Hell's Maw

Once inside, Grant was swiftly processed by a uniformed Pretor—his uniform consisting of flexible armor in black and red, the tailored jacket flaring at the bottom so that it created something approaching a skirt across the hips. The Pretor was armed with a boot knife and had a holster—currently empty—at his hip. Grant could see notches around the high neck of his uniform where a helmet would be secured while on patrol.

After he had been processed—a simple procedure of taking holographs and prints—Grant was taken to a secure, white-walled interview room and left alone to wait. The room featured harsh lighting and contained a single table to which Grant’s right wrist was cuffed on a short chain, along with four chairs, two to either side of the table. Grant waited almost forty minutes until Corcel, the officer whom he had first met in the hotel ballroom, joined him. Corcel’s expression was unreadable as he greeted Grant, pulling a chair across to him before reversing it to sit on, his arms resting across its back.

“Your name?” Corcel asked without preamble.

“Grant.”

“Grant…?”

“Just Grant,” Grant confirmed. “Only name I ever needed.”

“And you are an American, we have already established.”

“That’s right.”

“Whereabouts from?”

“Originally Cobaltville. More recently, all over, but still in that territory.”

“I see. And your purpose for being here, in Zaragoza?”

“Vacation, with a friend.”

Corcel checked something in the little A7 notebook he carried. “And that would be Shizuka, correct?”

Grant nodded.

“And what is your relationship to Shizuka?”

“Boyfriend/girlfriend,” Grant said, eyes locking with Corcel’s, an unspoken challenge there. “Is this going anywhere, Pretor Corcel?”

“Just establishing the facts. Do you know why you are here, Grant?”

“I got an inkling,” Grant admitted, “but why don’t you explain how you see it.”

“You were discovered at the scene of a crime,” Pretor Corcel stated, “the ballroom in the Gran Retiro. You match the description of one of our suspects, which is why you’ve been brought in for questioning. In addition to this, you had certain items about your person that we might expect to find on the perpetrator.

“Do you know what happened in the ballroom, Grant?”

Grant tilted his head to show he was uncertain. “When Shizuka and I arrived the place was full of hanging bodies—I didn’t imagine that, right?”

Corcel nodded. “Go on.”

“I guess there were twenty-two, twenty-four people hanging from the ceiling in nooses,” Grant recalled. “Didn’t know why.”

“So you confirm you were at the scene prior to our engagement?” Corcel checked.

“Yeah. I saw someone I thought was suspicious—three people, all together—and so I followed them while trusting Shizuka to look after the—I dunno what you call them—victims, maybe?”

Corcel looked intrigued. “When you say you saw someone you thought was suspicious, what happened then?”

“I followed them through the service door and out into the back streets,” Grant said, “but they threw something at me—the sharp disc-thing you saw—and escaped before I could catch up to them.”

“I see,” Corcel said, “and could you describe these people?”

Grant nodded. “Yeah, I got a good look at them and I have a good memory for faces, clothes.”

“But you yourself had nothing to do with the bodies you saw?”

“No, sir,” Grant confirmed.

Corcel watched Grant for a few seconds, searching for the truth among his words. Then Grant spoke up.

“You’ve had your chance,” Grant said, “so let me now start answering the questions you should have asked, and we’ll see if we can get somewhere on this—”

Pretor Corcel’s eyebrows rose with surprise.

“Number one,” Grant began, “I’m an ex-Magistrate—what you’d call a Pretor. So I’m one of you.”

“An ex-Magistrate…?” Corcel asked, placing emphasis on the first word.

“Cobaltville Mag Division, but I left,” Grant elaborated. “Little disagreement, but not to do with the law.”

Corcel gestured for him to explain.

“Turns out my boss was a snake—literally—so I found myself in an untenable position,” Grant explained. “Me and Shizuka came here for a vacation—she’s an important muckety-muck in New Edo, and I’ve got my own thing I wanted to get away from. My guess is that we should have been at that ballroom when all the hangings happened, but we were running late—ate later than we planned, didn’t leave the restaurant until almost ten.”

Pretor Corcel’s eyes lit up at this. “Which restaurant was this?” he asked. “Do you think the staff there could confirm you were there when you said you were?”

“I’d hope so,” Grant said. “Guy like me kind of stands out in your city.” So did Shizuka, from what he could tell, Grant mentally added, recalling that he had seen no other people here of Asian descent.

Corcel nodded slowly, pondering the information that the hulking man had given him. It could be true, although it didn’t confirm that the man calling himself Grant was not also the killer. He would need to take this one step at a time.

“So that’s why I followed them,” Grant finished. “Old instincts getting me involved when I didn’t have an invite.”

“I’ll look into your story,” Corcel told Grant, rising from his seat. “You’re going to have to sit tight until then.”

Grant nodded. Despite his frustration he could understand things from this local Magistrate’s point of view. “Just tell me something,” he said as Corcel strode across the room to the door. “Is Shizuka all right?”

Corcel stared at Grant, the professional hardness in his eyes softening for a moment. “She’s a little shook up, but otherwise she seems to be fine. We have her here right now.”

For questioning, Grant guessed. “Just make sure she’s okay for me, all right?” he asked.

Corcel nodded. “I’ll do that.”

* * *

SHIZUKA, MEANWHILE, WAS in a room two flights above from where Grant was being held. She had been checked over by one of the Pretors’ medical staff and now she sat with Pretor Cáscara on a comfortable couch, discussing what had happened in the hotel ballroom.