“I find myself agreeing,” Captain Aradel said. “Though I wouldn’t put it so colorfully. We knew that Winsting was crooked, but in the past he kept mostly to small-time schemes. Selling cargo space to smugglers when it suited him, some shady real-estate deals here and there. Cash in exchange for political favors, mostly.
“Recently, rumors started that he was going to put his Senate vote up for sale. We were investigating, with no evidence so far. Either way, killing those willing to pay him would be like blasting your silver mine with dynamite to try finding gold.”
They reached the bottom of the stairwell, where they found four more corpses. The guards, apparently, all killed with bullets to the head.
Waxillium knelt. “Shot from behind, from the direction of the saferoom,” he whispered. “All four, in rapid succession.”
“Executed?” Marasi asked. “How did the killer get them to stand there and take it?”
“He didn’t,” Waxillium said. “He moved too quickly for them to respond.”
“Feruchemist,” Wayne said softly. “Damn.”
They were called Steelrunners, Feruchemists who could store up speed. They’d have to move slowly for a time, then could draw upon that reserve later. Waxillium looked up. Marasi saw something in his eyes, a hunger. He thought his uncle was involved. That was what he thought every time a Metalborn committed crimes. Waxillium saw Suit’s shadow over his shoulder each way he turned, the specter of a man whom Waxillium hadn’t been able to stop.
Suit still had Waxillium’s sister, best as they could tell. Marasi didn’t know much of it. Waxillium wouldn’t talk about the details.
He stood up, expression grim, and strode to the door behind the fallen men. He threw it open and entered, Marasi and Wayne close behind, to find a single corpse slumped in an easy chair at the center of the room. His throat had been slit; the blood on the front of his clothing was thick, dried like paint.
“Killed with some sort of long knife or small sword,” Aradel said. “Even more strange, his tongue was cut out. We’ve sent for a surgeon to try to tell us more of the wound. Don’t know why the killer didn’t use a gun.”
“Because the guards were still alive then,” Waxillium said softly.
“What?”
“They let the killer pass,” Waxillium said, looking at the door. “It was someone they trusted, perhaps one of their number. They let the murderer into the saferoom.”
“Maybe he was just moving very quickly to get past them,” Marasi said.
“Maybe,” Waxillium agreed. “But that door has to be unlocked from the inside, and it hasn’t been forced. There’s a peephole. Winsting let the murderer in, and he wouldn’t have done that if the guards had been killed. He’s sitting calmly in that chair—no struggle, just a quick slice from behind. Either he didn’t know someone else was in here, or he trusted them. Judging by the way the guards fell outside, they were still focused on the steps, waiting for danger to come. They were still guarding this place. My gut says it was one of their own, someone they let pass, who killed Winsting.”
“Rusts,” Aradel said softly. “But … a Feruchemist? Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Wayne said, from the doorway. “This wasn’t a speed bubble. Can’t shoot out of one of those, mate. These fellows were killed before one could turn about. Wax is right. Either this is a Feruchemist, or somebody figured out how to fire out of speed bubbles—which is somethin’ we’d really like to know how to do.”
“Someone moving with Feruchemical speed explains the knife deaths up above,” Waxillium said, standing. “A few swift executions in the chaos, while everyone else was shooting. Quick and surgical, but the killer would be safe despite the firefight. Captain Aradel, I suggest you gather the names of Winsting’s companions and staff. See if any corpses that should be here, aren’t. I’ll look into the Metalborn side—Steelrunners aren’t common, even as Feruchemists go.”
“And the press?” Marasi asked.
Waxillium looked to Aradel, who shrugged. “I can’t keep a lid on this, Lord Ladrian,” Aradel said. “Not with so many people involved. It’s going to get out.”
“Let it,” Waxillium said with a sigh. “But I can’t help feeling that’s the point of all this.”
“Excuse me?” Wayne said. “I thought the point was killing folks.”
“Lots of folks, Wayne,” Waxillium said. “A shift in power in the city. Were those upstairs the main target? Or was this an attack on the governor himself, a sideways strike upon his house, a message of some sort? Sent to tell Governor Innate that even he is not beyond their reach.…” He tipped Winsting’s head back, looking at the gouged-out mouth. Marasi looked away.
“They removed the tongue,” Waxillium whispered. “Why? What are you up to, Uncle?”
“Excuse me?” Aradel asked.
“Nothing,” Waxillium said, dropping the head back to its slumped position. “I have to go sit for a portrait. I assume you’ll be willing to send me a report once you’ve detailed all of this?”
“I can do that,” Aradel said.
“Good,” Waxillium said, walking toward the door. “Oh, and Captain?”