by S A Shaffer
“I should have known when you flew that Sunbeam like the devil himself, evading my prowlers like they were paper gliders.” The man chuckled when David looked up in astonishment, guessing the reason. “Yes, we have a few prowlers at our beck and call. We have a friendship of sorts with the outlanders.”
“Seems like a fragile friendship.” David said.
“Perhaps.”
“Did Mercy know who I was, my heritage?” David asked.
“Not at first. She was shocked when I told her. But as all the pieces of your past folded together, she saw the truth.”
David nodded. He’d wanted to tell her while she lived. He’d wanted to impress her, but it frightened him. In the end, she’d already known.
“Which is why we were looking when you wrote this.” The man produced a slip of paper from his breast pocket and showed it to David. It was the very same slip of paper he had left in his copy of House Law during Blythe’s acceptance speech. He remembered the words like he had written them yesterday. I know the truth now, and I’m ready to meet. He’d written them in hopes that the Man-in-the-shadows would find them. He’d longed for him to find them, but now that the moment had arrived, he didn’t know what to do. Then again, he didn’t have much of a choice. He either took a chance or watched as Mr. Blythe tore the Houselands apart. He swallowed before speaking.
“You’re wrong about Speaker Blythe, you know.”
“I’m sorry?” The man said with some surprise.
“He committed three murders, not just two. Paula, Samantha, and Mercy.”
The man looked down at the note in his hand and nodded. “I was forgetting Ms. Paula.”
“I… I can’t find Mercy’s body.” David said, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. “I’ve looked everywhere. It disappeared from evidence not long after she died. I think Mr. Blythe disposed of it.”
The man folded his hands behind his back and started walking around David, pacing the circular room. “No. We have the body. We slipped in and got it. She’s… at peace now.”
David let out a breath and sniffed. “Good. I couldn’t bear the thought of it lying in a gutter somewhere.” He stretched his neck and wiped his face on his collar, noticing several other figures at the side of the room as he did so. “Did you order her to commit voter’s fraud?”
“No, that was her own idea. Her last great scheme to unseat Blythe before the census. It probably would have worked, if she’d had more time.”
David nodded and tried not to think about those few awful days that culminated in Mercy’s death. “Well, you know who I am; you have me here, tied to a chair. What do you want?”
“On the contrary, you are the one who wanted to meet.” The man said as he passed in front of David holding up the note as he did. “You tell me, Mr. Ike? What do you want with the Man-in-the-shadows?” The man snickered. “That name is just too dramatic. Why don’t you call me Mit for short?”
“Mit?” David asked. “M-I-T, as in man-in-the-shadows?”
“That’s right.” Mit said with a nod. “The s is silent.”
David snorted. “Alright, Mit.” He said, his tone betraying a hint of mockery. How do I know that’s who you are, or if I can trust you? You haven’t told me anything about yourself. If you are the man in the shadows, you ordered a Prowler attack on our ship. We might have been killed.”
“If you recall, other than a harmless warning shot, you were not fired upon. The only danger you were in you caused yourself by taking command of a ship you knew nothing about and flying it like a cross-eyed Viörn. If nothing else, let that prove our conscientiousness and that we do not rashly extinguish life, no matter the reason.” Mit paused, seemingly to let his words sink in. “As for proof of who we are, we have no proof except the treasonous acts we participate in. If you’re tired of working for Blythe and want to do some good, then you’re at the right place. Otherwise, we will dump you off where we found you, and you can continue to flounder. Now, answer the question: what do you want?”
David paused to think, planning his words. “He’s a murderer and a thief. He killed Paula, Samantha, and Mercy, and he’s probably done a lot more. I— I want to bring Blythe to justice. I want him to answer for the crimes he’s committed, even if it means crushing the Equalist party.”
Mit nodded as he passed in front of David again, folding the note in his hands and replacing it in his breast pocket. “Tell me, did your family ever talk to you about politics?”
David shook his head. “My father and grandfather were military, so they avoided politics. Part of the job. My dad always said our political beliefs didn’t attach to a party, but rather the characters of individuals.”
“Well, no matter what he might have said, he was a Pragmatic through and through, as was your grandfather.”
“How do you know what they were?” David said with another snort. He looked at Mit with a smile. “Did you know them?”
“I did,” Mit said as he paused in front of David.
David’s smile vanished, and he looked at the man in earnest.
“I only met your grandfather on one occasion. It was in passing, and I could hardly claim him as an acquaintance. Your father, on the other hand, was one of my comrades in arms. We were on a mission together early in our careers.”
“Maybe what you say is true,” David said, “but how do you know they were Pragmatics?”
“They are gone, David, and I have no way to prove what I am telling you. What I do know is that your father and grandfather’s Pragmatic views caused some conflict within the Armada, and eventually led to their retirement.”
David looked at his lap as he thought back to the day of the Academy Skiff Race. His father told him about a conflict, but he never revealed the source. “They never told me. I didn’t even know he’d resigned from the Armada until after he died.”
Mit sighed, turning his back to David. “I only bring it up because causing the downfall of the Equalist party may not be such a bad thing. Perhaps knowing your parents were opposed to Equalist ideals will harden your resolve in bringing down Blythe, and in time, you might perceive politics as they did.”
“I need no hardening of resolve to bringing the Speaker to justice, on that you have my word.” David said as he stared at Mit’s back.
“And how would you go about achieving such a feat?” Mit asked as he turned to faced David.
“We could start with convicting him of murder.”
“How’s that? We might know it was him that did it, but we have no proof, and even if we did, no one would charge him.”
“There’s a man, Inspector Kenneth Winston. He was the Inspector looking into the murders. He helped me figure out it was Mr. Blythe who murdered all three women. Find him, and you will have all the evidence you need and somebody to press charges.”
“Well, where is he then? I’ll have my men pick him up tonight.”
“I don’t know. The last time I saw him was the evening of the census. I’ve called the Capital City police a dozen times, and I can’t get ahold of him. I finally stopped. If he’s missing, it probably means he’s dead, and my calling would only raise suspicion.”
“Not exactly your best plan, finding a man who’s probably dead.”
David shrugged. “It’s all I have to work with at the moment. You did sort’a catch me unprepared.”
Mit snickered and nodded. “It’s not much, but we’ll look into it.”
“Well, I’ve answered your questions. Are you going to answer mine?” David asked and felt rude in the asking, but the ropes on his wrists and ankles weren’t precisely common courtesy. “What do you have in mind for me? I assume it entails more than being tied to a chair? Trust goes both ways, does it not?”
“Well, since you put it that way, there is something you could do for us.” Mit said as he clasped his hands. “We need you to steal something?”
“Steal something? But I’m not a thief?”
“… and after we’ve had a look at it, w
e need you to put it back. Borrowed is probably a better description.”
“Oh, that does make me feel better about it. If anybody catches me, I’ll be sure to tell them that.” David sighed. “What is it you want me to steal?”
“Inside Mr. Blythe’s office, there’s a records vault. You know the one I mean?”
David nodded.
“Well, it just so happens that there are only three people with the combination to open it: Mr. Blythe and his two aides, which includes you.”
“I’ve been through all those records. I don’t think any of them are of use.”
“Oh, we’re not after a record. There’s a small black cylinder about the size of a shoe. We know Blythe put it in the vault recently, so you may not have noticed it. We need you to steal it, pass it off to one of our agents, and then put it back in the vault after they’ve had a look at it. If all goes according to plan, Speaker Blythe will never know it was missing.”
“It’s not exactly in my line of expertise.” David gave an idle twist of his wrists and felt the rope bite into his skin again. “If I refuse?”
“As I said before, refuse or accept, you will be released. You know nothing of us, neither where we are nor who we are. We have not shared any sensitive information with you that you didn’t already know. And, I am convinced that you truly believe, as we do, that Blythe must be brought to justice. Releasing you will not cause us harm. However, as we are an organization that can only prove who we are by the treasonous activities we perform, we only accept membership from individuals who participate in treasonous acts. If you accept and gain our trust, we will train you as a sneak and equip you with what you need to crush Blythe. That I can promise you. If you refuse, this will be our last conversation. Just remember, you made Speaker Blythe, and if we cannot bring him down, you will have to live with the consequences, knowing all the while that you did nothing to stop him.”
That made David cringe. “I’m not afraid for myself.” He said as he looked at Mit. “If mine were the only life I had to be concerned with, I would have shot Speaker Blythe last season. But it’s not. I have a mother to worry about, and she cannot survive in my absence. What you are asking me to do… it affects more than just myself.”
Mit nodded as if he already expected this answer. “We know about your mother and her condition. Like I said, Mercy told us many things about you. We’ve been watching your apartment for some time. If anything were to happen to you, we would care for your mother. In that, you have my word. Her future need not worry you. Now, what is it going to be, David? Are you ready to commit treason?
David looked at Mit, knowing the gravity of the decision he was about to make, and understanding there would be no going back after today. Could he trust this Man-in-the-shadows, a man he had never met, who’d told him things he’d never known about his own parents? David made up his mind and clenched his jaw with determination.
◆◆◆
Mercy watched as they questioned David. She listened to his answers. She cried when he talked about looking for her body, silent tears rolling down her cheek. She almost gasped when he turned his head and looked right at her, but she never said a word as she watched. That was the agreement. She could observe from the shadows, but only if she remained absolutely silent. She wanted to cry out. She wanted to tell him she was still alive if only to heal the wound he felt so deeply. But she kept to the agreement. Even when they put a sack on David’s head and marched him out of the room, she kept silent. If she’d reach out, she could have touched him. Then he was gone, airshipped back to his apartment.
“Will he do it?”
Mercy looked up with a start. Everyone had left the room, save Mit.
“Yes.” She said, nodding slowly. “Blythe’s crimes have turned David’s admiration into loathing. As long as he feels his mother is safe, he’ll help us bring Blythe down.
“Can he do it? Not the burglary—that will be a cinch, and Francisco will be there to smooth things over. Can he unseat Blythe before the war starts?”
Mercy didn’t answer for a moment. “He has the capability, but he’s lost a lot of his drive since last I saw him. He needs hope again.”
“No, Mercy.” Mit said. “I know where you are going with this, and the answer is no.”
“But if you just let him know I’m alive.” She countered. “Give him hope again.”
“This is not a love story Mercy. It’s a war, a bloody deadly war. David hardly trusts us as it is. What would happen if he knew your death was a fake? If the limp body he held in his arms, and the blood that seeped into his clothes was nothing more than a ruse? Your death was the catalyst that pushed him onto our side. We can’t take that away, not yet. Not when all our plans hinge on the lad.”
Mercy sighed and nodded.
“The truth is, I knew his father very well. I also hated him with every fiber of my being. He betrayed my confidence. Thus, it’s difficult for me to trust the son, but after this job, we’ll take incremental steps, the last of which will be revealing you.”
“Last!” Mercy said with a gasp.
Mit nodded. “I’ll see about giving him hope again. Maybe when he has a cause, it will reinvigorate him. Giving a man something to do that he believes in always invigorates his efforts.”
“Perhaps, but only when that cause helps the people he cares about.”
Mit laughed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you argue too much?”
Mercy smiled, her first one in a while. “My brothers, all the time.”
Mit took her arm and led her out of the small room. “I’ll bet they did.”
As they passed out of the room, Mercy found it ironic that this room was both where she discovered who David really was, and where David discovered who she really was. They moved down a hallway with wide bay windows overlooking several massive laboratories. “Well, more to the point. I want you to cement your role as Don Johnson’s assistant. You shouldn’t come into contact with anyone from your previous life, and if you do, your disguise should suffice.”
“When do you want me to start diluting the Pharmaceuticals?”
“Blythe sent out his request to the Don last week. Let's allow him to see some results before we pull the plug, but only administer his modified drug in the Capital City. That should be enough to convince him.”
Mercy nodded. Mit was right in a way, having something to do certainly gave her motivation, if only because she didn’t have to think about David. But as she climbed into her skiff and headed to her new apartment, she wondered what David would do when he finally discovered she still lived. Would he hate her for what she’d done? Would he be able to forgive her?
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
As the private steam lift arrived at the Speaker's Offices and the door opened in front of him, David took a careful step into the foyer. It was just like any other day. Soft music played from a phonograph, and the sweet smell of fresh-cut orchids hung in the air. Light poured in from above and below as the early morning sun shone through both glass ceiling and glass floor. He heard soft giggling from one of the many female assistants as she both resisted and invited the attentions of an orbital guardsman. And that was the source of his hesitation. At least a dozen guards patrolled the office, ever vigilant.
I can do this, just act normal, David thought as he blew out a breath. He walked through the foyer, smiled, and greeted the first guard he passed, something he’d never done before.
The Speaker’s Offices covered ten times the surface area of the old 3rd district offices, bisecting all three floors of the orbital and conveniently situated one door away from the Assembly Room. A spectacular stairway spiraled up the center of the floors, from the first to the third. Amenities included washrooms on all three levels, a fully stocked kitchen, and enough couches to sleep the entire Assembly. Evidently, it had been done. The steam lift he had just exited came directly from a private dock on the bottom of the orbital. No more security checkpoints; no more lines, just a flash of the pass.
The third floor consisted of two doors: one to Speaker Blythe’s palatial office, an apartment really, and one to the open-air promenade deck. David dropped his satchel and coat on a chair as he entered his office. He rested his hands on his hips and chewed his cheek. If Gerald and Hans were here, Blythe was too, something David didn’t expect after the gala. A black cylinder the size of a shoe was not something he could slip under his shirt and walk away with. He had to do this the smart way. David squared his shoulders and walked up the last flight of stairs towards Blythe’s office, but as he reached the top step and looked at Gerald and Hans, his confidence faltered. He stepped up to the office door, knocked, and waited for a moment. When there was no reply, he raised an eyebrow at Hans.
“He was here overnight after the gala,” Hans said, “but got up early to take his lady friend home.”
David smiled, wondering how the fiery redhead would handle the dismissal speech Blythe eventually gave all his young women. It also meant the office was empty.
David nodded. “Could you go to the concierge’s desk and see if he arrived back at the docks yet?”
Hans scowled, but before he could offer protest, David pushed the door open and slipped inside. He stood behind the door just long enough to hear Hans stomp off, grumbling to himself. Then, he ran across the office toward the document vault.
“Just another day at the office. Just another day at the office.” David mumbled to himself as he reached the large, ebony-iron door and started turning the combination dials. He hardly noticed the sheets and comforter laid out on one of the oversized couches, or the three empty bottles of spirits sitting on the coffee table. The desk appeared untouched with its rows of pens perfectly aligned, and stacks of paper precisely arranged. It didn’t take a genius to know that the type of work that went on there was less political and more romantic. David turned the final dial and heard a sharp click as the vault unlocked. He heaved the door open and turned on the light. A room twenty paces in length stretched out in front of him with a double row of file shelves on either side. He poked around the vault, but all he saw were documents. He pulled open the few drawers, but nothing resembled a shoe-sized cylinder. Knowing that any minute his window of opportunity would shut, he grew more frantic as the seconds ticked by. He climbed on top of a box and looked along the top of the shelves. He rifled through reams of documents marked top-secret, and he saw nothing. He stepped back to the door, considering giving up, when he noticed a space between the shelves of files and the floor. He dropped to his hands and knees and peeked under the four-inch gap. Something caught his eye toward the middle of the vault. He slid across the floor and reached his arm under the shelf, grabbing hold of a curious object and scraping it along the floor. It caught on the lip of the shelf. He pulled a few times with panicked grunts before he thought to turn in sideways. It slid free, and he looked at what he had found: a black, oblong cylinder, about a foot in length and five inches in diameter.