Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  "You know," Vinny said. "The gangs. The Families. The clans." He paused. "But we got your back, Ace. Your Papa has agreed: the Spadros Family's in, all the way."

  Acevedo stared at his uncle in shocked disbelief.

  His uncle smirked. "You really don't know."

  "Know what, Uncle Vinny?" Spadros was a common name here in Bridges: the Spadros brothers were architects from Chicago who helped Benjamin Kerr design the city. Acevedo always thought that the Spadros crime family was just ... a group with their same name. He frowned. "The Spadros Family — it's us?"

  "Acevedo, you may be a smart guy, but you're a dumb guy, you know what I mean? Where did you think your father got the money to send you to school, to raise ten children, send you and Liza to Italy, buy you that fancy steam automobile, let you play with maps and toys all your life? Huh?"

  Acevedo never considered the matter.

  "Have you ever seen him go off to work?"

  Acevedo thought back. "Well, no. But I just thought —"

  Uncle Vinny laughed. "That Trapasso Spadros was a gentleman of independent means? Wait till I tell him that!" He shook his head. "Listen, kid, we get things done around here. Someone here got a problem, they come to me, and I send guys to fix it. If it means busting a few heads, I send someone to do that too. Used to do it myself, but I'm getting too old for that now. I go have one of your little brothers do it, or one of your cousins."

  Acevedo couldn't believe what he was hearing. Papa was a criminal? His brothers were beating up people? "Why didn't Papa tell me?"

  Vinny shrugged. "You just weren't the sort. Plus, you're good for our cover. I mean, you're an educated man. A highly thought-of teacher in an elite private high school." He pulled at his collar with both hands, grinning. "You give us class."

  Acevedo felt bitter. "So all these years you've despised me."

  "Nah, not at all. You do your part, the same as everyone else." He clapped Acevedo on the shoulder. "We love you, scamp. You're family. No one despises you."

  Acevedo set his beer down on the floor between his feet, put his head in his hands. He felt as if the ground had fallen out from underneath him. Everything he thought was true was a lie.

  "You feel like talking again," Vinny said, "you let me know."

  Acevedo heard the front screen open and shut. He raised his head and looked around. Really looked around. Children played, women chatted on porches, men sat in front of shops way down the street drinking espresso. Clocks sat atop fancy lamp posts, which were lit every evening. But men just a bit overdressed wearing dark spectacles stood on corners in twos and threes, smoking, chatting, watching everything.

  Acevedo had seen them all his life, never thought anything of it before. Those men came over all the time. His family went to their homes for dinner. They played ball with him when he was little. But they were mobsters. It seemed incomprehensible. How did I not see it?

  Chapter Nine

  October 18th

  Xavier peeked outside; Blocker stood there, along with a big guy with thinning brown hair. He opened the door. This felt strange; Blocker had never rung the doorbell before.

  "Hey, Mr. Alcatraz, this is the guy I was talking about."

  The man stuck out a hand. "Call me Turbo."

  "Good to meet you." He wasn't sure what the protocol was for this sort of thing. "Would you like to come in?"

  "Won't be necessary," Turbo said. "Just wanted to meet the kids."

  Xavier nodded. "Jack! Joy!"

  They came running down the stairs.

  "This is Mr. Turbo —"

  "Just Turbo is fine."

  "Anyway, you might see him around. He'll help you. You know Blocker, right?"

  The kids seemed shy. "Yeah, we know him," Jack said.

  "Well, if anything happens, you can trust them. Like if I'm not here." Xavier felt flustered. "I'm going to have to be at work a lot for a while."

  "Okay, Dad," Jack said. "Nice to meet you, Turbo." They retreated, whispering between themselves.

  Xavier felt a sense of relief. Maybe this Blocker was more useful than he thought.

  The best way to keep your children safe is to make Kerr believe you're on his side. "Do you know anyone that's been in a war?"

  The men seemed confused.

  "You know, military?"

  They shook their heads.

  Wait, my dad was in the Army, Xavier thought.

  As much as he hated going to him, that might be the best way to get what he was looking for.

  "Well, I'll let you get back to your family," Turbo said.

  "I appreciate you coming by," Xavier said. "I feel a lot better knowing someone else is looking out for them."

  When Xavier closed the door, Jack said, "That guy looks like a thug."

  "Probably is," Xavier said, "but I need help, and he's who we have. You can trust him."

  "Why do we need help, Dad?" Joy said. "What's going on?"

  "Don't worry about it." Xavier hugged both of them at once. "You're safe; that's all that matters." He let go of them. "Want to go see Grandpa?"

  His children looked at him as if he had gone insane.

  * * *

  His father opened the door. "Never thought I'd see you here!"

  "Hi, Grandpa," Jack said.

  Joy hung back. How long had it been? "You remember Joy, Dad."

  "When I last saw you, you were a little girl. Now look at you!" He hugged the children in turn. "How old are you now, sixteen?"

  "Next summer," Joy said. She looked pleased that he missed high instead of low.

  "Well, come on in!" Xavier's dad opened the door. From the smell of it, he'd already begun drinking. "What can I do for you? You want anything to drink?"

  "Sure, Dad."

  "I got hot tea, lemonade, beer, and whiskey."

  Jack got tea, Joy lemonade, and Xavier got a beer. His father filled a water glass with whiskey and they sat around the kitchen table. "So what's going on?"

  "I was wondering if you have any books or anything from when you were in the Army."

  "What kind of books?"

  Xavier wasn't exactly sure what he wanted was called. "Urban battle tactics?"

  His father gaped at him, then quickly recovered. "Lemme go see." He turned back. "You kids like photographs? I got a whole book of them from when your Daddy was little."

  The kids glanced at each other. "Sure." They got up and followed his father into the other room.

  Xavier listened to his father locate the photo albums, explain each one, and set them on a table. After a few minutes, he came back with a stack of books. "This is what I have. Not sure why you need them or what you're gonna do with them, but they're yours."

  "I just need them for the weekend, Dad."

  "Well, I don't need them anymore. Could use the room. So here." He shoved them into Xavier's hands. "Do what you want with them."

  "I appreciate it." Xavier set them down beside his beer.

  His father glanced back, then put his arms on the table and spoke in a whisper. "Son, what's going on?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I haven't seen you in ten years, then you show up at my door asking for war manuals, of all things. What's that madman planning now?"

  It was Xavier's turn to gape at his father. "I can't talk about it," he said. Then he thought: If this goes wrong, he might be in danger too. "Have you ever considered moving to the countryside?"

  His father nodded, as if he thought he figured out what was going on. "Just say the word. Can't stand this place anyway." He paused. "Might be best for me to leave the city altogether." He grabbed his glass with both hands, knuckles white. "Hate to leave you here, son. But if what's gonna happen is what I think is gonna happen, I'm not going to be much use to you anyway."

  Chapter Ten

  October 19th

  Xavier stood next to Polansky Kerr, same as always. But when night court was complete, Xavier said, "Permission to speak, Your Majesty."

  His second, Ocho Ma
lize, gave him a startled glance.

  Polansky Kerr turned, curiosity on his face. "Yes?"

  "It occurred to me that if you intend to deploy the Guard to complete the mission outside the fence, then they will require additional training."

  "Oh?"

  "The Guard has not been trained to take action in close quarters against unarmed civilians."

  "I see. What might happen if this training doesn't occur?"

  "Casualties, refusal to fight, and desertion are three possible outcomes. I've set up an extensive small-group training regimen which I'd like to present for your approval."

  "Just tell them if they don't fight, I'll kill their families."

  Malize, standing behind the King, went pale.

  Xavier forced his face to remain still. "That is an additional layer of security you may add if you wish, Your Majesty, but proper training will enable them to do their jobs in an efficient manner — with or without the threat of violence."

  Polansky Kerr nodded. "You've obviously given this some thought."

  "I'm Head of the Bridges Guard, Your Majesty. My job is to ensure the most efficient use of Guard resources while ensuring the safety of the King and his family."

  Xavier stared straight ahead, but he could see the gears turn from the corner of his eye as Polansky Kerr peered at him. "Very well. Go ahead. I don't care what you do; just have the men ready when I need them. Understand?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  Polansky's face became shrewd. "I've changed my mind. Put the training you propose on my desk. Let me look it over."

  "Yes, Your Majesty, I'll have it on your desk within the hour."

  "Very good. Dismissed."

  Xavier went to his office, retrieved a thick folder, and placed it on Kerr's desk. Xavier had spent half the night designing the regimen, which he didn't plan to use at all. His true regimen would look enough like this to fool a casual observer without any military training.

  This wasn't over yet. Polansky Kerr didn't trust him; this "change of mind" was designed to throw him off balance, discover any discrepancies, any hints of his true plan.

  One step at a time, he thought. Even if the man came to half-trust him, it would be enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  October 20th

  With Vinny's help, Acevedo began the slow process of contacting the numerous gangs, crime families, and "clubs" throughout the city. He wanted to meet with the smartest ones. "The ones who'll see the value of what we're doing, and what we're up against. Right hand men, the powers behind the leader. You know what I mean. Men who make the decisions."

  Uncle Vinny nodded. "I got a place you can meet up. It's off a dirt road maybe ten miles in the countryside. A scientific station where they tend the city generator, but the building itself's not used much anymore. They give tours once in a while, but most of the workers do their science stuff underground. They didn't seem to mind when I met some guys there last time."

  "Sounds good," Acevedo said. "Make sure they know we're coming. I don't want some Inventor's Apprentice high on Party Time shooting at me."

  His uncle laughed. "Sure thing, scamp. Anything else?"

  An idea was beginning to form. I can bring the children there during the battle. They should be safe enough. And they wanted to know about the Generator. "What about weapons?"

  "Well, we got plenty of small stuff already, and rocket launchers. We're gonna need ray cannon to breach the fences, though."

  Acevedo nodded. "Get some then." Something kept nagging at him. Maybe a new set of eyes will help. "What's to keep the Kerrs from reinforcing?"

  "What do you mean, reinforcing?"

  "Come here," Acevedo said, and brought his uncle into his room. A map of Bridges lay on the table, the fence marked out in black. "Even if Xavier Alcatraz can capture the island and has enough men to hold the bridges, what's to stop the Kerrs from moving all their men to one bridge and forcing their way through?"

  Uncle Vinny peered at the map for a moment, lips pursed. "You gotta blow the bridges."

  Acevedo stared at his uncle in horror. "All of them?"

  "No, dummy — these ones right here." He pointed to the bridges connecting the downtown quadrants to each other. "You're gonna want to get to the island, right? But what you don't want is for them to get to each other. Blow all four at once. Boom." He peered at Acevedo. "It's the only way, scamp. You gotta do it before you do anything else."

  Acevedo pictured those magnificent golden bridges, broken at the bottom of the river. Was this worth it?

  If Xavier captured Polansky Kerr, he'd signal with the blue firework, and destroying them wouldn't be necessary. But his uncle was right: they couldn't take any chances. "That's going to take a lot of explosives."

  "I'll get on it."

  "Uncle Vinny ... where are we getting the money for this?"

  "Don't worry, your Papa said you get all the cash you need." He smiled. "He's very proud of you."

  For some reason, this made Acevedo happier than it reasonably should. Papa's head of a crime family. I should hate and despise him. But when I needed him, he was there. "I'm sorry for the disrespect I've given you over the years. You've been good to me."

  "Don't worry about it," Vinny said, but Acevedo could tell he was secretly pleased. "Family is everything."

  After speaking with the King the night before, Xavier had written a requisition for a new training building. He left a note for his assistant, Peter Moysian, to split the men up into groups of twenty, scheduling them to attend half-hour meetings.

  When Xavier entered the room for the first meeting, the men sat attentively. Such meetings like this had been rare up to now. "We have a new assignment which is going to require extra training. On March 12, we travel to the fence and set the poor camps on fire."

  Kerr had said nothing about secrecy; Xavier hoped the men would tell others about the plan. A public outcry might even dissuade him.

  Xavier's men glanced at each other, appalled.

  "If any survive, we go out in squads and shoot them. No survivors are to remain. This is by order of the King." He paused, watching as the news sunk in.

  A man raised his hand. "Are you sure this is the order?"

  "Yes, Guardsman, directly from the King's mouth as he spoke it to me."

  Another man said, "Even the women and children?"

  "Yes." Xavier stood quietly as the shock and horror in the room turned to angry muttering. "I have set time for each of you to speak with me personally. Please have your comments and questions ready when Guardsman Malize calls your name." He sat behind the desk, the room buzzing with conversation. A chair sat next to the end of one side of the desk; his second, Ocho Malize, stood at the other end.

  "Quint Varkonyi," Malize said.

  A thin, nervous man got up and came over, sitting in the chair. Xavier had his assistant schedule his groups — and the order he spoke to the men — by their psychological profiles. The most volatile men he put first, as they were the most likely to do something like try to kill the King themselves if they heard about this from someone else. He didn't need any more dead men.

  "Mr. Varkonyi, do you have words for me about this mission?"

  "You're damn right I do. I quit."

  "I understand your feelings completely."

  Varkonyi gaped at him. "You do?"

  "I do have room on the roster for a different mission. Would you be interested?"

  "Depends on what the mission was."

  "I must tell you that this mission is secret. I can't let you know the details of this mission unless you swear yourself to silence."

  "And I can resign if I don't want that one either?"

  "Of course. As long as you don't betray the Guard."

  "What kind of man do you think I am?"

  Xavier said, "A brave and honorable one." He took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "You must promise not to react."

  Varkonyi nodded.

  "Most of these men around you are angry. Bu
t some like this kind of thing. If you're too happy, they'll know something's up."

  Varkonyi said, "You think we got spies?"

  "Quint, I don't know anything. But you gotta promise to act normal."

  "Right."

  "I plan to remove this King."

  Varkonyi stared at him for a long moment. "Damn!" He hit the desk with his fist. Every man in the room turned towards them. He leaned over and whispered, "I got your back, sir. Whatever you need."

  "Thank you, Varkonyi. Dismissed."

  The man stood, bowed, and left.

  Malize stared at him, mouth open.

  Xavier said casually, "Call the next man, Ocho."

  "Uh, yes, sir."

  They went through all twenty men in turn. After the last man left, Malize said, "You're really gonna do it. Take down the King."

  Xavier said, "Assuming we don't all get killed first."

  * * *

  By the end of the week, Xavier had met with each of his small groups, explaining the mission to them as it was presented to him by the King. To each one who seemed uncomfortable, Xavier offered the new mission. Ninety-nine per-cent took it.

  * * *

  It turned out Xavier got to use his fake regimen after all. Once the remaining men saw they would be ordered to fire on pregnant women and crying children, several of them turned in their resignations. He offered them the new mission a second time, and the relief on their faces gave him a great deal of encouragement.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Xavier told the five that were left that they were part of a top-ranked squad that wouldn't be training with the others anymore. He assigned Ocho Malize to train these men. "I need help so I can get the others ready. Can you do this?"

  The man read over the regimen, then grimaced, not meeting Xavier's eye.

  Xavier grinned. "Don't worry. Just keep them busy. I may have use for them later."

  Chapter Twelve