Leviathan Wakes - James S. A. Corey [102]
“Why?” Sematimba demanded.
“Who knows?” Miller said. “Roll them for spare change. That’s not the problem.”
Sematimba’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve got four corpses down there, and they’re not the problem.”
Miller nodded down the corridor.
“Fifth one’s up here,” he said. “It’s the girl I was looking for.”
Sematimba’s expression softened. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Nah,” Miller said. He couldn’t accept sympathy. He couldn’t accept comfort. A gentle touch would shatter him, so he stayed hard instead. “But you’re going to want the coroner on this one.”
“It’s bad, then?”
“You’ve got no idea,” Miller said. “Listen, Semi. I’m in over my head here. Seriously. Those boys down there with the guns? If they weren’t hooked in with your security force, there would have been alarms as soon as the first shot was fired. You know this was a setup. They were waiting for these four. And the squat fella with the dark hair? That’s James Holden. He’s not even supposed to be alive.”
“Holden that started the war?” Sematimba said.
“That’s the one,” Miller said. “This is deep. Drowning deep. And you know what they say about going in after a drowning man, right?”
Sematimba looked down the corridor. He nodded.
“Let me help you,” Sematimba said, but Miller shook his head.
“I’m too far gone. Forget me. What happened was you got a call. You found the place. You don’t know me, you don’t know them, you’ve got no clue what happened. Or you come along and drown with me. Your pick.”
“You don’t leave the station without telling me?”
“Okay,” Miller said.
“I can live with that,” Sematimba said. Then, a moment later: “That’s really Holden?”
“Call the coroner,” Miller said. “Trust me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Holden
Miller gestured at Holden and headed for the elevator without waiting to see if he was following. The presumption irritated him, but he went anyway.
“So,” Holden said, “we were just in a gunfight where we killed at least three people, and now we’re just leaving? No getting questioned or giving a statement? How exactly does that happen?” Holden asked.
“Professional courtesy,” Miller said, and Holden couldn’t tell if he was joking.
The elevator door opened with a muffled ding, and Holden and the others followed Miller inside. Naomi was closest to the panel, so she reached out to press the lobby button, but her hand was shaking so badly that she had to stop and clench it into a fist. After a deep breath, she reached out a now steady finger and pressed the button.
“This is bullshit. Being an ex-cop doesn’t give you a license to get in gunfights,” Holden said to Miller’s back.
Miller didn’t move, but he seemed to shrink a little bit. His sigh was heavy and unforced. His skin seemed grayer than before.
“Sematimba knows the score. Half the job is knowing when to look the other way. Besides, I promised we wouldn’t leave the station without letting him know.”
“Fuck that,” Amos said. “You don’t make promises for us, pal.”
The elevator came to a stop and opened onto the bloody scene of the gunfight. A dozen cops were in the room. Miller nodded at them and they nodded back. He led the crew out of the lobby to the corridor, then turned around.
“We can work that out later,” Miller said. “Right now, let’s get someplace we can talk.”
Holden agreed with a shrug. “Okay, but you’re paying.”
Miller headed off down the corridor toward the tube station.
As they followed, Naomi put a hand on Holden’s arm and slowed him down a bit so that Miller could get ahead. When he was far enough away, she said, “He knew her.”
“Who knew who?”
“He,” Naomi said, nodding at Miller, “knew her.” She jerked her head back toward the crime scene behind them.
“How do you know?” Holden said.
“He wasn’t expecting to find her there, but he knew who she was. Seeing her like that was a shock.”
“Huh, I didn’t get that at all. He’s seemed like Mr. Cool all through this.”
“No, they were friends or something. He’s having trouble dealing with it, so maybe don’t push him too hard,” she said. “We might need him.”
The hotel room Miller got was only slightly better than the