Dominions

34-2

Outside, such a suggestion would be taken as predatory and s****l. But here, Rodin knew how Leopold would see Paskia‌—‌a scared girl, in need of comfort. The man’s faith in humanity, and the goodness of his heart, would bring him in.

Paskia nodded, and even managed a smile.

“And I’ll be close by.” He reached for the black curtain and pulled, the material cutting the room in two. “Don’t worry.”

“But‌…‌I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t.”

“And you?”

Rodin paused before answering. Would he hurt Leopold? Ultimately, of course there would be some pain, but that was true of life in general. Paskia was in pain now, worrying herself silly. Pain was unavoidable.

But Rodin prided himself on his professionalism. There were ways to kill that involved only a brief flash of pain. He’d watched targets die with only surprise on their faces. He’d killed targets as they slept. Unless the contract stated otherwise, he always went for the quickest, most pain-free removal possible.

“This is the best Leopold can hope for,” he said. And he ducked behind the curtain.

This side of the room was smaller, but contained the panel in the wall and one of the lights, which he turned off with a flick of a wall switch. It also contained the window that wasn’t plated over, and Rodin was able to ease the curtain aside and watch the street.

Paskia’s chair creaked, and her breathing was fast and shallow. A part of him wanted to call out, check she was okay, maybe even peer round, let her see his face. But that would be a mistake. She needed time to prepare herself, and so did he.

He snaked a hand inside his jacket and gripped the tool. His fingers curled round the handle, and for a moment his eyes closed. It felt good, holding his old friend once more. Slowly, feeling every movement of his arm, hearing fabric rub against fabric, he freed the lance from his inside pocket.

A thing of beauty.

He held it in his right hand, and ran a finger from his left hand along the length, from the button at the end of the handle, along the moulded grip, down the cool, smooth reservoir, and on to the tip of the device. He pressed down gently with his right thumb, just to the first notch, and the needle slid free. He ran his finger along it, so thin yet so powerful, and rested the sharp point against his fingertip, with just enough pressure that the needle pushed his flesh in, threatening to break the skin.

That was all it took. Pierce the skin, then press the button. Force the d**g into the target’s body and let it take effect.

There was movement outside now, at the far end of the street. A figure, features obscured by the weak lighting and the wide-brimmed hat. For a moment Rodin believed the figure to be Cat, come to interfere, checking that Rodin removed the Councillor in a manner to his satisfaction.

But the figure was wary, taking tentative steps, head constantly turning. When he reached the broken gate, the figure hesitated, turning to look around. Rodin caught features beneath the hat, saw the concern on Leopold’s face. But there was a tiny grin, and Rodin knew the Councillor was excited by such a clandestine meeting.

He walked up the overgrown path and knocked on the door with two rapid taps. Rodin heard Paskia gasp, then floorboards creaked as she walked to the door. Through the window Rodin saw Leopold raise his hand to knock again, but then a cold rush of air wafted through the curtain, and the Councillor smiled.

“Councillor Leopold,” Paskia said. “Please, come in.”

“Ah. It’s Miss Paskia, isn’t it? Was it a week ago, when your Aunt introduced us? I must say, I hardly expected to see such an exquisite face in surroundings like this. Do you know, there was talk of removing all these houses and making something else of the area. A few years ago now, of course, and nothing came of it.” He was babbling. Fear, but keeping a lid on it.

“Won’t you come in, Councillor? This dwelling doesn’t offer much, but it’s preferable to the street.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The creak of floorboards, then a click as the door sealed.

Rodin crouched down, pulled his screen out and eased it part-way round the curtain, near to the floor. The reflection of Leopold loomed, his hat in his hand. He turned, frowning.

“I was led to understand I would be meeting Miss Shae. Is she around?”

“Please, have a seat.” Paskia indicated the chair that had its back to the curtain, the one she had not been sitting in before. That was good‌—‌it would be easier for Rodin to make his move on a sitting target. Even if Leopold turned, Rodin would be on him before the Councillor could find his feet.

But Leopold hesitated.

Rodin tightened his grip on the lance and lifted it higher.

“I’m surprised your Aunt suggested a place like this. I know she’s a most fearless woman, but this close to the glass‌—‌isn’t it dangerous?”

“But the glass is secure.” Paskia’s voice wavered, like she didn’t quite believe that.

“Oh, of course it is! But what if we are seen? You know how people like to talk, my dear. No, it’s most unlike Shae to choose a location so questionable. Or so inhospitable.” Leopold moved round the room now, reaching out but not quite touching the walls. The frown never left his face. “Surely, whatever she wished to discuss, a better place could have been found. Or why couldn’t she call round to my rooms, or my office?”

“I‌…‌I really couldn’t say. But I’m sure my Aunt has her reasons. She‌…‌often does things that only make sense when all the facts come to light at a later date.”

Leopold turned to Paskia, and he must have sensed the same thing as Rodin‌—‌Paskia’s nerves. In the reflection, he saw her hands playing with her jacket, saw her head dart around, her eyes never settling on Leopold.

Rodin prepared himself. If Leopold wasn’t going to sit, he’d have to move fast.

“And then there’s this curtain.” Leopold gave a snort of a laugh as he took a couple of steps across the room. His shoe‌—‌slightly muddy, Rodin noticed‌—‌almost touched the screen. “A curtain in such a state surely can’t be purely decorative, and I really can’t believe there’s a window behind here.”

Rodin brought the screen back, stowed it in a pocket. Then he stood, easing himself up as quickly and as quietly as he could. He clenched his legs and arms, preparing his muscles. He stared ahead, his face surely level with Leopold’s.

The curtain moved.

“No!”

The curtain held still. Paskia’s voice was quieter this time. “I mean‌…‌there’s no need to pull the curtain. It‌…‌there’s an ugly mark on the wall. It’s better if the curtain remains in position.”

“Oh, I’m sure it can’t be that bad. And one can hardly expect pristine decoration in a building like this. An interesting pattern on the wall would be preferable to this dreary material, no?”

“But‌…‌but it helps with the sound too.” Paskia’s laugh was forced, and Rodin gripped his lance tighter. “These walls are too bare, and without any furnishings‌—‌the curtain helps cut back on echoes.”

That was smart. Rodin nodded, impressed at how Paskia was thinking, despite her clear nerves.

The room was quiet for a while, the air still enough that Rodin could make out Leopold’s breathing. The Councillor’s feet shuffled, and when he spoke, his voice was louder, and Rodin knew he was facing the curtain now.

“You may well be right, but I’m intrigued by this mark now. I believe I’d like to see it.”

And this time, Leopold pulled the curtain open.

Rodin stared into Leopold’s eyes. The man’s breath was sweet and warm, and Rodin caught a hint of sweat. There was a red patch on his left cheek, near his ear, and now Rodin caught the scent of aftershave too.

The Councillor’s mouth opened, at first as a straight line, but then a smile rose on his lips. “Terrell?” he said.

But there was fear in his eyes as they darted down, to the metal protruding from Rodin’s clenched fist.

Leopold took a step back, and that action broke Rodin’s paralysis. He raised his arm as he lunged forward. In his peripheral vision he saw Paskia, hand across her mouth, eyes wide. But he kept his focus on Leopold.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he brought the lance down, and the sharpened tip pierced his flesh. Rodin pressed the button, releasing the d**g into Leopold’s body.

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and his eyelids closed.

Rodin reached round with his free arm, catching the target as he fell to the floorboards.