by TW Iain
Of course, her impression of the man had initially been that he was bad news, intent on trouble, and should at all costs be removed from the situation. And wasn’t that why she’d cashed in so many favours, entered those disturbing deals in order to bring in her own assistance, those two assassins she’d tasked with ending Rodin’s life?
She often wondered what would have happened had they succeeded. In a perfect rendering of the situation, her pair would have removed the assassin far from her rooms, his body never recovered. Her assassins would have faded back into the districts, their accounts buoyed from Shae’s own, and Leopold would have still been a Councillor. But what then? Authority would have sent someone else to end Leopold’s influence, and Shae may well have been forced to seek further assistance from beyond the glass.
And from this a twisted idea rose, repulsive in the extreme. But what other options did she have, when all other channels, official or otherwise, had garnered no success?
She’d made no record of the contacts she’d used before, but the details were etched into her mind, forever conjoined with the murders she’d witnessed in her own rooms.
It was with trembling fingers that she entered those details into her screen once more.
- 43 -
She’d been dreaming, so when she heard Rodin’s voice, Paskia thought she was still asleep. But he smelt of outside, and when he spoke there was none of the tenderness of the Brodie in her dreams.
His words hit home, and she sat up. “What kind of problem?”
“Read.” He thrust a screen at her, a message displayed. She read.
“All communications compromised? Must be, if she’s calling for a blackout.”
“Yep. Need to sort something out.”
“Right.”
She’d already pushed the bedding aside, and now she pulled on her boots—there would be time to shower and change later. “Wake the others,” she said.
Rodin nodded, went around the room, rocking the lumps of bedding—Uran and Gorrin. Vanya and Irazette were out on patrol.
“Need to tell the other two,” she said.
“Can’t,” he said as Uran and Gorrin moaned.
She slammed her hand on the light control, and they shielded their eyes, moaned even more. “Up,” she said. “Meeting, now. And bring every screen.”
Five minutes later they sat at the table. Paskia had read the message on Rodin’s screen—had found a copy on her own, too, before she cut connectivity—and Uran and Gorrin stared back at her, mouths wide open.
“First job, cut every screen. Connectivity, or overall power. Uran, might need to do something with the door screens too, ensure they’re only local.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
“Now.”
“Right.” He rubbed his eyes, then pushed his chair back, the scraping sound going right through her.
Gorrin reached for the few screens Rodin hadn’t already dealt with.
The door alert buzzed. Uran jumped. Paskia found her hand resting on the blade at her hip. Hadn’t recalled attaching it, though—must’ve slept while wearing the sheath. Probably a good thing.
The door opened, and Vanya stepped through.
“Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack,” Uran said.
Vanya didn’t smile. She held up her screen. “Got a message from Genna?”
Rodin nodded. “We know. You secure?”
“Cut connectivity as soon as I read it.” She glanced around the room. “Irazette still out?”
Paskia checked the chrono on her screen. “Should be back soon. But we can’t wait. Vanya, get yourself a drink and sit down.”
Vanya frowned, but did what Paskia suggested. It hadn’t been an order—Paskia was very clear about that. Wasn’t her place to order the warrior around. It was a request, between friends. Yes, friends.
Paska shook her head. She had to stay focused. This was her operation. Genna wanted them to organise the other forces in the area. Paskia had to remain in control of herself.
She noticed that the warrior removed her jacket first, placed it over the back of a chair. Paskia didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.
“So what are our options?” Paskia said. “Can’t call anyone up for advice, so we need to deal with this on our own.”
“Can’t contact everyone on the list either,” Vanya said, pulling a pained expression. “Suppose Jornas might try.”
“Does he knows what’s happening?”
Vanya tapped her screen. “Third contact on the message. He knows.”
“But he’d be a fool to reach out to anyone.”
“Fool or desperate.”
“Won’t that cause problems?” Gorrin asked. “If we’re compromised—I mean, if he’s compromised—won’t that let Authority know what’s going on?”
If they don’t know already, Paskia thought.
“There are other ways of communicating,” Rodin said. He had his screen out, tapped away at what looked like a map. “Saved this locally. Been checking known locations, stuff like that.”
“You’ve got an idea?” Vanya leaned in, read Rodin’s screen upside-down.
He nodded. “Risky. And we’ll need to be fast. Will need to send a few messages.”
“No!” Uran returned to the table, sat down hard. “We can’t risk it.”
Paskia held out a hand, and Uran reddened. “Everything’s a risk,” she said. “We can’t sit here and do nothing, though. Rodin, tell us.”
His shoulders jerked in what could have been a shrug. “Send locations with strict times. Meet them—small groups, easier to move around without being spotted—and tell them the situation.”
“We’ll need more than that,” Paskia said. “Still need some way of relaying information.”
“That’s why we have a meeting. That’s the other thing we tell them. Use the Brothers’ place.”
“Will Jorans agree to that?”
Rodin definitely shrugged this time. “Someone needs to make a decision. And it’s his district, right?”
“Diplomatic solution.” And Paskia was impressed, was reminded once again how quickly Rodin’s mind worked.
“Risky,” Vanya said. “Everyone in the same location. If Authority gets wind of it…”
She didn’t need to add anything more. Paskia imagined the slaughter, and her stomach tightened. “Then we post look-outs. Us.” She waved a hand around the table. “Strategic locations, straight line back to warn of anyone incoming. Uran, Gorrin and Irazette.”
Uran frowned. “Just the three of us?”
“I can make a fourth,” she said.
But Vanya shook her head. “Reckon you need to be at the meeting.”
“Thought you and Rodin could cover that.”
“We’ll be there. But you’re in charge here. And you’re good at organising stuff—well, you’re doing a decent job with your crew here.”
“But not with a large group. I…”
Rodin held up a hand, and Paskia stopped.
“Can sort that out later. Need to reach everyone on the list first.” He pushed his screen over to Vanya. “This look doable?”
They sat too far away, and Paskia could only see dots on the map, some kind of key on a separate text box. If she squinted, she could make out numbers that might have been distances, or possibly time. Maybe both.
“Cutting it fine,” Vanya said. “Not left much time for getting around.”
“We need to do this quickly.”
“We?” Paskia leaned in, could see the lines connecting the dots on the map now. “How many of us are meeting those on the list?”
“Thought I’d do it.”
“With Vanya.”
Rodin shook his head. “She’s only just got back.”
“So have you.”
“She was out before me.”
“And you can’t do everything.” Paskia wondered if she should raise her voice—she felt
like she wanted to. That might shake the stubborn fool up.
“You and your crew need to plan security,” he said. “Might need to find a new location too.”
That was something Paskia hadn’t considered—if Authority was monitoring their communications, they could work back to the base.
She turned to Uran. “Check the evacuation packs again.” He frowned, so she cut off any arguments. “Just in case.” And she reached out, rested a hand on his arm.
She hated herself for doing that, for being so manipulative. But it got the job done—he nodded, swallowed, then rose and went to the storage units. He pulled out packs, opened them, and began rifling through the contents.
“Need them ready to grab without thought,” she said. “Thorough check.”
“Yeah. Course.” His face reddened again, and he started pulling contents from the first pack, arranging it on the floor.
“Gorrin,” Paskia said, and he sat up straight, eager eyes boring into her. “Take it we’ve got some maps stored locally. Pull them up, figure out the best place for sentries around the Brothers’ place. And Vanya?”
The warrior turned. Her face was grimy from her hours outside, and the tape that held her jacket sleeve together was coming loose. Rodin was right—she could do with a rest.
“You reckon you and Rodin can get round that list between you?”
Vanya smiled. Rodin rolled his eyes, but he didn’t complain.
“Not a problem. He could do with someone prodding him every so often. Keep him awake.”
The humour was forced, but it brought a smile to Paskia’s face all the same.
“Thanks.”
“Thank us when we’ve got through everyone.” Vanya stood, pulling her jacket from the back of the chair, looked over to Rodin. “You coming?”
He powered down his screen, stowed it in his jacket. “Sure.”
Vanya reached the door in a couple of steps. Rodin stood, pushed his chair under the table.
Over by the storage units, Gorrin continued to check the evacuation packs. Gorrin had a screen open, was swooping over a map of the area.
Rodin turned to Paskia, and she stood. She rested one hand on the table, felt her legs shake. She needed something to drink, needed to wake up properly.
The corners of Rodin’s mouth turned up, and his cheeks puffed. When he was Brodie he had dimples when he smiled, but the stubble on his chin hid that now. And there was a scar on the right side of his face, another down by his neck. She thought how scars were dead flesh.
“See you,” Rodin said, and joined Vanya at the door.
- 44 -
Rodin ran, long lolloping strides, arms by his sides, the kind of pace he used to keep up for a couple of hours. Frustrating that he already had a stitch growing, though. Fortunate for him that the Brothers’ house was close.
It appeared deserted, the lights from previous visits no longer illuminated, but as he stepped to the gate a now-familiar pair of guards approached.
“Bit early,” one of them said as the gate opened and Rodin walked through. Seemed he wasn’t considered a risk now.
“Don’t want to disturb his beauty sleep, but you know how it is.”
“Never said he was asleep.”
They let him into the building, and a guard took Rodin to a room on the ground floor, a food prep with a round table. Jornas sat there, steaming mug to one side, untouched bowl of fruit in front of him. Not the kind of diet Rodin expected, but it wasn’t his place to judge.
“Rodin.” Jornas nodded in greeting, waved a hand to a chair. His face was drawn and grey.
Rodin shook his head. “Can’t stay long, but thanks for the hospitality. Just needed to let you know—district systems are compromised.”
Jornas nodded. “Got the message. Our mutual enemies from the Factory?”
“Safe assumption. Can’t trust screens, though. Assume they’re intercepting every communication.”
Jornas hid his concern well with a twist of his face and a shake of his head.
“But we’ve secured assistance,” Rodin continued. “On my way to rendezvous, and I’m sending them all here.”
The man’s features twitched, a smile fighting with a frown. “To my home?”
“Your district, right? Makes sense.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. How many extra personnel should I expect?”
Rodin ran through the data in his mind, the names on the lists, pushed his suspicions aside for the moment.
“Hopefully enough.” Rodin couldn’t afford to raise the man’s hopes, not after the blows he’d already suffered. “They won’t be sleeping here, just using your place for information and instructions.” Not the answer the man wanted, but it would have to do. “Not a problem, is it?”
Jornas shook his head. “No problem at all. We—I have a room that can be used for briefings and discussion. And my supplies are well stocked.” He sat back, all business now, trying hard. “You have a time-frame for their arrival?”
“First few should be here in twenty, all present by midday.”
“And what do you see me doing?”
Rodin shrugged. “Make them feel comfortable. Start getting feedback. This is the heart of your district now, right?” Give the man something to focus on.
“Absolutely.” The man’s face paled, and his brow grew slick. “Go gather the troops, and I’ll keep them entertained.”
“Sure.”
The man smiled, but that didn’t fool Rodin one bit.
The figure in the alley hunkered down behind the crates stacked to the left as Rodin stepped from the street. He only spotted them through the micro-Eye that poked around the corner, too obvious against the backdrop of that rusted metal door.
Rodin stepped further into the alley, turned to watch the streets. A sign—you have nothing to fear from me, and I refuse to fear you.
A second figure hovered around the alley entrance, just to the right. Rodin crossed his arms and waited.
One minute to the stipulated time. Rodin expected three people at this rendezvous.
The one behind the crates was quiet, didn’t move—disciplined, then. The one by the entrance to the alley used a screen to look round the corner.
“Barena?” Rodin used tone rather than volume, didn’t change his stance. “Philack? Mash?”
The micro-Eye disappeared, and the person behind the crate shuffled. The screen around the corner of the alley tilted.
Rodin lifted his arms. “I’m not a threat. We’re all on the same side here.”
“You guarantee that?” The voice was rough, came from the end of the alley. Possibly female.
“Can only speak for myself. You’re professionals, though. Make your own judgement calls.”
He waited. The screen retreated, and a patch of darkness shifted. A creak sounded behind Rodin. He stepped to the side, closer to the wall of the alley. As he turned, he saw the second figure emerge from behind the crates.
They closed in slowly. The one at the alley entrance was female, well built, hard face, hand hovering by a range of blades at her waist. The other was skinny, in tight clothing, mask covering the lower half of his face. Male, with sharp eyes and the movements of a caged beast.
They stopped a few paces from each other, Rodin forming the third point of the triangle.
He turned to the female. “Barena?” She gave a cautious nod, and Rodin turned to the male. “Philack? Or Mash?”
“Always thought that was a ridiculous name,” he said in a half-whisper that might have been from a throat injury, might have been from the muffling of his mask. “Mash said he had a separate appointment.”
“Acquaintance?”
“Worked together in the past. Good man.” Philack’s eyes darted to Barena, his hand hovering over his hip. “Don’t know this one, though.”
“Means I’m better at keeping in the shadows than you, boy,” she said. “Heard that old woman whipped you pretty good.”
&nb
sp; “She caught me by surprise.” Philack moved closer, hand resting on the hilt of his blade now. “And maybe you haven’t heard what happened next.”
Rodin stepped forward, both hands empty, palms out. “Don’t care about your pasts,” he said. “This is a new job.”
Barena shot him a mean glare. “Baby-sitting arseholes like him?”
Rodin tightened his arm, the one closest to Philack. The man narrowed his eyes and stood side-on.
“Nothing binding,” Rodin said. “You want to walk, you walk. Doubt those you work for would be too happy about that, though?”
“You speak for them?” Barena’s eyes travelled his body, and her sneer said she wasn’t impressed.
“As much as anyone can.” And Rodin wondered how true that was, if being Genna’s envoy gave him the right to speak for both Borinoff and Dephloren. “Served them in the past. Fair, but they expect the best. Not the kind of people I’d want to piss off.”
Barena turned her attention to Philack again—but Rodin noted how her eyes darted around the whole alley, how she seemed aware of the street even though she had her back to it. And Philack hadn’t drawn his blade, just stood in readiness, poised for fight or flight, in perfect control.
These two could be useful allies. Rodin had to assume the third would have been, too.
The one who had another rendezvous.
Two lists, one from Dephloren and one from Borinoff, both so similar in size.
This meant something, and Rodin started to believe he knew what that was. It didn’t fill him with confidence.
“Got a tight time-frame,” Rodin said, taking a step back. “Our communication’s compromised. Yours too—districts-wide. Can’t rely on screens, so we have to meet up. Got a base of operations, you’ll get more details there.”
“So you expect us to follow you?” Philack said, his eyes still on Barena.
Rodin shook his head. “More friends to gather. I’ll give you the location.”
“You expect us to walk together?” Barena asked.
“However you want to get there. Ten minutes away. You’re expected. Might even get a drink.”