“How do you plan to convince him to give it all up?” she asked knowing the answer before the last word left her lips.
Cobble gave her an evil grin as he finished his glass. “Through you,” he said. “We’re going to keep you here hostage until he comes back. You’ll still be able to give orders, or at least mimic the orders I give you until he returns. The lesser people of the Cartel won’t know that you’re not in charge, just the two of us.”
“There is one thing you may be wrong about though?” she said trying desperately to get the upper hand.
“What’s that,” he asked with a cocky grin.
“There is still the possibility he wouldn’t stop you from killing me to keep his position. Then you’d have a dead body on your hands and a very angry leader of the Cartel. I think you’d be lucky to get a quick death. I know Smoke doesn’t want the position, but if you threaten to hurt his friend I think he may be stubborn enough to dig in his heels and see if you’re bluffing. Either way you’re not going to win.”
The look on Cobble’s face was almost priceless. He had a look of utter bewilderment on his face. She could see him racking his brain to try and get the one up on her. She wasn’t going to allow it. “So,” she began, “here’s how things are going to work. I am going to keep you in second in command and you will give me the best council you can muster. You are going to show me you are able to handle this rabble and that you’re capable of leading. When Smoke gets back I will convince him that keeping the role of boss of the Cartel is not what he wants and that he should hand the reigns to you and your future children. This way everyone gets what they want. You get to lead the fourth below, Smoke gets to leave his past behind and I get to continue going after what I’m after. Nobody has to die or get hurt. It’ll all be in accordance to the Cartel’s laws and nobody will have room to argue. Deal?”
Cobble contorted his face again. He thought for a moment before giving her a smile and said, “Deal. I don’t want to kill Smoke or you anyway.”
“Wonderful,” Constance said with a drunken grin.
“What are you after anyway?” Cobble asked. He must have believed the question being asked so directly to be rude. He made an apologetic face and said, “If I may ask.”
Constance took a sip from her previously forgotten glass and said, “I’ll tell you when it’s time. I’ve no doubt you would be able to help me. For now I have some questions.”
“Ask away,” Cobble said seemingly more relaxed.
“Smoke didn’t ask what was in that package. I don’t think he wanted to know. His own father said he didn’t want to know.”
“But you want to know,” Cobble said before she could.
“Exactly, I want to know what is going on here.”
Cobble made the same asking gesture again. Constance nodded and he poured himself another glass of the darkplant liquor. He took another drink before saying, “You’re not going to believe this, but things are changing and a lot of people are very likely going to die.”
Rest was an impossibility. The words Cobble had said rang through her head and left her feeling disoriented, confused and very frightened. She wasn’t quite sure just how to cope with the knowledge she’d been given.
The alcohol had gone to her head and made the room spin whenever she closed her eyes. That was just insult to injury. She needed the alcohol to try and cope with the horrible day she’d had, but the alcohol would only punish her further. She had already vomited on her way back to the Boss’ house.
Cobble had been very gentlemanly and escorted her there, not that she had known where to go to begin with. She honestly thought Cobble was going to do everything he could to get into her good books for the sake of a peaceful negotiation with Smoke; or at the very least do his best to get in her pants. She didn’t think he wanted violence in any way. That put her mind at ease a little, but Smoke’s willing ignorance towards what had been in the package he had carried irritated her immensely. She had no doubt he had already dropped it off and would be on his way to the sixth below. She didn’t know what was down that far, but she didn’t think it was anything good. She had always heard stories of people going missing in the lowest floors never to be seen again by their family or friends. It wasn’t a thought she wanted to think about.
Thoughts continued to bombard her with horrifying thoughts about the future, what Smoke was going through and what lied in wait for her. She closed her eyes again and when the alcohol decided it was going to play nicely she finally drifted off to sleep.
10
When Smoke took on the case to find Blue he had expected to go all the way to the bottom. He had hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that. He had hoped he’d have caught up with her well before he had gotten this far and he’d be on the fast track to the tower. However, this was not the case. He couldn’t help but feel a little discouraged about this; he didn’t want to have to go all the way down to the ninth below.
As the lift driver continued to turn the crank that moved the gears that allowed the platform to move downward, Smoke pulled out the package he’d received from Homer and looked it over. It was wrapped in a brown paper that felt as if it had actually come from a real tree. Smoke didn’t think it was the case, he’d just found a thick form of onionskin that didn’t have the typical transparency and a different feel. He’d have to be as careful as he could with the package, just in case the paper was real.
Curiosity began to take hold as to what was in the package. It looked and felt as if it was filled with papers just as the package before had been. Were they the same papers? He had no intentions of opening it though. If he gave Blaze an opened package he’d assume it had been tampered with and wouldn’t accept it. He’d just have to ask after he had handed the package over.
The trip to the sixth below seemed much longer than the others. He wasn’t sure if it was general impatience brought on by boredom or if the platform had been moving at a much slower pace. Either way, all he wanted was to get off the platform and get moving.
The young woman who drove the lift was strikingly fetching. Her golden hair had been cut short and the muscles she hid beneath her shirt showed with every turn. She had an attractive face that was locked in a state of concentration. He didn’t know why, but the look made her seem even more comely than she may have been otherwise. He’d never seen her before, he didn’t know how long she’d been driving the lift, but since he hadn’t been down this way for quite some time, she could have come in at any point.
The lift’s platform touched down on the sixth below and Smoke took in a deep breath. This was a place he knew would be safe for him. People knew him here and while he didn’t exactly like the company, he was willing to make things easier by being nice.
“You planning on staying on this floor long?” the lift driver asked.
“No,” Smoke said turning back towards her, “I’m going to take the next lift to the seventh below. If I have to I’m probably going to be going all the way to the ninth.”
The driver gave him a seductive look, “Well, if you don’t happen to catch the next lift down today let me know. I’d like to have a drink with you.”
Smoke furrowed his brow, an action he’d found himself doing a lot lately. “Why’s that?” he asked.
“The majority of people I see coming down to this floor are slavers or people looking to buy slaves. It’d be great to have a conversation with someone who wasn’t a part of the slave trade.”
“How do you know I’m not in the slave trade?” Smoke asked with coy amusement.
“You don’t look like it,” she said with a grin. “Anyone looking to buy slaves typically either try to hide their faces as best they can or they are a little boastful about the benefits of slavery.”
“I take it you don’t agree with slavery then,” Smoke said as he placed his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t,” she said. “I can’t get behind the barbaric treatment of people nor can I stand behind a system that allows for the remo
val of someone’s freedoms. Look at the two of us - we are locked into our jobs, but we had the freedom to choose our jobs. We were able to do what we wanted. You could also potentially leave your job as well. I guess I could, though it would cause a lot of people to be trapped for a long time, thus resulting in my eventual and tortuous death. But, the fact of the matter is, I chose my life; I knew what I was getting into when I got into it and I have no intention of leaving.”
Something was off about the way she spoke to him and finished her speech. Something seemed less than truthful. Smoke nodded his head. “I agree,” he said, “though I can’t see anything changing until the slaves themselves rise up and say no. The Nagara have weapons sure, but they are outnumbered by the slaves almost tenfold.”
“This is why I want the conversation,” the lift driver said with a smile.
“What if I get to the lift in time?” Smoke asked.
“I’ll call it bad luck and catch you before you go back up,” she said coyly. “After all, I can stop the lift until I get my way. And if the lift stops guess who they’ll be angry with - it won’t be me.”
Smoke had to stifle his laughter. The woman had managed to discover the perks of being a lift driver. They always got their way. “Alright,” Smoke said with a grin, “If I don’t catch the lift to the seventh below I will for sure let you know and we can go for a drink. Shit, even if it’s going to be a while I’ll come get you.”
The woman smiled and placed her hand over his ear. “I’m Zombie,” she said happily.
“Smoke Callahan,” he replied.
She gave him a slight nod and he turned away from her. The floor was very well lit, allowing for very few shadows to be seen. This was intentional to prevent any escaped slaves from hiding in places where they otherwise wouldn’t be seen. He looked to the buildings with all their boarded-up windows. A product of the floor, with lights being on at all hours they required their rooms to not allow any light in. This would allow for sleep.
As he stepped toward the town he could hear the hustle and bustle of the slaver’s market. It was the sort of place Smoke detested. He had been honest with Zombie earlier when he said he didn’t agree with slavery. It was a detestable trade that had been a staple of human culture for many centuries. A long time ago slavery had been abolished and everyone had begun to work towards a sense of true equality. It wasn’t until the feudal times when slavery had made a comeback. It was a common thing these days. People from the upper undergrounds and even some on the surface and the lower floors of the tower made use of slaves. They were cheaper in the long run than servants and could be abused without any reprimand.
The conversation he’d had with Zombie would have been less of a surprise to Smoke had it been on any other floor. The Nagara slave trade and whether or not an individual agreed with it had been a point of topic for several years amongst the underground. Those who agreed saw their purchase as helping a poor person from the seventh below gain a better standard of living, even if the only things the slave ever received from its owner were a home and food. Those who disagreed saw it as the forced removal of a person’s human rights.
There had been talk of shutting down the slave trade by the upper floors and even by a few of the center floors. Ultimately it was up to the slaves to free themselves. When they decided to be free, there would be no force that could stop them. While Smoke heavily disagreed with slavery, he agreed with that notion.
The moment Smoke stepped into the town he was bombarded with slavers looking to sell their products. Men and women and children sat behind metal bars. Many of them thin and losing hair from malnourishment. Their nearly naked bodies were covered in dirt and filth from head to toe, with greasy hair and missing teeth. Smoke felt remorse for them in the deepest parts of his being. But a slave will always be a slave until they set themselves free.
“Smoke?” a man behind him said.
Smoke didn’t sigh or feel any feeling of anger or anguish. This was one of the only times he had intended to be seen. He wanted to get noticed. He turned to see a man roughly as tall as him though much more heavily built. Roark Taggart stood before him with a massive grin on his face. Roark had been the lift driver the last time he had come down to the sixth below. “Roark!” Smoke said as he approached his old friend. “How the fuck are you?”
They placed their hands over the other’s ears and grinned. “I’m good,” Roark said with a massive toothy grin. “I guess you can see I’m not the lift driver anymore.”
“I did. What happened there?”
“Got tired of the ups and downs,” Roark said with a laugh.
Roark had always been the kind of person to make bad jokes and be the only person to laugh at them. Roark had also been one of those rare lift drivers where a person could hold a conversation with them and not have to worry about falling. Smoke forced himself to laugh at the awful joke and said, “In all seriousness though. What happened?”
Roark’s face lost all the humour. This concerned Smoke. “I can’t tell you,” he said with a loud breathy sigh. “I want to, fuck I really do. I just can’t.”
“Why not?”
Roark sucked his lips in and said, “I just can’t tell you. All I can say is that I found a replacement and she’s doing a great job.”
He could tell it pained Roark to not tell Smoke what was bothering him. He wouldn’t press the issue further. “Alright,” he said with a nod.
“What are you doing down here anyway?” Roark finally asked.
“I’m looking for Blaze,” Smoke said without hesitation.
“You’re in the market?” Roark asked with more surprise than anything.
“Not even close,” Smoke said
“Then what are you looking for him for?”
“I can’t tell you,” Smoke said. He hadn’t intended on parroting what Roark had said to him but it was true.
Roark nodded without any sign of a smile or frown. He just accepted it for what it was, “If I see him I’ll send him your way,” Roark said with a nod. “Where can I say you will be?”
“I’ll be in that tavern there,” Smoke said pointing to a place across the street.
Roark nodded, “Alright, I’ll let him know.”
Smoke raised his eyebrows, nodded in acceptance and turned away. “I’ll see you later Roark,” he said without turning, “and we’ll grab a drink.”
“I’ll make sure that happens,” Roark said with a more joyous tone.
Ten square miles always seemed like a lot of space until it was filled with people. The town within the sixth below had always been a consistent crowd of buyers and sellers and slaves. A crowd to the point that it made Smoke seem uncomfortable. A loner by choice - though not averse to having people around him or near him, but at any given moment there was a point at which Smoke could no longer handle the people. The sixth below seemed more crowded than usual. Smoke had to push his way through the crowd - each person showing a face of discomfort and longing. He didn’t think anyone he saw would be wealthy enough to purchase a slave, but he didn’t care about that. He had a job to do and a means to be on with his journey.
Smoke entered the tavern he had pointed out to Roark to get away from the crowd. The inside wasn’t clear of any crowding, but it had been better than outside. He sat himself at the bar and ordered a drink. Sixth below mulch liquor always had a better flavour than the majority of the underground floors. It was to keep the high paying customers happy and gave them the incentive to come back.
Smoke thought about the slave trade, and though he hated it and thought very little good came from it, he also knew that it had been the majority of his business to track down the runaways. He took a drink of the mulch liquor that had just been placed in front of him as he thought about all the good that came from the bad and vice versa.
The door opened and a large dark skinned Nagara man waked through the door. He had grey hair and white dots tattooed along his face. The white dots signified the man’s standing among other slav
ers. Blaze Pox was a Nagara of high repute.
Blaze Pox looked towards the bar and grinned when he spotted Smoke, “Sm’k m’ ma,” he said gleefully as he approached the bar, “Hw y’ b’n?”
Smoke had taken a lot of time learning to understand the Nagara’s use of a shattered version of the Common Tongue that passed for a language in these parts. It was not something easy to learn, especially since they had a tendency to leave no spaces between the broken words which left most people thinking the Nagara had said nothing more than a long stream of gibberish. Smoke didn’t care enough to learn how to speak the Nagara language though, his tongue didn’t move in quite the right way. It was okay; the majority of the Nagara understood the much slower proper Common Tongue that had been spoken.
“I’m alright Blaze. How’s business?”
“Sld a fw slvs tdy. Slwn dow tow.”
Smoke nodded in understanding, “Any idea as to why things are slowing down?”
Blaze gave Smoke a wide grin, “Ya, inten. Ting chan rnd ‘ere. Ned t’ redu stk.”
“Why though, what would make you need to reduce stock?” Smoke asked before taking another sip of the mulch liquor.
Blaze held two fingers in the air and the barkeep approached him. He ordered a full bottle of the mulch liquor and had it placed between the two men. “Thr’s mr y’ d’n no,” Blaze said as he poured himself a glass of the mulch liquor.
“Really?” Smoke said in disbelief. “I’m a smart guy. I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Na,” Blaze said taking a drink. “F y’ havn figr towt ye, you prob won.”
“Tell me then,” Smoke said. “What’s going on?”
“Na,” was all Blaze said.
The two men sat in silence for a short while. They both took turns drinking from their glasses until Smoke’s was empty. Blaze made a gesture showing Smoke he could help himself to the bottle. Smoke proceeded to fill his glass again. “I hrd y’ bn lkn fr m,” Blaze finally said.
“I was,” Smoke said pulling the stack of paper sized package. “I got this from the Worms. They wanted me to bring this down to you.”
The Engine What Runs the World Page 13