The City of Ashes

by Robert I. Katz

  The awards were given out by a man named Atif Ferrara, Foreign Minister in the administration of Idris Kartal. I received a plaque for my second-place finish and a large sum of money and was invited to participate again in five year’s time. Atif Ferrara gave me a smile that might have looked friendly to the cameras and shook my hand, almost like he meant it.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. “I’m looking forward to trying again.” Fat chance, I thought. Fat fucking, bloody chance.

  Janelle finished fifth overall, and first among the women. She was also given a large monetary prize and an invitation to repeat her performance. She stared at Ferrara, who blinked his eyes and dropped her hand quickly. She smiled, leaned toward him and whispered something too low for the microphones to pick up. I saw his face grow pale.

  Yes, indeed, I thought. She was quite a woman, that Janelle. She and Celim Bakar made an impressive couple.

  Oh, was I looking forward to going home. I had had more than enough of the hospitality of Gath.

  Chapter 10

  “Shielded,” Captain Jones said. “There are only two places in the city we haven’t been able to penetrate. This is one of them.”

  Our recorders, almost as light as air, had drifted on the wind and settled over much of the city. In the three weeks since our arrival they had collected data and sent it into cyberspace, billions of bytes, millions of images and sounds. I had paid little attention to it all, being engrossed in the Grand Tournament but the Tournament was over now and this, after all, was the game that counted.

  It was once said of ancient Russia that on her borders, she could have only enemies and vassals. Gath was the same. Perhaps the foremost military power on the continent, her neighbors uniformly feared her. Gath had no real allies and an economy dependent upon the export of produce, raw materials and easily derived pharmaceuticals. Gath received a small amount of capital from the licensing of the games and the minimal amount of tourism that the games generated but compared to their national budget, it was a pittance. Economic sanctions imposed on Gath after their attempted subversion of Meridien were beginning to bite.

  In addition, the cold war was starting to turn hot. Three Gath ships had been boarded at sea and their cargo confiscated. Gath airships were no longer welcome in most nations on the continent. Smugglers attempting to bring goods into Gath’s cities were being intercepted. The cost of survival was rising.

  The Presidium and the ruling council were aware, of course. Nothing was publicly admitted but the citizenry seemed to realize that something was up. Rumors were flying and unrest was stirring. Nasim Bakar, Celim Bakar’s brother, had given a speech to the ruling council. It was scathing, making reference to tyrants and empires throughout history and the bloody end to which all had ultimately come. Idris Kartal, the Presidium’s Chief, had sat and listened with an attentive smile and after, he had called his most trusted adherents into his private office, which was five stories under the ground, equipped with a negative pressure air system and swept and vacuumed daily. Our recorders had not been able to penetrate below the third level. Nevertheless, it could be seen that General Ferrara and his fellow Interventionists had emerged pleased from this meeting. When the General returned to his office, he called in his subordinates. We were able to record this meeting and we didn’t like it.

  “Not unexpected,” Captain Jones said.

  I nodded. “What is the second place that you haven’t been able to penetrate?” I said.

  The Captain frowned. “Here,” he said, and pointed to a mansion surrounded by trees and a high stone wall. Armed troops patrolled the grounds at all times.

  “Why not?”

  “Our bugs short out. The place is surrounded by an energy shield.”

  We had such shields, of course. The First Empire could supposedly tailor them at will. Meridien’s, and our allies’ as well, were all spherical, surrounding a central generator. They were much better for airships than for buildings, since ground resistance quickly sapped their energy, but somehow, Gath had the technology to maintain such a shield. That was ominous. I wondered what else they had.

  I looked at the photographs for a long time, assessing potential weak points, of which there seemed to be none and then shrugged. “First things first,” I said. “This place will still be there.”

  It is said that those who do evil must do so in the dark. Not entirely true, of course. Absolute power means you can do anything that you want, with no fear at all of who might be looking. I was banking on the fact that Idris Kartal did not have absolute power, and I planned on staying in well lit places. Being a newly minted celebrity helped.

  That evening, a small crowd of admirers followed me down the street, curious as to where I was going. Jennifer clung to my arm, wearing an indulgent but faintly disapproving smile. She spread her hands to the side and gestured at my back as if asking, “What can I do with him?” The crowd loved it.

  I had wandered from bar to bar, buying drinks and publicly celebrating my excellent showing in the Grand Tournament, and the citizens of Gath seemed happy to help me do it. It was now late at night. I waved my bottle, staggered a little, walked up the steps of Celim Bakar’s spacious mansion and knocked on the door. “Hey,” I roared. “Let me in! I have something for you!”

  The door opened. Two large men in Gath military uniforms, armed with short swords and rifles, stood in the doorway. They didn’t look happy to see me. I smiled at them. “Is Celim at home? I have a present for him.” One of them gave me a disdainful look and said something to the other in his own language. The second guard turned without a word and vanished back inside. A few seconds later, Celim and Janelle stood in the doorway. They looked at me. Celim blinked, stared at the crowd and gave Jennifer a cautious nod. Janelle clucked her tongue. “You better come in,” she said. They both waved and smiled at the crowd, who snapped pictures and waved back at their conquering heroes. The last guard stepped to the side but stayed close.

  I staggered in, almost falling on the front steps. Jennifer followed sedately, flashing one last embarrassed smile to the crowd as she entered. Then the door closed. I straightened, drew a deep breath and grinned at them both. “Is this place secure?” I asked.

  “Entirely,” Celim said. He turned to the guard and said, “Stand down.” The guard gave Celim a military salute, turned on his heel and left without looking back.

  A small hallway led into a cavernous living room with a dark, stone floor covered with rugs, low chairs, couches and carved wooden tables, a colorful, comfortable room. “Come,” Celim Bakar said. “Sit.”

  I was scanning the place for bugs. I didn’t see any. Jennifer and I both sat down opposite Celim and Janelle. Janelle gave Jennifer a long look. “I know you,” she said.

  “This is Jennifer Mallet,” I said. “Celim Bakar and Janelle.” I frowned. “I never did get your last name.”

  She glanced at Celim. “Madarik,” she said. “Soon, it will be Bakar.” She turned back to Jennifer. “When we fought in the circle, you let me win. Why?”

  I looked at Jennifer. This was news to me. She gave a tiny shrug. “I didn’t let you win. I may have held back, just a little.”

  “Why?”

  “It seemed prudent.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  “We’re leaving soon but you’ll still be here.” Jennifer grinned and glanced at me. “I had enough foresight to look up my competitors. Your father and your fiancé”—she nodded at Celim—“are both prominent members of the Conservationists. We’re on the same side. I thought that you needed a victory more than I did.”

  We all stared at Jennifer. Finally, I cleared my throat and turned to Celim. “We wanted to let you know that your brother is going to be arrested.”

  “You know this for a fact?” Celim asked.

  “Yes.”

  Celim sat back, thought about it for a moment then shrugged. “This is not a surprise. We’ve been expecting it.” He smiled wolfishly. “I will be taking my seat on the coun
cil in a week. Our faction is growing stronger every day. Soon, we will have enough votes to stop this madness.”

  “If they let you live long enough to vote.”

  “They will not find us to be easy prey.” He gave me a lazy grin. “My brother is already in a safe place. For the past month, most of his public appearances have been carried out by a stand-in.”

  I pondered this. “You know your own business,” I said. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Your people should leave while they still can.”

  “Yes,” I said. “We intend to. We’re leaving at dawn.”

  Chapter 11

  We did plan on leaving at dawn but Captain Jones called me up to the bridge shortly before midnight. “Look,” he said. “I think you’ll find this interesting.”

  Our bugs had still not been able to penetrate the mansion’s shielding but we had drones constantly watching the place. Over the past twelve hours, Idris Kartal and Atif Ferrara had been escorted in and spent approximately three hours before leaving. Then, a few hours after sundown, the front door opened and two men walked out. I stared at their faces. Captain Jones smiled at my reaction. The Captain had been thoroughly briefed on the events preceding the siege of Aphelion and he knew who these men were.

  Derek Landry and Winston Smith.

  “Where are they now?” I asked.

  “Club Menagerie,” he said.

  I looked at him. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  My near-victory in the Grand Tournament would be old news in a month’s time but right now, I was a popular celebrity, all the more popular for not having stolen the prize from a favored son of Gath. Alten Deniz seemed surprised to see us but was happy to usher me in, along with my entourage, which consisted of Jennifer, Captain Jones and five troopers, all of us dressed to party. “Welcome,” Alten Deniz said. “Welcome indeed. You grace our establishment with your presence.” I could almost see him licking his lips while counting the credits that our visit would bring in.

  Menagerie, like all business establishments in Gath, was owned by the State and it had its own security. Our escort of Gath plainclothes was told to wait for us in the courtyard. They weren’t happy about it but that was not my problem.

  I had wondered if the presence of the tournament contestants on my previous visit might have led to a larger crowd than usual but evidently not. The music tonight was just as loud, the crowd just as large and the dancers just as frantic. The joint was jumping, just what we had hoped for. We needed the cover.

  We spread out. Jennifer and I wandered over to the bar for drinks, which we pretended to sip, then joined the crowd on the dance floor, then stood near a stage while a woman with almost unnatural endowments did a slow strip tease. I sniffed the air. Derek Landry and Winston Smith had been here but the scent was at least an hour old.

  Alten Deniz stood near the front entrance, greeting a man and a woman. The man wore a general’s uniform, the woman was beautiful, older than most of the crowd but still in her prime. She wore a gown. Alten Deniz bowed very low, shook the man’s hand and whispered something in his ear. The woman allowed her eyes to wander over the room. She gave a small disdainful sniff. The General smiled and Alten Deniz conducted them both to an elevator, flanked by two large guards in formal dress.

  There are exclusive clubs, and then there are more exclusive clubs. The crowd here was rather young, I thought. Callow. They were the children of important people but they weren’t the important people.

  “Mr. Deniz,” I said. “I am not pleased with you.”

  He blinked. “This is unfortunate. We at Club Menagerie wish nothing more than the happiness of our guests.”

  “These people”—I waved my hand at the room—“are unsophisticated. I was expecting a more rarified form of entertainment from your establishment.”

  He stared at me, then a slow, crooked smile spread across his face. “My apologies,” he said. “I didn’t realize. Perhaps you might find what you are looking for in the more private and select areas of our establishment.”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  His smile grew wider. “Please come with me.”

  I beckoned to Jennifer, who had a bemused expression on her face as she watched a contortionist on one of the stages. She nodded and silently took my arm. Alten Deniz gave us both a small bow, turned and conducted us to the elevator. “Feel free to avail yourselves of the amusements that you will find upstairs. They are less…”—he gave the room a quizzical smile before turning back toward Jennifer and I—“common than what is offered here.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That would be excellent.”

  He bowed again as the door closed.

  “Private and select,” Jennifer said.

  “You heard? Private and select is just what we’re looking for.” I smiled at her. “Certainly not common.”

  She briefly raised her eyes to the ceiling and gave a tiny shrug.

  The elevator doors opened and we exited into a small room covered in stone tiles, with low, soft furniture and colored tapestries hanging on the walls. The lights were dim, with small multi-colored bulbs twinkling in the corners. A hum of ventilation could not conceal the heavy scent of incense. Across from the elevator, three young women and one man sat on couches, passing a hookah back and forth, taking deep hits of fragrant smoke. One of the women giggled. Another moaned. The man looked back and forth between their faces, grinned and began to hum something low and atonal. The fourth woman lay back on the couch with her eyes closed and whispered, “Whoa…” to herself.

  Jennifer frowned. “I guess that’s fun,” she said doubtfully.

  The incense numbed my nose, and the acrid reek of the hookah made it worse. I sneezed, my eyes tearing. I could tell that Winston Smith and Derek Landry had been here. “Let’s see what else is happening.”

  Three corridors led off from the first room. The first one led to a casino. I could see the general’s beautiful companion pulling the arm of a slot machine. She pushed one token in after another, barely letting the reels stop spinning before popping in the next token. Her expression was blank. She did not look like she was enjoying herself.

  Three roulette wheels occupied one corner of the room. Card tables and dice tables spread out across the floor. About half of the men wore military uniforms, none below the rank of Major. The women’s fashions were up to date, except for the croupiers and waitresses, who wore nothing but g-strings and wide professional smiles. All of the women were beautiful.

  Jennifer and I wandered around the room, curious. I stopped for a moment, threw a pair of dice, lost, shrugged and continued on. Nobody paid me the slightest attention, though a few of the men gave Jennifer speculative looks, which she ignored.

  A polished wooden bar occupied one whole wall. I recognized a few of the bottles. They were all expensive and none of them were made in Gath. A few men and two women leaned on the bar, sipping drinks. They looked depressed. I guess they hadn’t been winning. Derek Landry had stood there, not so long ago. Winston Smith as well, though his scent was fainter. The two men seemed to have split up once they arrived at the club.

  We wandered down the corridor, following Landry’s trail to a large open doorway that opened into what seemed at first glance to be another bar. It wasn’t. Naked men and women, all young, all beautiful, lounged in the corners. Other men and women, guests of the club, would come up, converse for a few minutes and then would be conducted under an arch into another hallway with the companion of their choice. I glanced at Jennifer. She grinned. “It’s one way to put yourself through collegium,” she said.

  “Landry is in there,” I said.

  “Good,” she said. “Sooner or later, he’ll come out.”

  “We can’t hang around here without sampling the merchandise. It will look suspicious.”

  “You go on,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  She had a grin on her face. That grin made me uncomfortable. “You’re sure?”

 
; “Leave Derek Landry to me.”

  I looked at her, uncertain. “Go on,” she said. “Trust me,” and she moved off to the bar, smiling.

  Okay…

  I stopped in a bathroom and put on a blonde wig, small lifts in my heels and some inserts above my gums that gave my face a fuller, more rounded look. Winston Smith wasn’t likely to recognize me. I found him a few minutes later, sitting at a table behind an open door, playing some sort of card game. He was staring with fixed intensity at his cards, a small pile of chips sitting on the table in front of him. He didn’t look happy. Good. I didn’t want Winston Smith to be happy.

  Ten chairs were set up around the walls. Three men sat and watched the game. I joined them, curious. The five men and one woman sitting around the table all knew each other. The stakes were high. I didn’t understand how Smith, presumably the leader of a paramilitary hit team, could afford to play at this table. I found out quickly. I also found out that the name he was using was not Winston Smith—no surprise. The woman smiled at him, a very unpleasant smile, and said, “You’re out of money. You owe me a forfeit, David.”

  He swallowed. Small beads of sweat covered his forehead. “I’ll win it back,” he said.

  “Will you?” She shrugged. “Perhaps you will.”

  He didn’t. He lost the next hand and the next.

  “I think that’s enough.” The woman’s smile was soft, cruel and triumphant. “I truly love it when you lose, David. You make the most wonderful sounds when I strap you to the table.” She rose to her feet and held out a hand. “Come,” she said. He swallowed but rose to his feet, swaying. Then he seemed to collect himself, straightened and followed the woman from the room. The other men looked at his retreating back. One man shook his head. Another shuddered. The rest merely smiled.

  The woman was no longer young. She had red hair and a full, still voluptuous figure. She walked like she owned the place, or at least like she owned Winston Smith, who walked behind her with heavy, leaden steps. I held back and let them turn the corner before strolling from the room.