The Traitor and the Thief

by Gareth Ward

  While her entourage sat, the girl beckoned over a waiter. “Two bottles of Erasmus Bonds Tonic Water,” she commanded.

  The girl twiddled a sapphire-encrusted ring on her finger. “The boys and I are going to the Phantasmagoria Magic Lantern Show in the hotel’s theatre at midnight. Do you want to come?”

  Sin swallowed the meat. “Eldritch said we had to be in our rooms by ten.”

  The girl flicked her hair, sending a waft of lavender perfume across the table. “So I was right. You are his pet?”

  “No. It’s just–”

  “It’s just that you’re Eldritch’s little hound. I’m surprised he didn’t give you a collar in that big old wardrobe of clothes. Or is that what you’re wearing under your borrowed shirt?”

  Sin’s hand went to his keeper and the girl smirked.

  “The boys aren’t scared to go. Do you have the cogs to join us?”

  It was ridiculous to think he was frightened. He’d known real fear in the gang, fear for his life. Of course he wasn’t scared of a shadow puppet show, but for some reason he felt compelled to prove himself to this girl. It was like she knew how to push his buttons, knew how he hated to back down.

  Zonda grabbed his arm. “Don’t do it. She’s not worth it. Believe me, I know.”

  The girl’s nostrils flared. “No one asked you, Chubbs.”

  Sin’s fists clenched. He’d had enough of this girl. His chair shot backwards as he stood. “Stay sat down or I’ll put you down,” he said, pointing at the boys. He squared up to the girl. “Apologise.”

  Zonda tugged his arm. “Forget it.”

  The girl looked up and her oddly familiar blue eyes drilled into him. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I’m not fluent in urchin.”

  Sin brushed Zonda’s hand away. “You called her chubbs and that’s bang out of order. It’s just a bit of puppy fat, that’s all.”

  The girl smiled wickedly. “That’s her name. Zonda Chubb. Did you not know?” She took a sip of tonic water. “Perhaps I should introduce myself, to avoid further confusion. I’m Velvet Von Darque. I believe you’ve met my mother.”

  Blood rushed to Sin’s face. What an idiot he’d been. Zonda had shown him only kindness and he’d embarrassed her. It was obvious there was history between the two girls and he’d been suckered into saying something stupid. He turned to apologise, but Zonda was gone.

  CHAPTER 4

  EAVESDROPPING

  Sin rushed along the corridor, cursing under his breath. Eldritch had told him to make friends with Zonda and he’d blown it. He reached her door and rapped his calloused knuckles against the wood. From inside he heard her sobbing. “It’s me, Sin. Look, I’m sorry.”

  The sobbing quietened. He knocked again. “Come to the door and we can get this proper sorted.”

  The door thudded as something was thrown at it. “Go away.”

  Sin hesitated. “I thought we were going to be friends.”

  “Go to the Magic Lantern Show with the popular girl. You can all be friends together, until she gets bored of you.”

  The door thudded again and there was a “Hrumpff,” with an air of finality from inside.

  Sin turned to his own room and saw the plaque with the coloured navigation fish. Maybe he could sort this. His hand hovered over the buttons, then he pressed the green perch. He’d never seen the appeal himself but he knew the market’s flower girls did a roaring trade to the toffs buying bouquets for their ladies. Sin had no money so he couldn’t buy flowers, however he was a thief and he knew where he might nick some.

  * * *

  The Conserva-Observatory was a giant hexagonal conservatory that formed the hotel’s roof. Metal lattice struts interlaced with curved ironglass panels rose to a lens-like dome that magnified the stars above. Steam from the hotel’s pressure boiler drifted through cast-iron floor vents creating a warm, humid environment for the exotic flora within.

  Sin sneaked along a damp flagstone path that curved towards the central viewing area. The air was hot and earthy and the towering ferns and fronds reached for him, their shadowy fingers scratching at his clothes. A fragrant smell hung in the air and Sin let his nose guide him. Set deep in a low-walled flowerbed a glossy-leafed bush presented starburst pink flowers to the world. He jumped over the wall and brushed past a clump of giant spotted toadstools. With an audible puff they sent a dewy mist into his face. Sin wiped his sleeve across his eyes, the world blurring as he reached the bush. Humming filled his ears and bright lights peppered his vision. Fingers trembling, he plucked a flower from the plant. The sound of the Conserva-Observatory doors opening cut through the buzz in his head. He froze. Footsteps and whispered conversation drew closer. Foliage obscured the speakers but he recognised one of the voices. Lilith Von Darque.

  “They can’t possibly know. How could they?” said Lilith.

  The second speaker’s voice was low and rasping. “You underestimate Eldritch.”

  A wooziness gripped Sin, his senses intensifying. Aromatic tendrils snaked from the flower, tickling his nose, and a sneeze began to form. He cupped his hands over his face but the tingling grew worse.

  “I can handle Eldritch,” said Lilith.

  “Yet you helped him hunt down the boy?” croaked the voice.

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “We agreed he shouldn’t be recruited.”

  “Eldritch was tracking him. I think Nimrod did something to the necklace. He wanted to be certain the boy wouldn’t escape.”

  “We should tell the boy now.”

  “No! We promised to wait. We promised Eve.”

  “There’s no honour in skulking and spying,” spat the voice.

  “And yet you are so good at it,” said Lilith.

  The owner of the voice laughed with all the humour of a mass grave.

  Sin held his breath, the tension in his chest growing. His lungs begged for oxygen but he refused to breathe. He counted the passing seconds in his head, each one seeming further and further apart as the chittering in his ears surged louder.

  “And the exchange?” asked the voice.

  “The Chinasians and Ruskovians are interested but they want more than rough sketches. I’m still waiting for other bidders.”

  Kaleidoscopic swirls filled Sin’s vision. He clamped his arms arounds his head, rustling the leaves on the bush beside him. The voices stopped. Dead quiet filled the Conserva-Observatory. Sin crouched lower, his chest tight, his lungs screaming at him.

  “We should get back before the Committee misses us,” said Lilith.

  The footsteps receded and Sin heard the Conserva-Observatory doors open then close. He gasped, the air’s heady scents threatening to overwhelm him. Dropping to the earth, he curled into a ball among the vegetation and shuddered. Perspiration covered his brow and he began to shiver, overwhelmed by the toadstool’s toxins. The rasping voice replayed in his head, echoing, distorted. There was something about it that terrified him. It was like he’d heard it before, linked to some terrible memory, just out of reach. His body convulsed and darkness overtook him. Outside, Coxford’s bells pealed ten of the clock.

  CHAPTER 5

  CAST-IRON RULES

  Sin awoke in his room with no recollection of how he’d got there. Sweat-soaked bedsheets twisted around him like a straitjacket. His lips felt gummy and his cheek stuck to the pillow where he’d dribbled in his sleep. Peeling his face away from the damp cotton, he disentangled himself and staggered to the bathroom. He spun a tap shaped like a starfish and looked in the mirror, waiting for the water to run hot. Minuscule red veins meandered across the whites of his eyes, an after-effect of the toadstool he presumed. The last thing he remembered was the voices in the Conserva-Observatory. Had they been talking about him? Unless they used the necklace to lure all the street kids they must have been, but why? And why was Nimrod so keen to recruit him? He was nothing special.

  A bell rang and a confusion of feet hurried along the corridor. He selected a new set of clothes, qu
ickly dressed and laced his boots. There was a hesitant knock at the door. He eased it open to find Zonda smiling sheepishly at him. The flower from the Conserva-Observatory now graced her hair, complementing the frilled tea gown she wore. A vague recollection scratched at his mind: staggering past the fish tanks and dropping the flower outside Zonda’s room.

  Zonda held out a lace-gloved arm. “Friends?”

  Were they friends? He’d only just met her so how could they be? He’d known some of the Fixer’s gang for nearly five years and they weren’t friends. Sure, the crew had loyalty, but that came down to safety in numbers, a pack mentality and a fear of the Fixer. Here, he had nothing to fear; he was tougher and meaner than any of the other kids he’d seen in the dining room. The scent of the flower in Zonda’s hair tickled his nose, triggering another memory. The owner of the malevolent voice – that was someone to fear. Maybe he did need a friend. Maybe he needed a new crew, one with different skills and different values. Maybe that was why Eldritch had encouraged him towards Zonda.

  “Friends,” agreed Sin, offering his arm. “So where the fish are we going?”

  “To the ballroom,” said Zonda, depressing a yellow carp button on the wall.

  As they followed the fish, Sin contemplated ways to discover more about Zonda and Velvet without provoking another sobbing fit. The Fixer had a knack of wheedling information from people. Start with a compliment, he always said.

  “That’s a nice dress you’re wearing,” hazarded Sin.

  “Do you think? I wondered if it was a tad too frillericious.”

  “Oh no. You’ve definitely got the style to pull it off. Not like that other girl, what was her name?”

  “Velvet?”

  “That’s right, Velvet,” said Sin, nodding to himself. “How did you say you knew her again?”

  Her eyes narrowing, Zonda said, “We shared the same governess for a while. I did all the work and got the best marks. Velvet got all the praise and the best report.”

  “That don’t seem fair.”

  “As I tried to warn you last night, there’s nothing fair about Velvet Von Darque.”

  * * *

  A giant octopus head formed the ballroom’s ceiling from which eight brassanium support girders shaped like tentacles arched to the floor. Suspended from the octopus’s beak, a sparkling chemcandelabra threw an aquatic glimmer across the dance floor.

  The neatly rowed chairs filled with excited candidates suggested they must have been last to arrive. Only three empty seats remained, adjacent to the aisle in the front row. On one rested a brass reserved sign so they occupied the other two. Before them seven throne-like chairs were arranged on a dais. A ship’s bell chimed and the hall fell silent. Heels click-clacked on the parquet dance floor. Sin turned to see Velvet strutting down the aisle. With a sense of inevitability, he watched as she drew alongside, removed the reserved sign and took the seat next to him.

  A megaphone voice echoed around the hall. “Please stand for the Committee.” Chairs scraped back, then a hush fell over the candidates as an eclectic mix of characters walked onto the raised platform. At their centre was a Herculean man-machine, the whole of his right side remade with precision steam engineering. His mekanikal leg hissed and clanked as he turned to face the audience. On the organic side of his face he wore a look of manic intensity, his bushy moustache quivering. Flanking him were Eldritch and Lilith. To Eldritch’s right a tall wiry man dressed in a black rag coat and crooked top hat scowled at the candidates. His face was painted white with a red band surrounding his small mean eyes. Next to Lilith a portly gentleman in a tweed suit tinkered with a piece of clockwork. The two end chairs remained empty.

  Zonda nudged Sin. “Spin my cogs! The cove in the tweed – that’s Nimrod Barm.”

  The goliath’s head tracked mekanikally in their direction. “I am Major C. As second-in-command at COG, I will lead today’s proceedings. If you are successful, I will also oversee your training for the next five years.” His head moved again as he surveyed the audience. “I would like to welcome you, and indeed bid farewell to anyone who was not in their room after ten last night. Those remaining may sit. Those leaving can do so via the central doors.”

  A confused murmur ran through the crowd. A handful of candidates made their way out while others remained furtively in their seats.

  Sin had no recollection of what time he’d returned to his room but he was adamant he wasn’t leaving. He looked at Velvet, a sense of relief steeling over him. “I guess you’ll be off then. Waste of time reserving your seat.”

  Velvet lifted her chin. “I’m going nowhere.”

  “You were going to the theatre. You made the others go.”

  “Nobody made them go.”

  Sin guessed this was true enough, yet Velvet had manipulated them. She’d manipulated him too. If it wasn’t for Zonda, he’d be joining the others filing out of the hall. “That don’t make it right. You broke the rules.”

  Velvet fiddled with a sapphire earring. “Rules mean nothing when you have money, power and privilege. That’s doubly so when you’re a Von Darque. Not even the rules of nature apply.”

  Lilith stood. “We know who you are. Leave now or there will be consequences.”

  More candidates departed, the cold smile on Lilith’s face convincing them that she would very much enjoy the consequences and they would not. “Let that be lesson one.” Lilith held up a finger. “Many of you are here because you seek danger and flaunt rules. However, in every organisation there must be control, so to help you with this we have Cast-Iron Rules. We will not tolerate the breaking of these rules.”

  Sin glanced sideways at Zonda. He couldn’t picture her as a risk-taker or rule breaker.

  Major C straightened and a jet of steam shot from his back. “The Empire is on the brink of global war. It will not be glorious or heroic as oft presented in the news-sheets, but fetid and ignoble.” He clinked a metal finger against his brassanium half skull. “I am no coward. I have given my service and my body to our great country. Alas, war has changed. The honour of the soldier is replaced by the technology of killing and now we maim and slaughter with industrial efficiency. We few at the Covert Operations Group seek to maintain the fragile peace by putting a spanner in the war machine’s works.”

  Gears mashed as Major C about-turned and marched to the side of the dais. “Now I would like to introduce you to the founder and chairman of COG. A man without whom we could not exist: Professor Nimrod Barm.”

  Nimrod retrieved a pair of glasses from his pocket and pushed them onto his nose before walking to the front of the stage. “I founded COG because too many good men and women have died in the pursuit of military conquest.” He gestured to the two empty chairs. “If you join us, you too may die, but your sacrifice will save the lives of millions. COG does not fight for the Empire; it fights for humanity. We do not work for the Britannia Government, or indeed any government. There are those in parliament, in industry and in our military who actively seek war. We must work against them, against our own country, breaking the rules and committing treason so peace may prevail. This is what I ask of you.”

  Eldritch stood next to Nimrod, his leather coat flapping about him. “Over the next five years you will receive the very best training in spy craft, combat, science and survival. You will undertake COG missions, here and abroad, in an attempt to stop what we fear will be the war to end all wars. If you survive and if we succeed in maintaining the peace, you can retire with a generous pension.” Eldritch turned to the man in the rag coat. “Staff Noir, time please.”

  The man adjusted his top hat and joined Eldritch. From the folds of his coat he produced a large bone-white hourglass and placed it on the dais. “Leave or stay. You have three minutes to decide your fate,” he rasped.

  Sin shivered, recognising the voice. Noir was the man from the Conserva-Observatory and he appeared every bit as evil as he sounded. How could he possibly be one of the good guys? How could any of them? The only one
who seemed vaguely normal was Nimrod Barm, and everyone knew he was mad as a bag of frogs.

  Zonda clutched Sin’s arm, an anxious expression on her face. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

  Every day on the streets Sin faced danger and the possibility of death. Here he’d get food, lodging and coin. Of course he was staying. The Committee were odd but they couldn’t be any worse than the Fixer. Well, maybe Noir could. A fragment of conversation replayed in his mind. We promised Eve. That couldn’t be coincidence, they knew something about the woman in the photograph. Something about his mother? And he was going to find out what.

  Sin fidgeted in his chair. So what did he know? Noir didn’t want him recruited but Nimrod had sent Eldritch to make sure that he was. Eldritch had directed him to Zonda. So was Zonda part of the plan to make sure he joined? She definitely knew more than she was letting on. Could he use her to fish for information?

  Sin half-stood from his chair as if contemplating leaving. “I’m not sure if I’m staying. That man with the white face, he don’t seem right.”

  Zonda rested her hand on his forearm and drew him back to his chair. “Apparently,” she whispered, “Noir was once a great stage magician until something went wrong with an illusion and he got hideously burned. That’s why he covers his face with white makeup.”

  “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “Honestly, I think they’re all dangiferous.”

  “But you’re going to stay?”

  “Definoso! We get to be taught by Nimrod Barm. That’s just posituitively terrifertastic.”

  “What about the other stuff, the danger and the spying? That doesn’t seem like you.”

  “Just because I wear dresses and have pigtails, doesn’t mean I’m not tough.”

  Sin remembered the sobs he’d heard from her room. He’d only ever cried once, when Karl Jaeger had ripped the head and limbs from his teddy bear. It had been his only possession when he’d been abandoned at the orphanage as a newborn. The bear had been too badly damaged to repair, but hidden among the stuffing he’d found the photograph of his mother.