Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill) (13 page)

With her mouth on his, Pym looked down the road as the others stood beside their car. Not one of them looked more than thirty and many of these weren’t much more than their mid-twenties. All of her friends looked soft, weak, and pampered. Whatever they expected beyond the Wall would not be what they found.

There was more in the eyes of her friends than weakness; contempt was there as well. When position was all you had to keep you from the street, this seemed a normal response. Separating from Glenna, he waved. She introduced them all, but few of the names stuck. Pym assumed there would be time to pick these up as they put together some kind of plan. Even as she had finished the introductions with her brother, who offered Titus a handshake far harder than was required, Glenna was on about them needing to get moving because they were going to be late for the meeting. The others took the car they’d come in, but Chrislann insisted in coming with them, even though he had his own in the garage. Why seemed clear to Titus, and the reasoning appeared as much so—once he noticed how uncomfortable this had made Glenna. Nonetheless, he agreed they should all take his car.

It had been an uncomfortable ride north. The conversation was strained, stilted, and pocked with condescending references that Titus had parried with his own condescending allusions to the fact the islands were still a developing economy and peppered with graft, political corruption, and protectionism. Though Chrislann did not take the bait, the silences in the car became more difficult to bear. When it seemed open warfare was about to break out, Glenna saved them all by noticing that they’d arrived at the gate—or near enough for the two men to return to their corners.

Closing the car door, Chrislann turned to Pym. “You do not know these people—they are from the lower orders and will not respect a foreigner. No matter what happens, you are to remain silent.”

Pym looked to Glenna whose silent response was so helplessly beseeching he could not reject it. “Your show, but...”

“Don’t worry. You are safe with me.” Pym didn’t answer but led Glenna, who’d gotten out his side of the car, into the coffee shop. They took a seat in the far corner of the shop and ordered. As the coffees were being prepared, Pym unsnapped his holster and loosened the automatic.

“There shouldn’t be any trouble.”

As the woman spoke, Titus adjusted his coat over the weapon and smiled. Doing so the woman daubed his forehead with the scented scarf that she always carried. “Look at them.”

“What?” Turning.

“The body language says it all.” It was the same guardsmen they’d met before. Tomás didn’t look happy and was already gesticulating wildly while his men shuffled unhappily behind him.

“Chrislann has dealt with Captain Tomás many times in the past; I’m sure it will be okay.”

With the answer, the Captain turned to look in the shop. It did not appear he was looking for anything in particular, or anyone. When he did see Titus, his manner became more guarded.

“He doesn’t like you.”

“No,” Titus answered, “I shamed him and his men in front of a woman and ordered him not to come back, but that his boss should. None of this would make him happy.”

“If things go wrong, Chrislann will blame you—and myself by extension.”

“True—the weak normally behave that way.”

“Chrislann is not...”

“You can’t see it, but I do. Your brother is weak, frightened, and cowardly.”

With Chrislann still speaking, the Captain turned and entered the shop, noisily. “You came back. I didn’t think you’d be foolish...”

“Captain Tomás, do not walk away from me.” As Chrislann placed a hand on the officer’s shoulder, Tomás twisted round taking Budiman by the wrist and slamming him down, hard, on the table. The shop went quiet, excepting for the shout of surprise and pain from Chrislann. Glenna attempted to rise, but Titus put a hand out and she sat back down. The Captain glared at Pym, but the man only smiled back.

“The Commander has been researching you.” Tomás pushed Budiman’s arm farther up his back and he shrieked. Chrislann’s face was turned away so his sister would not have to look at it—if she had, it may have been that Titus would have to react. As it was, his indifference registered with the Captain.

Wrenching Budiman up, John Tomás dragged him to the door and threw him on the pavement. “Teach him some manners and put him back in his car. Make certain he stays there.” Closing the door quietly, the Captain stood with his back to the couple, leaning his head on the jamb and breathing heavily for a moment. Once he’d calmed himself, he turned back to the couple. “This is how we treat fools.” Sitting at the table across from the couple, he drummed his fingers on the faux-wood surface and stared at Pym.

“What did your Commander learn?”

“Only that your name appeared at about the same time as the Beluga Fay—and your power has expanded with theirs. You are the reason for this.”

Pym didn’t answer.

“What do you want?”

“To help Ms. Budiman and her friends get out of town.”

“That will be difficult.”

“But you said...” Pym placed a hand on her wrist to quiet the woman.

“Though not impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible these days.”

“We simply need to incentivize the proper people.”

“Things beyond the Wall are not going well—you noticed that last time.”

Titus nodded.

“What’s going on in the country?” Glenna’s voice was small, and she appeared to realize she should not be speaking but could not help herself.

“You do not know?”

“The government is not saying and all media has been choked off.”

“Yes,” Tomás answered, “but I thought your father would have told you.”

“My father is protective or secretive—I’m not sure which.”

“Minister Budiman is a realist. He understands the mechanisms of power better than most.”

“What is happening?” The woman repeated.

“Nothing good.” The Captain breathed the response, but stopped there.

“We need to know, Captain.” Tomás looked out to Chrislann where his men had him on the ground. Even through the heavy glass of the coffee shop, they could all hear the muffled cries as these gave way to groans.

“They’re going to kill him,” Glenna pleaded.

“No, he will remember the encounter, but your brother will not require medical attention—just a few bandages and some ointment.” The Captain gave the woman a look that suggested more than was said. Appearing to understand the subtext, Glenna reddened and looked away. Much of which Titus had suspected about the relationship was answered here.

Pym understood the woman wanted him to trust her, and he wanted as much, but at every turn, her brother and their cabal of the disaffected kept getting in their way. Each time this occurred, he was confronted with more complexity; more difficulty; more confusion—for everyone; more reason to take a step back. Yet, doing so would be resigning himself to not escaping this city anytime soon—if at all. Every time he turned, there were more deaths attributable to the Sweating Sickness, and when not the epidemic, there were more and more deaths connected to the loss of government control or the limited supplies offered by the blockade powers.

Trusting the woman and her cabal was foolish, but not grabbing at this opportunity was self-destructive. This was his reasoning, and following from this there seemed no choice to make. “I’ve no love for the fool,” Titus said turning back from the brother, “but he has had enough.” The Captain looked at the man with what almost seemed to be amnesia, but then the recognition returned and he waved a hand in the direction of the window. The men stopped and dragged him toward Titus’s car.

“There may be a little blood and vomit you’ll have to deal with, but that’s what you get for not choosing your friends more cautiously.”

Pym considered pushing his response but that would only take them to the same place they’d left off last time, and he needed more information. “Now,” listening to the car door slam on Chrislann, “we need to know what to expect beyond the gate.”

“I’ve not been cleared for that sort of information.”

Pym was about to push the Wall guard but he started up again.

“But seeing as you need to know what is going on.”

“If we are to further invest in this project with diamonds and whatever else you may want, we need to learn what is going on.”

The Captain breathed in and blew this out through his mouth. Shaking his head slowly he looked out the window; his men were lounging against the car. Pym followed the man’s eyes and saw the casual way the two were chatting together—it was an innocent, relaxed posture, but they were only waiting for a signal from the Captain to move. Titus hoped the man would not be so foolish.

“The blockade had choked off all trade. Factories that require fuel and raw materials from the southwestern hemisphere and the East have closed down. This has created massive unemployment. Many have lost their homes—even with government subsidies, this has been picking up speed. For awhile the government attempted to create projects in order to bolster employment, but this did not last long—cash reserves were never robust. Now we are faced with mass unemployment and mass homelessness. Recently the central authorities, with the support of the banks and landowners, have forbidden landlords to turn tenants and bankrupts from their homes. But that is just one part of the problem.” His coffee came, and he took a sip and continued.

“The crops have been plentiful this year, but so much of our foodstuffs come from abroad and we have no money to pay for these—even though we are receiving regular food shipments from the blockade nations, these are not enough to feed much more than half of the people. For the moment, the government is focusing on the cities, for fear of riot and revolution, but this has caused a massive influx from the countryside. Controlling this flood has been difficult.” Titus didn’t like the sound of that euphemism.

“You’ve turned the army loose on the migrants.”

Tomás nodded and looked out the window.

“Many thousands have died.”

“How many exactly?” Glenna asked.

“No one has dared count—not even the statisticians have calculated. If they did, the information would leak; it always does.”

Tomás stopped and took another sip of coffee; then swirled the brew about in the cup. “The only place even
we
can get coffee now is here.”

“But there are lots of shops that have coffee all over town,” Glenna answered, “food as well, and not just from our fields.”

“The decision was taken by the blockade powers that keeping the city fed and supplied would reduce the likelihood of people trying to break out.”

“But if the government doesn’t tell the people what is going on, how can they know they are safer here?” Pym asked.

“The government is afraid of losing control of the country. Right now they are managing this by controlling the flow of information—all media, what remains of it, is tightly controlled. Allowing the city to know the condition of the nation would also mean allowing the country to know the city’s condition.”

“You’re worried about people trying to break in?” Glenna’s voice was a confused tremor.

Tomás nodded.

“But we still want out—it’s only a matter of time before the Sweats get us all.”

The Captain breathed heavily and nodded. “We need more diamonds to bribe the Wall guards and the Provincial and Federal governments. This will have to go right up the food chain, and it will be expensive.”

“This should get you started.” Glenna handed him another pouch of diamonds. Finishing his coffee, the officer took the stones and left.

Pym watched them climb into their truck and drive off. “It won’t end there.”

“I know, but we need to get out—it’s bad beyond the Wall, but at least there is a chance. Staying here will kill us.”

“It’s a con—each time you meet they will want more and always the exit date will be delayed. Eventually you will give up, or run out of diamonds.”

“Not likely—there’s a small mine north of the marina.”

“Still won’t help.” Pym made a note that he was going to have to look into getting control of this, if not control then a few raids on the convoys.

Finishing their coffee, the pair joined the others out behind Pym’s car. Half seemed surprised the pair was still alive. When Titus attempted to explain they needed to get higher up the chain of command in order to affect their release, it was explained, as politely as possible, that he was a foreigner and did not understand how these things worked. Privately, Titus was certain they hadn’t the slightest idea they were in the middle of a long con, or their fear would not allow them to admit this. Resigned to the situation, for the moment, he left the others arguing amongst themselves and returned to the safe house with Glenna and the semiconscious Chrislann.

The trip south, again unconsciously skirting Lumang Mapoot—Pym didn’t even bother bringing this up—was peppered by a silence Titus found hard to deal with. This was only broken by the moans and occasioned shrieks of Chrislann as the vehicle was swiped by intermittent potholes. Glenna was never convinced these emerged out of nowhere, but Titus attempted to persuade the woman he had other matters to worry about. This was brought up near Mapoot, and geography was enough to assure her of this. At other times, he could have argued to be looking out for government patrols that liked to put a showing in—though never in Mapoot or the dead neighborhood surrounding this. One day they would have to speak of the abscess in the north-central area of the city not all that far west of Makati. This would not be that day, and a part of the man wondered if it were all that important after the report delivered by Tomás.