. “Is this yet another sordid chapter in the Alexander Lytton story?”

“Are you really expecting me to answer that?” Josiah asked contemptuously.

“Is the indie your prime suspect?” she continued, undaunted. “Have you arrested him? I mean, you’re the indiehunter – that’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“I have no further comment to make at this time,” he said icily. When the woman opened her mouth to ask another question, he stared her down and she closed it again.

Another member of the mob was braver. “Isn’t this yet another case of an indentured servant murdering their houder?” he insisted, using the common colloquial term for IS employers. “Isn’t it becoming an epidemic, Investigator Raine? There have been ten such cases in the past year alone. Surely, something must be done?”

Josiah shrugged. “I’m an investigator, not a politician; I just solve the crimes I’m sent to investigate.”

“At least we’re in safe hands if the indiehunter is on the case,” the blonde woman said, smiling at him sycophantically now.

Josiah shot her a withering look, then turned and walked briskly towards the Inquisitus building.

“Make sure he doesn’t get away with it, indiehunter!” she called after him.

He paused, his shoulders tightening, then flung open the glass door and strode inside.

His boss was waiting there to greet him, in her sleek black wheelchair. Esther Lomax’s legs were thin and wasted, the result of the bullet still lodged in her spine that had ended her career in the field twenty years ago, but there was nothing wrong with her mind. She was the sharpest investigator he’d ever worked with, and she expected the absolute best from her staff.

“You’ve arrested someone already?” she asked. “I know you’re good, but I didn’t realise you’d have the case solved by the end of the day.”

“I haven’t,” he said gruffly. “He ran away when we tried to talk to him, and I want to know why. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She blocked his way. “You’re in a bad mood, Joe. What’s the matter?”

“You’re buying indentured servants now?” he said accusingly. “Since when?”

“Ah, this is about Baumann. I should have guessed. Yes, we’ve taken her on as an IS. Her family are Dutch refugees who’ve been living in government work camps for years. Nobody wants them. Have you ever visited one of those camps, Joe? They’re awful.” She grimaced. “Baumann was a bright kid who was there through no fault of her own. I sponsored her education and was delighted to be able to offer her a position here.”

“Why not just employ her? Why put that noose around her neck?” Josiah made a sharp gesture towards his own throat.

“She’s only allowed to work here as an indie – it’s a condition of her work permit.”

“And Inquisitus gets a tax break as well?” Josiah raised an eyebrow.

Esther sighed. “Yes, Joe, we do. That’s incidental, though – if she works hard, she’ll win her freedom in five years, and then she’ll be entitled to full employment rights – so I’ve promised to offer her a contract of employment then. Does that make you feel better?”

“No.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “Joe.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“So, we’re good?”

Josiah sighed. “Yeah. She doesn’t like me, though.”

“Baumann? Well, youarean acquired taste.” Esther grinned at him, eyes twinkling. He gave a bark of laughter. “One I acquired many years ago,” she added, leaning forward to pat his arm. “Now, tell me why that mob outside is so interested in this man you’ve arrested.”

“His name is Alexander Lytton. He caused the accident that crippled his famous brother – Charles Lytton, the Olympic rower.”

She sighed. “That’ll make it even harder to keep a lid on this, then.”

“I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure you will.” She moved her wheelchair aside. “Well – what are you waiting for? Get to work.”

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