Prologue
It was raining.
West glanced out the cracked hologlass window behind her desk, flinching as lighting struck an electropylon mounted on a building across the street. The thunder rumbled through the walls, a comforting vibration in contrast to the sharp violence of electricity.
The lights in her office flickered, as the capacitors struggled to keep up with the sudden surge of power hurtling through the system. Technically, you weren’t allowed to route lightning directly into the grid, but no civil enforcer was coming to down to Torina to complain. It just wasn’t worth the effort.
A knock on the door broke the gentle thud of raindrops.
West frowned. She’d had a vidscreen installed when she first moved in, and it was right next to the door. Nobody knocked unless they didn’t want you seeing their face first.
Slowly pulling herself out of the tattered office chair, West grabbed her autorevolver from where it was hanging on the wall. Pointing the gun directly at the door, she asked,
“Who is it? What do you want?”
Nothing. Several seconds passed, with no answer. Cautiously, gun still pointed at the door, she undid the maglock and slid the door open just wide enough for a quick glance out. The street was empty.
Was she hearing things?
Taking one last look around, a flash of white caught her eye. An envelope was taped to the door. She pulled it off and ducked back inside.
Sitting back down at the desk, West flipped the envelope around. It was blank. No address. No name. No stamp. Pulling a flashlight from a drawer, she held it against the paper. Nothing inside, other than what seemed to be an ordinary piece of paper. Setting the flashlight back down, she tore the envelope open.
R.
I hope this letter finds you well. Well beyond dead, that is. It’s been 12 years since we talked, and this time, you’ll listen. You’ll have to. Because if you don’t, R, you’ll be the one responsible.
Your first hint is outside your window. Don’t worry, he was like that when I found him.
Yours truly,
I.
West shook her head.
What the hell was that? Who was it for? Maybe it was the previous tenant of her office. Either way, it wasn’t for her, and that’s all that mattered.
Hmm.
Maybe.
She shook her head. Being a private investigator in Torino didn’t mean she had to take every stupid treasure hunt thrown her way.
Where’s the harm though?
As the thought entered her head, she glanced out the window again.
Another lightning flash, and this time, her blood ran cold.
There was a person, or what was left of one, strapped to the electropylon. Charred beyond recognition by the heat of the pylon, the only thing West could see was that its right arm was pointed at something on the roof.
Go.
She ran. Gun in hand, coat flapping in the wind.
Clank.
Each step up the fire escape felt like an eternity.
Where?
On the roof now, West took another glance at the pylon. The person was still there. Supressing her urge to vomit, she looked back across the roof at what the figure was pointing at.
Hold on.
It was… behind her?
She turned.
Whump.
A hand, on her arm. She stumbled to the side, flailing her arms to keep her-
She fell.
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