by Julian North
“Of course.” That sky. The night. That boy beside me. Damn right I remembered.
“Do you remember our conversation as we walked over?”
Alexander was too tactful to mention the clorodrine tooth hanging in my mouth that night or what I had done to him afterward. “Yes.”
“You asked me why I invited you.”
“I remember.”
“I told you one of the reasons was that you didn’t want anything from me.”
I looked at the ground. “That wasn’t true,” I said, ashamed of the memory.
“But it was. Yes, I know you intended to gas me.” He chuckled. “But you said ‘yes’ to me before that. You didn’t want anything from me when it mattered.”
“What’s your point?”
“I never said anything like that to Anise. Because I couldn’t. And I still can’t. She’s her father’s daughter. She always wants something.”
I chewed on my lip as I considered his words. I shouldn’t have been happy to discover Alexander’s distrust of Anise, but I was.
We stepped inside the house just as the roar of a v-copter’s turbines became audible in the distance.
“He’s here,” Alexander pronounced. “We should go to the roof to meet him.”
Alexander swept into the house, leaving me in his wake. My questions about him weighed on me. I didn’t like the idea of meeting Jalen without the answers I needed. A runner should race with a clear mind. But I didn’t have much choice. It was hard to reconcile the Alexander I knew with a person who would have anything to do with chipped slaves. How could honor be consistent with meeting with a man who developed the technology to make others into slaves?
I found my way to the lift to the rooftop landing pad. Gibbs stood beside the elevator door.
“Mr. Foster-Rose-Hart has already gone up. Shall I enable the lift for you?”
Ah, yes. My viser wouldn’t activate the security codes for the house’s upper levels. Even if it worked, which it didn’t.
“Yes, please, Gibbs,” I said, forcing a pleasantness I didn’t feel into my voice.
The elevator moved swiftly and silently. I stepped off the lift into the cold night, anxious and wary. What I saw on the roof didn’t reassure me.
Jalen’s v-copter descended from the sky like a bird of prey, the gold-trimmed redwood tree of ArgoGood on its belly. Round turrets protruded from the craft’s wings and a sophisticated-looking electronics array hugged its nose. The first two men to exit the v-copter wore body armor and carried handheld scanning devices. Force pistols were at their waist. Jalen wasn’t taking any chances. He needn’t have bothered. Except for Jalen’s men, Alexander and I were the only other people on the roof.
Jalen emerged from his flying machine lithe and confident. Resplendent in amethyst-colored robes, he strode toward us, bowing his head sharply in greeting. We still wore our Tuck clothes, like beggars before his easy splendor.
“Welcome, Jalen,” Alexander said, stiff and formal. “Thank you for coming. Let’s go inside. Shall I have someone arrange some refreshments for your men?”
“That would be kind,” he said, signaling his bodyguards with a flick of his hand. “Please lead the way.”
Gibbs took care of Jalen’s men while Alexander led us to a room I’d never been in before, a study on the fifth floor where Alexander’s father had once dwelled. Dark leather chairs studded with gold surrounded a circular mahogany table in the room’s center. An ancient writing desk was shoved into one corner of the space. The walls were covered with maps, ancient ones. There were no windows. Gibbs followed us inside shortly after we entered.
“Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. Aris-Putch?” he asked.
“Tea would be pleasant,” Jalen replied.
The butler disappeared, his feet somehow silent on the polished wood floor. By the time we had seated ourselves around the table, Gibbs had returned with a cast iron teapot from which he poured a deep red liquid that was almost brown, but it smelled wonderful, with a hint of citrus. Then he disappeared, shutting the door behind him.
“I am glad to see you both look well,” Jalen proclaimed, sounding as if he meant it.
“You as well, Jalen,” Alexander told him.
“I should thank you for saving my life, Alexander. I did not anticipate suicide bombers, I must admit. Your instincts were keen. I’m not sure we would have survived the blast if you hadn’t ushered us into the water. Any of us.”
“Let us say we saved each other this morning. Your man, Alen, gave his life to save ours.”
“Yes, indeed.” Jalen sipped his tea. “I also must convey my gratitude personally to your bodyguard, whoever he was. It was a fine shot. And fortuitous that he was in range. Or did you have so many men with you that you were able to cover the entirety of the Reservoir?”
I reached for my cup to cover the surprise on my face. Of course, Jalen didn’t know about Havelock. He thought Alexander’s bodyguard had saved us. Alexander’s eyes flicked over to me for an instant, but he otherwise managed to keep his face impassive. I was sure Jalen noticed the look, although probably not the reason. How had Havelock been so well-positioned? He must have known about the assassins in advance, somehow.
“You give me more credit than I deserve. We were lucky. But I will convey your sentiments.”
Even now, Alexander just couldn’t bring himself to outright lie. Honor was a strange, twisted thing.
“Very well,” Jalen replied, his tone almost relieved. Perhaps honor demanded that a highborn convey gratitude to a person of lesser station, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. “Let us finish what we began this morning. Time grows short, and our enemies are all too deadly. But first I must ask you a question, Daniela.”
I managed to hold the teacup steady at my lips as Jalen’s intense gaze fell on me.
“How did you know the attackers were chipped? You said this morning you noticed the high collars on both sets of attackers. I did some research today. Chipped slaves generally do not wear collars—they are overwhelmingly miners and field workers, or a few do heavy construction. How did you draw the conclusion?”
I took a long sip. The tea hinted at citrus, something exotic. “It’s not just the collars. People willing to sacrifice their own lives for a mission aren’t easy to find. Even where I come from, where people are desperate, they don’t blow themselves up. After the first set of assassins from the stadium incinerated themselves, I was suspicious, and like you, I did some research. A second set of suicide bombers could hardly be a coincidence. And they didn’t just die in each instance—they completely destroyed themselves as well as any evidence of what they were.”
“Yes, all true.” Jalen tapped a finger on the tabletop. One. Two. Three. “But chipped slaves have limited executive function as a result of the chipping process. I’m told the precursor chemical used to prep the subject does permanent damage, and the chip’s neural override is crude—like trying to control a hand puppet with your foot. That is why chipped slaves are only suitable for mundane labor, and why the process is irreversible. But these assassins seemed rather more than mere drones. There was cunning involved here.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Virginia seems very resourceful. And ruthless.”
“Chipped assassins would be rather valuable to her,” Alexander chimed in. “They almost certainly came from abroad; thus, there is no way to trace them back to her, even if they were captured alive. Quite a valuable tool, if you plan to kill the perpetual president.”
There was more tapping as Jalen thought. “There is some risk to her in dabbling in the illicit, but less than for most others. She is the attorney general, with great influence in the Authority.” Jalen pursed his lips. “You may be correct. If so, the existence of these creatures is… troubling. I will look into this matter further.”
I wondered if the trail would somehow lead back to Rose-Hart and their illegal juche workers. It was too dangerous to trust Jalen with that knowledge now. But not trusting him might b
e equally perilous.
“You claimed you could deliver control of Rose-Hart,” Alexander said. He tried to hide it, but it was the closest I’d seen to him being anxious. “That even the controlColonies would not be enough to win over the trustees. How do you plan to deliver what you say?”
Jalen tucked his hands together as he regarded Alexander. “What I have to say will not be easy to hear. It goes against what you have been brought up to believe and accept as true. Accepting you are wrong about something is never easy. I would not bother to reveal these truths to you if you were your father or your sister. But it is my hope that you may be able to see beyond… narrowness.” Jalen’s eyes flicked to me. His glance was cold.
“I’m listening,” Alexander said.
“My father did not try to kill yours.”
Alexander scoffed, an alien sound I hadn’t thought in his repertoire.
“Don’t disappoint me so quickly, Alexander. A few months ago, could you imagine that a non-highborn could nearly match us on the track?”
It was my turn to scoff. “Nearly?”
Jalen held up a hand to silence me, as if I were a pet that had demanded scraps at the wrong time. I sneered, my blood hot. Still, Alexander needed him. I needed him. For now.
“It was your father who arrived on the Aris-Putch family yacht prepared to commit murder. He was not the only contender for the chairmanship of Rose-Hart, you see. Just as you vie with Arik now. Your father’s cousin, Revis Rose-Foster, was considered most likely to take the helm, as he had been at the company longer and had been instrumental in the viser development program. But your father was quite intent on controlling Rose-Hart, and he was not a man to be denied what he desired.”
“You accuse my father?” Alexander stood, towering over Jalen, who took a sip of his tea.
“Landrew could not sway the Trust Council on merit, so he bribed and blackmailed various members of the council to try to secure his appointment. He almost succeeded. He needed one more vote. ArgoGood controlled ten percent of Rose-Hart’s shares back then as a result of an old joint venture, and we had influence over several trustees. Landrew wanted our help, but of course, my father’s influence was not for sale, at any price. My father told Landrew that he intended to support Revis. Worse, he demanded your father resign, or he would expose Landrew’s crimes. He underestimated your father’s ruthlessness. You know how it ended.”
Alexander stood as still as a statue, except for the pulsing muscles on the side of his jaw. “My Uncle Revis was embezzling. He committed suicide in prison and left a confession. My father was shot full of poison from a launcher implanted into your father’s weaponized viser.”
“Landrew was highborn. He could take a bit of poison—far more than a regular man. He knew how long a response would take. The yacht’s security footage had been erased by the time the police arrived, and several daring cyber incursions were launched against ArgoGood and my family’s private computers in the hours after my father’s death—likely looking for any other evidence or remote backup recordings. There was even a break-in at our private residence.”
Alexander shook his head in disbelief. “If what you say is true, then why not see him punished? If… Landrew killed Garryson Aris-Putch, why did your family not act? Why not speak the truth and try to prove it? No cover-up is perfect.”
Jalen leaned back in his chair, the barest hint of a frown creeping onto the corner of his mouth. “No one had any interest in exposing that crime.”
An uneasy void of silence descended. The two highborn scions took each other’s measure. Finally, Alexander returned to his seat.
“Explain yourself, Jalen.”
“My father was a hard man, and his anger could be intense. My parents were not close.” Jalen’s voice wavered ever so slightly at the admission. “At a personal level, my mother was not sad to see him gone. More importantly, the murder offered the opportunity for many powerful people to get what they desired. A three-sided bargain was struck: My mother agreed to support Landrew so that he gained control of Rose-Hart. Ryan-Hayes was promised that Rose-Hart Industries’ votes would be cast for him in the subsequent election. In exchange, Landrew’s crime went unpunished. President Ryan-Hayes triumphed in the election, and ArgoGood was awarded exclusive rights to supply all government ration distribution centers as well as several lucrative water supply contracts in key cities—contracts that turned ArgoGood from a midlevel conglomerate into one of the largest corporations in the country. And we got certain other benefits. My uncle marrying President Ryan-Hayes’s sister among them. Although, knowing my mother, it was probably getting rid of my father that was the real prize. So, you see, everyone won. Except for justice, of course.”
“What about the investigation? The evidence of what happened?”
“Our friend, Director-General Van-Maker, was a mere police captain back then. He helped manufacture an acceptable investigation and was subsequently appointed head of the newly formed Five Cities Protection Authority. He supervised the destruction of all known evidence of Landrew’s crime and was rewarded with his current illustrious position.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed; his features were intense. There was a chill in the room, a special one that seeped into my mind; Alexander was reaching forth with his power, trying to probe Jalen. I knew that would be futile. Jalen’s will was iron, his emotions tightly controlled. I didn’t need to be a triller to know that. Alexander must be desperate.
“If what you say is true, by your highborn rules you should be seeking vengeance, not looking for allies,” I observed.
Jalen’s eyes flickered at me, but he kept his attention focused on Alexander as he answered. “Landrew is dead. Virginia Timber-Night is not. I am here to fight for the future.”
“And Virginia killed your mother. But how does any of this give you the ability to help Alexander win control of Rose-Hart?” I asked.
“Because the evidence was not destroyed. My mother kept a copy. Despite whatever measures Van-Maker took to confirm that no additional records existed, she managed to conceal one.” Jalen leaned forward, pushing his face closer to Alexander. “There is a verified record of the murder and a rather interesting discussion of which Trustee Council members were purchased, and the cost. My mother also assembled additional evidence to buttress the truth on the recording.”
“And you have it?” Alexander asked glumly.
Jalen nodded his head in confirmation. “Even I didn’t know until recently. My mother directed me to it with her last breath. I didn’t get a chance to speak with her, but I think she would have approved of what I propose here. It will work. Many of the trustees from those days retain their seats on the Rose-Hart Trust Council. Men of society, men of purported honor. They won’t want their crimes exposed. With the support you already have, it will be enough to give you control.”
“Blackmail.” Alexander near spat it. “I want no part of that.” He was already hesitant to use the controlColonies as a bargaining chip even though they were Rose-Hart property, and to him, this was even worse.
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. This foolishness was why Alexander needed me here. “It’s not blackmail, Alexander. It’s justice. Those men and women signed and placed your father in charge of Rose-Hart. There was a cost to that. A big one. Now let it come full circle. Let something good come from their misdeeds.”
“Who is to say what is ‘good.’ I do not presume—”
I shoved my chair back and stood, glaring at him. “Dammit, Alexander. It’s better to have a wart than cancer. You might not be perfect, but if you don’t do this, you hand Rose-Hart to Arik and his mother. That would be a far worse crime.”
Alexander grimaced. Jalen looked at me, his face calm except for a single brow that arched upward like a check mark.
“Your… friend speaks with passion but also good sense, Alexander. This is not a pleasant business, but it is necessary. Sometimes honor demands that we do what is necessary.”
Jalen
and I both stared at Alexander. His sapphire eyes were clouded with struggle. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t us. I placed a gentle hand on Alexander’s shoulder. Jalen’s eye fixed on that gesture as I might eye a cockroach.
“Please,” I urged.
Alexander’s eyes shut. He nodded, his head heavy. I squeezed his shoulder with gratitude.
“Give us the data, Jalen.” I said it so Alexander didn’t have to.
He flicked his fingers. My busted viser wasn’t getting anything, but I saw Alexander’s fingers twitch as his device received the invisible feed.
Jalen smiled with satisfaction. “We are turning the tide against Virginia. President Hoven has announced his opposition to the chipping legislation sponsored by Tyrell Industries, and my sources tell me that even with the deaths of so many vote holders, the president still has enough support in Congress to sustain a veto. The chipping legislation won’t pass if we can hold onto Rose-Hart’s votes. That will be our first victory. Together we will begin to turn the tide.”
Alexander glanced at the data at his wrist. I could sense his distaste at what he saw. I squeezed his arm again. The world was not about honor and roses; it was a street brawl.
Jalen nodded his head toward me. “I have never before met your like, Daniela.” It almost sounded like a compliment, except for the surprise in his voice and the cold appraisal in his eyes.
“You should spend more time in Bronx City. Latinas are a dime a dozen there, and we come in a variety of shapes and colors.”
“What is it that you get out of this? You said you wanted to help your people the other day. Do you play the game of politics for them? Or is it merely Alexander that you are passionate about?”
I didn’t like Jalen’s tone, or his questions. Worse, I wasn’t totally sure I knew all the answers. But I still needed things that Jalen had. I balled my fists, struggling to keep my words controlled. “Virginia Timber-Night has only contempt for people like me. Arik is the same. They don’t even think we are people. She would have men like Major Varin-Lynn slaughter us, or worse. That chipping bill is just the beginning. People who steal do not deserve a lifetime as slaves. I will do what I must to help the people I care about. And I’ll see Arik eat that arrogant smile.”
