The room fell silent, all eyes on Winder. His face pale and shaken, he stared back at his rival detective with unbridled venom. “Krig,” he muttered. “I should’ve known you’d take an interest in this case.”
“Anything to catch my old friend Winder in trouble,” Krig grinned. “I’m sorry, but this time there’s no escaping the evidence. Even the few supporters you have at headquarters can’t argue after all the proof we found.”
Winder frowned. “Explain.”
Krig chuckled. “Well, we do have plenty of time to chat,” he said, glancing pointedly at Linda’s feebly stirring body, “but I’d rather not give you any opportunity to escape. We can talk when I see you behind bars.” He twitched his revolver in our direction, and the armored goons behind him began to advance.
“Not so fast, motherfuckers!” screamed a voice, and from behind Krig jumped out Gonzo, bloody and frenzied. The guards hastily turned to fire, but Gonzo was already upon them, a grenade clamped in both hands. As if in slow motion, he looked up and glared at us for a split second. His heavily cut face spat out a single word: “Go!”
The explosion sent me flying, shrapnel slicing through my coat and creasing my limbs. I tumbled forcefully to the ground, but a pile of scattered cushions broke my fall. As I staggered to my feet, I saw Winder limping past me, an unconscious Linda perched on his back. I saw a revolver lying a few feet away and grabbed it before catching up to the detective, trying my best to ignore the mangled bodies across the room.
Without hesitation, Winder kicked straight through a wall panel, revealing an unlit passage that sloped underground. We jumped in and stumbled down the steps, trying to escape the shouts from behind. The cramped space quickly grew dark, and only from Winder’s footsteps could I keep my bearings through the meandering corridor. As I turned a corner, however, my head smashed into a broken beam and I collapsed against the wall.
As I struggled to focus, I realized that I’d lost my sense of direction. I could still hear Winder’s hurried pace, but from both directions, one fading away while the other was getting louder. “Winder?” I whispered into the dark.
“There you are,” hissed a heavy voice, and strong hands grasped onto my body. I yelled and raised my revolver, firing off a round. The brief flash that lit the room revealed the armored body of a guard, staggering back from the attack. I lowered my gun in horror, realizing I’d just shot a fellow officer, only to be slammed into the wall again by the same hands, this time with considerably more force. “You’ll regret doing that,” the deep voice growled, and an arm pressed against my throat, constricting my windpipe. I flailed my legs desperately, but my blows did nothing against his tough armor. Flashes of red danced before my eyes.
Then a dull whoosh of air brushed past me, and the force on my body vanished as a crack and a grunt of pain echoed through the corridor. I sank to the ground, uncontrollably coughing, while above me a flurry of hits resounded against soft flesh. I was still heaving as a hand, different from the guard’s, pulled me up and dragged me along.
Faint rays of light began to shine from cracks through the ceiling, and ahead I saw a single door built into a dead end. Linda was there, too, lying against a wall. She was awake, though in clear pain, and her dress was stained dark crimson at her hip.
“Damn,” she said through clenched teeth, “I was hoping I’d get past six months before being shot again.” She looked up at Winder anxiously. “Are there more coming?”
He nodded. “I fought one off of Newt, but they’ll be crawling all over this place in another half-hour.” I noticed he was holding his metal rod again, the tip coated red. “Linda, go with Newt through the sewers and get yourself patched up. I need to stay a little longer.”
“For what?” I protested.
Winder hesitated. “This may sound bad,” he said slowly, “but I may actually be the reason for all these murders. I need to go back into the Chain’s archives, find a few documents. Do you still keep them on the third floor, sis?”
Linda glanced up at her brother, her pained eyes suddenly full of understanding. “Is this about Newt, Winder? The old one?”
Winder looked away. “Take this,” he muttered, and tossed a small object into my hands. It was the wind-up bird, scuffed but still intact. “I don’t want you two doing anything until we meet again,” he called over his shoulder, walking back into the darkness.
“Winder!” his sister shouted out. He paused.
“Once you’re done, burn everything down.”
Winder dipped his head in acknowledgment and vanished.
Linda turned to face me. “Now,” she said, “get me out of here.”
Linda was not heavy, and even carrying her I moved swiftly. The door had led out to the wide, maze-like tunnels of the city sewers, but with Linda’s direction, we quickly found a flight of stairs to the surface.
“What were you talking about with Winder?” I questioned.
Linda sighed. “Did he ever tell you about his old assistant?”
“Just once, I think. He seemed reluctant about it.”
“That would make sense.” Linda coughed weakly, then continued. “They were one of the best teams in the force. For two years they stopped everything from terrorist bombings to political assassinations. And Newt—that was his name—was completely devoted to Winder. Never let him down, always believed that pure justice would prevail.” She laughed drily. “Of course, he didn’t realize that his hero had a little sister.”
“Newt eventually realized that Winder had very close ties with the Chain, not to mention at least two other gangs. When he realized that Winder even sympathized with them, well, his innocence was shattered. This was only five years after the truce that the government made, which as you know wasn’t completely popular with the public. Newt was one of those who wanted to keep fighting, stamp every last bit of corruption out of the city. He and Winder couldn’t reconcile their views and fell out. Then just a few months later, Newt vanished. They found his uniform in the river south of the city, but nothing else. Of course, suspicion fell on Winder, but after a quiet trial, they ruled him not guilty. Rumors spread, though, and because of his shady relationships, people started keeping their distance from him.”
Winder’s life was beginning to paint itself in my mind. “So that’s why nobody likes him,” I mused. “But if he hated Newt, then why’d he name me after him?”
Linda’s voice was faint now. “Maybe… he wanted to start over,” she said quietly. “You’re a promising individual… maybe he wanted to rebuild his reputation.”
We reached the top, and a gust of cold wind greeted us. We were in the Marsh, the slums that surrounded Norberry Precinct. I looked around. No officers in sight. “Where are we going now?”
Linda smiled weakly. “Let’s take a visit to my old home.”