by O. J. Lowe
Helga bowed her head, strangely submissive at the sound of his words. Nick wondered what had happened to the brusque, threatening attitude, the confident prowl of a cat alone in its own kingdom he’d seen earlier. She slid back out the room, closed the door behind her with a click.
“You’ll have to forgive Ms Carlow,” Frewster said. “She’s a pussycat normally but a tiger when I want her to be.”
Nick blinked. Carlow. Why did that name sound familiar to him? Frewster carried on as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary, just gestured for him to sit and Nick obliged, sinking down into the couch with relief.
“Nicholas James Roper,” Frewster said, giving him his full name, which surprised him. “The hero of Carcaradis Island. I didn’t expect them to send their latest celebrity.” He let a note of amusement into his voice, Nick tried to brush it off. He’d heard them all before. “I’ve seen the footage of you running around. Good form, to be sure, but I’d say your efforts at secrecy could be better.”
“I think we could all have used more secrecy that day,” Nick said, his voice soft in the firelight. “I didn’t want to do what I ended up doing that day. I saw people die. Not all of them deserved it either.” He thought of Noorland and Fank Aldiss to name but two of the many, the two that had cut the closest to his own life. “We did what we had to. Coppinger wants to play the game by her own rules.”
“Can’t be having that,” Frewster said, a note of sympathy ringing in his voice. “Are you having any luck in finding her?”
“That’s classified,” Nick said automatically. He shrugged. Might as well tell it like it was, the secrets were open amongst the agency. “You keep track of the news. It’s about as accurate as it gets unfortunately. Nothing on Coppinger or Rocastle or Wim Carson or Jake Costa. Mazoud is out of reach for the time being. Domis Di Carmine hasn’t been seen since he murdered Nwakili and there’s no guarantee that we could kill him even if he did poke his head out the ground. Any victories we get, they’re small. You’ll take them when they come but you’d trade the lot of them for the chance to take one of the bigger players off the board.”
“Out of a thousand small cuts, even mighty beasts may bleed to death,” Frewster said sagely. He inclined his head towards the drink’s cabinet. “Do you require a drink? Take your mind off things?”
Nick shook his head, gave the room a slow glance. How much history had been witnessed in here? Frewster had had the house for years, this was his private office. Everything in here was the symbol of another time, one that had long since died and they weren’t getting back. Even if Coppinger was killed tomorrow, she’d have achieved her goals to devastating effect.
The kingdoms had changed beyond recognition. Unity would have gone. Removing her might not even remove the threat that she offered. There’d been too many fractions. Nations were gearing up for a war in the first stages of full bloom. Vazara under Mazoud was ready to pick a fight with anyone who stepped up to take the challenge. They might not win, especially if the other four kingdoms united and smacked them down, they wouldn’t surrender without blood.
Going back to what they had wasn’t even entirely an option when some parts of Serran and Burykia were already talking about whether she was right or not to do what she’d done. They were talking about the merits of it in the Senate.
If those thoughts weren’t enough to drive him to drink, he didn’t know what would. He had to remain strong though. Rise above it. He’d never been a big drinker, the last thing he wanted to do was get legless in front of Frewster when he was supposed to be being professional. He shook his head again.
“Sorry,” he said. “But thanks. Got a speeder waiting outside. On that note…” He was pleased with the way he’d managed to change the subject rapidly. “Mister Frewster…”
“If you’ll allow me to call you Nicholas, I’ll permit you to call me Brennan.” Another toothy grin, another small chuckle and the hint of rose in the cheeks that made Nick want to smile.
“Okay, Brennan. I need to ask you before we descend further into small talk. What do you want with me? What can Unisco do to aid you in your times of trouble?”
Frewster sighed, got to his feet and rose towards the drink’s cabinet, poured himself a large measure of firebrandy and shook his head.
“Nicholas, I’ve lived a long life. I’ve seen things that ordinary men should never have to see. I’ve seen the fantastic and the horrific, great beauty and terrific ugliness in a world threatening to break apart for a long time now.” He brought back his glass, drained the contents in two large gulps. Nick was privately impressed. Drinking firebrandy like that without choking was an impressive achievement. That stuff could sear the muscle from the throat given the chance.
“I want you to do something for me,” he said. “I want you to listen to my story, then I want you to help me. The last request of an old man who isn’t long for this world.” Frewster glanced at him. “Are you perhaps sure that I can’t ask Helga to fix you food, or a drink perhaps? Something to help you relax yourself, make you comfortable.”
Nick shook his head again. “No, thank you, but I’d like to hear this if you think it’s important, Sir. I don’t want any sort of distractions.”
“Once I tell it, dear boy, I won’t stop. It’ll go until the end. A story like no other you’ll ever have heard, believe me on that one.” Frewster smiled, the sorrow etched on his face. “This story might be the last little bit of entertainment within me.”
Nick felt his heart kick with sorrow. He felt bad for the old man. Frewster gave the impression life had given him everything and now the end was approaching, he was embroiled in a great struggle with his own mortality.
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of time left yet, Brennan,” he said, more out of politeness than sincerity. Now he looked at him closely, he could see how thin Frewster was, how his limbs trembled with the rigours of age, and his eyes appeared red and tired. He’d been weeping, by Nick’s guess.
Spectres of the past spared no man.
“You’re a good liar,” Frewster chuckled, his laughter turning into a cough, a hacking one that he swallowed down with great effort, his face taking on a blue tinge as he beat a withered hand to his chest. His hand shaking, he poured himself another firebrandy and drank it as rapidly as he had the first one. “I almost believed you. But now, you must believe me when I tell you that every word of this following story is true. I swear it on the life of everyone that you and I hold dear.”
Chapter Five. Frewster’s Story.
“Listen up lads and lasses, and make sure that you listen up well, for it’s time for you to hear a story. Yes, I’ll tell you a tale, a tale of hart and hale, from a book of courage and pluck, for those are the stories here on Frewster’s Glories. The words are in my blood, the tales are in my soul, a sum of parts no greater than the whole. A story untold is a crime against culture and tonight, that mystery is unsolved before your very eyes!”
Opening monologue from Brennan Frewster’s short lived but highly rated foray into children’s entertainment, some twenty years ago.
“In order to tell you the full scope of my tale, (said Frewster) We must first go back a good number of years and I’ll thank you not to interrupt me at any point through it. Back to the dawn of the five kingdoms and a particularly painfully memory from my past. We find ourselves, oh, must be forty-five years ago if it’s a day now, in a simpler time. Everyone was happier back then. Unification was still fresh in their memories, we remembered when times were harder, and we thought we were going to be better together. We’d succeed as a union or we’d die as a union. The Senate wasn’t yet floundering like it is now, they’d ridden out a few tough years governing the collective kingdoms and it felt like they were starting to get their act together. Crime was down. Spirit calling was on the rise, they’d just released the first prototype summoners and it was going to make everything easier. You know, that was the first joint developed project across the five kingdoms, they had scient
ists from all of them working on it despite language and cultural differences. I remember when they first displayed it, it almost blew my mind. I’d never seen anything like it before, never would again. That was the real turning point in my mind for the kingdoms. Once those things had been created, we’d never go back.
Before that, we could tame the wild beasts, but we couldn’t truly claim them. Not into crystals like we do now. That was another genius move, you know. Perhaps even more so than the callers, but it’s worth remembering that one cannot function without the other. A fitting metaphor for the kingdoms overall back then. We’d do what we could alone, but we’d always be less so than if we were together. It sounds trite today, I know but that was how we felt back then in the day. Pride in where you came from was pushed back for the good of the whole. It’s different now, I’ve seen it. People don’t want to belong to a whole these days, they think being part of a whole weakens you, that it means picking up someone else’s slack. They want to consolidate and strengthen what they see around them, not give up what you could potentially have so that those a thousand miles away can be helped. It’s an old-fashioned idea. Not necessarily a bad one.
Anyway, I was a younger man then, obviously. Not as jaded as I am now. I remember feeling the same optimism. We happy five had formed Unisco together under the guidance of the new Senate, it sounded a hard task but that doesn’t even do it justice. Five agents for five kingdoms, we were each given one and ordered to build from the ground up, we’d recruit who we needed, build what we needed. Nicola Nochi, the first chancellor gave us the task, told us that the funds would be there should we need them. Security was always going to be the priority. When you have built it, you need to be able to defend it. An organisation that cannot protect itself cannot protect others. That has often been the sad way of life going back as far as history tells us. The moment something becomes weak, the end is all but assured. It’s an undeniable pattern throughout, a constant in constants. Though it may survive, change is all but inevitable and change is another part of death.
We’d started with those that we trusted, people from not just the intelligence community who we’d worked with before, but those from our personal lives. Nwankwo put all but one of his family in civilian positions, set them about building the infrastructure of Unisco in Vazara. He always said that trust was a fleeting thing and even with family, it was a line of credit that would only extend so far. Most of them he trusted, they’d not done anything to deny that trust, so he returned the favour to them. Most of us tried to keep our family lives separate from what we had. That’s been a tradition we kept up ever since, as you’re probably aware. We stand apart. I wanted that to be the Unisco motto, but it never stuck. People thought that it gave the wrong impression about what we hoped to achieve. You can never be part of the solution when you make people think that you’re too far disconnected to the problem. They accuse you of lacking perspective.
I think that’s the one thing that Unisco has never lacked, if I’m honest. Sometimes I think the opposite is true. Too much perspective. We try to keep an eye on everything. We watch every little event where we can, just so that we can try to pre-empt whatever problem comes our way. We’re scared to fail so we make unreasonable goals for success. We don’t want to be blamed for what we could not possibly have prevented. Back then, perhaps it was easier. People didn’t know what to expect from us. We were originally designed to keep the kingdoms safe, to supplement local police forces with highly trained and heavily armed response teams. Later we were given the responsibility of investigating and stopping those who misused spirits outside of the legalised competitions that were springing up around the kingdoms. You see why I think the introduction of the summoners changed things? Didn’t necessarily mean it was for the better. Whenever the chance emerges, there’s always the potential for someone to misuse it. And misuse became rife at the start, especially until we were given the mandate to deal with things. With the ghosts out of the bottle, we had to work fast. Maybe things were a little heavy-handed at the start. We did things that we wouldn’t possibly get away with today.
Anyway, for me, I was set to work in Canterage, I had to build the Unisco departments up here. It was a massive challenge, I must say, perhaps the greatest I ever faced in my long life. There’s been plenty but none like this. I was nominally the most prominent figure, but I quickly decided I didn’t want that responsibility for longer than I had to. I didn’t want to do it forever. I’ve seen how jobs like that wear people into the ground. Have you seen how bad Terry Arnholt looks since he got the job? I know it’s a difficult circumstance, but he looks almost in his sixties these days. Divines alone know what the role would have done to Brendan, he’d probably be in his grave right now. I wanted to build it, but I wanted to have a life apart when the job was done. I suspect you know the feeling, Nicholas.
Ric Lazlo and Tom Walker, they wanted to be the main men, you know? They wanted to build a Unisco legacy with them at the top for a long time. It didn’t work out that way, I remember when Tom was killed in the line of duty. Five became four. That’s the unfortunate way of life. People come, and they go, then different ones step up. The problem with the way those two ran things, I had questions about the people they were choosing. Solid but unspectacular is probably the polite way to say it. I said it then, I’ll say it now. It doesn’t change anything these days. People who could make their results better, all while not necessarily challenging them in their lofty position.
Me? I just wanted the best people. The best I knew. I told them to talk to the best they knew. Best but trustworthy. I told them it all straight. I told them I wanted the organisation in Canterage to be the best it could be, I wanted it built to last. I told them that no doubt some of them might want my job one day. I was willing to step down once it was all built and there was some stability. I valued my family and my sanity above all else back then. Staying with Unisco would have damaged them both long-term. I didn’t want that. Impress me while you’re here and you’ll have a chance to push for my job when I leave. If you want it, it’s yours to take. I didn’t want any sort of rivalries beyond the sort that encouraged everyone to be the best they could be.
Maybe I was a touch naïve, but I believed back then that it would work. If I want one thing written on my head stone, it’s that I always tried to do what I felt was right at the time. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Personally though, I was in a bad place at the time. My first marriage had failed, I’d been caught unaware by her walking out on me. I didn’t realise how bad it was at the time. Only looking back can we get perspective. I’d been spending most of my spare waking hours every day trying to get Unisco off the ground and well, once I’d gotten the Canterage division up and running, I also had a wife who didn’t want to see me anymore and a son she was doing her damnedest to try and turn against me. She didn’t quite succeed but she didn’t fail either. That’s the biting thing. Indifference is worse than hate, Nicholas, believe me on that.
Then there was my father. He was dying, I knew that. The doctors knew that, but they weren’t ready to give up on him until they’d extracted every credit they could out of him and his family. You don’t know the number of times I heard that they were close to a breakthrough, that with a little more time and credits they could not just save his life but prolong it for several more years.
Looking back with the blanket of a couple of decades, I’m not ashamed to admit that paying for that treatment over several more years was not an attractive option. He was on life support; his body could barely function without it. Crazenbergs syndrome was killing him by inches, his lungs were taking in oxygen but couldn’t process it. You know they call it the long suffocation. He was in and out of hospital a lot, I went to see him as much as I could, but you can imagine it perhaps wasn’t as much as I might have wanted to. If I couldn’t make time for my wife, you might imagine how difficult it was to do it for my father.
Still, I found that the universe turns on a str
ange sort of synchronicity. The first time in a month I’d made it to the hospital and I was in quite a good mood for it, even if I do say so myself. I’d even brought him a present, some alcohol-free wine I thought we could share, his meds didn’t allow intoxication for him, but I imagined this would be okay. I signed into the hospital as a guest and took the long walk towards his room, a dozen flights of stairs. I didn’t have much truck with elevators back then. Stairs were a lot safer and I was young enough that the exertion wasn’t going to kill me. I miss those days, Nicholas. I miss them so damn much, believe me on that
I remember that I got to his room, saw the door was shut and the blinds were drawn back. That was telling, I thought. He always liked to see what was going on in the world outside. He was nosey like that, my old man. Always felt other people’s business was something he had a divine right to peep in on. Didn’t make him popular at times but what can you do? You have to forgive some people their eccentricities, especially when they’re related to you.
I stepped closer to the door, I remember I was humming at the time though I don’t remember what song, I put my hand up ready to knock for I thought maybe he was being consulted by one of the doctors, when I heard a voice.
“Tell me,” the voice said, it did not sound a friendly one in any sense of the word and I stiffened up at the sound of it. My hand went into my jacket for my service weapon. Back in the day, we’d chosen the brand new X1F as our sidearm. I look at some of the blasters you boys and girls get now and I’m impressed. Really. Ours was cutting edge technology back then but they look like antiques now. If that’s not a metaphor for life itself, I don’t know what is.
“Tell me,” he repeated once again, and I heard little gasps and moans coming through the door. “Tell me where your son is.”