Precipice
Page 10
An embrace seemed somehow too familiar a greeting for the revered samurai. Instead, Scarlet stepped back and bowed low at the waist. “Ueda san. So good to see you again.”
He returned the bow and smiled wide. “And you as well, Aka chan.”
Scarlet laughed. Aka meant ‘red’ in the language of Nippon.
Ueda bade her enter first, but she insisted they go in together. That was when Scarlet’s heart leapt at the sight of the first person she saw.
“Athena!” Scarlet shouted. She rushed to embrace the smaller woman, her friend since they’d gone through Indoctrination together. She hadn’t seen her since the initial planning of their coup, half a year before, in Paris. It was only six months past, but it felt like a lifetime. This time, Scarlet didn’t bother to fight back the tears.
Scarlet let go of Athena long enough to wipe her eyes and look the smaller woman over. “Christ the Healer, Athena. I-I thought you were dead.”
“We almost were,” a stern voice said. Scarlet glanced behind Athena at Mockingbird, her friend’s minder. No warm embrace from Mockingbird. The closest Scarlet came was a curt nod.
“They barely missed us at the primary safehouse in New York,” Mockingbird said. She wore one of her trademark dresses, a no-nonsense garment with a collar running up high onto the neck. A leather chest rig held twin Colts at the old spymaster’s ribcage.
“I’m glad to see you found each other,” Colonel Montclair said, walking into the war room as if on cue. He turned to Scarlet. “We picked Mockingbird and her protégé up as soon as we decoded your message.” He smiled at her. “Took my codebreakers a full day to puzzle out that cipher.”
He crossed the room, going to a bulkhead on the opposite side of the table. Montclair took a worn document from a war room shelf, sagging under the weight of the dozens of folders and boxes containing collected intel. He spread the document across the table. It was a map, outlining the Union and the Confederacy, with the southern and western territories of Louisiana, Nebraska, and the Dakotas outlined.
Colonel Montclair looked up from the map. “Quite the friends you have, Scarlet. This one,” Montclair smiled and nodded toward Athena, “almost opened up on us with a Gatling as we came to the door.”
Athena grinned, her emerald eyes twinkling. “New York’s a rough city, Colonel,” she said. “Can’t blame a girl for being too careful.”
Mockingbird clucked her disapproval at her protégé’s joke. Scarlet wanted to laugh. Athena had always been such a bright spirit, even in the darkest of times.
Scarlet settled into her chair as Colonel Montclair went around the table and made introductions. She’d sat in this very same chair the last time she’d been onboard Vindication, when she, Copperhead, and Abe had helped Colonel Montclair and his crew repel a deadly attack from a Confederate stealth airship.
She looked around the metal table, taking note of the faces. There was Colonel Montclair directly across from her. Colonel Gregory sat to Montclair’s left, and two of Colonel Gregory’s Marines, neither of whom she recognized, sat next to him. Major Jasper, Vindication’s first officer, sat to Montclair’s right, the Sergeant Major beside him. Kenshin Ueda lounged on a small bench next to the bulkhead, his sword resting against his shoulder. Athena sat next to her minder on Scarlet’s left, and to Scarlet’s right was an empty seat.
Scarlet felt the airship shift beneath her. She looked through a glass porthole and saw the silhouette of trees against a night sky bursting with stars. The view gave the illusion that the trees were rising around them. Reason told Scarlet that it wasn’t the trees that were rising, but the airship that was descending.
“Are we setting down, Colonel?” she asked.
“We are,” Colonel Montclair replied. “We’re making a previously unscheduled stop. We got word right before leaving New York that we’d have one more joining us tonight. As soon as he arrives, we can get started.”
A few minutes later, the war room hatch swung open. The tall, broad-shouldered man with the mousey-brown crew cut wasn’t at all what Scarlet expected. Her mouth fell open. She closed it quickly, hoping no had one noticed.
“Abe?” she exclaimed in disbelief.
He’d received her message and arrived much faster than she would have thought. Unexpected, but that wasn’t the real surprise, as the man who walked into the war room was nothing like the person she’d last seen.
At their last encounter, he’d been all skin and bones, his flesh melted away from the trials and rigors of Indoctrination. Abe was still lean, but he’d filled out since then, his emaciated frame replaced with a well-muscled one. Gone was the long, foppish hair, replaced by a severe crew cut. Where the boy she’d known had been ill at his ease, the man who walked into Vindication’s war room took in his surroundings with the practiced and discerning eye of a well-trained agent. The suit of clothes he wore fit him like a tailor-made glove. Scarlet noted the bulge of a pistol beneath the breast of his jacket.
He was nothing like the last time she’d seen him, except for that boyish, shy smile. That, and when he noticed her looking at him, his cheeks turned beet red. “Hello, Scarlet,” he said.
Montclair stood, a smirk on his face. “It’s customary to greet the commanding officer of the airship first, Mr. Fortenberry.” Montclair looked at Scarlet and grinned. “But in this case, a breach of etiquette is understandable.” Colonel Montclair walked around and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, sir.”
The crimson bled from Abe’s cheeks, returning them to their previous, sun-kissed shade of tan. “Apologies, Colonel.” Abe saluted then shook Colonel Montclair’s hand. “Just so you know, Colonel, Fortenberry was never my real name, but using it was the only way you’d know who I was.”
“Really?” Montclair said, feigning surprise. “I would never have guessed. So what should we call you, then?”
“My moniker is ‘Bookkeeper’, sir.”
“Bookkeeper, is it?” Montclair nodded his approval. “It seems to suit you.” He looked Abe up and down. “I see quite a bit’s changed since last we met.”
Scarlet watched as Mockingbird’s hand slipped toward one of the pistols at her side. “You’ve invited an active DSI agent onboard your ship, Colonel,” the older woman said. Her body remained stiff, muscles coiled tight — a mountain cat ready to pounce. “You did this knowing full well my protégé and I stand under official sanction. You realize what that means, don’t you?”
Abe held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “All due respect, ma'am, I and I alone contacted Colonel Montclair this morning, soon as I received Scarlet’s encoded telegraph message. No one knows my whereabouts. I’m here of my own accord.” Abe eased his hands down. “I know all active agents have standing orders to eliminate you and Athena on sight, but given all I went through with Copperhead and Scarlet last year,” Abe looked at her, “I trust them completely.”
Something inside her stirred.
Abe glanced back at Mockingbird. “Because of that trust, executing the sanction order is not something I’m prepared to do.”
“And what about your minder?” Mockingbird asked.
Abe shrugged. “What about him? Sleeping it off at the Hotel we’re lodging at in Galena.”
“I’ll vouch for our young friend,” Colonel Montclair said. His voice cut through the tension like an assassin’s blade through flesh. “I’ve seen him in action firsthand. Even before he’d had any formal training, I can attest to his courage,” Montclair met the senior spymaster’s disapproving eyes, “and his loyalty.” He paused, a silent battle of wills. “Are we good, Mockingbird?”
Mockingbird nodded her agreement and relaxed, insomuch as someone like her was able to relax. “It’s your airship, Colonel.” Her hand eased back up to the top of the table.
The matter settled, Abe sat down next to Scarlet. He leaned in and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry about Copperhead,” he said, low enough so that only she could hear. “I won’t rest until we find him.”
While Scarlet fought to get her emotions in check, Colonel Montclair took his seat. “Looks like everyone’s here. Let’s begin, shall we?” He turned to Abe. “Why don’t we start with what you know, Bookkeeper? Then we can all get one another up to speed from there.”
Scarlet found herself staring at Abe, transfixed. The change in him was unbelievable. He began to speak, breaking the spell.
“Yesterday, my minder and I were tasked with a mission, designated Operation Churchkey. We were told the mission was secret… compartmentalized at the highest levels. We were further instructed that we were not to convey details of this assignment to any other elements in or out of the Department - no outside sources, no other agents. We couldn’t even speak to the DSI analysts until we’d accomplished our objective. Until the mission was complete, we were to be totally on our own.”
Abe paused and looked around the room, as if expecting questions. When there were none, he continued.
“My minder and I were then assigned our target, a man by the name of Silas Worthington. Worthington is a suspected co-conspirator of President Smythe’s and a member of the group Smythe refers to as ‘the Cabal’. But within that circle, Worthington is better known as—”
“The Pious Man,” Colonel Montclair finished.
Abe nodded.
“And you have some prior experience with the Pious Man, don’t you?” Montclair asked.
“Some, sir,” Abe replied.
Colonel Montclair tsked and raised an eyebrow, giving Abe a look that suggested he thought Abe knew more than he let on. “Don’t be modest, agent.” Colonel Montclair pointed at Abe. “You were the one who discovered Worthington’s identity last year. Not to mention his connections to the deeper conspiracy beneath the surface of the Confederate government.” Montclair leaned onto the table. “Some might say you were instrumental in discovering the existence of the Cabal itself.”
Abe shook his head. “Just doing my job, sir.” There was only the slightest hint of pink at his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, my minder and I have been assigned to the Pious Man. We’re to observe his Kentucky estate, determine an opportune time, and apprehend him for questioning.”
“Who is your minder, agent?” Mockingbird asked.
“Kingfish, ma’am.”
Mockingbird snorted, a most unsettling sound. “Kingfish, eh?” She sighed. “What a waste of potential that one was. No offense, young man, but why would they assign you, a neophyte, and a drunkard like Kingfish to such an important target? It’s almost as if they want you to fail."
Scarlet furrowed her brow, lost in thought, then something occurred to her. Like the view from an airship at ten thousand feet, things were becoming clear. The picture was beginning to coalesce.
She raised her hand to speak. “I think I can shed some light on that, Mockingbird. There’s only one way this all makes sense - the agency’s behavior of late, McCormick getting away with everything he has, Abe’s assignment. Only one thing that makes all the pieces of the puzzle fit.”
Mockingbird looked as if she’d suddenly swallowed something sour. “You’re right,” she conceded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Scarlet nodded. “McCormick is working for the Confederacy. We suspected, but…”
The Sergeant Major, quiet up to that point, leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got to be joking. DSI - the infamous nest of spymasters - infiltrated by a double-agent?” He looked at Scarlet and shook his head. “And now, what with your failed overthrow attempt and your minder cooling his heels in some secret DSI prison, you’re enemy number-one on the Strategic Intelligence kill list. Have to give it to you, lass. You are something else.” He looked at Mockingbird and Athena. “You and your friends.”
“Knowledge of the enemy’s dispositions can only be obtained by other men.” All eyes turned to Kenshin Ueda. “The ancient manuscripts of war speak often of the use of spies. It should not be a surprise that your enemies have used this tactic against you."
It was the first time the samurai had spoken. But when he did, the truth of it hit them smack in the face.
Scarlet nodded. “Ueda san is right.” She looked around the room. “Let’s put this new realization together with what we already know.”
Montclair nodded his agreement. He pointed across the war room table at Abe. “So Bookkeeper and his minder have been assigned to Worthington. That accounts for two members of Smythe’s cabal of four.”
“Right,” Scarlet agreed. “The first of them to go was Horton,” she indicated Montclair, “who died by the Colonel’s own hand last year. Now, only Worthington, Legree, and Smythe himself remain.”
“Legree?” Montclair asked.
“Yes, sir,” Scarlet said. “Maurice Legree. Also known as ‘The Gambler’.”
Colonel Montclair’s eyes widened. “Maurice Legree? The same Maurice Legree that’s run all the games of chance, extortion, and black marketeering east of the Louisiana Territories for the last twenty-odd years?”
Scarlet nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Handles most of the prostitution south of the Mason Dixon, too,” Colonel Gregory said. All eyes turned toward him. ”So I’ve been told,” he added quickly.
“So, Legree and Worthington,” Scarlet said.
Montclair nodded. “Yes. We don’t know what they’ve planned. If it’s anything like what they were intending for Washington… We can’t allow any of Smythe’s secretive supporters, the Cabal, to remain free,” Montclair paused, deep in thought.
“Well, Colonel, anything you’d care to share?” Mockingbird asked, following an uncomfortably long silence.
Montclair thought for a minute more. “Scarlet should handle Legree,” he finally said.
Scarlet leaned in, surprised to hear the sound of her own name. “I’m flattered at your confidence in my abilities, Colonel Montclair, but bringing the Gambler in is a tall order for a lone agent who’s on the run. No matter how good she is.”
Montclair smiled at her. “Don’t worry. You won’t be alone.”
“But that still leaves Smythe,” Gregory interjected. “And we can’t get to him without reigniting the War Between the States.”
“Christ the Healer,” the Sergeant Major swore. “Smythe and this ‘Cabal’ were behind Davis’ assassination, the whole affair in Washington, and now this? And we can’t even bring them to justice?”
Scarlet didn’t speak. She turned to her right and met Abe’s eyes.
He looked at her then at everyone sitting around the table. He exhaled slowly. “You’ve been sanctioned, Scarlet. Your only choices are to return to DSI and die, or keep running. And if you run, you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the Department’s assassins for the rest of your natural life.”
Scarlet nodded. “Yes. That sounds about right. But-”
Abe shook his head, a single agitated, angry left-right motion. “No. That is most certainly not right. You dedicated your life to Strategic Intelligence. You and Copperhead. And they… they forced your hand with this coup attempt. Then they sanction you? All on the word of a man we’re certain is a traitor?”
Scarlet put a hand on Abe’s shoulder. “But, what I was going to say before you interrupted me, is that there’s another option.” She smiled and turned to Montclair. “Colonel?”
“You’re right, Bookkeeper,” Montclair said. “What’s happened isn’t right. But what the forces allayed against you didn’t bargain on,” he looked around the table at each one of them in turn, “was us.” He grinned. “This is where I come in. Colonel Gregory and I were given an assignment of our own.”
Scarlet felt the seeds of hope begin to take root as Montclair spoke.
“This Vice Chairman McCormick,” Montclair continued. “If I’m reading this right, he’s the Confederacy’s inside man at DSI. I’d wager they’ve b
een planning this for years, right down to the last detail.” Montclair rubbed his chin. “He has you in a bind, Scarlet, no doubt, but he didn’t figure me into any of that planning. There are plans in motion that not even the leadership of DSI was trusted with,” Montclair smiled a killer’s smile. “McCormick, and his Confederate allies, think they have the pulse on every clandestine maneuver the Union is making. We’re off the books, they won’t see Scarlet or Greg and I coming.”
“And what does your part in this mission entail, Colonel?” Mockingbird asked. “If Scarlet, Athena, and I are trusting you to keep our necks from being stretched, I’d prefer to be as informed as possible.”
Montclair nodded. “I understand completely. Colonel Gregory and I are headed to New Orleans. Smythe’s aim is to pull the Louisiana Territories and the Republic of Texas back under the banner of the Confederacy, this time for good. He’s prepared to give them anything they want to achieve it.”
“I don’t understand, Colonel,” Abe said. “What do you mean by ‘pull them back’? The territories and the Republic have been allied with the Confederacy since the first aether blasts at Fort Sumter.”
“Bookkeeper was in Indoctrination, Colonel,” Scarlet explained. “Then he went right into the field after graduating and under questionable leadership at that. He’s been kept out of the loop.”
“I see,” Montclair said. “My apologies. For anyone at the table who wasn’t aware, the territories and the Republic of Texas have been weighing a second secession.”
Scarlet watched the table go quiet.
Montclair let them absorb the news before he resumed. “If Smythe can sweet-talk the territories and Texas back into the fold, the Confederacy will be at full strength again. They’ll be strong enough to take on the Union. In other words, ladies and gentlemen, it’ll be war. Our true mission, our only mission, is to stop that from happening.”
Mockingbird appeared to mull it over before asking a question. “And how does Smythe plan to, as you say, ‘sweet talk’ the territories?”