No one even glanced at him. Janco entered the building and paused. Lanterns lit the corridors, illuminating closed doors. Now what? He couldn’t knock on each one and inquire where he might find the Master Gardener...or could he? Maybe pretend there was an emergency?
No. Too risky. He’d just have to do it the old-fashioned way. Once he’d checked all three stories—same design as the ground floor—Janco retreated outside. A few hours remained until dawn. Ari knew not to expect Janco back until the next evening. Janco snooped around a bit but, finding nothing interesting, he returned to Oran’s building. Locating a hidden spot with a view of the entrance, he settled into a comfortable position to wait.
Good thing Oran was one of the first to leave, which confirmed he resided there. Now Janco just needed to occupy himself for the rest of the day. He followed a few people to a canteen. He stole a couple apples and a banana. Then he joined a team hauling vines from the hothouses to a factory. No one questioned him. Everyone looked stressed and harried, so he fit right in.
He kept an eye on Oran as the day turned into night. The man worked inside the hothouses almost nonstop. Late that night, he swung by the canteen, ate supper and headed to his quarters. When Oran reached the door, Janco was a few steps behind him. Oran climbed to the third floor without realizing he had a tail. Only when Janco followed him down the corridor did the man become suspicious.
“What are—”
Janco placed the tip of his knife on Oran’s throat. “Quiet. I don’t want you to wake your neighbors.”
Oran swallowed.
“Your room,” Janco ordered. When he didn’t move, Janco pressed a little harder. “Now.”
The man led him to the last door on the left. Fumbling for a key, Oran finally managed to unlock it. The light from the hallway illuminated a spartan room. Janco pushed him inside.
Oran stumbled a few steps, then spun to face him. “I recognize you.”
“Good, that’ll save time on the introductions, Oran Zaltana.”
Alarmed, the man straightened.
“It took us a while to discover that you’re the Cartel’s Master Gardener.”
“I’m not—”
Janco held up a hand. “Save it.” He pointed to the lantern on the night table. “Light that, and then sit down.”
Oran hesitated until Janco stepped closer. Then he hurried to strike a spark. Once yellow glowed from the element, Oran settled on the unmade bed. Janco closed the door. The man fisted the blanket in fear when Janco advanced.
“You’ll never—”
Janco didn’t wait for the rest of the warning. He jabbed Oran with a dart filled with goo-goo juice. Many people had tried telling him he’d never get away with it or that he’d never leave the place alive. And those same people were always wrong. Just once, Janco would love to hear a truly unique threat.
Oran slapped a hand over the tiny wound. “What the hell was that?”
“A truth serum.”
“That’s...” He gazed around the room as if confused about why it had started to spin.
“Cheating?”
“Yes.”
“Who says I have to play fair? The Cartel certainly isn’t. Now tell me about your work as the Master Gardener.”
“Not me. Nope. I’m...going to be sick.” Oran heaved, vomiting onto the floor.
Janco jumped back just in time. Great, a puker. It happened from time to time. A nasty smell invaded the small room. Lovely.
“Who is the Master Gardener?” he asked.
“Bavol doesn’t know.”
Talking to a person under the influence of goo-goo juice required a certain level of patience. “Know what?”
“He’s working for us.” Oran giggled. “Shh. Mr. High and Mighty is really a traitor.”
“Who’s us?”
“The Cartel. Although I suggested Alliance...it’s a stronger...” He swept a hand out. “You know.”
“Word?”
“Yep.”
Janco tried again. “Who’s your boss?”
“Uptight know-it-all.”
“Really? I heard...”
“Don’t listen. She thinks she knows it all, but really...nothing.”
Ah. “But she’s Owen’s wife.”
“So she says.”
“Were the hothouses Selene’s idea?”
“No. Bavol’s. He built...little bitty one.” Oran spread his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “Clueless to the potential.”
“What about the Harman trees? What do they do?”
“Oh...that.” He made a dismissive sound. “Uptight know-it-all’s pet project.”
“But it must be important.”
“Not to me. It’s a weed.”
“You don’t know.”
“It’s Ixian. Not my area of expertise.”
He was getting closer. “It’s Selene’s area of expertise.”
“It’s unnecessary. I provide plenty of Theobroma.”
“Always good to have a backup plan.”
“She’s killing people.” Oran stood up.
Holy snow cats. Janco kept his expression neutral, although his heart danced a jig in his chest. “That’s to be expected.”
The man wobbled on his feet. “Bavol and I...we...never, not...ever experimented on people. She...” He sank onto the bed. “She’s gone now. Took her poison and left.”
“Where’s she been doing this?” Janco asked.