The Sinner King: Book of Fire

by D. R. Crislip

  "Open," Rebecca ordered.

  The door slid out of sight, revealing an older man with a long face, long arms, and dressed in a black uniform. He was wearing a black wide brim hat. "Hello Rebecca," he said with astounding power.

  Rebecca stood up at her desk. "Can I help you?"

  The Security Chief smiled as he stepped inside. "Why yes, that's why I'm here." He then extended a long arm toward her. His mouth was smiling but his eyes were not. "Please, Miss Badeau, have a seat."

  She didn't move. "What's this about?"

  "Surely you were informed that a security interview would be conducted before the wedding. I had word sent to you three weeks ago. Did you not receive it?"

  It took a second for his question to register. She had received a notice about the security interview. Rebecca exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry Mr. Lundquist"

  "You can call me Jonas," said the man unnervingly.

  "Okay, Mr. Jonas, they certainly did. You just caught me by surprise, I thought the interview would happen in the privacy of my residence."

  He nodded and said: "I understand your surprise. Is this a bad time?"

  "No, of course not. I was only preparing for Second Duty."

  "Ah yes, the Duties. I hate to interfere with them, so I will do my best to make this quick and painless." There was little sincerity in his voice. Jonas reached inside his jacket and removed a digital notepad. "So . . . my document here states that you tested positive for a marriage with Mr. Simon Wylde: son of Arthur Wylde, Director of Social Affairs."

  Rebecca nodded.

  "That's quite a high profile pairing, you must feel thrilled to be marrying into such royalty as the Wyldes."

  Rebecca didn't like how he positioned it but decided to keep her contempt silent. "I feel very fortunate, yes."

  Jonas made note of her answer. "I see your father was an Eighth Tier as well as your mother, this should also be quite the step upward for them." His tone was condescending. "I hope they can handle the sharp culture change, as many have struggled with such, although I don't ever recall anyone making such a step upward as you and your family. Quite the strike of—fortune—if I don't mind saying so myself."

  "I don't see how it could be a strike of fortune when the tests breakdown genetic personality types as well as intelligence quotients and physical attributes," said Rebecca while trying not to be acerbic with her answer. "If anything, Security Chief, I would think you of all people would recognize that fortune has nothing to do with it."

  Jonas didn't seem to be impressed with her answer and simply keyed something into his journal. "How would you describe the marriage between your father and mother?"

  Rebecca shrugged. "Typical, I assume."

  "And why do you assume?" he asked curiously. "Are you not certain what a typical marriage should consist of?"

  "Well . . . no . . . I mean, yes. My parents' marriage was like everyone else's in the Western Village."

  "How so?"

  Rebecca sighed as she looked for the words to describe the normalcy of her past family life. "My parents worked, they came home, we had dinner and talked about our day, we played a game or two and then went to bed—all between conducting our duties to the Ministry. They were very happy people."

  Jonas noted her answer. "And your father passed on, when?"

  "My father died of a heart attack on December 12th, 3522 AFT."

  The Security Chief checked his notepad and nodded. "Yes, so sorry about your loss." His tone was brittle.

  "Thank you," said Rebecca despite the insincerity. "My father was a good man."

  "Oh yes, I'm sure he was. Your father was a Ministry employed plumber with strong skill assessment scores and a solid track record. I'm sure he was a wonderful man." He then lifted his eyes from the notepad. "Your mother, on the other hand, I'm not so certain about."

  "What do you mean?"

  Jonas touched something on his screen. "Well it says here that your mother suffers from a Languorous Frontal Lobe. That she tested poorly in the Cognitive Examination and had bad marks during her time in the Academy—all due to her condition of course."

  Rebecca was aware of her mother's condition but hardly felt that it made her questionable. But that was one of the unpleasant sides of the Ministry that Rebecca never quite understood. They felt that anyone with any sort of cognitive challenge was inferior to the rest. Rebecca knew very well that her mother was just as sharp and intelligent as the Security Chief, or anyone else for that matter, and was only inhibited by one simple learning development issue. "She has a hard time with words. I hardly see that as ground for concern."

  Jonas lifted his gaze toward her and tapped his fingers on the notepad. "How about we let me decide what is of concern and what is not."

  The message was clear. "My apologies."

  Jonas cleared his throat and then continued: "My report says that your mother registered pregnant with you on February 3rd, 3494 AFT and yet there is no birth record for you in the Ministry's system. Can you explain that?"

  Rebecca could have but knew not to tell anyone about what happened. "No sir, I have no idea why my birth record is not disclosed. Surely a new one can be acquired."

  Jonas eyed her carefully. "Yes, most certainly, but it would hold up the engagement for several months. Creating a new birth record is no short order. We would need to collect DNA from yourself, your mother and your deceased father in order to run a DNA biopsy to breakdown your entire family genetic history." He then paused before saying: "And you would be okay with the delay?"

  Of course Rebecca wouldn't be okay with the delay. Having a DNA biopsy would result in the exposure of her mother's dark secret. But what was she to do? "Yes, of course I would submit to the examination. Whatever is needed in order to serve my engagement with Simon." The only thing she could hope for was that Simon wasn't so patient. If he didn't want to wait three more months, he could possibly push to have a rushed birth record created, which would consist of everything but the DNA breakdown.

  "Very well," said Jonas, making note.

  The questions continued for about another forty minutes. Jonas asked Rebecca about her childhood and her experience at the Academy. He documented her sexual partner count, which was zero, exactly as it was suppose to be for a positive marriage match. He went over her work record and goals achieved since being assigned to her position. Everything seemed to be checking out as his documents foretold.

  "One final question Miss Badeau," said Jonas. "Do you know anyone or have a relationship with anyone living currently or previously in Cognitive Services?"

  Rebecca froze. Normally a question like that would have been easy for her to answer. Today, however, was a different story.

  "Miss Badeau?" called Jonas after a few seconds of silence.

  "No, I don't know anyone either living or previously living at Cognitive Services."

  Jonas lowered the journal down to his side. Something in his eyes told Rebecca that he was expecting this answer but was hoping for a different. "Are you certain Miss Badeau? Please do be certain."

  Rebecca could feel a cold sweat forming on her forehead. "I'm quite certain."

  Jonas tilted his head slightly and then checked his notepad again. "I have intelligence telling me something different."

  "Oh?" exhaled Rebecca, trying to hide her fear.

  "Oh yes, intelligence stating that a Jillian Heddington had visited you just this morning. You don't know anything about this?" He was staring right through her, as if trying to see something far beyond.

  Rebecca grew very tense. She knew there was no use in lying further. "Your intelligence is correct, Jillian Heddington did visit me this morning before work, but I had never met her prior. And she didn't tell me she was a guest of Cognitive Services. Jillian told me she was a caretaker."

  "Oh she wasn't a guest," informed Jonas, "Jillian was indeed a caretaker. Her responsibilities involved watching over and nursing her guests for the duration of their stay. That is why I ask
if you know anyone in Cognitive Services. You see, I'm trying to understand why Jillian would travel so far away from her home and work in order to speak with you."

  Rebecca saw her hope obliterate. "Well, I'm not sure."

  "What do you mean you're not sure," said Jonas with some agitation. "Surely Jillian told you why she had come."

  Rebecca's mind scrambled for something to give him—anything. "What I mean to say: Jillian told me that her guest, who had passed away recently, told her that he was a relative of mine. I told her that I didn't know anyone living there and that she or he must have been mistaken."

  "And?"

  "And that was it. Jillian thought she was being helpful by informing me of his passing, but like I said—"

  "Miss Badeau," said Jonas forcefully, "let me tell you something that I know. Employees of Cognitive Services are not allowed to disclose any information about their guests at any time—family or not. Therefore, if Jillian Heddington had done as you just testified then she would not only be inline for termination from her position but could also face criminal charges."

  "I understand that," defended Rebecca.

  "If you understand that then why are you trying to feed me this story? I do not believe Jillian Heddington went all the way to your district just to inform you that some unknown distant relative had passed away inside Cognitive Services. That she would risk so much to give you that tidbit of information that served you absolutely nothing. No, I believe Jillian came there with other intentions in mind, and I would love for you to divulge any information that could possibly aid in my understanding."

  "Why don't you ask her?" spouted Rebecca. "If you don't believe me then bring her in and ask her? I really don't see what any of this has to do with my engagement to Simon."

  "You don't see? Of course not." Jonas placed his hands behind his back and began to pace. "Jillian Heddington is currently under investigation for alleged involvement with the Heretique. I'm sure you have heard of them."

  Rebecca froze again. It was almost as if her worst fear had just come true. The Heretique were an underground organization designed to destroy the Ministry. They were described as a group of villainous men and women who took enjoyment in hurting others. Rebecca remembered hearing them being described as sadists. She had never met a member nor cared to ever meet one. The Heretique were all but extinct in her time. They had been driven to the farthest, desolate reaches of earth and were too weak to pose any real threat, but it wasn't always like that. As it was taught to Rebecca at the academy, the Heretique were strong and powerful in the beginning of The First Time. They dominated most of the world and were greedy tyrants that only wanted for themselves. They had no sense of unity, no desire to share their power. They were broken into thousands of small tribes and they continually warred with each other over land and game. They were ignorant and malevolent.

  When the first Minister arrived, he took the common man, whose life was caught in the mix of all the fighting and struggle, and united him with others enduring the same plight. Together, the first Minister—Ziusudra—had formed what the world would come to know as the first Ministry. They battled with the Heretique and took back the land and redistributed it among the peasants—ultimately forming the first Collective. Because the Ministry was united it made them stronger than any tribe. Eventually the warring stopped and all that was left were broken Heretique remnants that still refused to assimilate to the change of power. It then became the 107th Minister's task to figure out what the final solution for the Heretique would be. The 107th Minister had the Heretique placed in ghettos amongst the land known as the Undesirable: barren desert land, frigid snowfields and fiery volcanic islands with a long history of annihilating its inhabitants. The Collective's borders were sealed and the last of the Heretique's influence was reportedly shut out. But as time continued, Heretique propaganda sprouted up all over the Collective—mostly in the form of the arts. Thus ending the usage of fictitious writings, amongst many other creative mediums.

  "What you might not be aware of," continued Jonas, "is that the Heretique are growing strong again. Their numbers are multiplying and they have agents burrowed everywhere in The Collective. We've even discovered that they have infiltrated the Ministry."

  Rebecca grew visibly nervous. "Sir, if there is any question in regard to my loyalty to the Ministry then let me be the first to inform you that my allegiance has and will always be with the Minister."

  Jonas examined her for a few seconds before nodding. "Your allegiance is not in question—at least not yet." He then gave an unnerving smile. "Our concerns lay elsewhere, particularly with Jillian Heddington and her contacts."

  "I don't understand, why don't you pick her up and interrogate her?"

  Jonas tapped something on his journal and then replaced it inside his coat. "We can't. Jillian Heddington committed suicide about two hours ago."

  "Suicide?"

  "Yes. Jillian was cornered in by some of my staff on the railway when she suddenly threw open the emergency exit and jumped to her death."

  Rebecca couldn't believe what she was hearing. Suicide was unheard of in her time. Why would she kill herself?

  "She decided to die rather than face the consequences of her actions; in case you were wondering," said Jonas, as if he heard her thoughts.

  Rebecca was speechless. She didn't know what to say, or if there was anything to say.

  Jonas moved toward Rebecca's office door and then turned back. "I think this interview is concluded. If there is anything you would like to disclose to me on a later date, anything possibly pertaining to Jillian Heddington, please don't hesitate to contact my office. If you truly are allegiant to the Minister, which I believe you are, then it would serve him and The Collective to be honest and as forthcoming as possible—if there is indeed anything else you feel I should know." Jonas then winked and exited through the office door.

  Rebecca stood up after a delay and then fell back onto her hard chair when the Security Chief left. She couldn't believe what she just heard. Jillian Heddington was not only under investigation for espionage but killed herself. Rebecca looked down at the box by her feet. She was certain that Jillian's suicide had something to do with its contents. Rebecca had no idea what role it played; only that she was caught in the center of it all. Why me? she thought. What is so special about me? The answer to her question would come much sooner than expected.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  While sitting underneath the gilded framed portrait of the Minister hanging high above and behind the director's desk, Rebecca contemplated what to do. She had just lied to the Security Chief of the Ministry and knew he would find out once the translation in Quality Control surfaced. So now what? Rebecca needed to know more about Jillian, about her deceased guest Benjamin Vermil, but that seemed impossible. Jillian had killed herself and Benjamin Vermil was already dead. Jonas said Jillian was a Heretique, she recalled. The text certainly read like Heretique propaganda, which disgusted Rebecca. She was a proud member of the Ministry and now her good name was doomed. Everything she had worked for was in jeopardy, including her engagement to Simon Wylde. What will he think? Rebecca needed to understand what she was being dragged into. She needed to see the angle so that maybe she could clear her name. Rebecca looked down at the safebox sitting by her feet and contemplated its fate. It just didn't make sense. What's its purpose? How does it know who I am, if in fact it does know who I am? And there still was the question as to how Benjamin Vermil knew who her biological father was. My mother broke the rules and look what it has done to us. It was very hard for Rebecca to accept that her existence was due to an immoral act conducted by her mother and a man named Corbin Byrne.

  My mother, she thought. It occurred to her that maybe her mother might know something about the text or Benjamin Vermil. Maybe she would have an idea how their names ended up inside. Or maybe she wouldn't know anything at all. There was only one way to find out.

  Rebecca put on her headset and ordered her mo
ther's identification number into the communication field. The box flashed searching . . . for only a second before Francesca's face appeared.

  "Rebecca?" she said with surprise. Her large blue eyes shimmered in the camera light.

  In an odd way, Rebecca always felt she was looking into some farseeing mirror whenever she spoke to her mother via communiqué. Many joked that Rebecca didn't really have a father (especially considering the lack of resemblance to Francis) and that Francesca simply cloned herself. "Hello mother. Good to see you," Rebecca said with a forced smile.

  "What has you calling so early? I haven't heard from you in weeks. I hope everything is alright?"

  Rebecca nodded. It was indeed rather unusual for her to be calling, especially so soon in the day. "Everything is fine mother, I just wanted to see if you would be available at lunch time."

  Francesca's brow furrowed, she was obviously confused. "You want to have lunch today?"

  "Yeah, I just want to see you, that's all."

  "Are you sure everything is alright?"

  Rebecca was about to feed her mother some line about needing to get out of the office when Francesca said, "This is about the wedding, isn't it?"

  Rebecca decided to play along. "Yeah, that's it. I just wanted to get some advice, maybe even some counseling."

  "You want counseling—from me?" Her question outlined where their relationship had gone through the years.

  "Of course. You're my mother. Despite how I might seem, I still need you."

  Francesca gave a soft, pleased, smile. "Where do you want to meet?"

  "I can come there, if that's okay."

  "You can come to the west side?"

  "It's not a hop and a skip, but I can come there."

  "Noonish, then?"

  Rebecca agreed and the two of them signed off.

  *******

  Three hours later and after a slew of signed-off files, Rebecca was hurriedly making her way to the railway platform. She decided to take the original text along in order to show it to her mother but left the bulky safebox underneath her desk. Rebecca kept a workbag in her office for occasions that required the transportation of non-digital files, which wasn't often. She decided to use it to keep the text concealed.