Dominions

32-1

32

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Rodin walked fast, ridding his body of the pent-up energy, feeling the burn as his muscles rode out the adrenaline.

How could he call himself a professional after that? So much had gone wrong, in such a short space of time. He’d been alone with the target, and he hadn’t even tried to remove the man. He’d been drawn in to the Councillor’s ideas, tricked into ignoring the reason he was there.

And then there was that b****y woman. Whatever she suspected, his stupid posturing had now confirmed it. Maybe she would tell Leopold all she knew, poison him against Rodin. Not disastrous, but it would make getting close to the target so much harder. And she was Paskia’s guardian, and in contact with Sertio. What other damage could she do?

The whole thing was a mess, and as Rodin stomped along quiet backstreets, he listed all the other mistakes he’d made since he set foot behind the glass. He should never have accepted this contract. Damn Cat!

He might have been wrong about Paskia, but Shae and her colleagues could still have hired mercenaries from the districts. And if those assassins didn’t finish him, there was the threat from Authority‌—‌both the official side and those Cat worked for. One side would incarcerate him in Correction, the other side would end his life if he didn’t complete this contract.

Rodin’s only way to escape the Dome was to remove Leopold.

Quiet as these streets were, they were not empty. Rodin forced Terrell to the surface, trusting his training to provide smiles and appropriate greetings. It was a sham, true‌—‌but wasn’t that the same for everyone? Every person he’d met under the glass kept their real selves locked away, showing only a bland, acceptable facade. Shae was an obvious example, as was Parren, but there were many others.

Sertio wore the exuberant body of both a tortured artist and a fun-loving socialite, but his excitement at seeing Rodin exercising n***d hinted at a darker side hidden under those rolls of flesh. Daventree worked for Sertio, but was also clearly influenced by Cat too, and Rodin was unsure where his loyalties really lay. And Paskia, with her memories eroded by Authority, still harboured bitterness toward those in charge.

Then there was Leopold. Maybe he spoke more freely than most, but his language was guarded and masterful. He hinted at possible thoughts, but never fully committed, and his true feelings were obscured. Was he striving for freedom of movement between Domes, or did he seriously hanker after a future where the glass was no barrier?

Rodin’s feet had led him into an area he didn’t recognise, and Rodin took a moment to scan his surroundings. The five-storey buildings to either side were set back from the street by small paved areas behind ornate metal fences. Simple latched gates gave access, but each door was topped with an Eye.

The sign ahead read ‘Forest Avenue’, and Rodin’s first thought was to wonder where the trees were. But the name was familiar, and after a few paces, he recalled where he’d read it.

Shae lived in one of these buildings. Dryad House, apartment five.

Rodin snorted a laugh. Once again, his body‌—‌or his subconscious or something‌—‌had been working while he’d been struggling with questions. Just like he had found himself at Leopold’s building, he now found himself here.

But why? What could he do about Shae?

Maybe he should remove her. If Cat’s bosses wanted Leopold gone because he was becoming the figurehead of a rebellion, surely they’d welcome the removal of a central figure in that same rebellion.

Dryad House was on the left, a couple of minutes’ walk along Forest Avenue. There was a tree outside, one of those with needles rather than leaves, and it sat in a small patch of soil bordered by red slabs. It reminded Rodin of the raised beds on the roof garden, and of Federick’s make-believe landscape. Nature transplanted, trapped and moulded for pleasure. Nature neutered.

There was a path running alongside the building, and Rodin investigated. As dusk approached, shadows engulfed the passageway, and the air was cool and refreshing. It opened into a wide space, the path crossing a grassy mound. Surrounding this, edging the fences at the rear of the buildings, were trees and bushes. Again, they had been planted, providing privacy to those in the buildings.

Rodin strode to the top of the mound, and turned to look at Dryad House. Like all the surrounding buildings, each floor had a balcony, with sliding glass doors. That must surely lead to the main living area, but to be sure Rodin pulled out his screen and called up plans.

They weren’t hard to find, the original architect apparently trumpeting his work as ‘stylised living for those who appreciate the finer things in life’, which sounded like hot air to Rodin. But there were plans, and even a virtual walk-through of a standard apartment. He watched, occasionally glancing up at the building itself to orientate the image with reality.

The living area ran the width of the building. There was a bedroom to the front, with a lavish bathroom, and another couple of rooms to the rear. Those must be behind the windows to the left of the balcony. Rodin thought it likely that Shae used one of these as an office or work-space, and Paskia had the other as her bedroom.

A visual scan of the rear of the building showed no Eyes, and the only security, once through the trees and bushes, was an easily-climbable fence. The first-floor balcony could be reached with a running jump, and the rest of the climb up to Shae’s apartment would present no difficulties.

Worth noting. But he needed to concentrate on Leopold. Next time he met the Councillor, Rodin knew he must act before the man started talking.

Worth notingBecause that was the problem, wasn’t it? The man was a master with his words, and he drew Rodin in, hypnotising the assassin with ideas that, if Rodin were honest, made a hell of a lot of sense. Both the Dome and the districts had developed, and where once each person could make a choice, now it was down to fortune‌—‌you were either born within the glass or without.

And Genna had been right‌—‌those in the Dome got everything, while daily life in the districts was a constant struggle. There was art and sport under the glass simply because residents had spare time and energy. Could Sertio create his sculptures if he constantly feared an attack? Could all those people enjoy the gardens around the Council buildings if heading into woods or round a corner might lead to an encounter with someone wielding a weapon? Could someone like Leopold enjoy his nocturnal activities on the lake if others were intent on taking his boat, or his belongings, or his life?

But things weren’t that simple. Paskia was proof of that. There might be nothing to fear from other residents, but that was only because anyone daring to even question the status quo was taken away. And, as Leopold has suggested, this led to stagnation.

Rodin saw that now. The districts were in constant flux‌—‌people lost their homes, or they had to move for their own safety or to find work. Lines between the districts themselves were never hard, with allegiances changing with the weather. But in the Dome, everything was constant. So much Rodin had seen over the last few days was exactly the same as when he’d been under the glass before.

Why? Because the people were content in their little bubble of security. There was no desire to change.

But stasis was not natural. People grew and developed. The world moved on. Trying to stop the flow was pointless.

Which made Leopold’s words so important. When he spoke, he forced others to confront their beliefs, to question their assumptions. With his position in the Council, he had a voice, and he used that to make people think.

If Rodin stopped the Councillor, he was as bad as those in Authority who had taken so much from Paskia.

Yet he’d accepted the contract, and there was no way out. He must remove Leopold.

mustAnd as he paced, the muscles in his body pumping blood to his brain, the rhythm of his steps spurring his mind on, the kindling of an idea formed.

It was far from a plan, but it was something. Rodin tossed it around in his head, testing it for cracks, stretching it to breaking point.

He had to assume that Shae had poisoned Leopold’s mind to Rodin now, and so she was involved. He needed to use her to reach the Councillor. But when he next met Leopold, he needed to work quickly. For that, he needed his tools, but they were in the Half-way House. And after he’d silenced the man, he needed help that could only be found outside the Dome.

There was only one way he’d gain access to the districts.

Rodin pulled out his screen and woke it. He tapped in Cat’s contact information and wrote a message.

I apologise for interrupting you in such a blunt manner, but I’d greatly appreciate your assistance. A current project I’m involved in has hit complications that I feel only you can solve. It will be easier to discuss this in person, so could we meet? I suggest where we last saw one another, in an hour’s time. I know this is very last-minute, but I’m sure you understand how completing this project promptly is in everyone’s interests.

Rodin sent the message and headed for the Giorian Gallery.

Even though the Gallery was open late, few people visited this time of the evening, and Rodin reached the Sarova Suite without bumping into anyone. He stood before one of the pieces at the back of the room, a painting depicting an arm that had been sliced open to reveal b****y muscles and tendons. At the end of the arm was a hand, the nails painted brightly, but the fingers were curled over in pain. It seemed appropriate‌—‌the external beauty torn to reveal the ugly machinations beneath the surface.

When Cat arrived, he made no pretence of admiring the artwork. He stood next to Rodin and folded his arms. “You wanted something?”

“I have a plan, but I need to set up a few things first.”

“So you want my help.”

Rodin nodded, and waited. Cat sighed. “Maybe I didn’t make it clear last time we spoke, but I expect those I hire to get the job done themselves.”

Rodin wouldn’t let himself be bullied. “I will. But I need certain things in place.”

From the corner of his eye, Rodin saw Cat’s chest rise and fall. “I’m not guaranteeing anything, but what do you need?” he eventually said.

“I need to go back.”

“Back?”

There was nobody else around, but Rodin couldn’t risk being too explicit. “Back to where we first met. There are people I need to speak to, things I need to set up.”

“It’s no concern of mine what happens after the job is completed.”

“This is part of that job. I won’t explain more. You’ll have to trust me.”

Cat snorted, and despite himself Rodin shuddered. If Cat had been a friend before‌—‌and Rodin had his doubts about that‌—‌the next few moments could turn him into an enemy.

“I don’t see why I should help you. If you can’t do this job, I’ll have to hire someone else. It’s not any concern of mine if you fail.”