Opus Veda

"Detective Gemma Alderton," Gemma held up her phone, revealing her badge, then motioned to the man leant on the rail behind her, "this is my partner, Assistant Detective Luis Schulz."

Kasia stared speechless at them. Constables were common enough, roaming around with deregulated power, sometimes giving citizens a deregulated beating up.

When citizens needed more than corporal punishment, detectives could make them vanish. Unlike constables they were immune to bribes - a combination of pride and pay packet. Their uniform - ultramarine overcoats, trilby hats, and aviators - was designed during the rebrand and tailored at Savile Row. It implied composure, professionalism, and private funding; formal enough to inspire respect, bohemian enough for after-work drinks. Detectives were notorious for their nighttime trawls. Bar staff were aware not to charge them.

"Nothing to say?" Gemma removed her hat and stepped inside without permission, "your daughter. Eva Szymanska?"

Eva nodded rapidly.

"Dobry wieczór Ewa," the detective's Polish sounded basic, but well-practised, "I talk to your mother outside. Watch the home yes?"

Eva's mouth hung open. Kasia shuffled outside without resisting.

A fleet of cars parked across Kendi Estate's opening, sealing it shut. Lightbars of flickering blue revealed police officers working door to door. An unusual show of effort which the residents filmed, eager for spectacle. In the midst of all of this, frozen on a plaza bench, Misha sat. Kasia could see she was in shock. Imany was standing over her, talking with two other detectives. Behind them Sermon paced about, visibly stressed, swatting down the recording phones of neighbours.

"This won't take long Katarzyna," Gemma replaced her hat and closed Kasia's door, "what can you tell us about the missing child?"

"I don't know anything?" Kasia's pupils darted left to right. Luis's mouth curled into a smirk. Gemma continued.

"Joey Abbas, missing since Thursday morning. We were notified at 3pm today. This is far too late. What information do you have?"

Kasia swallowed and said nothing.

"Were you at home Wednesday evening?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"I… I was playing a game with my daughter."

"I didn't have you down as the gaming type?" Luis stepped forward to join his partner, boxing Kasia against the wall, "what do you play?"

Kasia recalled the game Eva was currently fixated on, "It's called Adventures in Azeroth."

"Adventures in Azeroth?"

"Yes."

"A little old for that aren't you?" Luis looked Kasia up and down. His smirk could have purred.

"Yes, I guess so."

"Class?"

"…I'm sorry?"

"What class are you?"

Kasia stammered, racking her brain for details she only half-listened to, "it's a wizard."

"A wizard!?" Luis held a wagging finger up, "I play a warrior. Never liked 'wizards', they're too fragile. Plus, warriors are better healers are they not?"

"Yea… yea…"

"But neither are doing very well against Chocobos at the minute, are they?"

"No, I suppose not."

Luis's smirk opened wide. Daggered canines flashed. Kasia faced his partner with a pleading face. Gemma tried not to laugh.

"Who have you seen in the estate that's new Katarzyna?"

Kasia suddenly eased. She had a useful detail to hide behind.

"Actually there are loads of vagrants by the river at the minute. They look like they're organising for a job."

"I see," Gemma tapped her phone, "who on the estate do you suspect of Revolutionary or Vedic affiliation?"

"Nobody."

Behind their glasses Kasia felt the detectives reading her, catching every betraying twitch. She wanted to gulp, but dared not risk being caught doing it. She stood like a plank, wanting the ground to swallow her before the interrogators could. Online conspiracy theories of police corruption played in her head.

"Ms Szymanska!?"Gemma clicked her fingers and handed over a contact card, "I want to find this boy soon. If you see or hear anything I expect to hear from you. Do you understand?"

She took the card and nodded. Both detectives smiled in a way she knew was teasing her.

"Dziękuję Ci Katarzyna," Gemma flicked her chin up, "speak soon."

Kasia bowed her head low in deference, groped for the door behind her, and backed inside.

"Mama what happened?" Eva was hugging her knees, peering through a slit in the lower bunk's curtain.

Kasia exhaled and rubbed her face.

"They're looking for that Joey kid, although they seemed more interested in that bloody game of yours. I said I was busy playing with you so they'd leave me alone but they wouldn't drop it. I had to make up stuff about your wizard and all sorts."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"It's called a mage mama. I told you this before and you forgot again… don't blame me if they take your to Broadmoor for singin' lessons."

"Oh do me in the ass! Why always me!? Why now!?" Kasia spat every slur her second tongue contained, aiming half at the detectives and half at herself. Eva rolled over with laughter, complaining in vain when Kasia stopped her filming the outburst.

Penthouse: Soho came on to distract them. They swung the bunk bed to face the TV as the hosts paraded each contestant out. The Szymanskas placed their bets, predicting which contestant would win, how each loser would fall, and in what order. Eva was getting good at this, but Kasia's ability to call the results within one episode appeared prophetic.

Each contestant sparked a bonfire of online comments. Kasia and Eva contributed to the flow, flicking between phones and TV with barely a glance. At times Kasia remembered the detectives and went cold; a child waiting for punishment undeserved but coming anyway. She let content distract her.

The detectives completed their sweep and returned to the car. The whole exercise felt pointless; all the estate could offer was listless peasants, unable and unwilling to cooperate. Luis was snickering to himself over the Hong Kong refugee, who had denied speaking English. Reminding her in Chinese of her flimsy immigrant rights was worth it just to see her panic, even if she had no information.

Police officers lingered about, waiting for the call to head back. Gemma perched on the bonnet beside Luis. In unison they reached into their overcoats, produced vogue e-cigs of platinum, and inhaled.

"Any locals looking like terrorists to you?"

"Never mind that we've got something important to talk about," Luis raised his glasses, "that child was nicked by the gang we saw. We should have intervened. I told you a Chad would never fly out here; do you know where it ended up?"

Gemma huffed and shook her head.

"In Hackney, chasing drunk students out of some bellend's garden. I told you we -"

"We never could have taken them on our own," Gemma silenced him with a raised hand, "and we won't be in trouble anyway, there was no sign of serious criminal activity when we left."

"If we'd stepped in then there wouldn't be any now," Luis rubbed his eyes, "so what do we do?"

"We stand on ceremony. Once the locals turn up nothing we'll be allowed some muscle to press the vagrants."

"They're increasingly organised, probably trafficking for god knows who... you reckon that kid's unspoilt after all this time?" Luis eyed Misha in the square, surrounded by neighbours. He lowered his shade and scanned them.

"Misha Abbas turned to that dready woman first: Imany Eshun. One of those agony aunts you get in these places. She's not online but she's got the old activist vibe; I'd be surprised if she didn't cook a few fascists in her time. Then there's that Bantu lad who rubbed your bonnet."

Gemma scanned the squat man standing aimlessly in the plaza, "and every estate has a dealer."

"Indeed. Plenty of data on him: kicked out by his family as a kid, too wild to get through school. He's big into the Afrocentrist scene now, with R-B sympathy too."

Gemma drew from her vape and pondered.

"Let's have a chat with him."

"No, you stay here," Luis pulled himself up, "an overly-competitive lesbian won't be what gets him up."

"A smug Aryan prick might do it though right?"

Luis beamed at her and adjusted an invisible tie.

Sermon saw him approach. Recognised the leering face of a crooked cop. Before he could get away, Luis lunged forward and grabbed him.

"Not so fast Usain Bolt," Luis gripped his struggling arm, "stop. panicking. I don't care about you taking the piss the other night, nor do I care about the stuff you're obviously selling."

"Fam you ain't got nothin' on me! Why don't you fuckin' look for that kid instead!" Sermon tried wriggling free. The fearful residents backed away, pretending not to notice. Only Imany lingered, hanging near Misha but listening in.

"Sermon! Sermon. Try swallowing pride for once, instead of your club-matches discharge?" Luis made a face to say that whatever Sermon tried, Luis would win, "I am trying to find the kid, and you're dodgy enough to be of use to me."

Sermon went still, fearing how the detective knew his clubbing tastes.

"Alright. What do I know?"

"You saw the same vagrants I did," Luis looked around, as if ensuring they were alone, "obviously it was them who took him."

Sermon said nothing. Luis read agreement on his face anyway and let go of his arm.

"I need better reasons than I have to get enough force for the job. That gang's grown since Rajesh Tomar's resignation video. I can hardly go in with one stroppy policewoman and a couple of tasers."

Sermon sighed and rubbed his chin, "I reckon it was them too... I checked Misha's flat and it reeked of fags. Girl swears she doesn't smoke."

"Show me," he beckoned to the flat, but Sermon looked hesitant.

Luis gripped his arm again, "Sermon I'm recording you as a primary lead. If we can't find Joey, perhaps Opus Veda can speak to you when they hack our case and take over?"

Misha Abbas's home was a single room occupancy, battered by flooding and dank with mildew. A bed hung from cords against a wall carpeted with spotty mould. The window had been bricked in.

The room had been trampled by constables. Luis was used to them giving up after five minutes, usually with souvenirs - snacks for the station, suicide notes for the desk, used underwear for an evening in. He wasn't interested in souvenirs, or constables - local noses always sniffed up the biggest truffles.

"No forced entry," he searched the doorway for cigarette butts, "I wonder how they got in?"

Sermon ran a finger down the door's edge, "swiped the lock with a card."

"Vagrants with credit cards?"

"They nick them and max them out before the bank cancels it. Never enough money for the banks to pursue, right?"

"And it's a pain in the arse for us that they don't," Luis squatted over the floorboards, finding a bead of ash. He pinched it between his fingers and smelt. Satisfied, he leant against the kitchenette counter with his arms folded, watching Sermon.

"This gang. Where's home for them?"

"Underground. The old silver line towards Greenwich," Sermon tried to look busy searching, "they come outta there, grab whatever they can, and back they go."

"I wonder why they'd come this far all of a sudden?"

"They must be sellin' kids off to some chat room or somethin'..." Sermon's nose wrinkled. He kicked a sandbag and faced Luis, aggressive but earnest, "it's fuckin' disgustin'! Traffickers don't hang about mate; you gotta stop them now or it's gonna be too late..."

Luis held the door open to leave.

"I will."

The police had gone. Kasia eased, but not fully. She wished Imany were here to advise her, instead of staying to help Misha. What more could she do? What could justify all this fuss?

Eva was sleeping with her headset on; her phone dangled out of her hand. Kasia prised both devices off her and peeked outside, wanting to ask someone for an update on Joey she couldn't yet find online. When she heard drones buzzing she retreated indoors. Now was the time to be normal and unassuming. When police had no suspect they sometimes chose at random, and the favours they asked for clemency could scar. She dreaded the wrong officer getting a look at her child.

Her mind wandered to the detectives. She tried recalling their names.

The contact card. Kasia dared to look them up. She couldn't find much - certainly no social profiles - but pictures surfaced from old news reports. Gemma was barely older than her, with olive skin and short, neat hair. Kasia found her handsome, but wry and frigid. Her partner was with her, sneering as in person, Aryan and intense; lither than his partner but still intimidating. Kasia searched for data and found none. In a society where lives could be searched and summarised in under a minute, fewer things were creepier than a life that could not.

She tucked into her bunk, placed her earbuds in, and counted mattress springs to ground herself. Eva's arm hung from the bunk above. She softly pinched one of her fingers and pulled the sheet across.

The crying from outside grew louder. Kasia turned the volume up, letting a gentle whispers playlist block the real world and send her to sleep.