An air of grief and fear hung over Haven like a menacing storm-cloud. July saw it in the farmers’ eyes as Alister drove past the river and neared the main township, and it was there too as they returned the truck to the new police station. The people seemed distracted now, performing their day-to-day routine automatically but their minds somewhere else completely. There had been no reports of an attack of the radio and yet, as if overnight, the people were stricken with dread.
July left the truck and went straight home where he found Wade and the twins standing around the war table. Alice saw him first and inhaled, quickly stepping towards him.
“We have a problem.”
Alice led July to the doctor’s office – he stood outside in his white coat and glasses, smoking a cigarette. His smile was empty when he saw July. He gestured with a nod of his head for them to go inside, insisting he’d be there in a moment.
The front desk carried the feint aroma of chemicals – and alcohol – and the smell grew stronger as they moved towards the back of the building. There was only one operating table upon which lay the body of a man covered by a blanket. July looked at the perfectly still figure, approaching slowly, as if it were a wild animal. He grabbed the blanket near the head and peeled it back. Leonard’s face, cold and pale, lay beneath.
If July felt anything after seeing his dead companion, he didn’t show it. He simply breathed out through his nose, one long breath, then covered the face once again and looked at Alice.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Alice began to explain. “Royalists. I’m still not sure why but Leonard insisted on accompanying Charlie and her men to Bastille Point, he must have had business there or something. Charlie says they ran into some Royalist scouts, there was a fight…”
“Other casualties?”
“None, only Leonard. Charlie eliminated all the enemy scouts except one – she’s interrogating him now.”
“What was the actual cause of death?”
Alice opened her mouth but the doctor spoke over her as he stepped into the room.
“He was shot twice in the back with a handgun, the bullets punctured his lungs, they filled up with blood and he suffocated.”
July nodded.
“I see. Alice, go talk to Zefer and have him broadcast an official announcement, then I want you to get started on funeral arrangements – the sooner we bury him the sooner we can get back to our campaign against the Raiders and then turn our attention to the Royalists.”
July went straight from the doctor’s office back to the police station. The building had remained in good condition ever since the very first war, although had only recently been renovated to incorporate Haven’s new demands. Charlie’s prisoner, the Royalist scout, sat in the interrogation room, handcuffed to the table. There was dried blood on his chin and the side of his head, but he was otherwise unhurt. Charlie stood outside the room with a cup of coffee.
“I had heard you were back,” she acknowledge him. “How did it go?”
July told her the details of their deal with Kas, but that wasn’t the most important thing right now. He poked his head into the interrogation room and observed the prisoner, then he grabbed Charlie arm and led her into a separate office, closing the door.
“Where did you find him?” he asked.
“Patrolling the encampments west of Bastille Point. He was alone when we grabbed him.”
“Witnesses?”
“I needed two of my guys to help with the snatch – both loyal to me. The other task I carried out alone.”
July nodded and massaged his aching leg. “Good. Good. Okay, the prisoner – has he said anything?”
Charlie shrugged. “We’ve been questioning him but obviously the others think he is lying. I am worried though, if we don’t get him to confess, an official investigation could blow back on us.”
“That’ll never happen. I’ll get Alister onto it – if anyone can make that prisoner talk, it’s him.”
Sure enough, in less than a week Alister had the prisoner ready to confess to the crime of murdering Leonard in cold blood, and he was to be executed by public hanging. As much as Thomas wanted to avoid seeing such a grisly performance, it was important for him – as July’s second – to attend the event. Two soldiers led the prisoner onto a trailer towed by a car, beneath a heavy beam where the noose patiently awaited him. He had been bathed and dressed in clean clothes, but the cuts and bruises still showed on his body, and Tom could only imagine what Alister had done to him.
At last, when July announced the crimes to the crowd, the man burst into tears and pleaded guilty. He fell sobbing to his knees and Alister had to yank him up and fit his head into the noose. No one talked, and the sound of the prisoner’s cries seemed to carry on the wind. Tom felt a tightening in his chest but he refused to avert his eyes.
The car drove forward and the prisoner’s footing gradually slipped away, he clung desperately but when the trailer was gone he swung back, side-to-side – the sound of the rope creaking, an ugly gurgling as he kicked wildly at the air.
Then the crowd departed.
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