Blood & Baltazar

by Liam Inscoe-Jones

  “Why did you lie?” Lylith asked, stepping forward with all her previous respect and etiquette peeling away before Cedric's eyes.

  He stumbled over an answer. “It was to protect people; my family, my government. If the truth was found out then the entire Reform would be facing revolution. People out there, they wouldn't understand that I didn't know those factories were occupied when I ordered to fire, that I regret what I did that night more than anything...”

  “But that’s not true.” Josiah replied. “You knew every bit of what we know now and you were going to give the orders to fire on Ashton town no matter what...”

  Baltazar's face sunk, eyes almost pleading now. “People will think that Josiah. They always will and there was no way I can stop it. I lied, Lylith, because if people found out they couldn't understand. Lucy wouldn't understand.”

  Lylith paused and asked with reluctant sympathy; “Did she find out?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did she understand?”

  “No.” Cedric sighed. “You have to get me out of here, I'm not ready to confess yet, I will, in time - I need to speak to my wife.”

  “Come on Cedric, I'm not like you, I don't just let people get got, I save them. Why did you think I brought you in here?” Josiah's lips cracked into a smile, slapping the Patriarch on the arm. “Mother Hubbard may have had more room but out in the corridors, on the way to the entrance, those are big, open spaces. Lots of people and lots of access - look at me, I'm proof of it: I've strolled through your doors twice now… You’re a very privileged man Cedric, most of Stone Hall is all yours - kitchens and bedrooms they may be but it's private and well-guarded. Edgar Mulligan wants a show, he won't get it hidden away back here; he'll aim for the big, public displays. That's where the guards will find him if he's here, and then...” He grinned. “And then we flush him out.”

  As if on cue the door flew open, but the man who stepped through wasn't a guard at all, he was far too slick and far too rich for that. This was Michael Prince, with his greased back hair and his razor sharp lips. His taut suit stretched around his torso as he pushed the door shut behind him.

  “What's happening here Cedric?” He boomed on entrance, scowling above the Patriarch without even noticing the other two figures in the room. “This is a PR disaster, there are armed men searching every inch of the building. And I mean everywhere – they’re looking under women's skirts for God’s sake, I mean, those are lucky guys but we don't want to see that making headlines in the morning... Sort it out Cedric.”

  Baltazar backed slightly away. “Michael,” He pleaded. “We have to let the Detectors do their job - there's a threat on my life....”

  “Oh I know that poor soul… The whole bloody world knows that!” He groaned. “It's the talk of the ball out there, which is, by the way, a shambles. Balloons Cedric? Whose idea was that...? No, wait, I don't care - just make sure they don't work here by tomorrow.”

  “Please; it has to be done, people are in danger - me especially.”

  “Do you really think I'm worried about people? So long as we have their tick on the ballot sheet they can get blown up all they like. No, I'm here for you Cedric, to make sure you don't spill the beans on Naked Wrath. First though, I need to find your dear of a wife; otherwise I won't give a damn about even that.” Michael barged past Baltazar, as if to make for the far door.

  Cedric pulled him back, squaring up to him at last. “What do you want with my wife?” He asked.

  “You let her read the file didn't you?” Michael smiled; his eyes unnervingly gleeful. “Now we have to shut her up.”

  Lylith White stood beside Josiah, looking both enraged and disgusted at the man who had barged into the room and was now giving orders like a master to a slave. She was stunned also at Cedric's almost instant obedience, so she looked to the friend by her side, waiting for him to intervene. The brief glance caught Michael's attention, and the board member paused at the door, looking at Hartt with distain. “And who the hell are you?” Prince snorted.

  “I'm...” Josiah stammered, jaw hanging wide open, lips trembling. Lylith was confused, and she waited keenly for some witticism to erupt. Hartt's words were almost silent. “I'm nobody sir...” He mumbled. “I'm nothing.”

  “Riiight...” Michael groaned, looking in mock confusion between him and Lylith. “So why are you here?”

  “They’re helping to find the bomb.” Cedric explained, almost as confused as the slack jawed Lylith White who stood in the corner, still waiting for Josiah’s face to crack.

  “Ah, a Detector.” Prince looked to Hartt and smirked. “Humbled in my presence I see? Good man. Well, consider yourself recruited; you're helping us find his wife.” He looked back to the Patriarch and with a quick 'come on' he pulled the leader through the door, leaving Lylith and Josiah alone.

  “What's the matter with you!?” She exclaimed. “You’ve had one hell of a gob on you ever since we met, people can't shut you up usually, but then that bully appears and you suddenly lose your tongue...?”

  “He has a reputation.” Josiah muttered, his voice picking up, gaining in confidence. “Look, Lylith, you need to stay here. I have to stick with the Patriarch, but if the guards find anything, the last people they will tell is me, and, without sounding arrogant - the first person who needs to know is me. So you come and find me Lylith, and stay alert, you never know what someone has put in your drink.”

  He went to leave, but she placed a gentle arm on his shoulder. “Josiah, are you alright?” She asked softly.

  Hartt replied with a grin. “You know me, I'm always alright. Remember Lylith, first sign of trouble, you find me.” As he stepped through the doorframe he looked back as a last reassurance. “Really, I'm fine.” He repeated, and then, with a flash of a smile, he was gone.

  Lylith White could never truly trust anything that man said, but for the first time now she could be certain that Josiah Hartt was anything but ‘fine’.

  Lucy Baltazar composed herself as she pulled the bathroom door shut. The corridors were empty, with only the closest of friends invited into the private rooms, hidden behind the curtains and after all - their votes could already be counted. Ahead on the ruby carpet sat a strange mound, tucked into the sideboards around a corner in the corridor. She ran her fingertips along the cream wall, the cold surface smooth to the touch as she cautiously approached the silhouette.

  As she drew closer the rough edges of fabric became apparent and as she stood above it she released it was a murky green duffle coat. She knew it wasn't just a discarded item now; the fabric was pressed against the corners of something beneath, and with the threats surrounding her husband she couldn't help but be wary as she pulled the cloth away.

  She lurched back instantly. The corridor was suddenly filled with the hollow ticking of a clock as now, exposed on the carpet, was a ticking, waiting bomb.

  The tubes were just a few inches long, with a pale white powder dusting the floor below its crinkled paper edges. A long set of wires stretched from within; red and black wrapped around each other, beginning to fray and spill their copper interior as they writhed across the carpet and around a corner out of sight. And the ticking was getting faster. Lucy knew she couldn't just stand there, she had to do something. She looked around and found no one, and so with her heart beating furiously in her chest she drew an outstretched hand...

  “Step away from there sweetheart.” A voice broke the silence.

  She looked up and found behind her a group of men - Michael Prince beside Josiah Hartt and edging slowly ahead was Cedric Baltazar. Her husband, hand stretched out towards her. She couldn't help but obey, and as soon as she was suitably separated the men leapt forward.

  Josiah jumped down beside the bomb but the Patriarch ignored it completely. He went to comfort Jessica, yet as he did so Lucy nudged slightly backwards, pushing him gently away. He stood dejected before her, mustering only a quiet question. “Where have you been?”

  “I needed to take a sh
ower.” She muttered, eyes glancing past him and down to Josiah who seemed alarmingly at ease as he began to pick up the wired bomb. “What are you doing?” She flustered. “You know what that is? You’re not supposed to move them. We need to get away...!”

  “If it was real we would, yeah.” Hartt mumbled.

  Michael Prince stopped. “It's not?”

  “Of course not, look at the entrance hole for the cord. It should be cut beforehand; perfectly fitting to the wire so the mixture inside can be firmly compacted around it. But just look at this - it's a mess. The powder, whatever it may be, my best guess is icing sugar, has been filled to the brim and then they've forced the wire in afterwards. They've torn the paper and barely made an impact on the powder within, this isn't the real deal, it's not even close....”

  “But the ticking...” Lucy Baltazar drawled, unwilling to let her horror fade.

  In response Josiah tore at the paper on one of the bottom tubes, revealing beneath a gold plated cube, swaying back and forth, each time chiming off two tiny bronzed plates either side. “Metronome.”

  “So why plant a fake?” Cedric pondered.

  “This is an outrage...” Michael stepped towards Hartt, who continued to ignore him. “Would you be willing to testify this?” He asked keenly. “In the Justice Trials I mean: this is the work a rival candidate, it has to be, if we leaked this to the press we could make a fortune in damages - a Patriarch threatened, his first lady reduced to a blubbering wreck, whoever did this would be out of the running immediately, they'd have to be...”

  Josiah lurched up from the floor, leaving the fake dynamite behind before throwing down his heel upon the device and crushing it to pieces. He then turned to Prince, overcoming his previous intimidation with a sudden rush of anger. “No, I'm not testifying anything because this is no petty game, this isn't politics, it’s revenge; primal and dirty and they're baying for his blood. Why plant a dummy like this? To intimidate him, to warn him, the same as those three murders in just as many days. I've seen their supplies and they are plentiful and all too real.” He ran a sweaty hand through his hair. “I thought Edgar’s people were coming but they’re already here.”

  Michael face creased with intrigue. “I don't see any proof of real bombs, how would this Edgar even get in? All I see is a decoy and some idiot who thinks he's an expert... Just a moment ago you told me you were nobody-”

  “I lied.” Josiah sniffed, following the trail of wire that ran along the sideboard, walking across to examine the stretch of corridor around the corner. He found himself gushing with adrenaline, his fear of Michael Prince fading in his passion. “My name is Josiah Hartt: and if you want proof, if you want evidence then you just follow that trail, Michael Prince, because these wires have been placed for a reason. It doesn’t matter how one of them got in here, the fact is that somehow they did and now we’re in trouble. This bomb is a fraud, but by putting it here they’re trying to tell us something, just like when they planted a note beneath Iceman’s second victim. They want us to know. I'm willing to wager a fresh cup of tea that if you walk down there, in the direction of the wires they've laid, you'll find a whole tonne of the real deal. You first.”

  Michael sighed, joining Cedric as they arrived at the end of the corridor. “So what’s down there?”

  Lucy Baltazar answered his question as she suddenly gasped and leapt forward. The first lady emitted a sharp groaning sound, garbled with a panicked 'Oh My God'. Then she was running.

  Her footsteps crackled like fireworks in the empty corridor, her damp hair tumbling down her back. It didn't take long for the Patriarch to follow, racing down the carpet after her. Josiah had no choice but to chase them - long coat flapping as he caught up with Cedric, then Lucy and crashed into the furthest door.

  He blocked her path, sprawled across the doorway before she could do anything rash. “Lucy, what is it, what did you see?” Hartt panted. The woman ignored him, face a glowing scarlet as she tore him away from the frame and yanked open the door, disappearing into the room beyond.

  Lucy screamed, circling the tiny room, throwing open a bed side drawer and tearing a flimsy quilt from the bed.

  “I don't get it, whose bedroom is this?” Michael Prince asked, strolling into the room and watching the woman screech her way around the walls. Josiah and Cedric arrived behind him, shadows cast across the deep blue ceiling.

  Josiah was wondering the same, but then he noticed on the bed; a teddy bear lying on the discarded quilt and, in the corner of the floor, a little pointed princess’s hat. “Oh.”

  Lucy picked herself up off the floor and turned to face them. The mother’s eyes were wild, her hands shaking on her hips “This is it isn't it?!” She yelled. “They’ve taken her. She's gone! Jessica’s gone!”

  Lylith White strolled along the wall, resting herself beneath a pair of paintings. The party was grinding on, with the music becoming more somber as legs grew tired and eyes grew heavy, each dancer waiting for someone to take the first step and walk out the door.

  Her chest ached where the dart had entered, the wound drying surprisingly quickly but her skin still felt like leather on her ribs. As she focused on the pain a wave of dizziness suddenly washed over her and she went to topple, steadying herself just in time on a nearby picture frame.

  She sighed and pulled herself up, the polished gold ridges bitter to the touch. It didn't help to steady her all that well; especially considering the frame seemed to be rather poorly hung. As she stood she realized this wasn’t the case at all - it was attached to the plaster not with a nail and string but hinges. That was odd. It was a rather poor design too, unless of course it designed for something else…

  The picture was a horrific grey sketch, Picasso's most infamous work leering from behind the thin glass. Lylith couldn't even kid herself that the inevitable wasn’t about to happen and so instead she just shrugged and pulled the frame to. As she swung it from the wall she was surprised to find a safe, tucked inside a deep hole and hanging limply ajar. She checked to see if anyone was watching, but even the keenest of the Patriarch's devotees were waning now, and so she went unnoticed as she leant slyly inside.

  The steel box was filled with documents mostly, stacked around a pile of fresh receipts and a picture of Cedric's wife and daughter. She was idly flicking through the folders, more out of boredom than intrigue, when she stumbled across a binder much cleaner than the rest, still warm infact. As she pulled it out she recognized it instantly - it was from the Civilian Index, with the same ticker-tape fastened to the top and a familiar red binding tying the pages together.

  It was obvious really; it could only have been one thing. In the entire Indexes extensive collection of every citizen ever to have settled in the valley, to her knowledge, there was only a single document missing. One man’s file - his name printed in the corner of the pages resting in Lylith’s hands now:

  “Josiah Hartt”

  Of all places, why was it here?

  “Miss White?” A guard was approaching her: a tiny little man with slicked back hair and a suit too big for his shoulders. “It is Miss White isn't it?” He asked with a modest smile.

  “Yes.” She nodded, placing the folder back in its place before he could notice.

  “The Patriarch radioed in Ma'am, he said something has happened to his daughter and he wants us there now. We couldn’t just abandon you here, so if you'd like to come with us....”

  “Oh, that's very nice of you...” She nodded her head spinning but her face as calm as stone. “...Take me to your leader.” She beamed, and he curled his lips out of politeness before pulling her gently away.

  He just had time to push the painting into place and bolt the safe shut.

  “This was your fault!” Lucy Baltazar screamed at her husband, slamming him against the wall and tearing furiously at his jacket. “They were after you! They couldn't get to you so they took her instead - this was you, this was all you - you lost my daughter...!”

  “And yo
u think I don't care?” He bellowed in return, snapping out his palms and shoving her onto the bed. “She’s not just your daughter, she is ours...!”

  It was as he uttered those words Josiah's pockets filled with an electronic crackling, hidden under the shouting of the panicking couple. “Shut up!” He snapped, peeling his hands from his hair and pulling a thin black box from out of his coat. “Can't you hear that?” The room fell silent as he pressed a button on the device and cautiously leant into the microphone. “Hello?”

  “Help me...”

  A girl’s voice crackled from the speaker, squeaky and trembling.

  Lucy promptly clasped her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god...” She muttered. “That's her, that's my girl...” She leapt towards the box, pulling it towards her. “I'm here sweetheart, Mommy's here...”

  Josiah pulled the device away, holding it behind him. He turned to Cedric cold eyes. “Get her out of here; she won't want to hear this. Neither will you.”

  Baltazar nodded, muttering words into his wife's ear and pulling her kicking and screaming away, through the door and down the corridor.

  Only when it was silent again did Josiah raise the walkie back to his mouth. “Okay, listen up...” he began.”...I know this is hard, but you don't have to be scared, I'm coming for you okay, so just think now sweetheart, tell me where they took you. Can you describe it to me?”

  There was a rattling from the other end of the line, and the voice grew distant as the girl was pulled away from the mic.

  “Jessica?” Hartt called. “What's happened, Jessica, is there someone else there?” He knew there was as soon as she'd fallen silent. There was a ruffling as someone had dragged her away, and now there were mutterings amongst the garbled signal. Josiah caught the words “just read it” as the man moved closer to the microphone in order to put the girl back, and then she was left alone. Josiah knew it was her – he could hear her sobbing.