Chapter 64
He shoved the barrel harder against his forehead, enough to make him wince. "I have weak fingers. Wouldn’t want one of them to slip on the trigger, would we?" His voice hardened. "So I’ll be kind enough to repeat my question from earlier. And by God, you will answer me, or I will paint these walls with your blood."
Then Silas gave a strained laugh.
"You think I’m afraid of dying."
"You should be. The fear of death is the beginning of wisdom, especially in your case."
"No." The word escaped through quavering lips. "You don’t understand. If I tell you anything, you may decide to let me walk out of here. But it will not matter."
The pistol remained where it was, heightening his anxiety.
"Why?" His other captor asked.
"Because he will find me. I could travel to the other side of Arden and he would still find me. He has strong connections."
"Who?"
The man’s hesitation lasted only a moment.
"The Broker."
The name meant nothing to the men questioning him, and Silas could not decide whether their ignorance was a relief or a far greater cause for concern.
He lowered his gaze. "He is a medium man of sorts. As vicious as they come. I never speak to him, I don’t even know his real name. Most of us in the business don’t even know who the others are. We receive instructions, we carry them out, and we are paid. That’s how it works."
"Do you take me for a fool?" The one with the gun snarled, sensing there was more Silas wasn’t saying.
The pistol pressed more firmly against his forehead, finger curling around the trigger in warning.
"No. No, I swear." The man’s breathing became uneven, heart nearly beating out of his chest. "But they will kill me, for heaven’s sake. And they won’t stop there. He knows things about me, my past crimes, where my family lives. He knows everything and he will take everything." The overseer continued, his voice growing more frantic. "That is why no one betrays him."
"Give us a name and where to find him and you are free to go."
"I— I told you already. I don’t know the broker’s name."
"That’s truly unfortunate." The man holding him at gunpoint huffed like the matter greatly inconvenienced him. A second later, he lowered the gun and fired a bullet into Silas’ leg.
The man howled in pain, blood pouring from the wound. He was crying now, fat tears rolling down his cheeks even as he thrashed against his restraints.
"Your screams are like music to my ears. Now then," he lifted the gun once more. "Lie to me again and the next bullet is going in your eye."
At last, the questioning yielded something useful. Silas rattled out everything he knew.
There were other warehouses scattered across Arden and he divulged where more than a few of them were located. There were others like him that were tasked to oversee new shipments.
According to him, there was going to be a new shipment in a month’s time. After a while longer, he finally revealed a name.
Samuel Laci. He wasn’t the broker but he was also very high up in the chain of command.
Their next move would be to track down this Samuel Laci fellow.
"That’s a good man. Wasn’t too hard, was it?" He lowered the gun and flashed Silas a wicked grin.
They didn’t bother to untie him before they went on their way, leaving him to bleed out alone.
---
The warehouse remained undisturbed long after the last wagon had disappeared.
The two men watching it waited another half hour before crossing the street. The road had fallen quiet by then, with only the occasional noise breaking the stillness.
They approached from the side, keeping to the shadows. One kept watch while the other worked to pick the lock.
A faint scraping sound came from somewhere nearby, followed by the sudden rush of a figure who slammed into one of them and sent him sprawling.
They grappled on the ground, each struggling to overpower the other. The attacker eventually gained the advantage, pinning one of Draven’s men down and tightening a hand around his throat.
He was just beginning to choke the life out of him when something struck him hard across the head. His body went limp at once, and his grip loosened enough for the other man to drag in a desperate breath.
He looked up and saw his companion standing over them, a wooden plank still clutched in his hands.
With a shove, he kicked the unconscious attacker away and scrambled to his feet.
"Is he alright?" he asked, glaring down at the motionless man.
His companion crouched and checked the man’s pulse before nodding. "Yes. We can only hope he doesn’t wake before we’re finished here."
With that, they left him where he lay and hurried on.
After several more attempts with the lock, the mechanism finally gave way with a faint metallic click.
The door opened and they slipped inside.
The first thing they did was to scan their environment, ensuring that they didn’t encounter any more surprises.
The warehouse was dark and smelled of timber, dust, and mold. Luckily, they brought an oil lamp to light up the way.
Then they began searching.
The warehouse appeared disappointingly ordinary at first, walls lined with crates filled with mundane items. Imported merchandise of the sort that could have easily passed through Caldor’s docks every day without attracting suspicion.
Nothing about the place immediately suggested that it was connected to anything sinister. Where was the contraband?
They moved through the warehouse again, taking their time to search more carefully. Surely there was something they missed.
They checked more hidden crates, examined the shelves, and searched behind the stacks of merchandise for anything that might have been concealed from an ordinary inspection.
One of the men eventually stopped near the rear wall.
Several crates had been stacked there.
He studied them for a moment before crouching beside the nearest one. Something about their arrangement seemed off, like it was done to separate them from the rest.
"Help me search this." He called to his companion who wasn’t too far behind as he reached toward the first crate.
His companion joined him and together, they pried the crate open.
Inside it, beneath a layer of legitimate merchandise, lay several flintlock pistols wrapped in oiled cloth.
For several seconds, neither man touched them. Then one reached inside and picked up one of the weapons for closer inspection.
After that, another crate was opened. More firearms, guns of different varieties.
The next crate contained ammunition. The one after that held gunpowder.
They kept searching.
The deeper they went, the more items they uncovered.
The legitimate merchandise they found earlier was merely a front to cover up contraband.
And the weapons were being moved through the same network as the other contraband, concealed among ordinary goods and stored in places where no one would think to look.
"The duke needs to know about this."