The Regent

by Marcus Richardson

  “Where the fuck are you?” she muttered under her breath.

  A shout from down the hall drew her attention. She ignored the three doors on her right as she stomped down the hall, her high heels muffled in the plush red carpet that lined the high-ceilinged corridor.

  At the end of the long hallway, an arched window let in the early morning light of dawn. The grounds outside had suffered in the week since she’d arrived. Scorch marks on the grass from the explosions caused by her admittance into the new king’s inner circle would take months to heal. Despite the fact that several outbuildings had been reduced to piles of rubble, the estate still held a certain amount of dignity. Her eyes were drawn over the long open fields to the line of trees that marked the edge of the overlook. In the distance, still hidden by the clinging shadows of night, Jayne knew the town of Honfleur lay sleeping. At least what’s left of it.

  The Korean Flu had hit Normandy especially hard and Honfleur lay decimated. In the six months since the pandemic began, barely one quarter of the town survived. Of those still alive, perhaps half remained. The others scattered to who knows where, and sought refuge where they could, perhaps near Paris where the government had set up temporary shelters and camps for the survivors.

  An explosion echoed from the room behind her followed by another shout. She turned and ripped open the door, half expecting to see smoke and fire billowing—

  “Ha! Suck it!” the young king exclaimed, crouched on the sofa waving state-of-the-art VR handsets in the air. He spun in a circle and stumbled off the couch, staggering to his feet and adjusting the helmet that covered his head with bulbous, insect-like nodes. “Oh, no you don’t! I see you…”

  She watched as he mimicked holding a rifle with his hands and turned, clearly tracking some digital prey. Jayne grinned as the king stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

  You’ve got a lot to learn.

  She strolled over to the game console, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Without so much as a warning, she flicked the power switch, and the king froze. He let out a gurgled choke and staggered back, ripping his helmet off.

  “What’s the meaning of this! Why did you—” he began, turning his head to reveal a red face. “Oh. Oh, it’s you, Madam Regent!” He ripped the gaming gloves off his hands, briefly muttering to himself as he unhooked the chords from his helmet and drop the expensive gear to the floor with a clatter.

  “I…I trust I didn’t wake you…?” he asked, struggling feebly to straighten his clothes and appear more dignified.

  Jayne looked down and covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. She cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. “On the contrary, Your Majesty, I slept like a baby. It’s my habit to wake early, and I thought I might check on you. There are matters to attend to.”

  “Like what?” he asked, his eyes immediately dropping to her chest, before snapping back up. The redness crept up his neck even more. “I mean…” Now he dropped his eyes to the gaming hardware on the floor. “I was right in the middle of the best match of my bloody life…”

  “Really, Your Majesty,” Jayne said, turning in a slow circle as she took in the lavishness of the gaming room. Every conceivable video game controller available on the open market—and some that weren’t—was hooked into a floor-to-ceiling movie theater screen. Plush power recliners lay clumped in groups four to either side of the screen. At the rear of the room near the door, Jayne spied a fully stocked wet bar and pantry. She walked over to it as the boy king sputtered about the video game he’d been playing.

  The details were meaningless to her; she hadn’t played a video game in fifteen years. Real life was so much more interesting to her. She opened the pantry with one manicured hand and peeked inside as an automatic light turned on, illuminating shelves of junk food, instant popcorn, and expensive chocolates and treats. There must be $1,000 in here, just in snacks…

  She let her hands slide off the polished mahogany door and it closed on its own with a soft, barely audible click. Putting her hands behind her back again she faced the king, engrossed in miming some of his exploits from the war game he’d been playing.

  “…lined them up in my sights, and I was just about to squeeze the trigger when…” His eyes found hers and he slowly lowered his hands and straightened himself again. Clearing his throat, he put his hands in his pockets and looked down. “I suppose that’s…rather childish, for someone like you.”

  “Your Majesty, have you been reading up on me?” Jayne asked in a playful voice.

  She was rewarded with a deep flush of his cheeks. “Well…it’s just that…I don’t know anything about you, and now you’re the one who’s in charge of everything I do,” he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a river overflowing its banks. “I just figured the prudent thing to do would be to learn a little, now that we’re going to be working…so close together.”

  “And what did Mr. MacTavish have to say?” Jayne asked, not bothering to hide her smile.

  “Oh, Roland didn’t tell me very much. He told me that you are dangerous…” His eyes widened as he realized the mistake he made. “That is, to your enemies…obviously not to me, he wouldn’t have let you…I mean, he would’ve stopped you had you been dangerous to me, of course,” he added.

  Jayne walked to the door. “He would’ve tried,” she said quietly, no hint of the smile on her face reaching her eyes. “Please come along, Your Majesty, there’s something I want to show you.”

  “Oh?” the boy asked. He took one step and tripped over the VR gear at his feet. Once he righted himself again, he tugged down his shirt. “I mean, what is it you wish to show me?” he said, affecting a regal air.

  “The true nature of your work.” She didn’t wait for him to follow, but stepped out into the hallway and walked toward the main communications room.

  Before she was halfway down the hallway, she heard him stumble through the game room door, cry out for her, and run down the hall after her.

  Jayne sighed as she continued to walk, ignoring his pleas to slow down. Even in high heels, Jayne managed to keep up a faster pace than he was used to, and his insistence on talking to her the entire time left him out of breath and blessedly silent when they stepped through the door to the comms room.

  Jayne looked down her nose at him as he sucked wind. “I assume you’ve been in this room before? Heaven knows this castle is big enough, you might never have seen it…” she said, gesturing for the king to take a seat in the large high-backed chair surrounded by monitors and electronic equipment.

  “Yes, I’ve been here before. My father…” The king looked at the ground. “In the brief time I had with my father before he succumbed to the illness…he brought me here several times to explain what this was. Our window to the world, he called it.”

  “God rest his soul,” Jayne said, not that she meant a single word. “Now, if you please, take a seat and I will show you what your people have been up to in your name.”

  “I have people?” the king asked as he sat, the leather squeaking under his modest weight. “And they’re…doing things?”

  Jayne laughed. “You are such a droll little fellow,” she muttered, leaning over the workstation to the king’s left and typing in a string of commands on the touchscreen keyboard.

  “Now, if you look there to the center screen, this is a video captured by one of my…your operatives in Edinburgh, Scotland.”

  “What are we doing in Scotland?” the king asked, leaning forward onto his elbows.

  “Buying time,” Jayne observed. She hit the play button.

  The screen before them, at least four feet wide, sprang to life, showing a grainy image of gothic buildings lining a long street. The street rose up in the distance toward the iconic castle in Edinburgh, Scotland. Spotlights lit its walls from below as the sky behind it lay mostly shrouded in hues of purple and dark blue.

  “I know that castle, I’ve been there before. Why are we looking a
t this? When was this taken?”

  Jayne put a hand on the king’s shoulder and he relaxed immediately. “Patience, Your Majesty. This video was shot approximately twenty minutes ago.”

  The cameraman turned away from the castle and began walking downhill, following the cobblestone street as it curved around a number of shops and what looked like a bell tower sticking out the side of one particular building.

  “That’s the Tollbooth, there’s a wonderful sweets shop right next to it…”

  “Your Majesty, you notice anything odd about this video?”

  The king pursed his lips. “Other than the fact that it’s terribly shaky, no—but I presume that to be because whoever’s filming it is walking…let’s see…there’s no one on the streets…but twenty minutes ago puts it before dawn. I should be surprised to see anyone out and about that early.”

  “An excellent observation, Your Majesty. But assuming it is early, do you see anything else…?”

  “Hang on…” the king said, leaning forward. “There’s two people right there, they’re wearing business suits and carrying bags over their shoulders. It looks like a man and a woman. They look a little out of place, don’t they?”

  Jayne smiled. “Right you are again. You’re very observant.”

  She hit another button, and the video skipped forward forty seconds.

  “I don’t understand, why are we watching these two people walk down the hill?”

  “You may not be aware, but the United Nations is holding a very important summit on an upcoming vote of censure against the United States. I don’t expect you to understand the details, but the Korean Flu and all the current unpleasantness that derives from it can be directly tied back to the Council—from a certain perspective.”

  “A certain perspective?” the king parroted.

  Jayne nodded. “If this vote continues and succeeds, not only will the United States reject the rule of international law and possibly start a global war, but the powers that be will almost certainly uncover our role in the pandemic. This cannot be allowed to happen”

  The young king swallowed audibly. “No…no I suppose it shan’t,” he muttered, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Jayne clasped her hands behind her back. “So I have taken steps to ensure that this conference fails in its primary goal.”

  The king turned and looked up at her. Confusion, worry, and a little fear clouded his face. “What kind of ‘steps’ did you take?”

  Jayne smiled. “Keep watching, Your Majesty. At the far end of this road the Scots call the Royal Mile, is Holyrood Palace. Directly across the street is the Scottish National Parliament Building where in two day’s time, the vote will take place. Dignitaries and representatives from around the world are descending upon this, in light of the chaos surrounding the Hague and the Korean Flu which is still ravaging Brussels.”

  “What’s that?” the king asked, pointing to the left side of the screen were a black taxi pulled out of an alley and turned in front of the two people in suits. “Why is he heading toward Holyrood Palace at this hour?”

  “Why indeed,” Jayne muttered. “The palace, and indeed this half of the Royal Mile has been closed to all but official traffic for the past three days. By rights, that driver has no business being where he is.”

  “But…?” the king asked.

  “He has no right to be there, except for the fact that I told him to be there.”

  The king looked back at the screen. “Oh, I see.”

  “Not yet, Your Majesty, but you will. Keep watching.”

  The king watched the screen, and she watched him. His frail, young body taught as a bow string as he leaned forward, his slightly bulging eyes intent on the screen. When the car exploded as she knew it would—she’d seen it at least a dozen times this morning—he gasped and jumped back in his seat as if he could feel the wind from the explosion and the heat from the fire.

  “Holy hell,” he cried. “It blew up!”

  “What did I tell you, you are observant,” Jayne said, mocking him. “Of course it blew up, the car was packed with C-4 to completely obliterate Holyrood Palace.”

  “But…look there,” the king said, pointing at the screen. “It went off too bloody soon, he only took out the gate house.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted them to think as well.”

  He turned to stare at her, intense thought making his brow creased. “But…if you did that, then they’ll think that was a real attack…and it failed…and they’ll think they’re…safe?”

  “Precisely,” Jayne said, smiling. She ruffled the king’s hair. “I’ll make a monarch out of you yet.”

  His sheepish smile only lasted for a split second. “But…” He turned back to the screen. “Look—just there—another car, and those two people saw the whole thing.”

  As they watched, locals emerged from the buildings, shops and houses along the Royal Mile, staggering outside either dressed for the day and still eating breakfast, or in their nightclothes. People in ones and twos, then groups of three and more, slowly walked down the hill, then changed to jogging, before finally sprinting for the scene of the disaster. The cameraman followed, jogging along with the rest of them, turning now and then to film people as they rushed forward.

  “I don’t understand why we’re watching all this.”

  Jayne crossed her arms. “It’s because of what happens next.”

  The cameraman reached the corner where the two people in suits had crossed the street and disappeared down an alley. He peeked around the corner and saw the two people in suits brandishing weapons at a second cab. The man who drove the cab was hidden in shadow, but a flash of white hands appeared above the steering wheel.

  “A second cab,” the king whispered. “Is it ours?”

  “Yes,” Jayne said in a flat voice. “It was intended to follow the crowds down the street and detonate, creating a humanitarian crisis right outside the doors to the U.N. summit. Unfortunately, those two troublemakers stopped the driver.” She swiped her finger across the touchscreen, speeding the video along and skipping through the part where the two people in suits ripped open the door and pulled the driver out, throwing him to the ground.

  “These two are not average subjects,” she said, indicating the gun in the woman’s hand and the man’s knife. “Just like that, they ruined my plan. Our plan. If the U.N. thinks they have successfully thwarted the major attack, they will continue with the vote. It’s that important.”

  “Seriously?” asked the boy.

  “But what’s more important is the identity of this woman…”

  The cameraman, looking back and forth and shaking the image to the point of nausea, took up position at the corner, watching the drama unfold down the alley. The woman ran back up the alley, smartly dressed in a business suit with a large bag strapped over one shoulder. She had her weapon pointed at the ground and used her free hand to direct the cameraman to step back. Her partner, with his large knife to the throat of Jayne’s driver, remained behind.

  Before the video ended, Jayne paused one frame where the camera got an excellent close-up view of the woman as she shouted a command at the onlookers.

  “She’s very pretty,” the king said immediately.

  Jayne ground her teeth. “Have you any idea who this woman is?” she demanded.

  The king shrugged. “Well, she’s armed…so she’s obviously part of some security team…a foreign delegate, perhaps?”

  “This woman is a traitor. She is a former Council operative. She betrayed Earl Dunkeith, and in fact…murdered him.”

  “She’s the one?” the king asked. Jayne noticed with approval that his small fists had clinched, showing white knuckles. “This is Svea?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

  Jayne smiled at the anger that flared in those young, royal eyes. “It is. And I swear to you, sire, we’re going to kill her.”

  “We?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve read the reports…I know who s
he—I mean I know how she…”

  Subconsciously, Jayne’s left hand touched her cheek. “Yes, she is dangerous. But not as dangerous as I am. I’m going to get revenge…for you…and I’m going to Scotland to do it.”

  8

  Interrogation

  Cooper stared at the monitor, his mood worsening by the minute. “This is getting us nowhere,” he muttered. Next to him, 13 mumbled her agreement. They’d been standing there for over an hour while the local police grilled the suspect they dragged from the second cab. Despite the blood on his face and the bruising already evident under one of his eyes, the man remained smug and continued to smile at his interrogators. He had revealed nothing, despite being faced with the overwhelming evidence that the vehicle had been packed to the gills with military-grade explosives.

  Cooper turned from the spectacle, ignoring the investigator’s increasingly agitated voice as he started the line of questioning over again. Cooper stared at the back of the room, noticing for the first time the detailed map of Edinburgh tacked to the far wall.

  “This is getting us nowhere…”

  “Yes, you’ve said that,” 13 groused.

  “Well, it’s true!” he replied, exasperated. “We should be out there. Could be more of them.”

  “I’m sure there is, but we’d be wasting our time out there,” 13 replied. “This man is the key.”

  Cooper glanced at her. “How can you be so sure?”

  She crossed her arms. “Because this has Jayne’s fingerprints all over it. It’s a classic move—set off an explosive device, then wait for emergency responders and civilians to clog the scene, and then set off a second one, creating complete chaos.” She shook her head, her red ponytail sweeping back and forth across her shoulders. “I knew she would make a move, but I didn’t think she would sink this low.”

  “If we hadn’t stopped that guy, he would’ve killed a couple hundred people.”