Free Wicked City by Alaya Johnson Page A

arrangement,” he said. “My request is simple enough. Several aldermen have informed me that they would be willing to change their vote if I could prove scientifically that the Faust being sold now is not as potent as when the brew was first introduced in January. We all remember that first week, and I can understand their reticence, frankly. But I am sure as I am of my name that Faust now is safe as liquor.”
    â€œAnd liquor is illegal,” I said.
    â€œMuch to our frustration, Miss Hollis,” he said, and I couldn’t bring myself to object to the “our.” “In any case, these four aldermen would bring the vote firmly in my camp. The trouble is that I’ve been unable to locate a single remaining bottle of the original substance. It seems to have vanished from the earth.”
    â€œAnd you want me to find it?” I hazarded.
    He laughed. “Nothing so strenuous, Miss Hollis. Judith reminded me of the rumors that you tutored some of the Turn Boys gang in January. And according to the reports, the Turn Boys were quite involved in the initial Faust influx. So here is my proposal: you find the leader of the Turn Boys wherever he’s hiding and convince him to come by for a nice chat about his distribution model. And once he does, I’ll be happy to give Warren a ring.”
    He wanted me to find Nicholas ? “I don’t even know if he’s still alive,” I said. “If he is, he might not be happy with me. I did kill his daddy.”
    â€œI suspect he’s alive. If he isn’t, give me proof and I’ll call Commissioner Warren anyway. And as for the danger—well, Miss Hollis, I have it on good authority that you can take care of yourself.”
    I rolled my eyes, but appeals to my vanity rarely fail. “And how do you expect to persuade him?”
    He smiled and looked down at his desk, as though to indicate the massive wealth and power that his position commanded. And he was right: power like that could pay Nicholas’s price as surely as it could mine.
    What the mayor didn’t know, and what I saw immediately, was that he was headed in the wrong direction. It was common enough to speculate that Faust had lost its potency. I happened to know for sure, because I knew the djinni who had brought the first batch from Germany. I would be shocked if Amir didn’t have a few original bottles stashed somewhere—if only because of his decadent fondness for priceless human collectibles. But given the circumstances in which Nicholas and the few surviving Turn Boys had disappeared in January, I doubted that they would have been able to keep any of the evidence. So if I could find Nicholas, there would be no harm in my encouraging him to speak to the mayor. Commissioner Warren would tell the vice squad to look elsewhere, and Nicholas wouldn’t be able to give the mayor anything useful for the vote. The mayor had given me the perfect opportunity to avoid trouble without troubling my conscious. But I couldn’t appear to agree too easily.
    â€œBut you know I’m a supporter of Friends Against Faust. Why would I help you pass the bill?”
    Walker leaned forward and spread his arms wide, palms out—a surprisingly disarming gesture. “I have a hunch, you see,” he said, “that you don’t support this new prohibition any more than you support the old. Not really.”
    I shifted in my seat. “And why would you think that?”
    He stood and opened the sideboard, from which he removed two heavy, cut-glass tumblers and an even more imposing decanter. The liquid inside was amber, aromatic, and alcoholic. He poured about two knuckle-joints worth into each glass and handed one to me.
    â€œNeat,” he said. “Judith, would you mind going down to the pantry and fetching us some ice? And some tonic, too, in case Miss Hollis prefers it.”
    Judith Brandon nodded sharply and made herself scarce without