by Beth Cato
If Ingrid hadn’t been so frustrated and scared, she might have been honored to be regarded as such a threat, but right now she had a more pressing concern.
Dawn. That would be about five o’clock. That’s when the attack—whatever it was—would begin. She had to be at Mussel Rock by then. That gave her six or seven hours to get there. Hopefully Fenris’s Bug was fully functional and fast.
“What have you found out about the missing kermanite?” Ingrid asked.
“I believe you’re here to answer my questions, Miss Carmichael.”
“What you believe and what will happen are very separate things. Please, have you learned anything?” Desperation edged her voice.
“It hasn’t been recovered, I can tell you that much.” He stood, smartly tugging his jacket down as he did. “But I have learned many things in the past few days that may be quite relevant to this case. First of all, on the subject of missing kermanite, I found it peculiar that the Cordilleran Auxiliary’s vault was completely empty.”
“Completely empty?” Had all of it been transported in Mr. Thornton’s autocar? If so, it was a wonder the weight hadn’t broken the axels of the rusty clunker. “I was in the vault last Friday when we fetched kermanite for an urgent shipment to the A-and-A. The bins were full.”
“Not anymore. No point in losing kermanite during the explosion, correct?” He stared at her in clear expectation of a reaction, and when none came, he continued: “We already know that the blast wasn’t from a boiler malfunction. Several high-powered explosives of Chinese make were set in such a way as to target both the meeting room and the classrooms.”
She frowned as she followed Captain Sutcliff’s logic. Mr. Sakaguchi was regarded as antagonistic to his own people and sympathetic to the Chinese. These Thuggees had clearly set up the Chinese to be the scapegoats for this attack. Mr. Sakaguchi hadn’t died in the blast, so it was even easier to presume his guilt.
“Back at Quist’s, I overheard that Thuggee talking with Miss Rossi. He admitted to the attack on the auxiliary.”
“How convenient, to blame the Thuggees for the auxiliary and this attack to come. They make such romantic villains, don’t they? Perfect for those wretched pulp novels. Was this fellow young, dark, and handsome in a heathen way? Did he wear his killing scarf at his waist so you would be sure to identify his affection for Kali?”
Ingrid shook with rage, heat buzzing on her skin. “Don’t make a mockery of the explosion of the auxiliary or the man who caused it. That was my second home. I knew everyone there. I loved them.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay in control. “I never saw the man. I could barely hear them from where I was. He had a British accent.”
The captain shook his head in dismissal. “As if that narrows down the suspects. The woman with this Thuggee, you know her?”
“Yes. Miss Rossi. A photographer. She used to have a studio next to the auxiliary.”
“A woman photographer? She owned this studio?”
“Yes. And was run out of business for not paying the city enough in graft.” Ingrid couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger on behalf of Miss Rossi, even as she wanted to slap her.
“More likely she couldn’t balance the books.” Despite his derisive comment, Sutcliff pulled a notepad and pencil from his pocket and scribbled notes. “The building beside the auxiliary, you said? That vacant shop?”
“Yes. She commented tonight at how happy she was that it had been destroyed.”
Sutcliff grunted and tucked the paper away again. “Well. That many explosives, it was inevitable. Quite a miracle, however, that you and the Japanese warden survived. It’s my belief that you knew exactly where to stand, that you had shelter of some sort.”
“Knew where to stand? You were there! We were completely encased by debris, and injured as well!”
“Geomancy is a particular sort of magic. I don’t pretend to understand its nuances, and I’m not sure anyone really does,” he said. Ingrid’s blood ran cold. Did he suspect her of possessing power as well, by association with her father? “All I know is that there were two survivors from the wreckage, and two wardens who were not present. Those two wardens are now classified as a murder victim and a missing person.”
“A murder victim?”
“Yes, your Mr. Calhoun. Arsenic poisoning. Quite a heavy dose, I might add.”
“Arsenic?” she whispered. The world spun slightly and she caught herself against the table.
“The problem with arsenic—for criminals, at least—is that it stays in the body a very long time and is quite easily detected by chemical analysis. Tell me about arsenic, Miss Carmichael.”
“You’re implying I had something to do with this?”
He turned his palms up. “I’m asking what you know about it. Poison is often considered a woman’s method, but to be blunt, I don’t know if it’s yours.”
There were so many insults woven into that single statement that she didn’t even know how to begin her rebuttal. “What about Mr. Thornton? I hope you haven’t focused on me so much that you haven’t bothered looking for him. I’m afraid the Thuggees have him. He might be dead. All the other wardens are.” Except Mr. Sakaguchi. She had to hold on to that hope.
“Of course we’ve looked for the man. His house was ransacked, as you know. Witnesses saw you arrive by foot and leave by car.”
“Yes. I was there. I saw it was ransacked. The phone didn’t work. I immediately returned home so I could ask Mr. Sakaguchi for advice.”
“Ah. Your Mr. Sakaguchi, who you have conveniently misplaced.”
“Soon after I arrived home, he was shot. That’s why there’s so much blood in his study. Someone was out in the garden. Then he was . . . he was kidnapped. I ran . . . escaped.”
Captain Sutcliff sighed so heavily his shoulders slumped. “Yes, I witnessed your escape from the very troops who would have assisted you. Hardly the act of an innocent person.”
As if Captain Sutcliff had ever presumed her and Mr. Sakaguchi to be innocent. “We’re wasting time here. You have to get to Quist’s and find Miss Rossi. She’s in a bright red velvet dress. She’d be hard to miss. Please—”
“Miss Carmichael.” Captain Sutcliff leaned forward. “What do you know about your father?”
Her fingers dug into the edge of the table. He’d been biding his time to bring this up. “Abram Carmichael was a warden and a geomancer, and he was killed when I was very young. I don’t even remember him.”
“And what would you say if I told you he was alive until recently?”
Until recently? She had expected Sutcliff to wield the truth against her like a knife—but this? “That can’t be. You’re mistaken.”
“I read the report. He’s gone, Miss Carmichael.”
“Gone.” The word resonated in her mouth. She stared into her trembling hands, willing herself to stay strong. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe her father was at peace now, no longer able to cause so much mayhem. But it would have been wonderful to meet him, just once. Say hello. But now, now . . . Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, but she resisted the urge to sniffle. Her chin stayed high.
Captain Sutcliff leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, clearly discomfited by her emotions. He motioned to one of his men. A soldier slipped out and returned, setting a glass of water on the table before her. She glanced up in gratitude and took a sip.
“Where?” she finally managed to choke out.
“He was in China, working with the rebellion to fill kermanite.”
No, she wanted to say. He wasn’t working for China. He was used as a weapon against the Chinese, more destructive than any hellfire, any Durendal.
“As for how he got there,” Sutcliff continued, “Warden Sakaguchi smuggled him out of the country twenty years ago. The Japanese government has letters, evidence of them corresponding over the years. This past year, Japan censured Sakaguchi. He’s forbidden to leave the Bay Area. I’ll take a guess that he’s violating that order right now.”
/>
“Then why didn’t they arrest him? Put him before a tribunal?”
“The case was likely still being built against him.” Sutcliff’s mustache twitched. “With the evidence I’ve gathered, I’m sure judgment will be swift. But I need to find the man, Miss Carmichael.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She stood, drying her cheeks with quick swipes. “Once you’ve found him, Captain, please let me know. I should head home. It’s past my bedtime.”
The two soldiers at the door sidestepped to block her.
“It’s very late,” said Sutcliff. “Not an hour for a proper lady to be wandering the streets alone. And where would you even go? You haven’t been home in days. I do wonder what tong you’re working with in Chinatown, but interrogation on that subject can wait. The matter of the auxiliary and the kermanite is enough for now.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“The correct term is protective custody. One of my superiors is on a Wyvern set to arrive here at dawn.” His nostrils flared. He didn’t seem too pleased that he would soon no longer be the ranking officer. “They wish to question you. If you cooperate now, it’ll make matters easier.”
“It would also reflect much better on you.”
“Miss Carmichael.” Captain Sutcliff stood and looked at her levelly. Weary sincerity weighted his gaze. “This isn’t about me. This is about the security of the United States. This is about a piece of kermanite that could be utilized as a very dangerous weapon against us. I don’t want that to happen.”
His loyalty was to America, not the Unified Pacific. A noteworthy distinction, and one Mr. Sakaguchi had made as well.
“I don’t want it to happen either. That’s why I want to stop this attack that’s about to happen. I’m not trying to deceive you or distract you. They’re meeting with others at Mussel Rock at dawn. Please. Send men there. Stop whatever they’re trying to do.”
He stared at her a long moment, frowning in thought. “Miss Carmichael, even if some attack is imminent, it’s not going to be carried out with this piece of kermanite. It would take months, if not years, to engineer a machine able to tap that much power, and take countless hours for geomancers to fill it.”
“I don’t know how this could involve the kermanite either, but this Thuggee admitted to blowing up the auxiliary. Please—”
Captain Sutcliff raised a hand. “Don’t demean yourself by begging,” he said, but hesitated, frowning. Watching his face, Ingrid could almost see the cogs turn in his brain. She had to push him; she had to reveal the cards in her hand.
“I know about the Gaia Project,” she whispered.
Captain Sutcliff’s frown deepened. He motioned to the other soldiers and they filed from the room. The captain shut the door behind them.
“The Gaia Project,” he echoed.
“It’s something I only just found out about, but Mr. Sakaguchi wasn’t part of it. He was trying to stop it.”
“There have been rumors of it, but I heard it’d been scrapped . . .” He stopped, as if remembering who he spoke to.
“The weapon’s already been used in China and killed hundreds of thousands. I know what you want to say, that those lives don’t mean anything.” She took a deep breath. “If you’ve been researching Mr. Sakaguchi, his beliefs, you know he’s been central to any humanitarian effort the auxiliary’s done. Mr. Sakaguchi isn’t simply a Chinese sympathizer. He’s a life sympathizer. He was even arguing we should send help to Italy for Vesuvius, right before the building . . .” She couldn’t say it. “He wouldn’t be a part of something destructive, and neither would I.”
“All I know is that the project is run more by Japan than the UP, and it’s supposed to end the war.”
“If you have superior officers coming, maybe I should talk to them. Maybe they would know more . . .” Her voice trailed away as she pieced the scenario together.
This Thuggee was meeting his compatriots at a critical juncture of the local faults. He’d taken care to kill all of the other geomancers in the city, all the men who could absorb and stop a quake. What if these Thuggees had somehow infiltrated the Gaia Project and knew how to replicate the attacks on Peking, even without Papa? What if they had hold of the missing kermanite, or even another unusually large chunk?
They could simultaneously destroy the city and fill the crystal, if they had the skills of a geomancer. Mr. Thornton. Hurting him wouldn’t provoke the earth, but if they had other means to do that, Mr. Thornton could certainly channel energy into kermanite. He wasn’t of Ingrid or Papa’s caliber, but he was a senior warden for a reason.
Ingrid didn’t see any easy option here. She took several deep breaths and steeled herself. “Captain Sutcliff, if you won’t send anyone after Miss Rossi and her companion, let me go. Let me try to stop them. I swear to you, I’ll come back here afterward to meet these officers. Willingly.”
“The odd thing is, I believe you.” Captain Sutcliff frowned, perplexed at this change. She could have wept again in relief.
Someone rapped on the door. “Captain?”
Captain Sutcliff took a step back from her. “Yes?”
A subordinate opened the door and saluted. His face was eerily white. “Sir, there’s an Ambassador here.”
“An Ambassador?” Ingrid echoed. Could it be Mr. Roosevelt? Would that be a good or bad thing, to be interrogated by the very man she was supposed to flee to for sanctuary?
Sutcliff stiffened. “The name?”
“Blum, sir.”
At that, Sutcliff paled. “Her? Of all of them?” He shot a glance at Ingrid. “God help you.”
“There’s a woman Ambassador?” Ingrid asked. Of the Twelve, only a few were known to the public, and she’d never heard of a woman named Blum. Perhaps she would be more sympathetic to Ingrid’s plight.
“Move along, young man.” A gnarled hand pushed the surprised soldier back. An old woman stood in the doorway. Her back was pole straight, posture regal, though her head likely only came to Ingrid’s chest. Silver hair was pulled back into a bun so tight that the skin seemed strained at the cheekbones. Her pure ivory complexion contained fine wrinkles, but very few. There was no sagging, no ugliness. Dark almond-shaped eyes regarded Ingrid. A black dress hugged her stout form, ermine collar like a mane around her face. With her attire and demeanor, she could have easily mingled with the wealthy throngs at the Damcyan.
This was no mere Ambassador, though. Ingrid could taste the woman’s presence like an electrical charge to the air. She emanated magic.
“I’m Ambassador Blum. You are Captain Sutcliff, I assume? And why were you alone with this young lady?”
The captain looked absolutely flummoxed. “Questioning her on sensitive matters, Ambassador. I didn’t expect you to arrive until morning.”
“Sensitive matters, hmm?” The woman eyed them up and down. Ingrid flushed at the scrutiny.
“Ambassador, due to your, er, fluctuating condition, I must verify your identity.” Sutcliff unsheathed a knife from his belt. As he swung the blade, she extended her right arm as if to help.
His blade snapped against her wrist. Literally. The metal shattered without piercing the skin. Ambassador Blum didn’t even recoil.
Ingrid did, curling back and half swallowing a scream. Metal shards pinged on the floor.
“Satisfied, Captain?” Ambassador Blum sounded bored. She flexed her wrist to show the jade ring on her finger.
Ingrid’s eyes widened. The signet ring of an Ambassador. An enchantment prevented any act of violence that would part the ring from the body. Only a quorum of seven Ambassadors could remove it.
Blum’s heady magic didn’t radiate from that, though—she was something more.
Captain Sutcliff dropped the broken knife. The hilt clattered on the floor. Tucked at his back, his fingers trembled, and he clenched them in a fist. “My pardon, Ambassador.” He bowed.
Blum flicked her fingers. “I’m accustomed to such tests.”
A soldier stooped
to clean up the pieces of the broken blade.
With Sutcliff clearly rattled, Ingrid seized the opportunity. “Hello, Ambassador. I’m Ingrid Carmichael. I would like to—”
“I am not terribly concerned with what you’d like to do, Miss Carmichael. I represent the Unified Pacific and its interests, not yours. Though you are fortunate that I was already on the West Coast in anticipation of announcements from Baranov. I shudder to think of what fool things this captain would have done otherwise.”
What kind of operation was going on in Baranov? That was Russia’s chunk of wilderness attached to Canada.
Ingrid looked to Captain Sutcliff. His countenance hadn’t improved much. His jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring as he breathed. What did he know about Blum that Ingrid did not?
Ambassador Blum followed Ingrid’s gaze to the captain. “You’re dismissed, for now. Leave your men to take shifts here during the night.”
“My pardon, madam.” He bowed with the stiffness of a clockwork toy soldier.
“We ladies require privacy.” The Ambassador returned her piercing gaze to Ingrid, and like that, Sutcliff was dismissed. The door shut behind him with a sharp click.
“First things first. Did this Captain Sutcliff offend you or put his hands on you in an inappropriate way?” The heavy presence of sorcery felt almost as if the air itself cowered from touching Blum.
“Inappropriate way? He brought me here! That’s inappropriate enough. I’m supposedly under protective custody.”
“Well, yes, he would have to term it so for the paperwork. I’m not limited in that way. I can just take you.” Ambassador Blum smiled brightly. “We should have grabbed Sakaguchi months ago and nipped this in the bud, but, well, politics and all. The man does have friends.”
“Mr. Sakaguchi hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Really? Hmm.” Blum craned her neck up, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know about this room. We have four floors above us and a basement below, but I need to completely survey the place. Excuse me, child, while I inspect the premises.”