Page 37 of The Vigilante's Lover
Carter has other ideas, though. He leads me down several levels and along another hallway before stopping at a door. A scanner runs a beam over Carter and the door opens. The three of us enter a spartan room with only a white table and two chairs. The plain walls enhance the harsh lighting. In the middle of the table is a small black dome. It is the only thing in the room that is not white.
Carter motions for me to sit in the chair on the far side of the table. He settles opposite me. A guard stands near the door, staring impassively. Occasionally his eyes flit between me and Carter.
I’ve been in interrogation rooms before, but not on this side of the table. I fold my hands on the cool surface and say nothing. Eventually Carter pulls out a tablet and scrolls through information. He frowns several times, then puts it down with a sigh. The screen winks out before I can see what it says.
“Trespassing, unauthorized access of syndicate systems, attempted bribery, assault and battery of a civilian police officer, and murder of a fellow Vigilante,” he says. “Not to mention escape from an authorized penitentiary. How again were you thinking to prove your innocence when none of this is in dispute? Of which of these crimes do you claim innocence, Mr. De Luca?”
“None of them.” I spread my hands. “They’re all true.” I hesitate. “Except the bribery. I was just paying a hooker.”
Carter’s eyes narrow. “This is not amusing. You don’t seem to understand your position.”
I put my hands on the desk and lean forward, staring hard at Carter. “I need to speak with Sutherland.” Sutherland is the head of the American syndicate. He presides over all the regions, a position I was once in line to accept.
Carter doesn’t bat an eye. “And why do you think Sutherland can help you?”
“Because,” I say in a tone I might use with a child, “he has final arbitration over conflict between two Vigilantes. Ergo, he can clear my name.” I straighten back up in the seat and resume my neutral posture.
Carter sighs, as if his job is too much for him today. “What if I told you Sutherland has already notified me that he does not want to speak with you?”
“Not possible—” I begin, but Carter cuts me off.
“He was alerted the moment we recognized your heat signature. Furthermore, he has instructed me to place you into custody until such time that you can be transferred to a maximum-security penitentiary, one where you can’t simply walk out the front door.”
An uncomfortable prickle creeps up my neck. I had not counted on Sutherland outright refusing to speak with me. This is not the Sutherland I know.
But then, neither is the one who would allow a syndicate director to rot in jail without a tribunal.
Still, I have to call the bluff.
“I would call you a liar, Mr. Carter,” I say. “Sutherland is my mentor and personal friend.”
Carter spins the tablet around and brings up the display. A picture of me appears along with the same basic vitals as in the glass entry hall. However, beneath the word “fugitive” is a new sentence.
By order of Director Sutherland, former operative Jax De Luca is ordered held for transfer to New Attica Correctional Facility upon apprehension.
That prickle becomes a full-on spear to my head. This is not possible. Ever since the police rebellion four years ago, New Attica has been one of the worst prisons in the country. For Sutherland to order my incarceration in that hellhole is serious.
I keep my discomfort buried deep and focus on feeling every part of my body. The concentration rapidly calms me and I allow myself a steady, even breath before giving Carter a small smile. I reach out and spin the pad back to him.
“It says nothing about asking questions,” I say.
Carter shrugs. “Go ahead. I won’t guarantee answers you like. Or answers at all.”
I decide to be direct. “Where is Operative Klaus?”
Carter gives me a puzzled look, so I press on. “Klaus. He was with the German syndicate before transferring to America years ago. He was my partner, but now he has vanished. I fear his security has been compromised and his life may be in danger.”
Carter picks up the tablet and taps on it. He frowns after a few seconds. “I don’t see a record for an Operative Klaus.”
Another unpleasant surprise. “Are you spelling it correctly? His last known location was the Tennessee safe house.”
“No,” Carter says. “There’s nothing.”
“Vigilantes don’t just vanish!” I growl. “He has an entry in the system! I know because I entered the details myself as syndicate director!”
Carter eyes me coldly, his mouth a tight line. “Perhaps this was the ‘unauthorized access of syndicate systems’ I noted earlier?”
My calm snaps. I shoot up out of my chair and send it flying back with a clatter. The guard leaps forward, a Taser in his hand. I hold my ground behind the desk, fuming. I can feel my anger flowing off me in heated waves, but tamp it down enough to keep my voice steady.
