InsaneJournal

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Entry tags:	gambler, keptverse

The Gambler – Part Five
This is the fifth part of the third story (first part, second part, third part, fourth part) that began with The Games (six parts) and continued with The Network (one part), and The Players (seven parts)

The story may be regarded as fanfic set in poisontaster's Keptverse. I also updated the cast list here.

By the way, according to my current plans: Part Seven is the last part of "The Gambler", and the next story is "The Pieces", another ensemble section, and the last story is "End Game". There may or may not be another short stand-alone called "The Runaways". On the other hand, I really need to stop writing this in order to write my Yuletide story. And the best time to do this may be when I finish "The Gambler".

Part Five

Giles delivered Willow on his way to DeKalb. When presented with earphones, plugged into the TV’s sound, Richard had taken them. He was sitting in the chair furthest from the door, and he hadn’t moved, though Gerard wasn’t sure he was watching the screen: watching them both, Willow’s face looked more surprised than Richard’s.

She didn’t ask any questions, though: Giles would have, and they might have been Willow’s. Gerard had not fathomed the relationship the two of them had.

Gerard had already pulled out the obviously useful information, and sent it to Adam and Giles: photographs, names, what had been reported stolen by the Channing household – if they had run. The state police had roadblocks up, and neither slave was reported able to drive: they had both been sold in childhood.

“Okay, there’s four possibilities as I see it,” Gerard said. “They’re runaways; their owner helped them escape; they were stolen; they’re a covert sale reported stolen; they’ve been killed, and the owners decided reporting them as runaways would save trouble.”

“Would they do that?” Willow said. She bit her lip. “I don’t mean would they: I mean why would they think it would save them trouble?” She glanced over at Richard. “Can he hear us?” It was her first question about Richard.

“No,” Gerard said. The earphones were seated: Richard had no control over the TV’s sound: unless he could remove them surreptiously, he was listening to British dialogue from a decades-old TV show. “He won’t be fetching coffee for us, though. They’d have to be idiots to think reporting a death’s less trouble than reporting a runaway. Commerce fines for a death, they’ll prosecute for a fake report.” And verdicts where Commerce was the plaintiff had a tradition of ending up with the loser enslaved. “But Commerce knew about this for three hours before they called us, so they think it’s a runaway or a theft. Might not be, though. What are the other choices? What are Adam and Giles needing to look for?”

“Well…” Willow swallowed, and looked away from Richard, back at her computer screen. Her face changed: she was thinking. “They were bought for the daughter?”

“Tam was. Bo was kitchen staff.” Tam had been bought as a companion for the only daughter, Emma: she was away from home this week: if the runaways weren’t caught by the time she came back, she’d face interrogation. Not by Gerard, or Commerce, not unless there was evidence of complicity. Some at least. It was going to be quite a shock for her. If she hadn’t instigated it, and even if she had, if she’d thought she could get away with it.

The first DVD ran out: Gerard switched it over for the next, and fetched Willow coffee. He worked on the Commerce files: sixty-three cases that linked to Northern Illinois from other US Marshal districts. George and he would compare notes on Monday. Richard never moved. The second time Gerard changed DVDs he did so without thinking Richard was watching: he was sitting back in the chair, almost curled in it, with his eyes closed. But it prevented him hearing any injudicious remarks, even though he and Willow could work together like this without saying anything out loud. Willow was sending Adam and Giles targeted packets of information: Giles was with the police in Sterling, fifty-five miles away and the furthest from DeKalb the slave Tam had ever been. Adam was still at the house working his way through the staff.

It occurred to Gerard about halfway through the evening that he was hungry and that Willow needed to eat, and that Richard had to be hungry too.

Richard reacted slowly when Gerard took the earphones out: he didn’t answer when Gerard asked him if he was hungry. He had been sitting in the chair for a long time – hours, since two o’clock – and he hadn’t moved or said a word. He went with Gerard to the kitchen, and sat down as Gerard directed, and then when Gerard looked round again, a box of stew defrosting in the microwave, Richard had folded his arms on the table and put his head down on to his arms.

“Richard,” Gerard said.

Richard didn’t move for a long instant. When he lifted his head and looked at Gerard, his face was passive. He said nothing.

“Come here.”

Richard stood up. He was still moving awkwardly, as if sitting still so long had cramped his muscles. He got to within arm’s reach of Gerard and stopped.

“How’s your ears?”

“Fine,” Richard said, toneless. He stared at Gerard. “Can you shut me in the cell?”

In your room? Gerard shook his head, without correcting Richard. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You still need to eat,” Gerard told him. It was hard not to feel sorry for him: even given Richard’s attempts to communicate with the outside world were good enough reason why he shouldn’t be allowed access to the cell without permission and a search. “No.”

Gerard’s phone rang: Giles. As often with young runaways, the case had come to an end without a climax: Tam and Bo were hiding – or being hidden – in the attic of a friend of Emma’s, who lived near Sterling. Giles was supervising their loading into the back of an armoured van: he was trying to hold off the local representative of Commerce.

“Good work,” Gerard told him briefly. “Just get them over here.”

“They want to take the daughter, too.”

“Okay, I’ll see to that.”

“Sam, I think she did have something to do with it.”

“Yeah?” Gerard tapped his hand against his thigh. “Get those two into the van and get them over here. I’ll call Adam. What’s Commerce doing with the family where they were hiding?”

“They’ve all been arrested. There are three other children, besides the one Commerce wants, two of them under-age.”

“Yeah. The police have them?”

“Yes, and I’ve called the social workers in. Commerce only wants the oldest girl.”

“Okay, don’t let them have her. I can get her out of a police cell, let the police have her. Make sure none of them get to talk to each other. Gag them if you have to. We need their stories clean. Do whatever you have to do, I want the three of them here.”

There were six holding cells on the other side of the house. So far, they had never all been in use.

Gerard called Adam: he was on it. Willow had sent him Emma’s location. Gerard shut the phone up – he would need to talk to Commerce and the local police soon, but it was time for Richard to get his wish.

“You’re going in your room,” Gerard said.

Richard was staring, hands by his sides, twitching a little. “You’re going to interrogate – ” His voice had risen.

“I’m going to do my job,” Gerard overrode him. “Get upstairs.” When Richard didn’t move, Gerard took him by the arm and walked him to the stairs. He felt Richard’s muscles twitch as if he was thinking of resistance, and jerked his arm up behind his back. “Don’t give me any shit, Richard, I mean it.”

Gerard patted Richard down before he pushed him through the door, and threw the code-locked pager at Richard: he’d set it up days earlier. Richard caught it and looked at it, visibly surprised.

“There won’t be anyone in the house,” Gerard said. “If you have an emergency, page me. I’ll come or I’ll send someone. That won’t work for anyone’s number but mine, so don’t even think it. And if it’s not an emergency, whoever gets here is going to beat six kinds of crap out of you for wasting our time.” He shut the door on Richard, and ran down the stairs: Willow was waiting in the hall. No one in the Channing household had yet been arrested, and Willow had a stack of reasons why, beginning with an application in process to make Emma’s father Lord Kevin. She followed him through to the armoury, listing them.

“Need you to stay here,” Gerard said, once he was armed. “If you hear Richard – ” it would have to be a real scream to penetrate the walls of the holding cell “ – you call me. Don’t open the cell door no matter what you hear. I need you to check these files in Commerce – ”

He began to list them, and Willow was paying attention, following Gerard to the door. “I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Gerard said. “Don’t go near the holding cell.” It was beginning to rain outside. He ran for his car.



They came back with two cars, one van, and four prisoners: Adam had gone to collect the girl Emma, but had swiped all the data from the household’s computers before he left. The two runaways were in the back of the van, separately hooded and cuffed: Giles looked more than a little tight-mouthed over that, but he’d done his job properly. Gerard had the other free girl, Emma’s friend, who probably knew nothing useful, cuffed in the back of his car. He still wasn’t sure what her name was: the family were Forrester, but her name was either Steffy or Stephanie. Giles’ car was still parked in DeKalb and would need to be collected at some point.

Commerce had got more worked up than the situation on the face of it justified: four teenagers who’d embarked on what might have looked like a big adventure. The fugitives department might still be twitching over the Devlin-MacGregor thing.

Adam was twenty minutes behind them on the road: between them he and Giles got the Forrester girl out of the car, into the house, and into one of the three holding cells in that row, the far one, so they wouldn’t have to pass her door when they brought Emma in. She struggled as far as someone in cuffs could struggle: she protested with outrage: she demanded to know where she was and to call a lawyer: but, Gerard noticed, the confusion and anger was not mixed with surprise: she knew what she’d done, she hadn’t expected to pay this penalty.

The two slaves were easier; they didn’t fight or ask questions. They went in the other row of holding cells, separated by one.

The last girl went into the cell Richard had been in. Closing the door on her, Gerard was conscious of real relief: it wasn’t over, but the worst that could happen now was they’d have to find four separate places to disappear these four kids.

“We’ll leave them all there for twelve hours to stew,” Gerard said. “I’m going to call Fugitives from the office.” He meant the one upstairs on this side of the house. “I’m still going to want you both tomorrow morning, but you can go home now.”

Adam glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight. “Thanks.”

“Bring doughnuts,” Gerard added, and, to Giles, “Leave Willow at home. She’s done enough for a week.”



Emma Channing’s parents had already complained to Commerce, they let Gerard know: Stephanie Forrester’s parents were being investigated by the police, but Commerce had found no evidence of regular harbouring when they searched the house.

Gerard let the cool voice finish.

“Your local agents intended to arrest both Emma Channing and Stephanie Forrester,” he said. “I was told I would get the fugitives, but I wanted all four. We’ll juice them for you. I’ll instruct my team to go careful on the minors. You’ll want to return them to their parents if it turns out they’re innocent.”

“Do you suspect some kind of conspiracy?” The voice at the other end could not sound angry, or suspicious – these emotions had been drilled out of Commerce staff: but either there was some kind of suspicion hovering over the Forresters, or someone was very mad at that family. A minor child of a wealthy family wouldn’t normally end up being taken by Commerce for what a sympathetic interpreter could have decided was the informal loan of two slaves from one household to another by someone with no right to lend them.

“I have no idea,” Gerard said. “We’ll find out for you. Thank you. Good night.”

He put the phone down. It was necessary to put the four kids out of his mind: he’d have Giles and Adam interrogate them, and Willow could run the numbers and put the final touches to the report they’d send about them on Monday. He didn’t think either the Forresters or the Channings were connected to any network. They might not have to turn their daughters in. The two other kids, Tam and Bo: Dana would have to work out how they died. Gerard planned never, if possible, to see any of the four kids again. Certainly none of them should get to see him.

The other side of the house was empty: Gerard shut down his laptop in the lounge before he went upstairs to get Richard out of the holding cell.


to Part Six