Vincent knocked on the door. No one answered. So, he knocked again and waited.
"Whose house is this?" Hugo asked.
"An old friend," Vincent replied and knocked again.
"Maybe he isn't home."
"He never leaves."
And sure enough, someone answered.
"Hold on, man!" was the call from inside. A strong Jamaican accent.
Soon, the door opened. A middle-aged man, dark-skinned man, about as tall as Vincent, stood at the doorway. Holding the door open, the man scratched his chin-curtain beard and smiled.
"Hello, Paul," Vincent said.
Observing Paul's attire – a long white shirt and chequered capris, Hugo eventually noticed his necklace made of three strands of dark brown thread woven together.
"You're a Wali," the Zaatsu whispered.
"Mi never know yuh were workin' with Outsiders, Vincent," Paul said, smiling at the bounty hunter. He then looked at Hugo and said, "No, mi done with the Cult now."
Paul Knowles was once a member of a Cult which went by the name of 'Wali al Alam' – Friends of the World. Operating in and around the Arabian Peninsula, these people were famous for making and trading many different kinds of magic potions and poisonous substances and weapons.
Hugo stressed, "But you are still wearing their necklace."
Mesmerized by the lies told by the Serpents of God, followers of Ambris Ferrer, they provided the group with many weapons and weaponized potions. Most of their members went into a self-imposed exile owing to this blunder, leaving the Cult all but finished.
"Mi believe in science, sah," Paul replied. "Mi loyalty is to di wisdom of mi ancestors, not di foolishness of di people runnin' things today." He moved out of the way. "Please, come in."
Paul's home was less than a hundred square yards. The entrance led into a lounge where he seated his guests – gents on chairs and the ladies on the couch. He then went into the adjacent kitchen giving the Zeta Squad time to observe their surroundings carefully. There was just one room behind them with a cat sitting right next to its entrance, the kitchen was next to them to the right of the house entrance, and a staircase, next to the main entrance, leading upstairs. The dust on the rails and the steps, and the otherwise spotless home, suggested that the first floor was not frequently used. There were three bird cages hanging on the porch, visible through the window, with what looked to be pairs of lovebirds inside. A single ceiling fan gently spun overhead.
A few minutes later, Paul returned with a tray in his hand. He handed out glasses of grapefruit juice to everyone and said, "If yuh did tell me ahead of time, mi woulda been better prepared."
"Thank you for your hospitality, sir," Hugo said. "Can I ask your name?"
"Paul, Paul Knowles."
"Mr Knowles, it's a pleasure to meet you."
The people of his Cult were all known to be well mannered and courteous, and Paul was no different. He grabbed a chair and sat with them. Looking at Vincent he asked, "So, what brings yuh here, likkle man?"
"I need to know where Derek is," Vincent replied. "Do you have any idea?"
Paul smiled. "Yuh already know di answer. Else yuh wouldn't have come all dis way, seen?"
The White Bolt smiled too. "I can only guess, old friend."
"But mi haffi disappoint yuh." Paul leaned back. "Because he left di village earlier today."
"Was he going far?"
"He never say. But him did mention meeting someone in Nicholls Town. 'Bout twenty-five kilometre east from here. Di rogues round dat side always busy in di market, but nowadays, dem more interested in knowing stuff, if yuh catch mi drift…"
"I'm afraid I catch it all too well…"
"So, who's di company?"
Vincent looked at the Squad then back at Paul. "They are acquaintances with a common interest to a different means," he replied, smiling. "But don't be fooled by the Hawaiian shirts, they all pack a punch."
Paul smiled back and looked at Hugo. "Mi know yuh, Master," he said. "Mi cyan lie."
"You do?" Hugo asked with a nod and wide-open eyes.
"Mi keep info dat worth somethin'. For safety… and leverage, same way. Like, there's a Master in di Palace who can grab anyone he want, a bounty hunter slick enough to fool di Keepers, and a wizard sellin' secrets on di black markets who bring trouble wherever him go."
The Zeta Squad looked at each other. "Should we be worried," Hugo asked then looked at Vincent.
"Nah, man," the bounty hunter said smiling. "Paul's a friend."
"Mi just a simple man, Master," Paul added. "Mi trade what mi got… for what mi don't. And right now… mi kinda low on friends."
"Then could you please tell us who Derek's meeting with," Hugo asked.
"Absolutely…"
Paul got up and walked into the room. The whole squad turned towards Vincent and looked at him in shock.
"What?" Vincent said and took a deep breath.
"How does he know Master Baylis?" Marcus asked.
"How did I know any of you?"
Camille shook her head as she looked away saying, "The black markets…"
"Yes." The White Bolt nodded. "You can buy information like that in the black markets quite easily."
So, Marcus then asked, "What the hell is this black market anyway?"
Gina explained saying, "The black markets are a huge network of underground and off-the-radar people, shops, offices, and recreational spaces. They entertain the arcane community but remain hidden amongst the plebeians. And a lot of shady stuff goes on in there. Illegal stuff."
"But then how does anyone know where they are?" Camille asked, interrupting.
"I know, so you know," said Hugo. "You know, so now all your acquaintances know. They know, so someone else will know. So on, and so forth."
"Does the Eye know?"
"Yup."
"Then how are they still operating?"
"Because they help us fish out all sorts of criminals." He shrugged and added, "Or at least that's what we think…"
"Who is Paul?" Camille asked looking at Vincent. "And how can we trust he won't sell us out right now or later?"
"Yeah, man," Marcus added. "For all we know he could be calling in the cavalry from the other room."
Vincent smiled as he shook his head. "The wilderness follows its rules… ah." He sighed. "No longer hungry, a lion does not bother the herds. We are not talking to a civilized, well trained, well-educated man. We are only dealing with a man who is afraid of you and just wants to live his life in peace. The guy's 52 years old. He can no longer fight his way out of a mess. So, he acquires knowledge, which is his only leverage. He feeds his neighbours, heals the townspeople, and lives in silence. I am more afraid of what you people might do now that you know he's here."
Silence prevailed for a few moments before Camille asked, "What is Derek's role in the black market?"
"The most expensive commodity in the market is information," Vincent explained. "Derek is a heavy trader of this branch – a very expensive tongue-man. People have been buying and selling information on the black markets for centuries from these people. And their tongue was always their most valuable asset hence the name 'Tongue'-man."
"Why tongue-man? Why not a simpler name like a snitch or something?"
"Because they don't write anything down."
The entire squad leaned in as Hugo nodded then dropped his head.
"They keep everything inside their mind palace," the White Bolt continued. "What they say is what you hear. And if you don't want anyone else to hear, guess what you'll do?"
With a hand over her mouth, Ella looked at him wide-eyed and whispered, "Cut off their tongue…"
"Yup. So, anyways…" The bounty hunter leaned back in his chair. "Derek has the biggest information pool in the world right now. If anybody knows where the remnants have turned up or where they've disappeared to, it has to be him."
Just then, Paul walked out of the room with a phone in his hand. "Mi record every convo mi have with guests," he said as he sat down. He handed the phone to Vincent. "Jus' press play," he said.
Vincent hit play and the team listened in. Paul was talking with another man in the recording.
"That's him," Vincent said with a nod. "That's Derek."
Hugo's gaze dropped to the phone.
At last, the ghost had a voice.