They walked up the stairs and into the short corridor of the second floor. With a minimal amount of effort, the duo managed to find room number six, and quickly locked themselves inside.
Sliding their two luggage cases over to the side of the rugged bed, Mayhew and Margret both turned and looked at each other with intense focus in their eyes.
Mayhew was first to speak, his voice being low—almost like a loud whisper.
"Do you really think so?"
Margret looked down and took a small pause to think. Then she looked back at the detective and spoke, her voice being serious and direct.
"Yes I do. That's what my senses are telling me."
The awkward young man sitting behind the wooden counter just one floor below them was a Nazi—at least that was Margret's conclusion, and Mayhew wasn't far from that either. When Mayhew was talking to the hunched man, he had noticed that the way that the man spoke Polish was not at all how natives spoke the language, and it did not take the detective long to hear the small German accent that made its way into the youthful man's speech every now and then. And that wasn't all, while the man behind the counter was checking for the middle-aged detectives' booking, Mayhew had taken the time to look around the lobby for just a moment—and that was when he had seen it, an old radio that was famously used by the German secret police in the 40s. The item was barely visible as it was in the small storage room behind the counter, and it was half inside a box with its other half exposed.
These were all the hints that had led Mayhew to suspect the man to be a Nazi. Though of course he wasn't completely sure, in fact he would put the chance of it being true at around ten percent at most.
Margret, on the other side, was not nearly as observant as Mayhew; that wasn't her talent after all. What was her talent, though, was her unnatural intuition that almost never failed. She could sense danger without any signs of it being there.
So all it took for her to think that the man at the lobby was a Nazi was just her intuition paired with the rumours about this area.
Both of them had come to the same conclusion and had quickly gotten to a safe place to discuss it. And now they were here.
Sighing in slight frustration, Mayhew decided to take a seat on the messy white bed of their room.
Margret meanwhile chose to stay standing, her expression hard as a rock and cold as an icicle.
"Well, tell me. How do we handle this Mayhew?"
Her voice was slightly harsh and irritated.
Of course, Mayhew, knowing what he did about his seven-year partner, could understand why she was acting like this.
Looking up at Margret, the detective's hazel eyes showed clear pity in them.
"I am sorry Meg, but you know that we can't take this case on right now. We came here to investigate Deven's suicide in Pustków, not to unravel a secret Nazi organisation here in Kamienica..."
Another sigh escaped his dry lips.
"I already took payment and made a promise to the widow, I can't get distracted now. But I will tell you this: Once we finish Deven's case for good, I promise you that we will come back here and bring the secret group to justice. I promise you."
There was a pause, where both Margret and Mayhew stared at each other without saying anything. But after some time, the blond detective did respond.
Letting out a long and miserable sigh, Margret simply said: "Fine."
And Mayhew responded with a simple nod.
If they had had this same conversation seven years ago, then maybe they would have had a dramatic argument about it. But fortunately enough for the both of them, seven years of partnership had made them a lot more understanding and patient toward each other.
'I really hope that Deven's suicide and this Nazi secret group case aren't connected. Because if they are, this is really going to become too big of a mess even for us.' Mayhew thought as he saw Margret tidy up her uneven bed.
The two detectives spent the night in cold eerie silence, both of them refused to fall asleep as having a potential Nazi just downstairs could have that type of effect on someone.
In the morning, the duo quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs. There the awkward young man awaited, sitting behind the counter just like when they first arrived.
Looking at the hunched man, Mayhew glanced over at Margret—of course she did not seem very happy. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to hide her disgust of the man, Mayhew signaled at Margret with his eyes, basically telling her to go ahead of him and let him check out for the both of them.
At first she hesitated and looked at the hazel-eyed detective with her harsh blue eyes. But after a few seconds, Margret let out a sigh and intentionally bumped into Mayhew's shoulder as she went for the door.
A sigh of relief left his mouth, and Mayhew quickly went over to the counter to check out.
There was no drama between the middle-aged detective and the young man as Mayhew was very experienced in hiding what he felt—and he was also very polite by nature which definitely helped.
Before leaving, Mayhew took a quick glance toward the small storage room behind the counter, he wanted to see if the radio was still there as that could serve as future evidence for this case. Though unfortunately enough, the room was closed this time.
"Have a good day, young man."
Mayhew waved with a smile and the young man returned both the smile and the wave.
Interestingly enough, the detective did not make a weird comment about the man's eyes unlike with every other stranger. It was just a simple goodbye.
Mayhew and Margret met outside of the hotel and wasted no time chatting. They had managed to contact a local of Kamienica that was willing to drive them to Pustków town. This was very lucky considering just how remote and dangerous the town was, as Mayhew had heard that Pustków town was settled between a long range of mountains and a long stretch of barren snow land. The roads were also said to be damaged and filled with holes, and the people who drove on those roads were usually there for illegal activities, as the town's remoteness apparently made it a perfect hub for drug traffickers.
So if this local was really willing to take them there, then Mayhew had no plans of arriving late to the meeting place.
They traveled through the city streets by foot, though this time it was actually bearable as it wasn't snowing like last time. After an hour and a half or so of walking, the duo made it just on time to meet the local that would be escorting them.
The local was an old man, appearing to be in his late 50s if not early 60s. His name was Józef and he ended up being a pretty nice guy. Even Margret seemed to like his company which surprised Mayhew.
The duo was now a trio. The two detectives plus the plump old man were now driving through the ruined roads that would lead them to the town of Pustków, the land around them was almost completely barren beside the thick snow that covered its surface. Not even a single tree could be seen, which made it seem as if their van was driving through an empty world that was devoid of life.
Józef was handling the wheel with one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other, a natural expression present on his plump face. There was only one other seat in the front and since neither Mayhew nor Margret wanted to sit in the back at the cargo area of the van, both decided to sit together on the same seat. Of course this caused for a very uncomfortable and tight environment, for the duo.
Looking outside the window at the barren land and disintegrated road, Mayhew couldn't help but frown a little.
'This road is making me feel very uneasy. Why is that?'
It's not like this was his first time traveling on a beat up road in the middle of nowhere, he had a lot of experience after all— as a middle-aged detective with hundreds of cases under his belt, it was very difficult for an environment to make him feel this way. And yet here he was.
'Margret must be really troubled right now.'
If Mayhew's gut feeling was this strong, then Margret's unnatural intuition for danger was probably pressuring her ten times harder.
Glancing over at his detective partner, Mayhew quickly confirmed his thoughts as he saw Meg's eyes shift around much more quickly than they usually did, not to mention the fact that her breaths also came out quicker as well. Of course these small details in her demeanor could only be noticed by Mayhew, not only because of his above average observation skills but also because he was the only one who knew what Margret's 'usual' demeanor was like.
Without saying any words, Mayhew slowly moved his hand over to Meg's hand and softly clenched it.
Margret glanced at him and rolled her eyes in annoyance—which of course was just an act. She did not move her hand away and even clenched right back. Her eyes and breaths calmed ever so slightly as well.
Smiling faintly for a moment, Mayhew then shifted his gaze from Margret to the old man that was driving them through these isolated roads.
'A conversation would certainly lighten the mood right now.'
Glancing one more time at the barren land outside, Mayhew struck up a conversation with Józef.
"So—Józef, looking at the way you're maneuvering between the holes in this road makes me think that this is not your first time driving to Pustków. Am I right?"
Lifting the cigarette to his lips, the old man Józef huffed and puffed before replying in a creaky voice.
"Yes you are. I have driven between Kamienica and Pustków more times than I can count."
The detective listened with an interested look in his eyes.
"Wow, I must say that is very impressive sir. So since you have traveled across these roads many times, I can imagine that you know a lot about it—not just the road but this general area as a whole. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about it?"
The old man twisted his hand slightly to avoid a deep hole on the frozen road, before replying:
"Go ahead."
Mayhew took a moment to think before asking his first question.
"I heard from the locals of Kamienica that this road is very dangerous, not only because of the holes but because of the drug gangs that are running rampant here. Is that true? And if it is, are you sure that we won't get pulled over by one of these gangs?"
This was an important question to ask because both Margret and him had no weapon to protect themselves with if something like that did happen.
Józef replied fast as if he had heard these questions hundred other times before.
"Oh, the rumours don't do it justice. These roads are much more dangerous than just drug gangs and holes."
The hazel-eyed detective lifted an eyebrow.
"I think I understand what you mean. Are the Nazi groups also patrolling this road as well?"
The old man paused for a moment, as if he had been taken off guard at the fact that Mayhew knew about the Nazi groups and spoke of them as if he was 100% sure that they were real and not just a scary rumour or a horror story.
Coughing roughly, Józef took another breath of smoke before speaking in his creaky voice.
"Yeah, the bastards are also around this road quite often, although their movement has been reduced by the drug gangs who are much more dominant here. But the Nazis are also not the main danger of this road, but it was a good guess."
Mayhew lifted both eyebrows, surprised that even the Nazis were not the 'danger' that the old man was talking about.
So he asked: "Please tell me then, what is the main danger of this road?"
There was a long pause. The van dipped as it barely managed to avoid another wide hole on the road. Now it was snowing—it was light but it had started, which made the dread in both Mayhew and Margret grow even further.
Józef meanwhile did not seem to be bothered, and finally spoke after a slightly awkward silence.
"The main danger of this road is the monster."
There was another pause. This time Mayhew's eyes turned serious—a little too serious even.
"A monster? That's a funny joke. But tell me really what is the main danger of this road, because monsters... they don't exist."
Józef finally became slightly uneasy himself as he saw how seriously Mayhew took his statement that was clearly meant to be a metaphor.
'Are monsters a childhood fear of his or something? Jesus, British people are just as weird as I thought.' The old man thought to himself.
Józef spoke, his voice now slightly hesitant and not as confident.
"It's the environment itself—that is the main danger. I referred to it as the 'monster' because that is how it acts like."
At this Mayhew's expression changed once more, the strange seriousness in his eyes disappeared and he turned back to his usual polite looking self.
"The environment is the most dangerous? More dangerous than gangs and Nazi groups?"
The old man nodded.
"Yes even more dangerous than that... well at least for the people of this area that is."
Józef placed the mostly withered cigarette down and muffled it out on a piece of glass.
"Each year, a number of people—poor people attempt to travel across this road by foot and most of them end up six foot under this snow that lay around us right now."
The old man sighed.
"As you can imagine, the gangs and Nazi groups claim a number of victims each year. But each year there is a batch of people who manage to survive and of course they immediately try to escape. Most don't have enough money to go to any other city, so most are forced to pick between Kamienica and Pustków. Of course most victims are from Pustków and most of the dead bodies here are survivors of gang violence that tried to escape to Kamienica by foot and ended up freezing to death. Although I remember... there was a situation where it was reversed—instead of someone trying to move from Pustków to Kamienica, it was a family that tried to move from Kamienica to Pustków. I can't remember the whole story, but it didn't go very well for the family."
Now it was back to silence, Mayhew didn't really want to continue the conversation and Margret was drowning in paranoia. The snowfall was now very extreme and the road continued to become more damaged and unbearable. Mayhew hoped that they would arrive to the town soon.
And as if answering his prayers, he saw it in the distance.
Three Soviet style buildings were just ahead. They could barely be seen through the snowfall—Mayhew could only see the vague structure of the buildings.
It was as if he was looking at a shadow of a person, he could not discern any details just that there was something there.
It was funny really, since 'Pust' from Pustków meant empty.
So they had arrived at the empty city. Mayhew could only wonder who gave this name to the town and importantly why they gave it.
He felt that he would soon find out.