From the reaction of those members of staff within earshot, one would have thought a fire bell had sounded. Every last guard rushed to the gate to be at the service of Alabaster. This brought a wide smile to his face, and he happily strutted onto the academy grounds.
“Let me begin by saying I am displeased by the lack of progress on the building I so graciously endowed. When I donated the funds, I’d imagined important discoveries would be rolling out the door by the bushel. And yet you of course drag your feet. What you need, my friends, is a mind to guide you. A mastermind perhaps. And there is no mind more masterful than that of Lucius P. Alabaster. But enough of where you have fallen short of expectations. Now I must make you aware of something that you could not have anticipated. Somewhere, lurking in the darkness of our glorious fug, are our greatest foes. I speak of course of the elusive Wind Breaker and its crew!”
#
Coop, like all other residents and staff of the academy, had been watching with confusion and interest. Thanks to Alabaster’s almost operatic vocal projection, every last word was crystal clear. In the beginning, Coop was as bemused as the rest of the people. At the mention of the Wind Breaker, his attitude sharply shifted.
“Well, Lester, you’ve had two hours to do whatever fug folk do,” he muttered to himself, slinking down to the far side of the roof to jog recklessly along out of sight of the courtyard. “Time to actually get the job done.”
He jumped the alleyway between the two dorms, ignoring the shouts of dismay and confusion that burst out from the residents of the rooms below as his footfalls disturbed them, and quickened his pace. By the time he reached the opposite side of the roof, he wasn’t so much running as controlling his slide along the frozen shingles. The next roof was some sort of storage shed, a full two stories shorter, so he dropped to his back and slid off the edge of the dormitory roof, grabbing the gutter as he did. A full-grown man wasn’t the sort of load the architects had designed for when they affixed the gutter, so he popped three brackets free and nearly went plummeting to the ground when he put his weight on it. The gutter swung a good two feet away from the edge of the roof, but the return swing brought him near enough to grab the drainpipe and slide down enough to hop to the shed. From there it was a jump and tumble to the rear of the facility, where frosty ground undisturbed by footprints assured him he would not be likely to run into any guards.
“I know we’re after a lady,” he muttered to himself. “Only seen two of them, and one went into the same place as Lester. If he didn’t come out, probably it wasn’t that one. I think I seen the other one milling about through the windows of this place…”
The building he felt confident would hold his quarry was at the opposite corner of the academy from the shed he’d dropped down to. That was handy, because the path of disruption and destruction he’d left in his journey had drawn its fair share of interest from students and staff alike. Alabaster’s arrival and pontification had kept their attention reasonably well, and the worst of his stunts had been on the unobserved side of the buildings, but once he’d abandoned stealth for speed he’d started the clock on his own discovery. More than likely they’d find and follow his trail within a few minutes, but he’d be long gone by then. That was the nice part about his philosophy of infiltration. If he was fast enough, he could serve as his own distraction.
Unlike the dorms, which were tall and densely built, the building he stalked behind now was much more open and ornamental in design. Large windows on all sides gave a good view into the dimly lit interior. The back door looked to be a service entrance, and the room beyond was pitch black. He thrust his heel against the door, delivering the full momentum of his run into a single kick, which burst the door open. He barely lost a step as he slid inside and slammed the door shut behind him.
“All right… Prist… I forget the first name. Can’t be too many Prists,” he murmured, squinting in the darkness.
He was in a mudroom of sorts, a tiny closet of a place lined with coat hooks and boots. The door at the other end of the room was not locked, so he eased it open and peered within.
Coop hadn’t spent much time in a proper school, and hadn’t even seen a laboratory, so what he found beyond was utterly bizarre to him. Much of the interior of the building was open. Rather than rooms, it had flimsy dividers with open doorways separating out sections. Lab benches stacked with burners and glassware were arranged into grids, stations for each of the students to work.
There were three people in the building, and with no proper walls to separate out the floor, it was a testament to the utter flamboyance of Alabaster that Coop’s forceful entry didn’t draw their attention. Even now they practically had their noses pressed against the glass to watch the lunatic who was shouting orders and directing guards to search buildings.
Unfortunately Coop’s eyes must have failed him when he was spying on the building because none of the three lingering staff members in the building were female, and thus were not the eagerly sought Dr. Prist. This was, however, certainly her place of either business or pleasure. As he crept low along the floor, the third door he passed was labeled with a placard: Dr. Samantha Prist.
Her own section of the floor was different from the others. It was barely a quarter the size, but that tiny space was stuffed with perhaps twice as much equipment and literature. Every spare inch was piled with delicate glass tubing or covered with shelves heavy with thick books.
Coop’s decidedly nonstrategic mind worked over the options. He was after the woman herself, but his luck had been pressed quite hard already. Chances were already good either one of the three people along the courtyard windows would lose interest soon and run the risk of spotting him, or else the back door would come bursting open as a guard reached the end of his footprints. He had precious few moments of privacy left before this mission shifted from sneaking to shooting.
“Heck,” he whispered to himself, “these folk love to write things down. I reckon Gunner or Nita could probably work out what this chemist lady can do if they had a few of these books.”
He pulled a burlap sack from a pocket of his overcoat and shook it out. The content of the books was utterly incomprehensible to him, with letters used where he would have expected numbers, and fancy letters he didn’t recognize mixed in with others, so Coop used different criteria. The more colorful the pictures the better.
As he flipped through what he reasoned was the last book he’d be able to carry while still being able to make his escape, a grainy black-and-white photograph fluttered out from between two pages. He snatched it up. In the past, photographs had been a fine product for them to buy and sell. Those photographs usually depicted women in various levels of undress, and Coop, having little other experience with such things, imagined they must all focus on that subject matter. What he found instead looked to be a graduation picture of sorts. It was a young fug woman smiling. That was a rare sight in two ways. First because the fug folk he’d spent most of his time dealing with seldom offered up much more than a smug grin. Second because he’d met only one other fug woman before. In the photograph, she held a hand-lettered diploma with her name.
“That’s Dr. Prist?” he said. “But that’s the lady that walked in where Lester was an hour and a half ago… I’m going to have to have a word with him…”
#
In the cafeteria, over an hour of Lester’s wiles had failed to convince Dr. Prist, but his determination had yet to falter. What did falter was his focus. In his attempt to keep the specifics of his plan shrouded in mystery, he’d managed to fill the whole of the conversation with such vague nonsense that even he didn’t seem to know what he was talking about.
“Have you considered, perhaps, that there might be ways that my business savvy and your chemical expertise might achieve a synergy? All research needs funding, after all, and any fruitful research is bound to have value if properly marketed and developed,” Lester said.
“That’s undoubtedly true, but there is really only on
e area of research I am interested in, and that precise avenue of research is quite adequately funded here.”
“I see, I see. But don’t you feel… limited in this place?”
“I’m… well treated,” she said, her sunny disposition wavering a bit as irritation showed through. “I’m not entirely comfortable with the area of instruction I’ve been offered. And a bit more experimentation and a bit less theory would be nice. But due to circumstances I am prohibited from discussing, that’s not a possibility until I’m elevated to a higher position.”
“Suppose I had the capacity to… create a new position in my own organization. One that would give you access to the materials to experiment as you’ve proposed. Would that—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Clear. But do you hear that?”
“If you’d allow me to finish my proposal, I—”
“There seems to be some sort of commotion outside,” she said, craning her neck and shifting her head to try to see between the small gathering of people who had clustered near the window.
Lester tried to regain her interest, but her curiosity got the better of her and she stood to join the others at the window. He reluctantly did so as well.
“Probably some sort of… hazing or some such for the incoming class. I seem to remember quite a bit of that during my time here.”
“Bah. The new class began weeks ago. This looks like a security drill. Though that oddly dressed fellow doesn’t look familiar. Whatever it is, we’ll know soon enough. He seems to be coming this way. What fun!”
Lester watched Alabaster march up to the cafeteria, flanked by two guards. When they reached the door he stood and directed the security men to open it, then entered.
“Attention. Someone among you is not as he seems…” Alabaster said, stirring the air with his cane.
Illustrating an acute lack of resolve in the face of potential exposure, Lester swallowed hard, looked nervously about, and took a step back. As was the case for Coop, the larger-than-life presence of Alabaster was enough to prevent most of those on hand from noticing. Everyone but Alabaster himself. He locked eyes with Lester, who, if it was possible, became an even starker shade of white as the hot sting of fear flared in his belly.
“And I believe that fellow is just the man I am after. Gentlemen, if you would?”
“I… I don’t… what is this? This is absurd!” Lester objected, backing away a few steps before turning to run.
He stumbled over a chair in his haste. Before he could recover, the guards were upon him. Each seized an arm and hoisted his feet from the floor.
“Stop this! You have the wrong man! This is an outrage!” Lester cried.
“What is this about, Mr. Clear?” Dr. Prist asked.
“And you must be the radiant Miss Prist,” Alabaster said, pacing up to her and removing his hat to bow.
“Dr. Prist, actually. Have we met?” she said, offering her hand.
“Only in my dreams and machinations, madam. You are a large and quite crucial cog in the scheme that shall earn me my place in history. Come this way, if you would?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. The lengthy conversation I’ve had with Mr. Clear here, though enriching, has kept me from completing my meal. If I wait any longer—”
“Oh, tut tut, Miss Prist. You say you’ve had a long talk with this man? As may not be generally known, but like so many secrets is quite well known to me, you are possessed of some very important, very privileged knowledge. Knowledge meant to be kept from our enemies; and as I’ll soon reveal, Mr. Clear is most certainly one of our enemies. Now I am afraid I must insist.”
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know who you are but—”
“Lucius P. Alabaster, my dear. And though I have no doubt you are going to make a claim at this point that you’ve offered no information of a sensitive type to this gentleman, I would not expect an intellect such as yours to be capable of identifying the subtle means through which devious malefactors such as Mr. Clear operate. You may believe you’ve said little, but I am quite certain you’ve said too much.”
“An intellect such as mine?! Now see here, Mr. Alabaster, I’ll have you know—”
“Gentlemen…” Alabaster said, turning for the door.
Two more guards rushed in and took Dr. Prist by the arms as well. They followed the charismatic mastermind as he stepped back outside, where the whole of the student body and most of the staff had now assembled to observe the bizarre scene that was unfolding.
“Mr. Clear, what have you gotten me into?” Dr. Prist called.
“I assure you, I could not have foreseen this outcome!” Lester said.
Alabaster led the whole assembly to the center of the courtyard, visibly gleeful all the while at being the center of attention and source of all authority at the moment. Once he’d reached the center of his stage, he turned to address the masses and raised his voice to be heard by all.
“Ladies and gentleman of Fadewell Academy, I implored one of our wealthiest and most influential leaders, Mayor Ebonwhite, to contract me for my services with regard to a terrible plan currently in the works by our fiercest enemies. Lamentably, Ebonwhite saw fit to ignore my pleas, but out of a sense of duty and honor I have chosen to take action regardless. The full width and breadth of the machinations of our enemies are far too sensitive to be generally known, but to prove to you good people the truth of my claims, I shall now question this traitor to our cause and society.”
He turned to Lester and held his cane out. “If I heard correctly, you are named Lester Clear, correct?”
“Yes! But I assure you, you have the wrong—”
“Mr. Clear, when did you arrive at Fadewell?”
“Just a few hours ago. But—”
“And how did you arrive?”
“I’ve told the guards, I have a valet who—”
“A likely story. But you’ve come from the north. Near The Thicket, haven’t you? And I have a vested interest in all major ports and docks in that area. No one by the name Lester Clear, or anyone else besides standard shipping and message delivery, has traveled via formal means in seven days. It is thus revealed that you are lying. And who, may I ask, is known to travel both through and around our lands without notice or regard for our laws and our ways? Who could quietly deposit you here, to attempt to lure away one of our valued academics? The Wind Breaker crew!”
An angry rumble rolled through the crowd.
“The Wind Breaker crew!” Dr. Prist yelped. “Those murderers?! I would never dream of associating with them. Mr. Clear, you are a contemptible cad to have attempted to embroil me in their schemes!”
“That’s not true! It simply isn’t true!”
“And I further suggest—affirm, even—that if they were the ones to deliver you to this place, then even as we speak, one or more of their agents is lurking in the shadows, awaiting their opportunity to do to this precious academy precisely what they’ve done to some of our other landmarks and points of civic pride.”
Now a murmur of fear, approaching panic, flavored the voice of the crowd. The wave of concern seemed only to encourage Alabaster, who spied the platform in the center of the courtyard and strutted up the steps to better address the crowd. He motioned for the guards to haul both Dr. Prist and Clear along with him.
“But fear not, good people! Though these monsters no doubt circle among us, sharks ready to fill out calm waters with the feathery tendrils of our lifeblood, you are not defenseless against them. In the spirit of the gone but not forgotten Ferris Tusk, I, Lucius P. Alabaster, am here to pit myself fearlessly against those who would do our people harm. The Wind Breaker crew may be the greatest threat to our people yet to arise, that is true. It takes a great man to tackle so daunting a threat, but I am equal to the task!”
He stalked up to Lester and jabbed a finger in his face.
“I know that your wretched cohorts are near, Mr. Clear. Perhaps near enough to hear these words.” He turned and marched back. “So hear me now,
Wind Breaker crew! I will find you, wherever you hide! And when I find you, I shall not kill you. No, not immediately. A swift death is too good for criminals such as yourselves. First I shall destroy your vessel. And when it is but a smoking hulk festering in some forgotten field, I shall dredge it up and install it where all can see, a glorious monument to my triumph over you! Then I shall take the rest of you and drag you in chains to Fugtown itself, where you shall be presented before the mayor for all to see. Then and only then, when your shame and defeat is known and observed by all who care to see it, shall you be killed. And you shall stand—or more accurately you shall fall—as an example for your kind that despite recent failings, the grand and glorious people of the fug are not to be trifled with. And there is nothing, nothing that you can do about it! So turn your cowardly—”
The monologue was showing no signs of stopping, but was brought to a swift and sudden end by an earsplitting report. A sound like thunder echoed off the walls of the academy buildings. The crowd, as though reacting to a coordinated cue, dropped to the ground. Both guards, lacking the training and discipline of proper soldiers, released their captives and leaped from the stage. Only Alabaster remained standing, frozen in his grand posture. He turned his wide-eyed gaze to his shoulder, where the pristine white fabric was sullied by a growing shock of red.
“There he is!” called someone from the crowd.
Eyes turned first to the source of the exclamation, then in the direction he was pointing. A masked figure, his long coat flowing in the wind as he sprinted with twin pistols raised, was Coop. The crowd dissolved into a screaming flood. Alabaster’s words had done a remarkable job of underscoring the terrible threat the Wind Breaker presented. When those words seemed to summon up a member of the crew like a demon, it was more than they could stand. In moments the only people remaining on or around the stage were Mr. Clear, Dr. Prist, and Alabaster. The latter was only now coming to terms with what had occurred.
Ichor Well Page 18
