“What luck,” Book said. He didn’t believe a word of it.
Wong stood and Book followed him out of the room, moving a little stiffly from his injuries. They walked together down a corridor sided by rainbow-hued glass behind which exotic ferns and flowers bloomed. Insects fluttered and crawled among the brilliant foliage. Book had never seen anything so opulent in a private home. Members of domestic staff trotted silently by. It was gone midnight, but still they were on duty, ready to respond to Wong’s every beck and call.
Withholding comment, Book followed Wong into an austere office consisting of a metal desk, several metal upright chairs, and dozens of framed commendations, medals, and pictures with various departments and divisions. This was more like the Mika Wong he had known before.
“Here you go,” Wong said. “I’ll leave you to it. I imagine you might be hungry; I’ll have the cook prepare something to eat.”
“Thank you,” Book said, waiting until Wong left.
That, he thought, could not have gone much better. If Wong hadn’t himself suggested going to his office, Book would have dropped hints to that effect; or else, as soon as he was alone, he would have snuck through the house looking for just such a room.
The truth was, he had very little that was new to report to Zoë and the others. What he did have was the near certainty that Mika Wong was dirty — running some sort of protection racket in Eavesdown, a gamekeeper turned poacher — and that Wong was connected with Elmira Atadema and therefore, by inference, Covington. It was strange that Wong had not inquired why Book was so interested in those two people, at least not yet. His lack of curiosity was in itself curious. Perhaps, over a meal, he might broach the topic. Well, Book would deal with that eventuality as and when it arose. Until then, he was going to make the most of the window of opportunity he had wangled for himself.
Wong must have information about Elmira and Covington, most likely in this very office. Book scanned the room for security cameras, to see if his search would be detected. Just because he saw none did not mean there were none, but it seemed unlikely that Wong would monitor his own workspace in the heart of his own home. Acting as fast as possible, Book opened and closed drawers and folders both in the man’s actual desk and onscreen. Strange codes and addresses of businesses on Persephone — Wong’s protection racket? He kept looking, freezing when he came upon a hard-copy folder in the lower desk drawer labeled ATADEMA, ELMIRA.
He opened the folder and began to skim an official-looking document.
SUBJECT: Missing; unable to locate.
So Wong had been keeping tabs on Elmira Atadema at the very least. The date the subject had gone missing was marked as the day before Alliance Day. Clearly “missing” meant something different to Wong than it did on her wanted poster. She had escaped from her bondholder months before and been recaptured, but Wong had lost track of her within the last twenty-four hours.
Book was so engrossed in the document that he lost situational awareness. He should have heard the footfalls in the corridor outside sooner, but by the time he did they had stopped at the door and the door itself was opening.
He froze, the document in his hands. If it was a member of Wong’s staff, he would bluff his way out of trouble, playing the role of hapless, innocent Shepherd.
But it was Wong himself standing in the doorway.
“Derrial,” he said, scowling unhappily. “What the hell?”
Book decided he had nothing to lose.
“You know that I’m looking for Elmira Atadema, Mika,” he said. “I’ve been asking around on Persephone for information on her, and everything points to you having some kind of professional interest in her.” He raised the folder. “I’ve just confirmed that for myself.”
“Then why not just ask me outright what I know about the woman?” Wong said, grabbing the folder from him. “Why all the cloak and dagger?”
“We haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Book said. “I’ve only recently started looking for her and I’m learning the lay of the land.” And you’re living rich, and a certain waitress accused you of some very nefarious dealings.
Wong frowned. “But Book, it’s me. We go back a ways. We were both officers. We served on the Cortez together. I was there when you got shafted over the Alexander disaster and took the fall.”
Book bowed his head, acknowledging perhaps the darkest, most ignominious episode from his former life.
“I thought… I thought you were someone I could always trust,” Wong went on. “I respected you. I was your superior officer but still I looked up to you. Why in hell else would I have helped you out with those muggers? Soon as I saw who it was they were beating up— Derrial Book! — I weighed in. Didn’t think twice about it. And this is how you reward me?” He sounded genuinely upset. “So I suppose the only reason you agreed to accompany me back to my place was so that you could snoop around?”
“In part, yes.”
“Huh. Guess you’re not the ‘just person’ I thought you were after all.”
“I don’t pretend to be perfect, Mika,” said Book. “I try my best to be virtuous, but oftentimes the circumstances demand a touch of deceit. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Wong seemed in two minds whether to accept the apology.
“You have every right to throw me out on my ear,” Book continued. “Wouldn’t blame you at all if you did. But I beg you, in the name of the respect you once had for me and indeed I once had for you, help me out here. I’m floundering, and there’s a great deal riding on anything you can tell me about Elmira and Covington.”
Wong deliberated, conflicting emotions chasing one another across his face.
Finally, with an audible sigh, he relented.
“What do you need to know?” he said, lowering his defenses but not putting the folder down.
Book used much the same story he had told Saskia the waitress. “One of my erstwhile brethren at the abbey is a cousin of Elmira’s. He contacted me, worried about her. I came to Eavesdown, and what do I find but a missing person poster for her? The more I’ve learned, the more it seems she’s gotten herself into a dire situation and may well be dead. As a matter of fact”—he nerved himself to deliver a deeper lie—“I was considering approaching you if I drew a blank everywhere else. You used to head up the Anti-Terrorism Division, and your remit included dealing with vigilantes.” He paused, but Wong remained poker-faced. “And one of my respondents connected Elmira to a group of vigilantes.”
“Who was it?” Wong pressed.
Book could have admitted that it was Saskia, but she had only verified what Jayne had discovered earlier. He didn’t want Wong to think the waitress had given away too much. It might scupper any further dealings she had with him, and might even earn her a reprisal. “Somebody who prefers to remain anonymous.”
“Okay, so what kind of connection did your anonymous source tell you there is between Elmira and these vigilantes?”
Book sat back in the chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “It seems to me that it’s your turn to share some information, Mika. I’ve been forthcoming, but I’ve gotten nothing in return.”
“This isn’t a trade,” Wong said.
Book remained patient. “Most things are. Don’t see why this should be any different.”
Finally Wong said, “You’re still a Shepherd, yes?”
Book nodded. “I am. I’ve left the abbey for the time being, but I haven’t left the Order.”
Wong tapped the folder again. “Then here’s how we do this. What I’m about to tell you falls within the purview of benefit of clergy. In other words, if you tell anyone what I’m about to discuss, in my opinion you will be violating the holy orders you took.”