Antonio poured himself a glass of wine. He was looking over several Adeptus Administratum files, and took a sip of a vintage he would never serve to guests, keeping it solely for his own enjoyment.
Saint Ganrio—a very awkward name, and one steeped in religious overtones. Still, there was no denying that the wine was delicious. It usually appeared on the tables of Imperial nobles and powerful figures. Ordinary people might never even have heard of it, but Antonio had a whole bottle.
Well, I wasn't going to wonder how he'd gotten his hands on it. I was more curious about the files he had before him.
Antonio leafed through the records. They listed countless people surnamed Constantine. The name wasn't especially common, but across the entire galaxy, with the vast scale of human civilization, there were still countless Constantines, as numerous as the stars.
And Antonio was certain the records he had were only the tip of the iceberg. There were a few people named Vito, too, but Antonio knew none of them was the Vito Constantine he was dealing with now.
Of course, it was possible he'd lied. Using a false name was perfectly normal. But Antonio was certain this Vito wasn't an ordinary mercenary or traveler.
Why? Simple. The shuttle he'd parked in the hangar wasn't something an ordinary person could afford. Even though Antonio wasn't an expert, he could tell at a glance how expensive it was. The old hangar manager had said it was equipped with a Warp Acceleration Engine. Its sleek hull might not look like much, but it was made of Adamantium Armor Plate of the kind fitted to Imperial Navy warships.
Even more absurdly, for a "private shuttle," the craft had a Titan-class Void Shield Generator. It even carried the Geller Field Engine and Warp Jump Engine found on destroyers—a full-fledged interstellar vessel.
And that was without counting its Plasma Rays, Reaper Bolter Cannons, Autocannons, Melta Cutters, and other weapons. Its equipment alone was beyond the reach of many nobles. There was no way an ordinary mercenary could own something like that.
Antonio tossed the files onto the table and let out a long sigh. Right on cue, a commotion arose outside—the sound of a heavy transport truck.
Antonio stood and left the back room. He nodded to his men in the bar. They had their weapons concealed on them, and followed him out in a relaxed, casual manner.
When they stepped into the sunlight, they saw the enormous cargo truck parked outside. The driver sat in the cab with the door open, smiling serenely. He looked like some young fellow who'd just picked up a new car.
Antonio inspected the transport. There wasn't a drop of blood on it, no signs of damage, no bloodstains, not even a trace of dust. Nothing at all. It was impossibly clean.
Vito jumped down from the truck and patted the big machine behind him. "Good as new. Fresh off the lot, except the undercarriage's a little busted."
Antonio studied the mysterious man. He really did seem as though he'd merely taken the truck out for a spin—casual and unhurried. Antonio gave his men a slight nod, and one of them went around Vito to the enormous truck.
He opened the cargo compartment with practiced ease and leaned inside for a look. Then he gave Antonio the all-clear.
"Every last bit is here. Don't worry, I'm not fond of dangerous stuff." Vito smiled and nodded politely to Antonio. The latter looked puzzled and raised his hand to check his watch. "Less than half a day, Mr. Constantine. Three hours, to be precise. I take it you got into a fight with the Sandmen?"
"Sandmen? That's an interesting name. They do look a lot like Tallarn, but I'm sure they aren't. Yes, I fought them."
As he spoke, Vito patted his Bolter. "As you can see, I'm standing here in one piece, so all in all, it was a pleasant trip."
In one piece? No, he didn't even have a scratch on him. His clothes weren't rumpled, his Bolter sat neatly in its holster, and he showed none of the exhaustion you'd expect after fighting a horde of Xenos.
If Antonio's truck hadn't really been there, Constantine would have thought Vito was lying. But there was no way he could have gotten hold of a heavy transport truck and filled it with Crimson Essence just to fool him.
Vito walked up to Antonio and gestured toward the big truck. "I've kept my end of the bargain, Mr. Antonio. Now it's your turn."
"Can I ask how you dealt with the Sandmen?"
"Sandmen? Interesting name. I've found that, no matter the species or creature, smashing its head usually does the trick. So, just as you'd imagine."
Vito playfully formed a pistol with his fingers. Antonio frowned. "Mr. Constantine, I'm sure the Sandmen aren't rabbits. You couldn't have shot them all in the head one by one in an hour."
Vito smiled, too. There was something unsettling about that smile—or, more accurately, something dangerous. "Maybe not, Mr. Antonio. But don't you think the result matters more than the process?"
Antonio looked at the man before him. Vito remained impeccably polite, but Antonio's instincts—honed by years of fighting on the battlefield—were screaming at him that this man was extremely dangerous.
And he knew all too well what usually happened to people who dug too deeply into secrets they weren't meant to know.
Antonio gave a slight nod. "The people you're looking for crashed their shuttle in the Wheat Field a few days ago. Afterward, they caught a ride to the Starport in a truck driven by some kind farmers, then went on to the Capital World."
"Did they have any distinguishing features?"
"They were excessively enthusiastic, more like a group of missionaries. But one of them was different from the rest. He didn't say a word, and he made people uneasy."
Vito raised an eyebrow, seeming quite interested. He turned toward the truck and fell silent for a moment before looking back. "What do you mean by uneasy? Did the farmers say?"
"The farmers weren't good at putting it into words, but their exact words were: 'Like a terrifying beast, a rude and violent beast.'"
Vito gave a long hum, as though savoring the thought. His smile briefly vanished, then quietly returned. "Thank you, Mr. Antonio. Can you tell me where the shuttle is now?"
Antonio was silent for a moment, but eventually answered. "At the Adeptus Arbites' control bureau. It was impounded after making an illegal landing. I don't think the Arbites Judge will hand it over to you."
"Ah, I'm sure I can persuade them." Vito smiled strangely. "It was a pleasure working with you, Mr. Antonio. Until next time."
Vito bowed slightly, then headed toward the other side of the street. As he left, he patted the heavy transport truck meaningfully. Antonio watched him walk away. After a moment's thought, he called out, "Mr. Constantine."
Vito stopped and turned to look at Antonio. Antonio walked over and handed him a pendant. Vito took it naturally. It was a Silver Snake pendant, bearing a venomous serpent with its jaws gaping wide.
"When you get to the Capital World, go to the Half Pint in the Lower Hive and ask for a barmaid named Silver Snake. Give this to her, and she'll tell you what you want to know."
Vito smiled and slipped the pendant into his pocket. "Thank you very much, Mr. Antonio. I'll remember your help."
Vito waved and continued on his way. Antonio watched him go in silence for a long while, then sighed and turned to tell his men to move the truck.
Our Inquisitor turned a corner and looked at the Silver Snake pendant in his hand. An amused smile crept across his face.
"Ah, what an interesting adventure," he said.
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