Dominions

26

26

- 26 -

The tall man sat behind the desk, his black suit and white shirt immaculate. His hair was short, but still styled in a fashion that spoke of control, and his cheeks were smooth, either freshly shaved or treated in some way. When he spoke, his tone was conversational, and he never raised his voice. He’d even offered his manicured hand when he introduced himself as Gray.

Rodin didn’t trust him one bit. At least the other man, the one pacing behind him, felt like he belonged in an interrogation chamber. His suit was too tight around his muscular arms, and his trousers gathered around the black boots at the end of his short legs. He’d also eaten something spicy recently, and his breath when he came close was pungent.

Gray had introduced his colleague as Black. Rodin assumed these were not their real names.

“I must remind you, Mister Terrell,” Gray said, “that we don’t appreciate obfuscation. We’re adept at reaching the truth, and I would advise you to consider any attempts at deception to be a waste of your time. It’s in your best interests to answer our questions with all honesty. We are, after all, here to help.”

The odour that crept over Rodin’s shoulder told him Black had shuffled closer. He felt warm breath on his cheek, and a rough voice whispered in his ear. “You help us, we help you.”

Rodin didn’t respond. He’d said barely ten words since the two Authority men had escorted him to their car. He’d briefly considered running, but that would compromise the contract, make him a wanted man. At the moment, Gray and Black were being civil, and he felt it best to play along.

Their vehicle had tinted windows, but when Gray opened the door Rodin saw that it was far more luxurious than the car he’d shared with Cat. It ran smoother, too. Black drove, Gray sat shotgun, and Rodin had the rear to himself. He didn’t bother trying the doors‌—‌the click when they closed told him they were locked.

They drove for about ten minutes, travelling slowly, and eventually took a road that descended into a tunnel. A large sliding door opened ahead, and they passed through, continuing for another few minutes before parking by a small, white door. This led to corridors, and more corridors, and eventually to this room.

The interrogation room.

It was cleaner than he’d expected, but it was in no way luxurious. Two chairs on the far side of the desk, and one chair on his side. One door, light filtering through the ceiling tiles onto the white walls and grey concrete floor. The plain coving around the edge of the ceiling was the only thing to soften the sharp edges of the room.

Black’s boots creaked as he paced. Grey sat back in his chair.

“We understand that you forced your way into another person’s rooms. Would you care to elaborate?”

Rodin shrugged. “He opened the door. I entered. It’s not like I broke the door down.”

“Quite. That would be another matter entirely. Damage to property is very serious.”

Black hovered over Rodin’s shoulder again. “Don’t like others doing damaging,” he rasped.

“But when the door was opened,” Grey continued, “were you invited in? This is, perhaps, the crux of the issue.”

Interesting, Rodin thought, how Grey ignores Black. The man across the desk kept his eyes fixed on Rodin.

Interestinghow Grey ignores Black.“I don’t recall him specifically saying I couldn’t enter.” If this man was going to play semantics, then so could Rodin.

There was a moment of silence. Grey pulled a face, like he was considering Rodin’s words. An attempt to lull him into a false sense of security, perhaps. A play to get Rodin onside.

Grey sighed. “Mister Terrell, you’ve only been in our Dome for a few days. You had problems before your arrival. I can’t comment on social norms where you came from, but in here, those kind of ‘clever’ comments are inappropriate for an interview such as this. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” And Rodin understood far more. The man never mentioned other Domes. Rodin understood that he could not discount these men knowing who he really was.

“So you’re willing to engage in a polite discussion?”

Rodin dipped his head in something like a nod.

“Good. We’ll leave the matter of your entrance to the rooms for the moment, and proceed to the second, possibly more serious, matter. The gentleman who resides in those rooms was most distressed. He states that you were physically forceful, and that you uttered words that were most threatening. How do you respond to this?”

He hated how these people twisted words, but maybe he could do the same. “If he perceived my words as threats, could the error not be in his interpretation?”

“And could your refusal to answer the question with a statement not be interpreted as an admission of guilt?”

That was quick. This man was good.

“Am I guilty that he saw my words as a threat? Possibly I was not totally clear in my phrasing, but how am I responsible if he reaches such a wild interpretation?”

That sounded far better in his head than from his mouth, and he saw Gray’s eyes light up, just for a moment. The man had detected a weakness, and Rodin wasn’t totally sure what it was.

Black’s breath washed over him. “Should’ve made the threat clearer.” He coughed, flecks of the man’s spit landing on Rodin’s neck.

But despite that, he almost liked the man. At least Black didn’t try to drown him in words. Black was the kind of man Rodin could deal with.

Shame the one in control here was Gray.

“Mister Terrell, this grows tiresome. We’ve brought you in to answer serious charges. Do you realise what is at stake here? If we are unsatisfied with this interview, we are authorised to hold you until such a time as you co-operate.”

“And we’ll make you co-operate too,” mumbled Black.

“Can you stop getting so close?” Rodin said. “This situation stinks enough without your aroma on top.”

There was a grunt from Black, and for a fraction of a second Grey glanced at his colleague. Then he focused on Rodin once more. “If we believe you are knowingly attempting to sabotage this interview, we will have no option but to refer you. You understand what that means, I take it?”

Rodin was silent.

“Do I have to explain, Mister Terrell? If we are unsatisfied with your responses, you will be induced into a Refuge. You will be separated from this Dome’s society. You will not be permitted access to friends and relatives. You will not have the freedom to move about as you desire. In short, you will be incarcerated until your attitude is corrected. Do you understand?”

Rodin remained silent, kept his face blank. Grey’s head tilted, and he shifted in his seat. Good. This wasn’t going totally to the man’s plan.

Good. Boots creaked behind him, and clothing rustled. He felt Black’s warm breath on the side of his face.

And he saw an opportunity to take control.

As Black drew in breath, Rodin threw his head back. The impact jarred. There was a crunch, and a cry from Black.

Mumbled words, and shuffling feet, and Rodin turned his head, just enough to see Black. The man held a hand over his nose, blood dripping down his chin.

If this was the districts, Rodin would have capitalised on first blood by spinning round and bringing the man to the ground. Then he’d leap over the desk and remove Grey. Speed and brutality would make up for a lack of weapons.

But this was the Dome. Violence was anathema. Even a simple broken nose was enough to force Grey to sit upright, his mask of control finally slipping.

Rodin sat back in the chair, as if nothing had happened.

“This is‌…‌very serious,” Grey eventually said, his eyes darting between Rodin and Black. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I asked him to stop,” Rodin said, “and he didn’t. I saw no point in wasting words by repeating myself.”

There was a groan then a growl behind Rodin, but it sounded like Black was staying back for the moment.

“That is not how we treat people here,” Grey said.

“No.” Rodin leaned in, saw Grey’s eyes widen, saw his hands twitch where they rested on the desk. “You take them from the streets and use some smelly thug to intimidate them. You hide behind words. You try to bamboozle them with syntax.”

Grey’s fingers curled, like they wanted to become fists. Rodin used his peripheral vision to search for possible weapons, and saw only the screen on the desk. That wouldn’t help‌—‌in the time Rodin took to grab it, he could already have planted a fist in Grey’s face. Better yet, keep his fingers straight and aim for the man’s eyes. The barbarity of such a move would cause Black to hesitate.

The screen buzzed, vibrating on the desk. Grey frowned, and picked it up, his hands shaking. He frowned as he tapped and read the incoming message. Then he turned, looking to the corner of the room, over his left shoulder.

Rodin followed his gaze. The coving round the edge of the ceiling was made of some smooth material. It was hard to tell with the lighting, but it might have been transparent.

Which meant an Eye could be hidden behind it.

Grey returned to his screen, seemed to read the message once more. Then he stood. “Mister Terrell, you will come with us, please.”

Not so many words this time, Rodin thought. That wasn’t a good sign. The fact that Grey received a message directly after Rodin had attacked Black was telling, too.

Not so many words this timeThe interview‌—‌ridiculous to call this an interrogation‌—‌was being monitored, and someone was now calling an end to this part of it. But that didn’t mean the end of the whole process.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Grey stepped round the desk, keeping close to the wall. “Then I instruct my colleague to ensure that you comply.”

Black moved to the other side of Rodin. He had a cloth under his nose now, but he was grinning.

Rodin almost laughed. Did Black really think he’d beat Rodin in a fight? But even if Rodin won and also managed to silence Grey, what then? He might be able to remember the way back to the car, but doors would be locked. With this room being monitored, there would undoubtedly be others ready to stop him escaping.

He had no choice. With a nod, he rose.

They took him from the room, Grey in front, and Black behind.

Neither of the Authority men spoke. They escorted Rodin down a corridor and into a lift. They ascended, then walked another corridor that ended at a sealed door. Grey placed his palm on the screen in the wall.

The door slid open, revealing a small room lined with wooden shelves. Rodin saw pots and tubs, stained and coated with soil. Garden implements leaned against one wall‌—‌shovels, hoes, other things Rodin didn’t recognise but that could be used as improvised weapons. There was a wheeled cart along one side, damp leaves coating its floor.

He walked into the gardener’s shed‌—‌there was no other way of describing the room‌—‌and the door clicked shut behind him. But when Rodin turned he saw only wooden panelling, a couple of dark green raincoats hanging from hooks. He could just make out the edges of the door, but it was an impressive disguise.

A window to his right let in murky light, the glass either frosted or stained and greasy.

Grey reached for the shed’s ‘proper’ door, but didn’t open it yet. He turned to Rodin.

“Personally, I’m disappointed that our interview was curtailed,” he said, his tone conversational once more. “It is rare that we have the opportunity to work with someone so fascinatingly different. But I must inform you‌—‌although you now have your liberty, we will be monitoring you extremely closely. The slightest hint of unsocial behaviour, and Authority will come down.”

Black moved in, his smell vaguely coppery now. “Come down hard,” he snarled.

He turned, facing the man. Give Black his due, the man stood his ground, didn’t even flinch when Rodin brought his face in close, almost nose to b****y nose.

“Fall down too hard, you might break something else,” Rodin said through barely moving lips.

The man’s pupils dilated. Sensible enough to feel fear, then.

Sensible enough to feel fear, then.Sunlight flooded the room as Grey opened the door, causing Black to squint. Rodin smiled and stepped away.

“Good day, Mister Terrell,” Grey said, one hand holding the door wide open.

Rodin nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, then walked past the man, out of the shed and into the sunshine.

The door creaked shut behind him, and Rodin looked around the garden. A rustic path led past neatly cut grass, turning toward a hedge. There was a metal gate, the hedge curving over the top, and above this Rodin could make out four tall buildings.

He walked through the gate and into the Council gardens. Before him was the fourth tower, the home of Authority. But their real work went on underground.

Yet they’d let Rodin walk free.

Realisation fell‌—‌Authority didn’t want the glass breached, so they opposed Leopold’s radical ideas. They wanted him stopped.

Cat spoke of those above him. Cat worked for Authority.

And in accepting this contract, so did Rodin. He was working for those who ran the Dome itself.