Dominions

4

4

- 4 -

Rodin stepped from the shadows and faced the tall man.

The Gentleman looked him up and down, taking his time, the thin smile on his lips impossible to read. “Yes, you are all I have been led to believe. But this place is not conducive to professional discussions. Shall we adjourn elsewhere?”

Fancy words weren’t going to have any effect on Rodin. He shook his head.

“You’d prefer us to talk here?”

“I have things to do.”

“Ah. Suitably non-committal. I’m sure you are a busy man, Mister Rodin. After all, the day is but young, and already you have achieved so much‌—‌damage to a lodging house, a spot of active surveillance, not to mention ending a young woman’s life. One wonders how you ever find time for work.”

If this fool wanted to hire Rodin, he was going about it in totally the wrong way. “I need to go.”

The Gentleman opened his hands in exasperation, although his face remained blank. “You say you need to go. But is it not more accurate to say you want to go? You don’t trust me, and so you have no wish to converse. But, my stubborn assassin, what you want and what you need are two very different things. You wanted to start this day like any other, but you needed to fight for your life. You want to go now, but‌—‌and please believe me when I say this‌—‌you need to hear my words.”

want“I need nothing from you.”

Rodin stared into the shadow beneath that stupid hat, unable to see the man’s eyes. But he knew they met his gaze. His head tilted a fraction, and Rodin felt like he was being studied.

“I appreciate a man who knows his own mind,” the Gentleman said, “even if he’s wrong. But as you’re so adamant, I’ll leave you.” He touched his hat in a gesture of farewell. “At least, for now.”

Before Rodin could respond, the man turned and walked away.

Rodin followed with his eyes, only now realising how hard his heart was beating. He pulled in a breath, let it out slowly.

The man reached the body with the broken neck and paused. He looked down, nudging the corpse with a foot. “So much violence, but it is more troubling when it is targeted. I would remind you of what happened back at your building, Mister Rodin. It would be unfortunate indeed if further attempts were made on your life.”

As the Gentleman walked from the alley, Rodin again thought of Jimny’s words. He did not want this man as a friend, but could he afford to have such an enemy?

There were three tower blocks at the centre of Genna’s district, twenty storeys high, dwarfing surrounding buildings. They should have been no-go areas. In other districts, too many people crammed into such a small space was a recipe for disaster. But not here.

Rodin understood Genna’s statement in making that middle tower her base. She sat in the heart of her people, high enough up that she could watch over them, but not separated from the masses. Of course, she insisted on high security in ‘her’ tower, closely monitoring all who approached‌—‌and this led to all kinds of rumours. Some said the higher floors contained air-tight cells and t*****e chambers, others that lower floors were used for training her guards, with prisoners used as live target practice in specially-designed weapons ranges.

The fact that she did nothing to dissuade such rumours spoke more to her intelligence than the truth or otherwise of these tales.

Eyes watched him as he approached, and Rodin fought his desire to walk away. Bringing only bad news to Genna was never pleasant, but he knew it must be done, if only to clear his name.

There was a screen next to the main door of the middle tower, cold against Rodin’s flesh. It glowed blue, then green, and the door clicked. He pushed it open and entered the empty foyer. Of course, her guards would be watching, from both the plainly-visible Eyes and the countless that remained hidden.

There were a couple of lifts to his right, one standing open. Fast and efficient, but not for Rodin. Too confined, and too controlled. If anything went wrong‌—‌or if the guards chose to hold the lift between floors‌—‌he’d be captive. Lifts were traps.

A smaller door led to the concrete stairs, and Rodin jogged up all nineteen flights. His thigh muscles burned, blood pumping round his body, and when he reached the top he felt alert, ready for whatever Genna and her guards threw at him.

The landing was empty but for a single solid door, with a screen and simple call button to the right. According to rumour, the door could only be opened from inside. Even Genna had to rely on her guards opening the door for her‌—‌although there was talk of secret passages.

There was always talk. Rodin listened to it all, but distrusted much of it. Safer that way. Less disappointments.

Safer that way. Less disappointments.He pressed the button and a voice sounded, from a hidden speaker that Rodin had never located. “What?” it spat out, the tone vibrating Rodin’s chest, the word itself seeming to come from all around.

“I have information for Genna.” He resisted the urge to shout, knew monitors would pick up even a whisper.

“Yeah?” This time, the voice came from his left.

“It could be important.”

“Yeah?” Same voice, but now from the right.

Rodin counted slowly in his head. He wouldn’t be taken in by their mind games, wouldn’t give in to anger or frustration. They’d either let him in, tell him to leave, or‌—‌and he was almost surprised this hadn’t happened yet‌—‌physically remove him.

The screen flashed, showing a single word‌—‌‘wait’. That was it. Rodin continued counting, reaching fifty, seventy-five, then a hundred. The scar on his shoulder started to itch, but he let it be. Never show signs of weakness. Remain in control of your body at all times.

Never show signs of weakness. Remain in control of your body at all times.Then the door slid open. The word on the screen changed to ‘enter’, and Rodin did as instructed.

The two guards were imposing in their metallic-black body suits and helmets. Each held a g*n, the dangerous end pointed in Rodin’s direction. Not an assassin’s weapon, a g*n‌—‌killing from a distance was never as refined as close work‌—‌but as a way of imposing order, nothing beat a large, powerful firearm.

The guard on the left spoke, the same voice Rodin had heard on the landing. “She wants to see you.”

Rodin nodded, took a step forward, and stopped when he heard a click from the guns.

“Any f*****g about, and you leave the quick way‌—‌through the window. Understand?”

Rodin nodded again. He knew the threat wasn’t totally accurate‌—‌Genna wouldn’t risk a falling body causing damage to others, but she wasn’t above removing those she saw as enemies. She’d used Rodin a few times to do just that.

The other guard nodded to the open locker by Rodin’s side. “You know the drill.”

Rodin removed his pack, placing it in the locker with care. Then he pulled his tools from the various compartments in his trousers and his jacket, and placed them carefully on top of the pack before turning to face the guards.

They stood firm, weapons still angled at Rodin. One of them nodded. “And the rest.”

Rodin shrugged. They knew what he had on his body before he’d even stepped through the door, but he felt he had to try. The guards needed the practice.

He reached down and removed the blade from his boot. Only then did the guard on the left nod to the alcove opposite. The scanner.

Rodin stepped in, as he had many times before. Light played over him‌—‌pointless, except for the possible psychological effects it had. It didn’t bother him, though. And when the guards told him to step out, he nodded a sarcastic ‘thank-you’. He thought he heard one of them mutter, call him a smart-arse. But neither of them let their annoyance drive their actions.

Genna only hired the best.

A third guard appeared, and said, “Come.” This one‌—‌and Rodin thought it might be a female, even though her voice was deep‌—‌led him away. A fourth guard appeared from somewhere, following a few steps behind.

Interesting. He usually only warranted a single escort. He must be going up in the world.

They stopped at a door Rodin had seen many times, and they waited. There was no need to knock‌—‌Genna knew he was here, and she could liaise with her guards through their comms, feeding data to their visor displays. Rodin wondered, briefly, what it must be like to view the world at a remove like that.

The door clicked, opening a c***k. The female guard pushed, and it swung wide. Then she tapped Rodin’s back with her g*n.

He entered.

The room was functional, the colours neutral, off-white. A potted plant provided a splash of green in the corner, its rubbery leaves turned to the soft glow that came from the ceiling. On the wall to the right was a large screen, powered down at the moment, the glass providing only a dark reflection of the desk that stood in the centre of the room.

The desk looked heavy, with a solid wood-effect finish. It was also functionally clear, containing only a hand-held screen and a single glass of water. Rodin was unsurprised to see no drink waiting for him.

The window in the far wall looked over Genna’s district, sunlight filtering through the low clouds, a smog rising in the distance. The Dome was still visible, though, light reflecting on that huge glass surface, that imposing barrier that separated the districts from the utopia within.

There were two chairs this side of the desk. One was already occupied, and Rodin recognised Kharem, Genna’s Right-hand. Her new Right-hand. The replacement for the one Rodin had removed.

Genna, in her chair‌—‌good quality, but nothing ostentatious‌—‌regarded Rodin, her head to one side. She showed no emotion. She wore shadow round her eyes, drawing attention to those large brown orbs, cold and so piercing. Her thick black hair was tied back, a few strands escaping to fall down her face. Rodin couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or not.

Too often, he found Genna difficult to read.

She turned to Kharem and nodded. The man gave Rodin a sneer. “You sure?” Genna raised one eyebrow, and Kharem shrugged, then rose. As he reached the door he spoke into the ear of one of the guards, too low for Rodin to catch his words. The guard’s head turned, and although Rodin could see no eyes, he knew the guard watched him.

Of course Genna’s Right-hand wanted the guards to pay attention to Rodin. Kharem didn’t trust Rodin one iota‌—‌and for that alone, Rodin respected the man. His predecessor might have succumbed to promises of riches, but Kharem was a solid protector and confidante.

And then the man was gone, and the door clicked shut.

When Genna spoke, her voice was low and deep. There were undertones that suggested, in the right mood, she could be an accomplished seductress, and Rodin was certain she had disarmed many an opponent with it. But it wouldn’t work on him, and she knew it.

“I was hoping I’d seen the last of you, rogue. But like a persistent virus, you’re back. And like a pox, you leave chaos in your path. I believed we had an agreement.”

No, he thought. An order, not an agreement. She had said she wanted no more trouble from Rodin. She had warned of dire consequences‌—‌nothing specific, but he knew what she was capable of.

NoAn order, not an agreement“I repeat‌—‌I believed we had an agreement.”

Rodin nodded.

“You’re forgetting your place, rogue. Speak!”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, we had an agreement.” You spoke, and I agreed to listen, because it was the only way to get out in one piece.

You spoke, and I agreed to listen, because it was the only way to get out in one piece.“So why are you causing trouble again?”

“I didn’t cause any…”

Her hand shot up, cutting him off with her long nails, polished blood red.

“The corpse of an unidentified girl left in the street. A potentially lethal trap on your door that required a solid hour to defuse safely. Not to mention the damage within the room itself.”

“I didn’t want to do any of it.”

“The girl was practically a minor!”

“But she was trying to remove me.”

“I’m almost annoyed she failed. The corpse of a mercenary would be so much easier to deal with. I know of many who would be thankful to see the back of you.”

She gritted her teeth, and for a moment one hand balled into a fist, resting on the desk. Then she breathed out, and placed the hand flat. “You exasperate me, rogue. You do me service, professional and timely, but you’re a mercenary. You consider only the pay, never the consequences. As much as you have been a benefit to my district, there have been times when I have considered how best to remove you.”

Rodin remained impassive. Why argue against the truth?

“I should have you exiled. Make you someone else’s problem. I could name you an open target, an enemy of the district. You set foot in here again, and you’re fair game to anyone who wants to try.”

He couldn’t hide the smile, even though her expression grew angry. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to rile her. “But you know I’d protect myself. How many would I remove in self-defence before someone succeeded in removing me?”

“You believe there are no better assassins than you? Do you really think I don’t have the funds to hire the best?”

There was no outward threat in her words, but they struck Rodin hard. He thought of the girl‌—‌not the best assassin, but one sent to kill him. Was Genna wanting rid of him so badly?

“But at the moment this is not an option. My hands, to some extent, are tied.” She sighed, and waved at a chair. “Sit.”

That was unexpected. He’d only sat in this office once, a mistake he never repeated. He’d been younger, full of himself, and had taken the summons to her office as a sign of respect. He’d sat as soon as he entered the room.

She hadn’t said a word. The glare had been enough.

But now she was offering him a seat. To refuse would be wrong.

The chair was not as comfortable as he recalled, and it creaked when he shifted his weight. He heard no sound from her own chair.

“People die every day, so maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on you protecting yourself‌—‌although your professional status would suggest a little more control. And I’m grateful you took it upon yourself to come to me, because it saves me the bother of summoning you.” She sighed again, and Rodin caught a waft of some floral perfume. It wasn’t strong, but he’d never known her wear scent before. He wondered who she was trying to impress. “I needed to speak to you. Or rather, there is someone else who needs to speak to you, and he requests my presence.”

Her hand reached beneath the desk, and Rodin heard the door behind him click. He looked up to the window, saw a shadow of a reflection. Only when Genna looked over his shoulder did Rodin turn.

The man’s shoes were clean, almost shining. His long coat reached down, leaving only a short stretch of his black trousers visible. And on his head, shielding his eyes, sat a wide-brimmed hat.

The Gentleman stepped into Genna’s office.