Detective Kella Massi studied every detail of the work tables and bins of parts as she followed Lady Sade and her footman through the workshop. The front rooms had been orderly and sterile, almost resembling a hospital, but here in the back she found a mechanical abattoir of wooden legs, tin hands, glass eyes, and iron bones. A young woman by the window paused in her work to curtsy to the Lady, and Kella saw that she was building a false leg. A very small false leg.
Lady Sade led them through a door and down a hall to the top of a stair that angled down into a shadowy cellar. At the bottom of the stair was a narrow hall past several narrow store rooms behind leather curtains and ending in a massive door bound in iron. A small light bulb fizzled above the door, casting the portal in muted golds and browns. The footman stood to one side, a cage in his hand, a large cat in the cage.
“This is our private facility,” Lady Sade said. “Doctor Medina conducts some rather sensitive experiments here. Her work is taking us in leaps and bounds toward keeping our workforce working. The next generation of prosthetic limbs will be far more than peg-legs and hooks. Doctor Medina is creating mechanical hands and feet that move and grasp just like ones of flesh and blood.”
Kella glanced at the grimy door beneath the flickering light bulb. “I see. And she’s doing this groundbreaking work alone down here in the cellar?”
“She is.” If the Lady heard the detective’s doubting tone, she overlooked it. “And for a good reason. These experiments are unpleasant. The doctor is working with animals at the moment, and there are more than a few people, some in high places, who would strenuously object. They would call it torture.”
“And what would you call it?” Kella tried to sound disinterested.
“Necessary.” Lady Sade remained impassive. “Hundreds of skilled men are maimed in every city in the country every year. Workers on the railroad, in the mines, in the factories, in the quarries. They’re exhausted, eyes bleary, arms weak, fingers clumsy. If we do not find better ways to keep them working, then the number of poor, hungry, and homeless will continue to rise. And frankly, I do not wish to govern a city of cripples and vagrants any more than they want to be cripples and vagrants.”
That almost sounds sincere. Kella said, “So I can expect people to be reporting Doctor Medina for cruelty to animals or something along those lines. How would you like me to handle these complaints?”
“The same way that you handle all of my personal business. With discretion.” She tapped on the door. A moment later the lock clicked and the door swung in on silent, oiled hinges.
The woman inside bowed her head slightly. She was shorter than the Lady, shorter than Kella even, but much heavier. Her jet black hair was twisted up in a clumsy bun on top of her head, and a heavy leather apron hung like a solid column around her. “Lady Sade, it is a pleasure as always. Please, come in.”
Kella followed them into the laboratory, trying not to grimace too deeply at the smell of feces and urine, the slight stickiness of the stone floor, and the terrified squeals and hisses of tiny things in cages. And others not so tiny. Only the center of the room was well-lit and there she saw a large metal table, two stools, and a wheeled tray bearing small knives and needles that glinted in the light.
To her right she saw the bars and corners of the cages, half lost in shadows. Wings fluttered and forked tongues hissed. Small furred creatures whined and yipped. One very large cage in the back caught her eye and she saw an enormous shelled body shuffling in the dark and a heavy clubbed tail banged against the bars. To her left she noted a clutter of machines, great steel and brass cogs and leathery bellows, tubes and wires, vials and jars filled with bubbling fluids, and the faint buzz of electricity. But the machines were tucked back into the shadows, just as the cages were, and Kella couldn’t tell exactly what she was looking at. None of this looks all that dangerous. At the very least, they’re not building guns down here. Maybe this place is legitimate after all. Just disgusting.
The doctor smiled and wiped her hands on her stained smock. “My lady, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
Lady Sade shifted into a lightly accented Espani, and Kella had to concentrate to follow the rest of the conversation but her self-taught Espani proved adequate. Sade said, “I know, but there’s been a development. We’ll need to adjust your work schedule, doctor.” Lady Sade gestured and her footman stepped forward to place the cage on the table. The white and gray cat cowered in the back corner away from the light.
Kella watched the two speaking. That’s pretty vague and awkward language. What aren’t they saying? And why am I here if they don’t feel comfortable talking openly in front of me?
“Of course, my lady.” Doctor Medina glanced at the cage. “I must point out, it’s quite a bit smaller than the other one. An Espani lynx, is it?”
“It is. And I know. Prepare it the same as the other.”
“Certainly. The same delivery date?”
“No,” Lady Sade said. “Tomorrow evening.”
The doctor hesitated and for the first time betrayed a moment of uncertainty. But she nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, my lady.”
Switching back to Mazigh, Lady Sade said, “And this is a new acquaintance of mine, Detective Kella Massi of the third district police. I thought you two should meet, just in case your paths cross again in the future.”
“Of course. A pleasure, detective.” Medina shook her hand. “Although, I hope we won’t be meeting too often in our professional capacities.”
“We can both hope.” Kella forced a smile.
“I also wanted both of you together to inform you of another problem. I’m sure you’re both aware of the attack on the train station in Tingis last night. Clearly a pastoralist attack,” Lady Sade said. “And later that same night, police officers found two men dead just a few streets away from the station. One appeared to have been mauled by a large animal. An officer said he saw several foreigners with a large dog at the station shortly after the explosion. These pastoralists could be on the move, detective. I’d like you to keep an eye out for any unusual faces in the district this week. It would be particularly terrible if they were to damage this facility or harm the good doctor here. I need her in one piece.” Lady Sade smiled. “We all do.”
“If these pastoralists do show up, it shouldn’t be too hard to spot them. We don’t have too many man-eating dogs in Arafez right now,” Kella said dryly.
“Very good. Well, doctor, I’ll leave you to this.” Lady Sade nodded at the caged lynx on the table. “Detective, if you’ll walk out with me, I have a friend to meet at the North Station.”
Kella nodded and glanced at the small brass clock on the far wall. The North Station? But all trains to Tingis were cancelled today. Unless she’s running a private line?
The detective studied the Lady’s back as they climbed the stairs back up to the warmer air on the ground floor and passed through the back workroom again.
Sade isn’t stupid. Is she feeding me information on purpose? Does she expect me to investigate this doctor, or the Tingis attack, or her friend at the train station? No.
Kella almost stopped when she realized.
She’s testing me. She doesn’t trust me, so she’s taunting me with coded conversations and shady business partners. And I’ll bet that any investigation into her business will end in a dark alley and a bullet in the back of my head.
Outside the prosthetics shop, Kella watched Lady Sade step up into a small coach of oiled teak and polished brass drawn by a massive spotted sivathera. The young woman atop the carriage shook the reins, the long-necked beast dipped its huge antlers, and the coach quickly rolled away down the street. Kella frowned at the enormous steaming pile in the road where the coach had waited, and she turned to join the foot traffic in the opposite direction.
Well, I guess that leaves me with three career-ending options, she thought. After all, anyone crass enough to drive through a working-class neighborhood with a sivathera is just begging for trouble. What sort of woman would I be if I didn’t oblige her?
It was a short walk back to the police station past the lines of people waiting outside the temple for a bowl of stew and a crust of bread, and past the lines of people waiting outside the offices of Othmani Mills for a job smelting brass or weaving cloth. The station house was unusually quiet when she arrived and Kella sat at her desk, staring at her ink-stained blotter and half-chewed pencils.
The man at the next desk said, “Hey Kella, how’d your meeting go?”
“Hey Usem,” she said. “It wasn’t quite what I thought it would be.”
“What’s that mean? She wants to pay you under the table for a little private security work?” Usem shrugged. “They’re all like that. I say, take the money and slack off on whatever she wants done. She’ll cut you loose after a few weeks and you walk away with a clear conscience and a pocket full of change.”
Kella raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to overlook how quickly you came up with that little nugget of advice. Just tell the captain that I may not be around for a few days. I’ve got to go keep an eye on a few people of interest.”
“Alone? All right.” Usem shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Just watch your ass out there. You know what happened to last person who signed up to do odd jobs for Lady Sade.”
“Yeah, I know.” Kella grinned. “That’s why I volunteered for this.”