Welcome to Deep Cove
Two and Two Does Make Four

Garrett leaned against the cushioned carriage seat and looked across at B.S. The day was bright and the sun warm on their heads. The little driver on the front of the wagon paid them no attention as he steered the police barouche down the park lane toward the precinct.

Three days had passed since their ordeal at the lighthouse, and B.S’s face remained bruised and scratched from the assassin’s attentions. The boy realised Garrett was staring at him and looked over with a smile. ’Warm day,” he said. Garrett nodded, but remained silent. B.S. closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of flowers in the park was a heavy perfume, and Garrett knew what the boy was thinking. Life always seemed sweeter when you had cheated death.

“They tell me you have your memories back?” asked Garrett at last, unable to contain his curiosity.

B.S. grinned from ear to ear. “It’s true,” he said. “I’ve slept really good the last three nights. I haven’t felt this at peace since I was a little boy.”

“But how?” asked Garrett mystified.

B.S. laughed and put his feet up on the seat in front of him. “Doc says it was the shovel to the head – snapped all the missing pieces back into place.” He fingered the bruise on his forehead. “It’s still tender, but it’s worth it.”

Garrett nodded as the carriage passed beneath the shade of a giant oak. “Does that mean you remember what happened when you were found in the water all those years ago?”

“Yes,” said B.S., “some of it anyway. There are a few blank spots left.” His smile faded, and Garrett recognised the old B.S. in the boys face. “It’s what happened before they found me that I don’t like so much. It’s weird. I spent all this time trying to remember my past, and now that I can, some of those memories are horrible. Still, I won’t go so far as to say I’d like to forget again.” He knocked on the wooden door of the carriage for luck.

“Can you tell me how you ended up in the water?”

B.S. was drawn from his thoughts. “It’s like Mr. Honi said. I lived with my mother and my grandfather on their farm in the hills until I was seven. My grandfather taught me many things about hunting and trapping.” B.S. held up his notebook and smiled. “Funny how these little things could find their way through the fog in my brain. A few days ago I couldn’t remember anything about Mr. Honi’s story. Well, maybe the river.” B.S. was silent for a moment. Shaking his head he continued. “Now I remember it all. The farmstead and the old fireplace on a cold night. The sable pens and the animals my grandfather trapped. My grandfather teaching me to hunt. I even remember Honi bringing my mother flowers. Grandfather never much cared for him.” B.S. chuckled.

Garrett was quiet for a moment and the sound of the horse’s hooves echoed up from the front of the wagon. “I’m no expert,” he said, “but I have seen men with head injuries. No one as severe as you though. I once had a friend fall from the back of the wagon and hit his head on the ground. I was about your age when it happened. He kept asking who I was and where we were. I’d tell him, and then five minutes later he’d say, ‘And who are you?’ I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t. When we got back to camp his little dog ran up to him, and he knew its name right away.” Garrett nodded. “He recovered in a couple of days.”

“It’s not a pleasant experience,” agreed B.S. “It scared me half to death, not knowing who I was.”

“So, when you were seven, men came to your grandfather’s farm to steal his litter of sable?” Garrett asked, steering the conversation back to B.S’s past.

“Yes,” agreed B.S.

“Men paid by Kline,” added Garrett, watching the boy for his reaction.

“They burned the farm, stabbed my grandfather and attacked my mother.” B.S. stopped talking and swallowed. A look of pain crossed his features. “Now I know they killed her, but the last time I saw her she was alive. It’s so strange, Garrett,” he looked across at the other man his honest features vulnerable in his grief. For years, I couldn’t remember myself or my family. Then whack - right to the forehead - I get that shovel. I woke up in the lighthouse feeling different but not comprehending that I could remember. When the realisation of it struck me, I was elated. And then I remembered Mr. Honi’s words, and I knew that my mother was dead. She has been gone these many years and I could not even mourn her.”

Garrett reached over and patted the boy’s knee. “I imagine the feeling was awful,” he said, his voice husky. “It doesn’t matter how long a person has been gone, it’s still painful when you learn of their death.”

B.S. nodded his agreement. “I was playing on the hillside by the river when I saw the smoke from the cabin. I ran to see what was going on. I saw them hurting my mother and I ran to help. One of the men hit me hard and I tumbled from the rocks and into the water. I tried to swim, but the current was too strong and I was carried over the falls. The river emptied into the bay near their beached ship. Others in their crew had lit a cook fire on the shore. They saw me floating by and pulled me from the water. I was half dead by then and succumbed to the darkness soon after. I woke up not knowing anything.”

“Do you know why they rescued you?” asked Garrett with interest.

B.S. shrugged. “I don’t think killing a seven year old boy was something many of them would tolerate. In any case, the cook took a liking to me and protected me. He saw me safely to Deep Cove.”

“I don’t want to stir things up,” said Garrett carefully, “but you’ve spent the last three days with Mr. Kline. Are you angry with him for the part he played in this?” he asked.

B.S. contemplated the question for several moments. “I haven’t thought about it much,” he admitted. “Mr. Kline and I did speak about my abduction from my grandfather’s farm. He expressed his genuine regrets over the whole affair. And, although it’s true that I would still be with my family had he not been so greedy, he is not the one who burned the farmstead. He did not tell those men to kill my mother or to attack my grandfather. He has also taken care of me since he discovered the truth about my situation.”

Garrett nodded. He was not certain he would feel the same if the tables were turned. He said nothing of this but instead slapped the younger man on the knee again. “I guess this means I should call you Yuri?” he asked.

“It’s okay to call me B.S.,” said the boy, grinning again. “It’s my name now and I am used to it.”

* * * *

The police coach pulled up to the precinct and the driver applied the brake. He jumped down and opened the door for Garrett and B.S. A second man approached the wagon and nodded to them. “You are B.S?” he asked, offering a hand to the boy. At B.S’s nod, the man pointed to an adjacent brick building and the glass entrance. “Detective Honi has asked that I escort you to the cafeteria. He will be joining you in a few minutes.”

Garrett measured the man, noting the newcomer’s outfit was not the same as their driver’s police uniform. He had been to Cassadia many times in his life and recognised the Royal Officer’s apparel. It had seemed odd when Honi sent summons for him, and odder yet, when the carriage arrived with B.S. aboard. Now Garrett was certain something of importance was taking place. The presence of the king’s police was not an everyday occurrence outside of the nation’s capital.

The officer half turned to Garrett. “The detective is in the communications division. It’s the third door on your left.” The man placed a hand on the boy’s back, steering him towards the dining hall. Garrett made his way to the main building and was not surprised to see dozens of Royal Officers inside. No one paid him any attention and he discreetly made his way to the third door on the left.

The door opened outward as he was reaching for the handle and Detective Honi barked out something, when he realised Garrett was blocking his passage. “Garrett!” he said warmly, and thrust his hand out for the younger man to shake. “Come in and have a seat. I’ll be one second.” Garrett took the offered hand, staring at the metal contraption strapped to the policeman’s broken leg. He didn’t comment on it as Honi limped into the hallway, bellowing for Officer Johnson to get a move on.

Garrett entered the moderate room, absorbing the sterile government setting. A viewing globe hung from the ceiling and several benches had been arranged beneath it. Two report covered desks were located across the room and behind them, a sizeable window revealed a view of the back lawn and a small pond. Garrett turned as a man in a Deep Cove police uniform approached the doorway. Johnson made no effort to hide his angry look when Honi asked him to retrieve a report for him.

The detective ignored the man’s glare and re-entered the room, closing the door behind him. “It doesn’t matter how friendly I am,” he said, “these boys just won’t seem to warm up to me.” He laughed when Garrett raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug. Hobbling to the desk on the right, he pushed aside a stack of papers as if looking for one in particular. “Something wonderful has happened,” he divulged over his shoulder. Garrett remained silent, waiting for Honi to explain.

The detective gave a grunt as he located his prize. Crossing the floor, his eyes were bright as he held out a newspaper to his guest. Garrett accepted the offering and turned it right side up. “Vellian Soldier Escapes Ponce Prison,” he read aloud. Glancing to the top of the paper, he noted last week’s date.

“Yes!” said Honi excitedly. “Read on!”

“A military insider has confirmed the arrival of Commander Edward Rowgar at the armed force’s base in Temang. Reports from the outpost indicate that Rowgar and several former prisoners have arrived after a harrowing escape from the Ponce prison at Gibet. Rowgar has remained behind closed doors with the king’s top brass since his arrival and several Cassadian military advisors have met with the officer over the past two days. Insiders indicate that Rowgar and the other men were tortured and sustained gruesome wounds, during their tenure in the Ponce prison. Earlier this spring, Commander Rowgar was branded a traitor to Vellia when he led an elite unit of soldiers on an impromptu raid against the Ponce prison. Rowgar is now contesting this status and claims he was ordered by the High Command to assault the prison.”

Garrett looked baffled. “But you already knew Rowgar was ordered into the prison.”

“Yes,” agreed Honi, “but with Rowgar alive, he can confirm the fact he received his orders from General Omik. It doesn’t matter that Omik was acting on behalf of the Syndicate. In fact, it adds greatly to our case against the organisation, by proving that Omik is under the Syndicate’s control.”

“I don’t understand. You already had this proof, with your reports from the Dragon Council showing the orders were issued to Omik and down to Rowgar and Hawks.”

“Unauthorised network taps are not permissible in a court of law,” divulged Honi. “Before, it was our word against theirs. Now, we have the word of a distinguished Special Forces officer to back us.”

“Lucky for you,” said Garrett quietly. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Yes indeed,” continued Honi. “In fact, as you no doubt noticed on your way in, we have brought in a squad of Royal Officers to arrest Kline! We’re just awaiting the G.V. communication to authorise the raid. That’s why I called you and B.S. here. I wanted to make sure you guys were clear of the property and any needless harassment.”

“Arrest Kline?” asked Garrett mystified. “I thought you told me he was small time and that the Syndicate was your main concern?”

“They are,” agreed Honi. “But Kline is also a thorn in our side. I couldn’t tell you our intentions, because I was unsure of how deep into Kline’s activities you were. That’s why I downplayed our interest in the man. Maury will be quite pleased with his arrest, I am certain.”

“How is Maury doing?” asked Garrett. “I know he was close with Hector.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Honi. “For now he will remain at Kline’s until we arrest him with the others. We’ll ease him out of the system as gently as we can without raising suspicions.”

Garrett nodded. “Did you find the body?” He didn’t have to elaborate for Honi to know he was referring to the assassin Merle had electrocuted. After fleeing the lighthouse, Garrett had asked Honi to send the police to investigate the scene. By the time they arrived, the body was gone.

“No,” said Honi. “B.S. told me the assassins were brothers. I am sure the one Kline tangled with is alive. No doubt he returned to gather his kin.”

“I don’t blame Kline for not wanting to leave his compound these last few days,” said Garrett, “His life will be forfeit if the killer gets to him.”

“He’ll have to get through Kline’s new friends first,” said Honi referring to the Royal Police.

“I know,” mused Garrett.

Before Honi could reply, a familiar female voice echoed across the room startling the policeman. “You have mail.” The viewing globe remained dark despite the notification.

“Damn thing,” laughed Honi, taking the newspaper from Garrett and tossing it onto the desk again. He leaned against the table and removed a cigarette from his top pocket.

“That might be important,” said Garrett. His tone had changed and Honi glanced his way.

“That’s okay, it can wait,” declared the detective. He turned to the desk and rummaged around for his matches.

“I think you should check it,” persisted Garrett. “It could be your authorisation to bring Kline in.”

“I said, it can wait,” argued Honi. A hard look crossed his features. He located the box of matches and struck one against the side of the desk.

“I understand,” said Garrett nodding. “I’m sure the police system is encoded. You’d have to log in with a code or some such thing.”

“Yes,” agreed Honi. He held the match up to his smoke and inhaled.

“You know,” said Garrett contemplatively, “I was at Kline’s when we received that ransom message from the assassins.”

“I know,” agreed Honi. He took another deep haul on his cigarette, his eyes questioning.

“I watched Vic start up a game he likes to play on the G.V. It’s some kind of war-game, where you move different units around the map and attack other countries.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Honi. His eyes remained hard.

“He had to login to that game with a code too,” continued Garrett. “It’s the damndest thing,” he chuckled, but his eyes retained a look to match Honi’s. “Vic’s just about the dumbest fellow I’ve ever met, but somehow he knows how to login to that game. Even Maury didn’t know how to get into it.” Honi puffed on his cigarette, not saying a word. “You know what I’m thinking?” asked Garrett.

Honi shrugged. “It’s hard to say, Garrett,” his voice was cautioning.

“I think the code he used is the same one you use to log onto your police system.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Honi blew smoke into the air and smashed the cigarette butt into the side of the desk.

“Why don’t you check that mail and prove me wrong,” said Garret evenly.

Honi growled and stood up straight. He took a half step towards Garrett, his finger wagging out a warning for the younger man. “That idiot Vic is always down here bugging the cops to run errands for them. He likes fetching their coffees. Fancies himself a policeman, I think. I’m not saying it’s true, but it is possible he was present when one of the fellows logged on. He’s so stupid they probably never thought anything of it.”

“No, I don’t think so,” countered Garrett. “I’ll bet only certain high ranking members of a particular King’s Intelligence unit have this pass code. As I mentioned, even Maury, one of your operatives didn’t know it.”

“That proves nothing,” snapped Honi.

“You are right,” agreed Garrett. “You did an excellent job setting this whole thing up. Your involvement is indeed minimalized. It really could be that Vic somehow stumbled across a secret access point into the Syndicate’s command center from his G.V. And of course, being the idiot savant that he is, somehow cracked their access login. Assuming he was playing a game, he manipulated Captain Hawks’ and Commander Rowgar’s units into attacking the Ponce prison. It just happens to be coincidence that this very act allowed your agency the opportunity to out the Syndicate and illustrate to the king, the grip the organisation has on our Vellian military.”

“I told you, our logs are not permissible in any court of law. They mean nothing.”

“That’s not true. They may not be permissible, but they do show the Syndicate’s activities. That proof alone would be enough to have King Renli take action.”

“Why would I risk the lives of Captain Hawks and Commander Rowgar on such a gamble? The orders came from a source outside the Syndicate’s channels. That in itself could be reason enough to release the dons from blame. Then there is the issue of Rowgar and Hawks. If all of their men are taken and killed, Omik would simply claim the units went rogue – just like he did. There was no possible way I could know Rowgar would escape that prison and consolidate our claims against General Omik.”

“No, there is no way you could know,” agreed Garrett, and Honi once more leaned against the desk. The detective looked to be fighting his nerves. “The Syndicate has never been your number one concern though, has it?” persisted Garrett.

“What are you talking about? They have always been at the top of my list.”

“At the top, yes,” agreed Garrett, “but, right below B.S., or should I say Yuri.” Honi’s face grew red and he glared at Garrett. “How long did you search before you found him?” prodded the younger man.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Honi licked his lips and looked away.

“Yes you do, Archie. Kline is a greedy man and a thief. Stealing Ersk’s sable was one thing, but he also took something of yours that day: your girl.”

“Somebody has to make him pay. She was innocent and sweet. He had no right…” Honi’s voice faded as he realised he was admitting his guilt. His eyes locked on Garrett and he hobbled toward the younger man. “Ersk lost everything that day; his home, his livelihood, and his family. The old man has suffered ever since, while Kline has grown fat off the suffering of his victims.” Garrett braced himself as Honi drew near, but the policeman stopped and stood straight before him. “I have no regrets, Garrett. The men working with Kline are just as guilty as him. I had hoped the Syndicate would rid the world of his stain. You are right; Rowgar and the others were acceptable losses. They are soldiers; they do as they are ordered.”

Garrett nodded. “What will you do now?” he asked. “That assassin could just as easily be tracking B.S. as Kline.”

Honi took a deep breath, his stance relaxing a little. “That depends on you, Garrett.” His look was unwavering. “I had planned on retiring and taking Yuri home to his grandfather. Maury is to head our division now and bring the Syndicate… and Kline to justice.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “Neither of us can undo what has been done,” he said at last. “I honestly don’t know if I would have done any different, were I in your shoes,” he admitted.

Honi looked shocked. “So you won’t say anything?” he asked. His fingers shakily sought out another cigarette and he limped to the desk and his matches.

“What can I say?” returned Garrett, “Everyone knows Vic is a genius with the global view. I’m as surprised as you that he managed to figure out that pattern.” Garrett turned for the door.

“Thank you,” said Honi quietly.

Garrett did not look back. “Take care of B.S.”

“Like you said,” agreed Honi, “My son has always been my number one concern.”

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