Dominions

28

28

- 28 -

According to Rodin’s research, Gorian founded a small gallery just after the glass Dome had first been constructed, believing that art would help calm people’s nerves after all their struggles. Over the years, his foundation had grown, and now the Giorian Gallery was a sprawling collection of buildings in the heart of the Dome, some single-storey affairs, some stretching up four floors, others with cavernous basements for displaying gargantuan pieces. Interlinking the buildings were plazas and small parks that were home to yet more art. There were also cafes, restaurants, gift shops, meeting rooms and areas set aside for private functions.

Rodin had studied blueprints of many of the buildings. He’d also taken virtual tours and read notes on exhibits, seeking the collection that, according to Cat, would appeal to him.

One stood out. In the basement room of the Sarova Suite was a collection of work by Tiamon, a young woman who had suffered a most horrific accident while rock-running. She’d undergone extensive surgery, and there were no physical signs of her trauma now, but in the notes on her collection she spoke of being conscious throughout her accident. She described feeling ribs piercing lungs, and broken bones, and blood flowing from her various wounds.

Her collection, she said, was an attempt to bring a greater awareness to the body, both its fragility and its ability to endure hardships. Yes, the work was brutal and confrontational, but this was intentional. She spoke in interviews of pushing through barriers to reach greater understanding.

Clearly, a collection that focused on broken bodies would be of interest to an assassin.

Rodin arrived early, found the Sarova Suite with ease, and entered the cool basement, stepping through a doorway fashioned to look like an open wound. There was nobody else around, which didn’t surprise Rodin. Although critics had praised the work for its shocking beauty, many added a note to suggest that it was only suitable for those with the strongest of constitutions.

Rodin found the work intriguing. Some of the images were not obvious at first glance, and only careful study showed, for instance, how a bone from one leg had pierced the other leg, rendering both limbs a single entity. Many of the works bled from the frames, the surrounding walls stained red and black as the violence had spread. In one instance, broken shards of bone splintered the frame. A painting suspended from the ceiling, showing a lacerated body held aloft by hooks in the skin, was matched with a smear on the floor, as if blood and other fluids had been dropping for some time.

No wonder few people in the Dome cared to view this collection. The work here reflected life as Rodin knew it, not the charade this Society played out.

He moved to the end of the room, selecting his spot‌—‌half-hidden, but allowing a clear view of the entrance. Ten minutes later, the Gentleman appeared. Suited, hat firm on his head, he strode into the room and approached the first piece. He held his arms behind his back and gazed at the image‌—‌a head, the skin peeled back to reveal the white skull beneath, thin trickles of crimson marking out the uneven surface.

Rodin walked to the tall man’s side, about an arm-stretch away. He adopted a similar pose‌—‌hands behind back, eyes on the image.

“Striking, isn’t it,” Cat said, “how such barbaric imagery can exist, showing so much pain and t*****e, in a culture as civilised as this. I often find the dichotomy between what is portrayed in art and what is accepted elsewhere to be most illuminating. To me, it speaks of a simple, irrefutable fact. Regardless of how we wish things to be, life in all its ugliness will remain as brutal as ever. I wonder, my friend, if the work being created by our marvellous Sertio will be as confrontational as this?”

“I believe it will be what it will be.”

“Ah, yes‌—‌a clever way to avoid an answer, and yet it says so much about yourself. What will be will be. The great cycle of life and death. The ultimate futility of effort. I take it the time you have spent with one of the artistic greats of our age is having little effect on your spiritual side.”

This didn’t deserve a response, so Rodin remained silent. He had not meant his response in the way Cat had taken it‌—‌no, twisted it‌—‌but there was a lot of truth in those words. It reminded Rodin that he should stay alert when talking to this man. Jimny’s words came back to him‌—‌the Gentleman would be a good friend, but a dangerous enemy.

the Gentleman would be a good friend, but a dangerous enemy“I heard about your accident, of course. Most unfortunate.”

Rodin nodded. He needed to be careful with his words, though. He couldn’t trust that Authority wouldn’t be listening in somehow. “It was. I still feel regret over the mistakes I made.”

“But one can always learn from mistakes. Most of the time, anyway. So tell me‌—‌how is your work proceeding?”

“Progressing.”

“Good to hear. Personally, I’m under pressure at work. Oh, nothing I can’t handle, and being a middleman in certain dealings, it’s only to be expected. Those I work for want results, and I seek professionals most able to provide said results. It becomes concerning, however, when one such professional informs me that his task is progressing, despite there being little evidence to back up this claim. Those above me are starting to question if I have, indeed, selected the right individual. Especially when he becomes involved in a certain incident that necessitates the involvement of Authority.”

Rodin didn’t respond‌—‌what could he say?‌—‌and Cat continued. “Thankfully, I have some sway, and was able to call in a few favours to ensure this matter didn’t escalate.” He shot a look at Rodin, and Rodin nodded‌—‌all the thanks he was going to give the man. “But this, in itself, causes more problems. I hire someone to do a job so that I don’t have to get involved personally. To be honest, I’m wondering if those above me are correct. I’m wondering if I have hired the right person.”

“Maybe the job is more complex than first appeared,” Rodin said, still looking at the art on the wall. He wondered what Cat’s skull would look like with the skin peeled off. “Maybe there are problems that weren’t made apparent from the start.”

“I believe I gave a fully comprehensive briefing.”

“Maybe there are forces working against the one you hired.”

“Ah.” Cat nodded, then walked on to the next picture. “I’m certain I told this individual that there would be opposition to the work, so I fail to see why this should be a surprise.”

“Possibly the information was lacking in details,” Rodin said carefully. “How would this professional effectively work against such forces if he was left in the dark about the nature and force of this opposition?”

Cat snorted, and was silent for a while. Rodin looked at the picture. It showed an arm, again with the skin pulled back, and metal rods grabbed at muscles and tendons. On the end of the arm, the hand was twisted, the fingers clawing in.

The hand being controlled by outside forces. Somehow, that seemed appropriate to the conversation.

“I would expect,” Cat said, his voice slicing through the air with a menacing edge, “a professional to work from their own initiative. Why hire one of the best if they need so much spoon-feeding?”

Rodin had no response for that, because Cat was right. In every contract, there was opposition. It was a mistake to assume this wouldn’t happen in the Dome.

“Those above me grow tired of waiting,” Cat said. “They talk of hiring someone else to complete the project. Clearly, that leaves the person currently engaged at a loose end‌—‌and those I work for are particularly focused on tidying any loose ends. I trust you understand.”

Of course Rodin did. He already knew too much, and Authority‌—‌or whatever dark part of it Cat worked for‌—‌couldn’t risk that knowledge spreading. There was only one permanent solution.

Cat removed his hat and used it to fan his face. His hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place.

“You know, I do believe these images are making me feel queasy,” he said. “Such a stuffy, dark room, too. I feel the need for some fresh air. But please, don’t let me disturb your appreciation of this work.”

Without another word, Cat walked to the door and was gone, leaving his threats hanging over Rodin.

Rodin waited another couple of minutes, then left also. He couldn’t recall any of the other images he’d looked at. His mind was too busy on other matters.

He’d discounted physical threats, but Black’s words and attitude forced him to reconsider. Authority might decry violence, but they’d use it when necessary. And if Cat could bring an assassin across the glass, what was to stop those protecting Leopold doing the same?

To keep Leopold alive, they would kill Rodin.

The assassin could be anyone, but he could narrow down possibilities.

Just as Rodin was drawing close to his target, his assassin would be nearby, most likely someone he’d already seen. Maybe someone he knew.

He discounted Sertio straight away, and after a few moments discounted Daventree too. The agent clearly disliked Rodin, but he was working with (or for) Cat. True, he could be playing both sides against each other, but Rodin doubted it. Daventree was not the assassin.

There was the man on the roof garden, of course, and Rodin turned to his screen, using some of his hacks to access further information.

The rooms at the top of the building were occupied by Parren, forty-one years old, and currently working in the records department at the Council buildings, with an exemplary record. He was also a keen gardener, and had been a resident in those particular rooms for the last five years.

So he hadn’t moved in to spy on Rodin. Unless the data had been falsified.

Rodin dove deeper, using an algorithm to search for connections between Parren and others. The man was currently listed as being single, but had been linked to others in the past. The algorithm provided a list of names and dates, and one name stood out.

Parren had been romantically linked to Shae, about seven years ago‌—‌roughly when he gained his current position in the Council’s records department.

Interesting.

Rodin called up the data he’d securely stored on Shae, and scanned it. Often, when new information came to light, returning to old data allowed Rodin to make clear connections, and this time was no exception.

As a journalist, Shae travelled a great deal, and according to the records she’d officially been a resident of each of the seven Domes. Her name was linked to many others, but it intrigued Rodin that she’d become linked with Parren around the time he gained a promotion, granting him greater access to Council records.

Rodin extracted the list of Shae’s connections and filtered it according to names ‘known to Authority’. Still with too many names on the list‌—‌maybe over a hundred‌—‌so he filtered further, searching for those connected to Councils.

It was interesting how many of them were not only fairly high up in the Council, but had also expressed controversial views at one time or another. It was almost as if Shae had a nose for picking out those likely to be taken by Authority.

Or she was aligning herself with those who opposed Authority.

He tagged that thought for further contemplation, and returned to the list of Councillors. He read the Authority records on each one, focusing on their troublesome views. It was not surprising how many of them talked of greater freedom of movement.

Rodin took a moment to consider. Records from other Domes were patchy, but as far as he could tell, in each of the seven Domes Shae was linked to a Councillor expressing the desire for greater movement. And Rodin didn’t believe that was a coincidence.

He ran back through Leopold’s records. Solid work as a low-level Councillor, but then came his speech, the one where he, too, mentioned greater freedom of movement. Rodin checked the date once more‌—‌three years ago.

Cross-check. Shae moved from Sousie Dome to the First Dome about three and a half years ago. Her first recorded contact with Leopold was an interview a few weeks after her arrival.

It wasn’t confirmation, but it was close enough.

Shae was at the centre of this all. She was influencing Councillors throughout all the Domes, pushing the idea of free movement. But those in control were fighting back. That was why they’d hired Rodin.

But Shae clearly needed Leopold. She’d do whatever she could to ensure his survival. With her connections, it wasn’t much of a leap to believe she’d hired an assassin from beyond the glass too.

It wasn’t Parren‌—‌the man might be confident in his dedication to protecting Leopold, but he didn’t strike Rodin as a killer. But the assassin would be someone close to Shae. Someone she was positioning, ready to remove Rodin.

The answer, when it slapped him round the face, was obvious. And so, so troubling.

Paskia.

PaskiaThe scar that anyone from the Dome would have had removed. Her reticence to talk about her past. The fact that she was so close to Shae.

And she was good. She acted so scared, so unassuming. She’d been prepared to get close to her target in such an intimate way, and yet she’d refrained from removing him. That meant she was in perfect, cold control of herself.

Until the second session. Maybe those poses‌—‌the raking clawed hands, pushing him away, the hint of threat‌—‌had been too close to what she needed to do. Maybe she didn’t trust herself to remain in her role, but hadn’t wanted to remove her target in the presence of a witness.

Had Sertio actually saved Rodin’s life? It was a distinct possibility.

Rodin checked the screen’s clock. She’d arrive in thirty minutes.

Half an hour, and Rodin would face the assassin sent to remove him.