But there was something I could.
Commander Hendrix’s office was set away from the other administrative buildings: a large bungalow with palm trees swaying overhead and a gleaming Firedove statue in front, endlessly frozen on one wing.
Inside, his secretary Norma sat typing with a quick, clattering sound. She glanced up. “Miss Vancour, what can I do for you?”
“I need to see Commander Hendrix. It’s urgent.” I kept my hands tight in my pockets. Hidden under my jacket I had an envelope with the information from Russ’s house pressed between my arm and my shirt.
Norma hesitated, her fingers still on her typewriter keys. She glanced at Hendrix’s closed office door. “Well, he’s busy, but…wait a minute; I know he wanted to see you.”
She wiped her hands nervously on her skirt before she rapped on the door and stuck her head in. After a low murmur of voices she returned, her relief obvious. “Yes, you can go in.”
When I entered I saw to my dismay that Commander Hendrix wasn’t alone. Another man sat across the desk from him, showing him something on a sheet of paper. “She’s an excellent pilot,” he was saying in a low voice. “And Miss Pierce confirmed her weeks ago.”
“It makes sense. And in fact, there’s another reason why—” Hendrix broke off as he saw me. He rose with a tired smile. “Amity, come on in. Perfect timing; I was just about to send for you. This gentleman will be sitting in, if that’s all right.”
Could I see you alone, sir? I didn’t say it; I gazed uncertainly at the desk. The stranger had turned over the piece of paper. Was it me they’d been discussing?
The stranger rose too, and offered his hand. “A pleasure, Miss Vancour.”
He had unremarkable features that looked strangely familiar. Confused, I shook his hand. His eyes were such a washed-out blue they were almost colourless.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” I said after a pause.
“Oh, my apologies,” said Hendrix. “This is Sam Cartwright, a liaison officer. We’ve been working on various matters together. Have a seat,” he added, motioning. “Would you like some coffee?”
I sank into the remaining chair. “Thanks, but I came because—” I broke off, glancing at the visitor. I had seen him somewhere before. Where? I didn’t know, but was almost positive that “Sam Cartwright” wasn’t his name.
A liaison officer for who?
“Because…?” prompted Hendrix.
“I…it’s private,” I said slowly. Some instinct made me grab for the first explanation that came to mind: “I may need to ask for leave again soon.”
Hendrix nodded. “Of course; I’m sure we can arrange that. You’re very valued here, Amity.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I suppose you’ve heard about Clement,” he added.
My muscles tensed. “I was there.”
“A terrible business,” said Mr Cartwright.
Hendrix nodded, his expression pained. “I hope that what I have to say to you will be on a cheerier note, Amity.”
I was hyper-aware of the envelope hidden against my side. I was being ridiculous, I told myself. All I had to do was ask for a moment alone with Hendrix and show him exactly what Russ had been doing.
I hesitated, and then said, “I hope so too, sir. What is it?”
Hendrix looked down, fiddling with a pen. “I served with your father, you know. Tru was a fine man.”
“I know,” I said blankly. What did my father have to do with anything?
Hendrix turned the pen over in his hands. “I’ll get to the point,” he said. “Russ’s death affects us in more ways than one. We haven’t just lost a good team leader; we’ve lost a Tier One pilot.” He glanced at me and smiled slightly. “He called you ‘Wildcat’, didn’t he? Very apt. Amity, I’d like to offer you a Tier One promotion.”
I’d dreamed for months of him saying those words. Now that he had, I felt wrong-footed. I could see Mr Cartwright in my peripheral vision, watching me.
Who was Miss Pierce, and how exactly had she “confirmed” me?
“Thank you,” I said. My voice sounded stilted. “It’s a tremendous honour.”
Mr Cartwright reached for a glass on the desk then and took a sip of water. My scalp crawled. His gold signet ring had two stylized swirls, just like on those astrology charts of Ma’s that had reminded me so much of Gunnison.
Memory surged. That was it. I’d once seen this pale-eyed man in a news photo…and in a grainy black-and-white telio programme, where he’d stood waving beside John Gunnison while thousands cheered.
I felt locked into my chair with shock, with dread. The man I now knew to be Sandford Cain spoke again.
“Yes, it is an honour,” he said with a small smile. His fingers were long and thin, his gaze intent. “The world will be depending on you to make the right choices, Miss Vancour. You mustn’t let it down.”
“Choices?” The word was out before I could stop it.
Commander Hendrix tapped the pen against the desk, and then carefully put it to one side. “I hope very much that we’re all on the same wavelength, Amity. I think that we are, aren’t we?”
My mouth had gone dry. I didn’t respond.
Commander Hendrix leaned forward. “We have a proposal for you.”
Twenty minutes later I left my base commander’s office with the documents still hidden under my jacket. Somehow I managed to smile at Norma. Somehow I managed to appear relaxed as I grabbed a streetcar and rode into the Heat.
I found a drugstore with a payphone and slid the booth’s wood-and-glass door shut behind me. I dropped a coin into the slot and spoke briefly to the operator, gripping the smooth black receiver to my ear and leaning close to talk into the mouthpiece. As I waited, I tapped the shelf that lay under the phone, too tense to stand still.
A cheery voice answered: “World for Peace, may I help you?”
I quickly turned my back to the drugstore. “I need to speak to Madeline Bark, please.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The view outside the train window shifted slowly from palm trees to mountains and oaks. I gazed out, unable to enjoy the gentle greenness of the approaching spring. Collie looked up from the book he was attempting to read; his expression was unsmiling.
“You’re sure you can’t tell me what’s going on yet?” he said in an undertone.
“I’m sure,” I said softly.
When the train pulled into our stop, it was just as I remembered: a weathered sign that read Gloversdale and a depot that could use a fresh coat of paint.
“Strange being back,” said Collie as we stepped onto the platform.
My nerves relaxed a fraction at the scent of pines. “It’s good, though.”
“Is it?”
I took in the hard line of his jaw. I’d always had a lot more reason to like this town than he did…but once we could see my old place again, it would be all right. That had always been his home as much as mine.
I’d been desperate to get away from the base for a few days. Thankfully Collie had been able to get leave, too. He shot me a glance as we headed down Main Street.
“All right, we’re here now,” he said. “What’s going on? Is this about Russ?”
I clenched my handbag. “Wait until we get to the guest house.”
“You don’t seriously think anyone’s listening?”
“No. But I can’t do it here.”
As we walked I noticed in dismay how much my home town had changed. Gloversdale had never been large, but between the lumber yards and the paper mill, it had flourished. Now some of the stores had shut down, their windows dark squares. The consequences of my sabotaged fight had reached here, too.
We’ll get the result overturned, I vowed to myself. I winced as I noticed an astrologer’s sign across from the library. The red-and-black swirl looked brand-new. Apparently it was one of the few places around that was thriving.
Even here, people were being taken in by that garbage.
Col
lie started to say something else. His head snapped up as the sound of shouts reached us – the harsh crack of knuckles against skin. I broke into a run without thinking, heading for the two men scuffling in front of the hardware store. Collie dropped our suitcase and passed me, long legs pumping.
“Hey, hey!” He shoved in between them – was jostled fiercely as he held them apart. “Knock it off!”
“You stay out of this!” one shouted. “He took my job!”
“They fired you, Evans!” the other one bellowed back. “It’s not my fault I can take less pay! I still gotta eat, don’t I?”
“Cut it out!” Collie’s voice broke in sharply. “Come on, can’t you work this out without whaling on each other?”
A small crowd gathered, gawping at the scene. I stood watching with wide eyes. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Collie had always been the peacemaker of playground fights.
Evans’s eyes narrowed. Slowly, he said, “Say…you’re one of the Reed boys, aren’t you?”
I was probably the only one who saw Collie’s shoulders tighten. He dropped his hand from the man’s arm. “Yeah, I’m a Reed. What of it?”
“Which one? Hank’s boy?” Before Collie could answer, Evans snorted and said, “You know, your Uncle Matt screwed me good on a deal for new roofing. Haven’t seen hide or hair of him since.”
Collie’s lips were white. “I haven’t spoken to my Uncle Matt in years,” he said levelly.
“You Reeds have always got an angle, haven’t you? No matter what –” Evans gestured towards the closed stores – “you Reeds are all right, like rats licking off the cream for yourselves—”
“Hey!” I was in front of the man before I knew it. I saw his faint alarm; realized fleetingly how wild I must look as I spat out, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! He’s a Peacefighter. He risks his life every day.”
Evans’s lip curled. “A Reed, a Peacefighter? That’ll be the day.”
“It’s true! Collie, show him your tags.”
“I don’t have to show him anything.” Collie put his arm around me and led me away, pausing only to grab up our suitcase. His fingers were tense on my shoulder. I could hear the crowd murmuring. We hadn’t gone ten paces before jogging footsteps caught up with us. Collie whirled, looking ready for a fight.
The other man held up his hands. “Hey, take it easy! Listen, thanks for stepping in. You’re okay in my book, even if you are a Reed.”
“Thanks,” said Collie dryly.
“You’re really a Peacefighter?”
“Yeah. I really am.”
The man gave a low whistle. “Well, good for you, pal. We appreciate your service.”
Collie and I didn’t speak again until we were in our room at the guest house, with its old-fashioned high bed. I’d signed us in as Mr and Mrs C Reed, and had longed for the landlady to raise an eyebrow at the name, so I could give her a piece of my mind.
She just smiled and showed us to our room.
I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against his neck. “We should never have come here. I forgot how bad it always was for you.”
It was coming back now, though: the dozens of times Collie and I had walked down that very street and I’d been aware of sideways glances. When I was nine, I’d heard a woman say, “Well, if she were my daughter, I’d put a stop to it.” I hadn’t known what she meant until I saw Collie’s blazing cheeks. Then I’d wanted to fly at the woman and claw her eyes out.
Collie stroked his hands through my hair and we kissed. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered roughly. “I’d live it all over again in a second. I’d never have met you otherwise.”
The words I wanted to say wouldn’t come. I could only kiss him back as hard as I could. Finally Collie pulled away a little. His expression was still bitter. “But it’s not true, you know,” he said. “Reeds do not always have an angle.”
“Collie, don’t you think I know that?”
“I mean, I know my father does, and my uncles, but—”
I popped my hand over his mouth. “Stop it,” I snapped. “I love you, you big jerk – remember?”
The corner of Collie’s mouth lifted. “Who says romance is dead?” he said after a pause.
I curved my palm against his cheek, feeling the slight prickle of his stubble. Collie let out a breath, then took my hand and kissed it.
“All right,” he said. “And I love you too, you infuriating woman. Now tell me what’s going on.”
I’d meant to lead up to the news gradually. Instead I blurted it out like vomit.
“Hendrix offered me a bribe to throw fights,” I said.
Collie slowly let go of my hand. His eyes were very blue – wide with shock.
“It’s true,” I said, though he hadn’t argued. “It was when he offered me a Tier One. You were right. This thing goes a lot deeper than just Russ.”
Collie dropped onto the bed as if his legs had been kicked from under him. His throat moved; he scraped a hand over his jaw. “Hendrix…Hendrix actually asked you to throw a fight?”
From outside came the sound of children skipping rope, chanting: “Twelve signs, all divine, yes it’s true, here’s the one for you! Aries-Taurus-Gemini-Cancer—”
I banged the window shut. “Not yet,” I said into the sudden silence. “But it was made very clear that if I took the promotion, I’d be expected to throw whatever fights they wanted and that extra payments would come my way if I did. And…it was also made very clear what would happen if I told anyone.”
The memory stung. At the end of our meeting, Hendrix had cleared his throat. “I hope you’ll stay loyal to our agreement, Amity,” he said. “Not like your friend Stan. That was a very sad waste.”
I’d somehow managed not to react. Stan, with his quick smile, whose offbeat compliments had always made me laugh. I’d never have believed he was involved in this…except that the day he’d died, Stan had wanted to celebrate doing something he “should have done months ago”.
Had he just told them that he wouldn’t play their game any more?
The bedsprings squeaked as Collie quickly rose and came over. He gripped my arms. “What did you tell Hendrix?”
“Don’t worry, I played along,” I said sourly. “I told him it was just the opportunity I’d been hoping for.”
Collie’s shoulders sagged with relief. “This happened two days ago and you didn’t tell me?”
“I’ve wanted to a hundred times! But Madeline—”
“Who?”
“Madeline Bark. Remember?”
Memory slowly lit Collie’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I remember. Is she still at the World for Peace?”
“Yes, and she’s checking into it. She made me promise not to tell anyone, but…” My mouth tightened as I recalled the cold, golden glint of a signet ring. I had to tell Collie or I’d go crazy.
“There’s more,” I said finally. I sat on the bed and drew him down beside me. “Someone else was in that meeting too, Collie. I’ve done some checking since and…” I turned his hand over and touched his tattoo: the swirling glyph for Leo.
“It’s bad,” I told him.
Collie had gone deathly pale. After a beat, his fingers closed around mine.
“Let me have it.”
When I called Madeline and started to explain, she’d interrupted the moment she realized what I was saying. “Come see me,” she said. “Now. Use the officials’ private entrance on Lennox Street. I’ll meet you down there.”
Once we were safe in her office she went through the paperwork from Russ’s house, asking me question after question. She frowned as she studied Russ’s scrawled notes on the news clippings, then glanced up. Her voice was hoarse.
“And you say Commander Hendrix offered you a bribe?”
I was pacing her office, too restless to sit still. “Yes, but Madeline, it’s even worse than that.” I described the man I’d been introduced to as “Sam Cartwright”.
“It was S
andford Cain,” I said. “I’m certain of it.”
She froze. “Cain? Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ve only seen one photo, but his eyes are very distinctive. It was him.”
Madeline licked her lips. “I hope you’re wrong.”
“I wish I was.” I dropped into a seat. I felt on edge, almost sick to my stomach. “He said someone named Miss Pierce had ‘confirmed’ me. What does that mean? And why was a CS representative there at all? It doesn’t make any sense!” I motioned to the pile of clippings. “Russ threw fights against all different countries, not just the Central States!”
Madeline’s voice was urgent. “You could swear in a court of law that it was Sandford Cain? You’re absolutely positive? Amity, most people in the WS barely know his name!”
I nodded. “The things I’d read about him stuck in my head, so when I saw his photo once, I really studied it. Yes, I could swear it in court. The only thing I’m clueless about is why Gunnison’s right-hand man was sitting there while my base commander offered me bribes.”
My words hung bitterly in the air. Outside, I could hear two Firedoves fighting somewhere over the bay: the faint drone of the engines, a distant burst of gunfire.
Madeline was pale, with a single spot of colour high on each cheek. Finally she said, “Well…at the very least, it seems we’re looking at collusion to influence the Peacefights. And from what you say, two people have already been killed.” She slid the clippings back in the envelope. Her hand was trembling.
I leaned forward. “What are you going to do?”
She closed her eyes and pressed her index fingers to her mouth. “First I’m going to make some very discreet inquiries,” she said finally. “We don’t know how deep this thing goes.”
I felt physically cold, as if an Arctic breeze had swept in. “You think the WfP might be involved?”
“Certainly not all of it. I hope none of it. But before I try to get these fights overturned, I need to know exactly what’s going on.” Madeline studied me tautly. “Who else knows about this?”
Broken Sky Page 22
