Chapter 2

Katya

Katya stared at the board with Sem, deep in thought, when a knock on the door disrupted her trail of thoughts. She turned with a frown, then smiled. "Anne. You look like shit."

The woman grinned at her. "Your mother, Katya. To be fair, I feel like shit." Her stylish suit clashed horribly with her face that made her look as if she'd been run over by a truck. She came in and gave Katya a hug, then raised her hand. "Afternoon, Sem."

"Afternoon, miss Postma. I second my boss's remark. Are you feeling any better?" He smiled, a bit of mischief mixed with a splash of concern.

Anne sighed. "Hardly. I still have to watch what I eat. I hope I get better soon." She nodded at the board. "So this is what you lot found? God, that's a lot of big guns. I'd hate for people to be on the receiving side of that. Where's the rest, though?"

Sem and Katya both gave a wry smile. She nodded no. "This is all. No anti-supernatural goods, solely anti-human."

Anne blinked at that and looked at the board, clearly finding it hard to believe. Yet the pictures didn't lie, and she knew Katya's Special Ops team always wore bodycams. There was no point in hiding. "Word on the street is, you got your hands on a lot of goods earmarked for the Carver. But there's none here. Any chance that got picked up before?"

Sem handed over a tablet as he shook his head, while Katya nodded hers. "Afraid not, miss Postma. As you can see, the entire shipment is accounted for. Whatever goods the OM was told we also snatched up, it never was on board of that ship in the first place."

Anne cursed under her breath. "That's a problem. But I'm too exhausted to think that through. Let's catalogue the evidence first, so we can ship it off to storage."

They went over to the storage, joined by several members of the Public Prosecution Office, as well as the Arrest Team and two more Special Ops officers. A lot of eyes and even more cameras, to guarantee their count.

Carver

The café was at the edge of Balkanville, three different names on its various sides as if it were a person trying to avoid getting used by Fae. Some locals scoffed at the idea, others just kept their nose out of it. In truth, many suspected it just was for laundering purposes, given how the place was owned by the Albanian Fares.

Still, the prices were decent enough, crappy cheap beer that gave even Heineken a run for its money for the title of pure piss, salted peanuts to keep everyone drinking, bartending staff that pretended you didn't exist outside your orders. So the place had its regulars, which knew better than to wander anywhere near the backroom, or bother the few fellows that clearly were mob soldiers keeping the place under guard.

Today, the place was more quiet than normal, people clearly uncomfortable with the tension. As Carver entered, he spotted, and ignored, more guards than usual. While they eyed him with wariness, he just went up to the bar and put down a bill.

"One shot of rakia." The bartender nodded and poured the drink. She didn't have to ask him which flavour, knowing well he drank plum. He slammed down the drink, then took the water glass she had served him alongside. Maybe he came here too often.

While he nursed it, one of the guards made his way over into the backroom. Soon, he came out with a man about Carver's age, who grinned mockingly. "Raki this early? Looks like the Carver might have a drinking problem." As if the locals weren't there, not caring if he might offend them.

Carver shrugged. "Only way to get you out of your office, Thoma." He put down more money and gestured at Thoma and the guard. Wordlessly, the bartender poured three shots.

Thoma shook his head, then slammed down the shot. "Plum as always. You need better taste. So did you come to discuss the news? I'm afraid we'll be a bit too busy to take care of you and your worriwart granny customers right now."

Another shrug. "That's fine. I just came to tell you I'll be using some other avenues for now. Once your supply lines issue is resolved, we'll be back in business."

Thoma narrowed his eyes, though his smirk betrayed he had expected this. "Just make sure to vet your suppliers well. I'd hate for you to get in trouble by trusting the wrong person."

Carver shrugged again as he drank his own shot. "Don't worry. This won't go the way you think. Give the Reverend my regards."

He turned and walked away, ignoring the grumble and glare thrown his way. Thoma being a pain in the neck was just another day in the office.

Katya

The count had finished and had been doublechecked, before everything was loaded into armoured trucks to elsewhere. Given the threat the cargo posed, the overly paranoid amount of security for it made quite a lot of sense. Back in the office, Special Ops kept going over the documents they had, as well as verifying the footage from last night's raid.

In the end, everyone couldn't help but reach the same conclusion, but none dare speak it. Anne chose to put everyone out of their misery. "They tampered even with their private manifests. Which means the Deacon doesn't even trust his own with that information. No wonder he's so quick to claim we took the Carver's shipment. If word gets out that he lost his own tools for war, Sartori will likely try to strike first."

"I would ask if she actually would, but we know she got her own Red Haze supply." Sem cracked his neck as he looked at Anne and Katya. "She's been out for blood herself for years, but needed stakes high enough to be worth fighting for. That Fae shit has money rolling all over the country, so she certainly can get enough support from back home to pick a fight."

"One problem with that." Katya looked at the board again. She had finally realised what the rub was, what had been bugging her about the whole thing. "Red Haze is a Fae drug too, and we know it comes with a sensitivity to cold iron as a side-effect. The Deacon isn't dumb, he knows that. And they could have fit in more with this shipment. Why then leave out goods that he could make use of as well?"

She caught three of her officers cursing under their breath. Two in Dutch, one in English. As for Anne, she clearly was still too exhausted for this. "I have no idea, Katya. But you're right, that's worrisome. It sounds as if he never wanted the Carver to get resupplied. But what good would that do?"

"Uhm, miss Postma. Did you hear any rumour that the Deacon lost his own guns?" She blinked at Sem, surprised by his question. But Katya understood. Now it was her turn to curse under her breath.

"I... Yes, I heard that as well. Wait. Why is that?" Sem nodded at her while everyone's eyes went back to the board. Of course. If the Deacon was keeping this secret from even his own men, then how come it leaked already?

Katya sighed. "I think we'll have to dive deeper into this, because if we don't get ahead of this, we're risking a lot of collateral damage." She stayed quiet for a bit, while her eyes were drawn to a blurry picture. "Our normal surveillance isn't sufficing. I think we need to put taps on the Carver. And get to him asap."