by T. C. Edge
“We do. But there are plenty of things we don’t. For example,” he says, pulling the summit even closer so the details become more clear. “Look at the 12 residences closely. Spot anything unusual?”
I scan them all, one by one, and note that they’re all identical. All have the same structure, with a bedroom, living space, bathroom, and various other rooms used for whatever purpose their occupants see fit.
Yet there is one single difference between them, one thing that sticks out: all are the same structurally, but one is larger than the rest.
“That one,” I say, pointing towards the residence in the due north position. “It’s bigger than the others.”
Adryan nods and smiles.
“It must be the Director’s residence,” I continue, feeling some swell of energy. “Of course he’d be at the north end, right on top of everyone else…”
Adryan doesn’t fully grasp my sarcasm.
“It can only be his,” he says. “And that means that, if he has any meetings with officials outside of the Consortium, he’ll have them here.”
He points to the level beneath the summit, level 99. Its structure is almost exactly the same as the penthouse above it, with a core area used for large meetings and smaller sections around the boundary. There are 12 of them, each directly beneath each residence at the summit.
“Anyone meeting a member of the Consortium will do so on this floor,” says Adryan. “It acts as a go-between, some sort of middle ground between the summit where the Consortium live, and the floors below where the other high ranking officials reside.”
I step in and take a closer look, thinking out loud.
“So…we need to find out who meets Cromwell on level 99, right underneath his residence? If we can find out who, and when they’re meeting, at least I’ll have someone to work on.”
Noticing something, I reach forward and manipulate the image myself, pushing it back to give us a better view of the whole thing once more. Around the perimeter, there appears to be small ducts leading up from level 90 and straight into the 12 residences around the summit.
“What are these?” I ask. “They look like mini-lifts.”
Adryan conducts a closer inspection, his eyes narrowing.
“Hmmmm, I think that’s more or less what they are,” he says. “They look to be dumbwaiters…”
“Dumbwaiters?” I ask.
“They’re basically little freight elevators used for transporting food and other essential items. I guess that’s how the Consortium have their food delivered, seeing as they venture down so rarely.”
“Well, could we use it? I could get inside and come straight out in Cromwell’s home! That would make things a lot easier…”
Adryan silently examines the schematics a little more closely. Then, as he does with so many of my bright ideas, shakes his head.
“That won’t work. For two reasons.” Two? Great. “First, it looks to be too small for you to fit in.”
“Hey, are you saying I’m fat?” I joke.
He still isn’t getting my humour.
“No…not at all. It would be too small for any human…”
“Adryan, I’m kidding. So, what’s the other reason?”
“Oh right, sorry. Um, well there’s a scanner. It would pick you up.”
“OK, fair enough. How about poison then? We could poison his food.”
Again, I’m knocked back. This isn’t doing my confidence any good.
“No. The scanner would pick that up as well I’d imagine. We need something guaranteed. We need to know, for sure, that he’ll be killed.”
“You mean that I’ll kill him,” I correct him.
It appears that nothing I do will change the fact that it needs to be me to pull the trigger, literally or metaphorically speaking. I can’t manipulate someone to do it for me. I can’t poison him. I literally have to stand right in front of him, look him in the eye, and cut off his life right there and then.
It’s as if they want me to properly execute him, make some sort of statement perhaps. You know, that’s probably what Lady Orlando is thinking…
“Fine, forget the dumb…what was it?”
“Dumbwaiter.”
“Yeah, that. Forget that. Anything else?”
We spend the next couple of hours examining every inch of the High Tower, learning all about its structure and security protocols. The latter, it seems, was provided by Brian in another part of the file, pages upon pages of electronic data about the running of the building.
It’s a true treasure trove, and will take some time to get through completely. Yet what’s immediately clear is that the summit of the High Tower is going to be accessible by no other means than direct access through the main lifts.
We know, now, that Director Cromwell, if he ever comes down from the summit, will do so either in the northernmost section of level 99, beneath his residence in the High Tower, or in the central core of level 99, where larger meetings are held between the Consortium and other high ranking officials.
It’s safe to assume that the latter is more likely to be a rare affair, whilst the former will probably happen more regularly. All we have to do is find out who is going to report to him next, and when. Once we’ve done that, I need to find them, get them alone, manipulate them, and then have them ferry me right up to level 99, where I can assassinate Cromwell and be on my merry way.
Sounds simple, right?
The very thought, in actual fact, makes my brain hurt. Yet at least there’s some clarity to what we’re doing, and at least my efforts so far have yielded some significant results.
Without these plans and protocols, we’d have no true idea as to where Director Cromwell lived in the summit, and where he set about meeting his officials. Brian’s service, albeit out of his control, has been invaluable.
We stay up late that night, so late that I end up falling asleep on the sofa as Adryan continues to analyse the building and security protocols, searching endlessly for some weak link that we can use to our advantage.
While I may have certain abilities that are essential to this mission, I certainly don’t have the same brainpower that he does when conducting such research.
His working life, after all, is very much dependent on his ability to study and analyse things and then draw conclusions from what he’s found. OK, so most of that has been studying people and relationships, and not schematics and security systems, but still the same principles apply. I think.
He’s certainly more suited to the work than me, anyway.
So, I end up taking something of a backseat, getting some rest on the sofa as he works into the night. Occasionally, I wake up from my brief bouts of sleep to ask if he’s found anything. His answers are generally disappointing.
Unfortunately, among the data supplied by Brian, there’s absolutely nothing about schedules and meetings. What we can assume, however, is that the members of the Consortium are likely to keep to some sort of rigid pattern. It would stand to reason, given the inflexibility of all of the rest of the inhabitants here with regards to their working patterns.
Essentially, the High Tower is run like clockwork. Savants, with so little distractions to deal with, tend to follow the same formula each and every day. Their lives run on tracks, only very rarely sent slightly off course by ‘special’ events, such as the ceremony held to honour us after the attack on Culture Corner, or the one tomorrow afternoon to honour the City Guard.
Naturally, the Consortium are likely to operate in a similar way, and each member will presumably hold meetings with their subordinates at the same time and same place each time they’re briefed. This could be once a week, once a month, once every ten days. Frankly, we don’t know, and that’s what we need to find out.
Another assumption we make – well, less an assumption and more a fact, according to Adryan – is that the various members of the Consortium are prone to liaise more commonly with specific officials within their personal sphere of expertise and influ
ence. Essentially, each member is tasked with running a specific facet of the city, and will therefore be updated and briefed by their relevant subordinates.
So, for example, Commander Fenby is the highest ranking official within the City Guard, and thus one of the 12 members of the Consortium. He will, therefore, be in close contact with Deputy Commander Burns, and perhaps other high ranking officials within different branches of the security force.
So, that might be the man who commands the Stalkers, or the Con-Cops, for instance. I assume that such a person exists, with each different security force managed and run by some sort of overseer.
The same will go for the other members of the Consortium. If Commander Fenby is the top defence official, then there are others with similarly important posts. Over in Outer Haven, we have the Council of the Unenhanced, and within their number are those who see to justice, education, healthcare, finance and the economy, and so on.
I’ve always considered such people to be rather redundant, given how the Consortium are the ones who actually direct our course. But then again, it’s all about giving us some semblance of freedom. And, well, having our own council with all these phoney officials is part of that.
However, I can’t imagine that any members of the Consortium worry about such concerns. Money, for example, isn’t an important part of life here in Inner Haven. Instead, they have a member who oversees the working requirements and duties, and makes sure they’re filled.
The same goes for justice. Crime isn’t an issue here either, so I doubt it’s such a concern. Instead, they have a member who maintains the strictest of order, setting out the doctrines that all people live by with regards to lifestyle practices.
Education, of course, is an important part of this world. One member of the Consortium, therefore, will be in charge of making sure the youth of the city are suitably managed and put into the right line of work.
Then, there are the outside concerns; the building of a larger and more prosperous world. So, it will be the duty of another member to see to the growth of external settlements, the clearing of the toxic mist that surrounds us, and the development of new cities to expand into.
Overall, 11 of their number will have very specific functions, and will have a number of other high ranking officials below them who report to them and brief them on progress and important updates.
Director Cromwell, meanwhile, will oversee them all. He will, in the end, have the final say on anything he considers important enough to warrant his attention. And, as such, he will be less likely than the others to hold such a structured schedule. More likely, he’ll meet relevant officials as and when he desires to see them.
And that, in the end, makes our job a little bit harder. Predicting who he’ll see next, and when, won’t be possible. We need evidence. We need schedules. We need specific data.
There’s plenty more work to be done…
That night, with all of this flowing around my head, my dreams are uneasy. My mind works on overdrive, processing everything I’ve seen and learned, trying to figure out a potential plan of action.
I drop off and wake regularly, always finding Adryan hard at work. Until one time when I wake, and find myself in his arms, being carried off to bed. My eyes creak open as he lays me down onto the soft mattress, pulling the blankets over me as I smile up at him.
He doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. He just leans in and kisses me gently on the cheek, before departing to continue his endless exploration of the files.
I drop off again with the smile still lingering on my face. And back in the blackness of my subconscious, I hear a voice calling out to me.
I can’t tell what it is. It echoes from somewhere deep, somewhere far away, hardly audible.
Is it Zander? Is he trying to wake me?
I can’t tell. The voice is so quiet, hard to decipher. I find myself starting to wake, the voice growing louder. And as it does, a single word begins to settle in my head.
But it’s not a word. It’s a name.
Rebecca…
11
“Rebecca,” I repeat, looking straight at Adryan.
He looks weary, having spent most of the night searching the files. I probably shouldn’t have woken him so early – it’s just past 6AM – but let him sleep a little longer.
Nothing that a quick stroll around the gardens on level 10 won’t sort out, though.
He pushes himself up into a sitting position on his bed. The blankets fall off him, clearing a path for my eyes to his chest and torso. I feel a flutter of both embarrassment and desire at the sight, but don’t let it distract me.
Not too much, at least…
“Rebecca?” he says. “You mean, the receptionist?”
“Yeah, the receptionist,” I say brightly. “She pretty much runs the building, her and the others down at the front desk. If anyone’s going to know about schedules, it’s her, right?”
Adryan considers it a moment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“I…I guess so. If there are schedules for the members of the Consortium, then they’ll most likely be on the system, yeah. Good thinking, Brie.”
“Well, it just came to me,” I say, shrugging.
Literally, it really did. Was that voice just my subconscious? I’m still not exactly sure…
“It’s a pretty obvious idea, though. I just need to figure out how to get access.”
“Hmmmm, that won’t be so easy,” warns my half naked husband. “The security desk in the atrium is manned at all times by two receptionists. And the systems in place there are extremely advanced. If you got Rebecca to, say, download the schedules and put them on file, like Brian Spencer did, then it would probably be found out immediately by the other receptionist. They work in tandem on touchscreens, as you’ve seen. You’d have to manipulate them both, simultaneously, and also hope that there are no Savants or City Guards around in the atrium to see what you’re doing.”
My posture sinks lower as I listen to him speak. I take a seat on the bed next to him. It sounds impossible.
Unfortunately, there are always City Guards on duty in the atrium, their presence there greater than anywhere else in the building. That’s natural, of course, given how it’s the only entry point.
“What about at night?” I ask. “Are there two receptionists at night as well?”
“Yes, always two. And always a number of security personnel on duty as well. The only benefit of trying to do it at night would be the number of Savants. The majority will be sleeping.”
“Well, I don’t need to be there, do I?” I ask, configuring a plan. “I can just manipulate Rebecca at another time, like I did with Brian.”
“You could,” says Adryan. Immediately, I get the feeling that he’s about to offer a ‘but’. He’s become a true professional at smothering my bright ideas. “But...” he continues. Yep, there it is. “…you’d still face the same issues. If Rebecca then tried to extract information from the database, the other receptionist would see.”
“OK, I’ll manipulate her too…”
“And the City Guards on duty? You can’t manipulate them all, Brie.”
“Well,” I say, getting frustrated, “do you have a better idea?!”
He shuffles his position, and I glance across once again at his lean physique. He’s clear proof that the Savants adhere to a very strict nutritional and exercise regimen.
“I need to think,” he says, standing up.
The covers fall off him and he steps straight for the closet, dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs. I avert my eyes through instinct and he sets about covering himself up in a bathrobe.
It’s stupid, really, to act so coy like this. We are husband and wife after all.
Well, not really, Brie, I’m forced to remind myself.
As he ties up the robe, however, my mind begins working down a new path. My brief conversation with Rebecca the previous day comes back to me, and the light bulb begins to flash in my head.
We don’t need her to download the files…
The thought becomes verbal, journeying from my head to my mouth and spilling from my lips.
“We don’t need her to download the files,” I say aloud.
Adryan turns to me.
“Say again.”
“Adryan, Rebecca has a photographic memory!” I beam. “Everything that’s stored on the database, everything she’s seen, will be in her head somewhere!”
“Including the schedules,” Adryan whispers vaguely, catching up. His eyes brighten and he looks at me. “You think you can find that information…in her head?”
I nod, smiling wide.
“Oh yeah. If she’s seen the schedules, and it’s in her head, I’ll find it. We can bypass everything else! I just need to get her alone somewhere. Do you know what she does outside of work?”
“The same as everyone else. Exercise. Eat. Sleep. Her personal scheduling might be slightly different due to her hours at the desk. I have seen her working late before.”
“So she might, say, exercise late as well?”
“Possibly, if that’s what her schedule dictates.”
“It would make it easier for me to get her alone if that was the case, wouldn’t it?”
“Certainly. But it might raise flags too. Unless there’s call for it, it would be unusual to see an Unenhanced woman wandering around the communal levels at night.”
“Well then,” I say, a plan taking shape, “perhaps I should put my acting skills to the test…”
Adryan peers at me suspiciously.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I can pretend to be a Savant. If I’m dressed in grey, then no one’s going to notice me. It’s as you say, Adryan, I need to learn to fit in.”
I smirk at him in an altogether devious fashion. He looks uncomfortable at the idea, but doesn’t immediately shut it down.
That’s rare.
“It might work,” he admits. “But it’s dangerous. If someone recognises you…”
“Like who? No one cares about me, and like you say, most people are sleeping at night.”
“And what about Rebecca? She’ll recognise you as soon as you show up.”
