The man in alien armour was not a looter.
He had paperwork.
Elias found this considerably more offensive. The firefight lasted less than two minutes. Sergeant Reeves advanced behind his translucent shield while soldiers fired around him. The red-glowing man on the opposing side launched a burst of heat that splashed harmlessly across the barrier, then discovered that magical confidence did not make him immune to a rifle round through the thigh.
Two men surrendered.
Three ran.
One did not get up. The armoured man remained standing with both hands raised.
"We are licensed contractors," he shouted.
Harcourt stared at him from behind cover.
"You opened fire on British soldiers."
"They attempted to interfere with a lawful extraction operation."
"You're in Birmingham."
"Correct."
"Then British law applies."
The man smiled nervously.
"Concordance commercial law supersedes incompatible local provisions in recognised external transactions."
Harcourt's expression became very calm. Elias had begun to recognise that as the expression she wore before wanting to arrest someone personally.
"Who told you that?"
The man looked toward the alien armour covering his chest.
"Our sponsor."
Elias stepped forward.
"Which sponsor?"
Harcourt pointed at him without looking away from the prisoner.
"You stay out of this."
"Absolutely not."
The man recognised him.
His face changed.
"You're Vale."
"Doctor Vale."
"Shit."
"That reaction is becoming common."
Harcourt sighed.
"Who hired you?"
The man hesitated.
A translucent panel appeared in front of him, visible only as a faint shimmer to everyone else. His eyes moved as he read.
"I'm contractually prohibited from disclosing beneficial ownership."
Elias smiled.
"Excellent. Show me the contract."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"No."
"Why?"
"Confidential."
"Then you can explain it to the police."
"Concordance arbitration protects-"
"You are standing in Birmingham after shooting a soldier," Harcourt said. "You are going to discover how much protection that buys you."
The man swallowed.
Elias crouched beside the alien rifle he had dropped. It looked less like a gun than a piece of black bone wrapped in silver wire. No trigger. No obvious magazine.
"Don't touch it," Harcourt said.
"I wasn't going to."
She gave him a look.
"Immediately."
He put his hands behind his back. Myrddin analysed through Elias's camera.
"Probable restricted transfer object."
"Restricted by what?"
"The public Accord summary states newly integrated natives may receive equipment no more than two developmental tiers above locally demonstrated capability unless licensed under defensive or occupational exemptions."
Elias looked at the armoured man.
"What occupation?"
The prisoner said nothing.
"Miner?"
Still nothing.
"Security contractor?"
His jaw tightened.
Elias nodded.
"There it is."
The trick was not giving a primitive species advanced weapons. The trick was employing the primitive species in a job that legally required them. Harcourt understood at the same moment.
"They're using employment exemptions."
"Probably."
"To arm gangs."
"To arm contractors," Elias corrected. "That's what the paperwork will say."
"Same thing."
"Not to lawyers."
The prisoner glared.
"We were offered protection and pay. There are monsters everywhere. The government can't protect everybody."
Harcourt's anger faltered slightly.
There it was.
The uncomfortable part.
The man's equipment was alien. His legal argument might be manufactured. He had fired at soldiers. But he was not entirely wrong. Millions of people had spent the last week waiting for help that did not arrive. External companies offered food, protection, medicine, weapons and money.
People accepted.
Why wouldn't they?
Elias looked farther down the street. At least thirty civilians had been working around the crystal growth. Some wore ordinary work clothes. Others wore cheap protective equipment bearing the same unfamiliar emblem as the armoured man.
"What were you extracting?"
"Blue-grade reservoir crystal."
"Who owns it?"
"The company."
"Who owned the land?"
"Some warehouse company."
"Did they sell it?"
"Don't know."
Harcourt spoke to an officer over the radio. Minutes later she received an answer. The landowner had signed a contract that morning. The external company had paid the equivalent of sixteen million pounds for six derelict industrial properties and the mineral rights beneath them. The owner had believed he had made the greatest property deal in British history.
Three hours later, the breach expanded across the site and produced crystals likely worth hundreds of times more.
Elias laughed once.
There was no humour in it.
"They knew."
Harcourt looked at him.
"Before the breach?"
"Either they knew or they estimated."
The implications spread quickly. External organisations possessed models of integration. They knew where valuable phenomena were likely to emerge. They could not seize territory directly. But they could buy it from people who had no idea what it was about to become.
Harcourt turned to the prisoner.
"Who is the company?"
He hesitated.
Then perhaps decided British prison was less frightening than his confidentiality clause.
"Veylan Frontier Resources."
Myrddin responded instantly.
"Public Concordance profile available."
"Read."
"Veylan Frontier Resources. Private commercial entity registered in eleven jurisdictions. Primary activities include early integration resource acquisition, frontier extraction, labour contracting and developmental consulting."
Elias smiled coldly.
"They specialise in apocalypses."
"That wording is not present."
"It should be."
Harcourt stared at the crystal growth.
"Can we stop them buying land?"
"Legally?"
"Yes."
"I have been aware of alien law for six days."
"And?"
"Give me another afternoon."
Harcourt almost laughed.
Then a soldier called from farther down the road.
They had found bodies.
Not combatants.
Civilians.
Four men and two women lay behind a warehouse, hands bound. Their throats had been cut. A ritual circle had been painted around them in blood. Elias stopped at the edge. He recognised the geometry immediately.
Model Eighty-Nine.
Again.
Only this time, someone had added the symbol of the Children of the First Circle.
Harcourt looked at him.
"Yours?"
Elias stared at the bodies.
"Originally."
His voice had changed.
The prisoner in alien armour spoke from behind them.
"We didn't do that. Those people were here before us."
Elias ignored him.
The blood had dried.
The ritual had worked.
He could feel the residue.
Six dead people.
Somebody stronger because of them. Myrddin spoke privately into his earpiece.
"Elias, I have identified a match in Vale Circle communications."
"Who?"
"Silas Vane."
Elias knew the name.
He had blocked Silas Vane fourteen times. On the fifteenth, Myrddin had automated it.
"Location?"
"Unknown."
Elias looked at the blood.
"Find him."