by TW Iain
Cat had heard the rumours and had read many of the locked files—an agent with a particular vendetta, believing he could use a lowly gatekeeper and administrative assistant for his own ends. Of course, there was no direct evidence, even though many believed Salika innocent of the man’s accusations.
“So this is a fresh start,” he said. “But it must be troublesome to retain all those secrets. There is always the risk of them slipping out if they are pushed down too strongly, even if they relate to a different location.”
He offered her a serious expression, and she met his eyes, gave another soft nod. Her fingers tapped at one of her screens, and her eyes darted to the corner of the room, where Cat knew Eyes surveyed proceedings.
Cat had no wish to know her exact actions, but he understood—they were free to talk now.
“I’ve heard rumours,” she said, her voice more playful than the words warranted—which meant they were still being observed, but not overheard. “There’s talk of an uprising. I have no details, but I’ve heard words of…of an attack.”
“An attack?”
Her throat bobbed, and she nodded with a small, jerky movement that reminded Cat of a frightened animal, or a small child. And her hand slid forward, skin not quite touching his but close enough for him to feel the heat from her flesh, to know that with the slightest stretch of his fingers they would be in physical contact.
Cat knew he had to remain in control, of both his mind and his body. This was important.
“An attack,” she repeated. “Not the usual fighting within the districts, but a plan to…” She took a deep breath, and her shoulders shuddered. “They plan to attack the Dome itself.”
Her eyes met his, daring him to laugh, daring him to make fun of such a ridiculous suggestion. But Cat couldn’t do that. He held her gaze, and he let whatever smile remained on his lips drop away.
There were no sounds in the room, not even the hum of electrics. Salika’s chest rose and fell, steady now, and her body no longer shook.
Cat nodded. “As impossible as that sounds, I don’t find it hard to believe that such an action would be planned,” he said. He took a breath, and gave Salika something in return. “The situation in the districts around First has been developing in interesting ways for some time, different to that around any other Dome.”
Her eyes widened. “So you believe me? You believe they plan to attack the Dome?”
“There are always plans, my dear. But if we have knowledge of such a plan, then our superiors are surely working on a counter-plan.” He moved his hand back, enough that his fingers now curled around the edge of the desk. “Besides, we’re both aware of the defences within the glass. People have assaulted Domes before, never with any success.”
“Yes. I suppose you’re correct. I suppose it was the manner in which these words were spoken, and…and the identities of those discussing the issue. I suppose these factors impressed me with a sensation that…that things were more serious than a simple skirmish.”
It didn’t escape Cat’s notice that her words fell over each other. “Maybe the plan is serious, as far as those in the districts go. But again, I’ll remind you that our superiors appear to know of this plan, and will no doubt already have counter-measures in place.”
She nodded and forced a smile. Her hand slid back down to her screens. “Yes. Of course. And, as you say, the Domes are protected. There would be no way for those in the districts to successfully attack a Dome, would there? Even if a few managed to storm a gate—well, it’s easy to block tiny holes, isn’t it? Especially if the existence of those holes is known.”
Her pupils darted, from one of his eyes to the other and then back, and Cat knew these words had been planned, that there was another message in here somewhere.
“I’m sure there’s nothing that need concern you in whatever’s happening,” he said. “And if there is the potential for some kind of problem around First, you’re safe in the knowledge that you’re far away now, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “And I’m safe in this place. At least my role doesn’t…force me outside.”
“And that is a salutary reminder that I have a job to do.” Cat pushed himself away from the desk. “Am I free to proceed?”
Salika tapped the screens. “Of course. Take the second door, sir, and have a productive time.”
“I’m sure I will.” Cat took a couple of steps back. “And don’t worry, Salika. Things will be fine.”
“Of course they will, sir. Please forgive me unburdening myself like this.”
“I feel honoured to be able to help a colleague, if only in listening to their troubles.”
He turned and left, accompanied by the soft tapping of Salika’s fingers on her screens.
The second door opened, then closed behind him, and Cat proceeded toward the co-ordinator’s office, all the while considering the conversation with Salika.
There was an old saying, something from times past—forewarned is forearmed. It could have been a mantra for Authority’s focus on surveillance, but it ran far deeper than that. Knowing the enemy was an important step in countering or pre-empting their actions.
Cat thought back to Iralla, and the incident outside the Factory, and as he reached the co-ordinator’s office he knew he could no longer afford to wait for Authority to act, knew that he had to take the step he’d been dreading for all these years.
- 36 -
Jimny’s cafe had been open since before first light, as always, and the early-morning rush was over by the time Genna entered. Jimny directed her to one of the booths at the rear, then disappeared into the back room, saying he knew exactly what she needed.
The food arrived at the same time as Miolar, and Jimny asked the old man if he wanted anything—maybe he didn’t trust his judgement of Miolar yet, or Dephloren’s envoy was in the habit of ordering something different each time. Genna wouldn’t put it past the man to be purposefully obfuscating things, trying to stop Jimny learning too much about him.
Jimny wasn’t the only one in the dark regarding Miolar, though. Genna’s research had uncovered very little of any use. She knew what the records said, but Aleph had scanned deeper, said those records were clever fakes. As far as any low-level system was concerned, Miolar simply didn’t exist.
Yet here he was, sitting opposite Genna, asking Jimny for a mug of tea as she tucked into her eggs.
“It’s refreshing that, despite all our current troubles, there is still time to enjoy life’s pleasures, isn’t it?” Miolar said as Jimny shuffled off. “Without such little luxuries, I fear we’d be on a level with the animals.”
“That’s why people like Jimny are so important.”
“Absolutely. And that highlights something I greatly admire about you, my dear. Others lead by standing above everyone else. You reach down, walk alongside them.”
“While Dephloren hides somewhere, only communicating through proxies.”
She knew as soon as she’d said the words that they were a mistake, and even as Miolar opened his mouth to complain Genna raised a hand, shook her head.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to speak down on the man. Doubt he thinks much of the way I work either.”
“No insult taken. You’re under a great deal of stress. Maybe you need some kind of outlet?”
“You think I’ve got time for hobbies?”
“If constant work is affecting your judgement, maybe you need to find time. I speak only as a concerned outsider, of course. Far be it from me to tell you what to do.”
She smiled. “Good advice. Thanks.”
Jimny appeared and placed a steaming mug down in front of Miolar.
“Ah, thanks, friend Jimny. A wonderfully rich aroma, as always.”
“From a little package that arrived yesterday.” Jimny shuffled from side to side. “One of the suppliers you suggested, so thank you.”
“So he came through for you? Excellent. I did wonder—�
�trade routes are not as reliable as they once were, and he has many important clients.”
Jimny bowed his head. “I’m sure your name helped. Please, enjoy your drink. And Genna—how is yours?”
“Good as ever. Thanks.”
He shuffled away again, and Genna lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds intriguing.”
Miolar waved a hand, then paused and shrugged. “Oh, no harm in telling you. I…that is, Dephloren has certain arrangements with Borinoff. Nothing even remotely official, and all deniable, with no real evidence. But it does help, as I’m sure you can appreciate.”
She nodded. Borinoff—another shadowy figure, working only through others. And cold, too—whenever Genna had any dealings with the man—an assumption she chose to accept—his responses to questions were short to the point of rudeness. But he did get things done. Like Dephloren
“But the warriors,” Miolar said. “That’s what you wanted to discuss, isn’t it? The continual sporadic attacks, those travelling north. And, of course, there’s Authority behind them, a shadowy force we all must be extremely wary of now.”
“Which tells me you feel the same—there’s some method here. But we can’t see it at all.”
He shrugged. “Maybe that’s the pattern. Maybe they only want you—us—to seek a pattern.”
“So this is all a distraction.”
“Which you suspect anyway. That’s why you’re watching Red. And then there’s the other district,” Miolar said, before lifting his mug to his lips.
But he watched her, she knew. Watched, and analysed. Knew what she wanted, but was pushing her to speak, pushing her to utter the words.
She gave in. “The Paternas Brothers’ ground.”
“At least, the one remaining Brother. I’m aware of the situation—I have my sources, after all. And that is an area in which I can offer some assistance.”
But Genna was wary. “You, or Dephloren?”
He sighed. “As I’ve said before—when we talk, it is as if you’re talking to Dephloren himself. I haven’t broken this agreement yet, have I?”
“Not yet.”
“Your reluctance to fully trust me speaks to your intelligence, as always. But to help clarify things in your mind, Dephloren has a number of sources and mercenaries engaged in various activities within the district in question, and he has agreed to avail them to you. Of course, should situations develop elsewhere he retains the right to pull them to other tasks, but as things stand, we can offer these personnel to stop the district falling into the hands of those…less favourable to our mutual aims.”
Genna placed her fork on the side of her plate. Miolar sipped from his mug again, and that might have accounted for his raised eyebrows, but there was more in that look.
She took the bait—why not play his game, if she was to get the help she wanted. “And you couldn’t tell me this when we spoke earlier?”
“Over the district’s systems? At the moment, I’d prefer to deal with business in person wherever possible.”
“And there’s a reason for this?”
He put his mug down and took a breath. At that moment, she saw a frail old man, but Genna knew there was strength within, both physical and mental. He wore the lines in his face and the stretched skin of his hands like a mask.
“I’ve had several incidents where operations have gone awry recently. I don’t expect perfection, of course, but nor do I turn a blind eye to mishaps. I’ve had people analyse these operations, and the failure of so many of them appears indicative of internal manipulation.”
“Authority? They’ve inserted their own agents into your people?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. But another possibility is infiltration of communication systems. We have no firm proof for any of this, but we’re keeping a very close eye on the matter. And I thought you should be aware of the situation. We might not be the only ones compromised, after all.”
His gaze was firm, and Genna understood. “You believe my systems are under surveillance? I’m sure Aleph would have noticed something.”
“When she’s not wasting her time coding her screen to sound like others.”
“That’s her way of relaxing. Thought you said it was important to switch off now and then.”
He raised a hand. “I did. And I apologise. Your spiky friend is undoubtedly a genius, and as such she has her own way of working. But nobody’s perfect. I’m sure she knows that her coding can never be totally foolproof—she might even admit as much to someone she trusts. You understand my meaning, I’m sure.”
Genna nodded. “She’ll be very upset if someone’s got the jump on her.” And in her mind she could see Aleph cursing, tapping away angrily, throwing her frustrations around her untidy room. The image made Genna want to smile.
“But if your hot-headed colleague is aware of the problem—or potential, at least—then she stands a better chance of combating it.”
And there it was—the deal. People on the ground over to the east in return for Aleph’s help with tech.
Genna nodded. “I’ll see her straight away. Reckon she’ll relish the challenge. And anything she comes up with, I’ll pass on to you.”
He nodded. “Much appreciated. And I’ll instruct some of our sources to pay closer attention to the west. You have a system of communication set up?”
“Work in progress.” If he wasn’t trusting his systems, she’d need something else. “I’ll let you know.”
Miolar drained his mug, then grabbed his hat, pushed his chair back, and rose. “I look forward to speaking with you again, my dear. It’s always such a breath of fresh air.” He gave her another nod, then left the cafe.
And Genna couldn’t decide if the meeting had been positive or not.
- 37 -
The walk back from Jornas was too quiet, the streets empty, and that only increased Rodin’s tension. He felt pressure behind his eyes, the start of a headache. When his screen buzzed he groaned, didn’t bother pulling it from his jacket. He’d read it later.
It was a relief when Vanya opened the door and let him into Paskia’s base.
“How was it?” Paskia asked, handing Rodin a mug. He wasn’t thirsty, but he took it anyway, his fingers brushing hers.
“Good,” he said, then told her how Jornas was now an ally. And then he pulled out his screen and read the message.
Good work. Praise from Genna—that still sat uncomfortable, even if she was only being polite. Had a response from Miolar. Dephloren has people in your area he can spare. Contact details attached. Suggest you co-ordinate efforts over there, rather than through me.
He swiped down, pulled the attached data file into his screen’s memory.
Vanya raised her eyebrows as she read over his shoulder. “She’s got Dephloren on-side?”
“You doubted her?”
The warrior shrugged. “She’s determined. But the timing’s interesting. Got a reply from Borinoff while I was out. He’s got a few people round here too, says they’re free to serve the cause.”
“Serve the cause?”
Another shrug. “That’s the phrase he used.”
“That’s good though,” said Paskia. “The more help we have, the better.”
“Of course. Just didn’t feel right, a phrase like that from him.”
“Interpretation from a go-between?” Rodin said.
“Don’t think so. Far as I’m aware, I was in direct response.”
“Thought he always used an intermediary.”
“Possibly. Message came from him anyway, direct or indirect.”
“Fair enough.” Rodin frowned. “Must have something to gain, though. Supply routes through the district?”
Vanya nodded. “Has to be self-interest.”
Paskia sighed. “Or maybe he’s more altruistic than you give him credit for. It’s not like you know the man personally, is it? But what about the rest of Genna’s m
essage—she wants you to co-ordinate everything?
That had troubled Rodin too—organising others wasn’t one of his strength. At the moment, he struggled to even organise himself.
He shook his head. “Reckon she meant us rather than me. Play things as we see fit, don’t pester her for every little thing.”
“Makes sense,” Vanya said. “She’s got enough going on. And we can react faster this way. So, we make this place the centre of operations?”
“Might as well.” Rodin looked to Paskia. “That okay?”
She shrugged. “We’ll be communicating remotely, right? It’s not like all this help will need to be here physically.”
Rodin glanced round, at the tiny food prep and the bed-mats visible in the second room. It was more of a squat than a base. “Yeah,” he said, then looked over to Uran, hunched over his table, oiling a couple of blades as he read from a screen. “So, we pool contact details?”
Uran looked up, glanced at Paskia, and when she nodded he smiled. His fingers danced on the screen. “Sure. Got this set up for proximity, temp database—get something more robust later. Ready to pool whenever.”
Rodin tapped for proximity, swiped the data-file across. “Got it?”
“Yep. Vanya?”
She did similar, passing on the details Borinoff had supplied, although Rodin caught her hesitation.
“The database going to be open for all of us to see?” she said.
“Local system only. Copies shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks.”
But Rodin caught the way her hand wanted to wave about, the way she shuffled. There was more to her request than simply helping the group work together.
Something to ponder, but not right now.
Rodin drained his mug—and only then realised that Paskia had prepared the drink cooler than normal, as if she’d known he would down it. And maybe he was thirstier than he realised.
“Okay?” she said. She held out her hand, looked at the mug.
“Better for that. Thanks.” He passed the mug over. “Could do with a shower.”
