Breath of Earth (23 page)

Ingrid gasped and covered her mouth even though she couldn't be heard from the closet. Miss Rossi's studio had been right next door to the Cordilleran Auxiliary. They were talking about her building. They caused the explosion. They murdered all the wardens and adepts and little boys and maids. Why? What could they gain from murdering the region's geomancers?

“Yes.” The man's voice softened, and Ingrid strained to hear. “Sacrifice is necessary.”

“Some Thuggee you are. What would Kali think, you with tears in your eyes?” Miss Rossi spoke of the Hindu goddess of time and change, a complex being often described as a Hidden One of old.

“Don't believe everything you read in the papers, that feculence. As if Hindus are the only ones fighting for the sake of India now. Christian, Muslim, Jain, Sikh—we are all in this together.”

“A shame. I should like to take pictures of this Kali.”

The man barked out a laugh. “You'd ask the devil himself to pose for a photograph, if you could. We should go get some sleep. We're due to meet the others at Mussel Rock at dawn. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow will be busy.”

Ingrid knew Mussel Rock. The wardens would take students there on day picnics to pull in energy and fill kermanite, even as they played baseball and practiced sumo wrestling.

“Sleep? I can think of better things to do than sleep. Oh, not just that.” There was another pause. “Let's hit the Barbary Coast! Go to Kelvin's or the Anastasia. This is our last chance. None of this will be here tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don't want to take more pictures?”

“I might take a few, but I am low on film, and I'll need it tomorrow, yes? Especially if we have a sighting.”

“You and your damned monsters.”

“Fantastics aren't monsters. Men. Men are better monsters. Maybe we go upstairs first? I bet there are empty rooms. I can pick a lock.”

“Oh, can you? A woman of many talents.”

“You don't even know.”

Footsteps echoed in the chamber of the stairwell and faded as the two ascended. Ingrid braced herself, biding her time as the couple departed. She had to get to Cy and Fenris. The airship was ready. They had to make it to Mussel Rock to stop the assault, whatever it was.

Ingrid staggered from the broom closet and back to the main hallway. She ran to the exit, her shoes half sliding on the slick floor, and shoved open the door. Momentum carried her
forward and directly into the double row of gold buttons lining a dark uniform.

“Well, hello,” said a deep voice with a laugh. A hand clamped down on her narrow wrist, and twisted. The purse clattered onto the asphalt.

She looked up at Captain Sutcliff's rather equine face.

“Pick it up,” he snapped.

Soldiers surrounded her. One stooped to pick up her purse.

“Thanks for grabbing that for me, sir,” she said. “Now, if you'll pass it here, I'll move along—”

“Miss Carmichael, I've spent a great deal of time and fuss looking for you the past few days.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“Sir!” It was the soldier with her purse. “There's a pistol here, sir.”

Captain Sutcliff tilted his head to one side. “Anything else?”

“Stubs for
Lincoln,
sir, and a comb.”

The captain returned his cool gaze to her. A light cast his face in bright yellow the same shade as his hair. “What did you have in mind for tonight, hmm?”

“Isn't it obvious? I planned to brush my hair.”

Captain Sutcliff sighed. “Really, are we playing this game? Where's your
boss,
Miss Carmichael? Where's Mr. Sakaguchi?”

“I honestly don't know.” She thought of him and felt an extra twist of anxiety. “I'm not the one you want. I just overheard a man, a Thuggee, speaking with Miss Victoria Rossi. They're plotting a new attack.”

“Really. You think I'll be so easily distracted?”

“It's not a distraction!” snapped Ingrid. Heat curdled on her skin, and she gritted her teeth. “They are plotting some kind of attack on San Francisco. Please. If you search the upper-floor rooms—”

“Do you realize how many apartments are up here? Come now, Miss Carmichael. I'm not going to be led on any Sasquatch hunts. Who is your partner in this endeavor, the man with the glasses? Did he kill Mr. Sakaguchi?”

She gaped at him. “Of course not!”

“There was a lot of blood in your home. I'm surprised you didn't use poison again.”

Ingrid shook her head. “Your gasbag's gone flat. I don't even know what you're talking about.”

“I see. So we are going to play this game.” Captain Sutcliff sighed. “Let's enjoy more comfortable surroundings, shall we?”

Ingrid had passed the police precinct for years but rarely cast it a second glance. The structure was of tony red brick, quite stark and Federalist. A United States flag with its forty-five stars draped from a flagpole over the door, with a rising-sun flag slightly lower on the left side.

Across the street was a barbershop with a striped pole and a cigar-store Indian.

She made a special effort not to look directly at Cy. He slouched in the doorway of the shop, his posture reminiscent of Fenris. His head rose slightly, and with a glance at a nonexistent watch on his wrist, he casually walked down the street. Captain Sutcliff never looked his way.

It broke her heart to see Cy leave.

Not as if he could have done anything, of course. He was a pacifist, not an idiot. Ingrid was surrounded by five soldiers and Captain Sutcliff. The soldiers hadn't bound her hands or
arms, but they walked in tight formation around her, firearms at the ready. If she tried to run, she had no doubt that they would shoot her. Probably someplace nonfatal, like the leg, though the ripple effects of that would be disastrous.

That fear prevented her from knocking them down with a pressure wave. Even if she did manage to topple the soldiers, they were bound to be crack shots. They were trained to roll off a downed horse and come up shooting, and did target practice from bobbing airships in windy weather. She wouldn't underestimate them.

She was suddenly put in mind of the game of kitsune-ken, as if she had made the motion for the hunter and lost to the higher-ranking village chief. Well, as far as Ingrid was concerned, the shamisen would play on. She refused to concede defeat.

They entered the building. A police officer in light blue stood behind a heavy counter, his salute crisp.

“Captain Sutcliff, sir, our captain has given you full use of our facilities, sir. We also have celled autocars available if you need transport to the Presidio or Fort Monroe, sir.”

“I will question the young lady here for now, thank you, Lieutenant.”

The captain guided her into a high-ceilinged chamber painted in ghastly sea-foam green. He motioned her to a wooden chair by a table. He sat in a cushioned seat across from her. The table legs were bolted to the marble floor. Two soldiers flanked the door, with another one behind her, and the others visible in the hallway.

If Ingrid hadn't been so frustrated and scared, she might
have been honored to be regarded as such a threat, but right now she had a more pressing concern.

Dawn. That would be about five o'clock. That's when the attack—whatever it was—would begin. She had to be at Mussel Rock by then. That gave her six or seven hours to get there. Hopefully Fenris's
Bug
was fully functional and fast.

“What have you found out about the missing kermanite?” Ingrid asked.

“I believe you're here to answer my questions, Miss Carmichael.”

“What you believe and what will happen are very separate things. Please, have you learned anything?” Desperation edged her voice.

“It hasn't been recovered, I can tell you that much.” He stood, smartly tugging his jacket down as he did. “But I have learned many things in the past few days that may be quite relevant to this case. First of all, on the subject of missing kermanite, I found it peculiar that the Cordilleran Auxiliary's vault was completely empty.”

“Completely empty?” Had all of it been transported in Mr. Thornton's autocar? If so, it was a wonder the weight hadn't broken the axels of the rusty clunker. “I was in the vault last Friday when we fetched kermanite for an urgent shipment to the A-and-A. The bins were full.”

“Not anymore. No point in losing kermanite during the explosion, correct?” He stared at her in clear expectation of a reaction, and when none came, he continued: “We already know that the blast wasn't from a boiler malfunction. Several high-powered explosives of Chinese make were set in such a
way as to target both the meeting room and the classrooms.”

She frowned as she followed Captain Sutcliff's logic. Mr. Sakaguchi was regarded as antagonistic to his own people and sympathetic to the Chinese. These Thuggees had clearly set up the Chinese to be the scapegoats for this attack. Mr. Sakaguchi hadn't died in the blast, so it was even easier to presume his guilt.

“Back at Quist's, I overheard that Thuggee talking with Miss Rossi. He admitted to the attack on the auxiliary.”

“How convenient, to blame the Thuggees for the auxiliary and this attack to come. They make such romantic villains, don't they? Perfect for those wretched pulp novels. Was this fellow young, dark, and handsome in a heathen way? Did he wear his killing scarf at his waist so you would be sure to identify his affection for Kali?”

Ingrid shook with rage, heat buzzing on her skin. “Don't make a mockery of the explosion of the auxiliary or the man who caused it. That was my second home. I knew everyone there. I
loved
them.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay in control. “I never saw the man. I could barely hear them from where I was. He had a British accent.”

The captain shook his head in dismissal. “As if that narrows down the suspects. The woman with this Thuggee, you know her?”

“Yes. Miss Rossi. A photographer. She used to have a studio next to the auxiliary.”

“A woman photographer? She
owned
this studio?”

“Yes. And was run out of business for not paying the city enough in graft.” Ingrid couldn't help but feel a pang of anger
on behalf of Miss Rossi, even as she wanted to slap her.

“More likely she couldn't balance the books.” Despite his derisive comment, Sutcliff pulled a notepad and pencil from his pocket and scribbled notes. “The building beside the auxiliary, you said? That vacant shop?”

“Yes. She commented tonight at how happy she was that it had been destroyed.”

Sutcliff grunted and tucked the paper away again. “Well. That many explosives, it was inevitable. Quite a miracle, however, that you and the Japanese warden survived. It's my belief that you knew exactly where to stand, that you had shelter of some sort.”

“Knew where to stand? You were there! We were completely encased by debris, and injured as well!”

“Geomancy is a particular sort of magic. I don't pretend to understand its nuances, and I'm not sure anyone really does,” he said. Ingrid's blood ran cold. Did he suspect her of possessing power as well, by association with her father? “All I know is that there were two survivors from the wreckage, and two wardens who were not present. Those two wardens are now classified as a murder victim and a missing person.”

“A murder victim?”

“Yes, your Mr. Calhoun. Arsenic poisoning. Quite a heavy dose, I might add.”

“Arsenic?” she whispered. The world spun slightly and she caught herself against the table.

“The problem with arsenic—for criminals, at least—is that it stays in the body a very long time and is quite easily detected by chemical analysis. Tell me about arsenic, Miss Carmichael.”

“You're implying I had something to do with this?”

He turned his palms up. “I'm asking what you know about it. Poison is often considered a woman's method, but to be blunt, I don't know if it's yours.”

There were so many insults woven into that single statement that she didn't even know how to begin her rebuttal. “What about Mr. Thornton? I hope you haven't focused on me so much that you haven't bothered looking for him. I'm afraid the Thuggees have him. He might be dead. All the other wardens are.” Except Mr. Sakaguchi. She had to hold on to that hope.

“Of course we've looked for the man. His house was ransacked, as you know. Witnesses saw you arrive by foot and leave by car.”

“Yes. I was there. I saw it was ransacked. The phone didn't work. I immediately returned home so I could ask Mr. Sakaguchi for advice.”

“Ah. Your Mr. Sakaguchi, who you have conveniently misplaced.”

“Soon after I arrived home, he was shot. That's why there's so much blood in his study. Someone was out in the garden. Then he was . . . he was kidnapped. I ran . . . escaped.”

Captain Sutcliff sighed so heavily his shoulders slumped. “Yes, I witnessed your escape from the very troops who would have assisted you. Hardly the act of an innocent person.”

As if Captain Sutcliff had ever presumed her and Mr. Sakaguchi to be innocent. “We're wasting time here. You have to get to Quist's and find Miss Rossi. She's in a bright red velvet dress. She'd be hard to miss. Please—”

“Miss Carmichael.” Captain Sutcliff leaned forward. “What do you know about your father?”

Her fingers dug into the edge of the table. He'd been biding his time to bring this up. “Abram Carmichael was a warden and a geomancer, and he was killed when I was very young. I don't even remember him.”

“And what would you say if I told you he was alive until recently?”

Until recently? She had expected Sutcliff to wield the truth against her like a knife—but this? “That can't be. You're mistaken.”

“I read the report. He's gone, Miss Carmichael.”

“Gone.” The word resonated in her mouth. She stared into her trembling hands, willing herself to stay strong. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe her father was at peace now, no longer able to cause so much mayhem. But it would have been wonderful to meet him, just once. Say hello. But now, now . . . Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, but she resisted the urge to sniffle. Her chin stayed high.

Captain Sutcliff leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, clearly discomfited by her emotions. He motioned to one of his men. A soldier slipped out and returned, setting a glass of water on the table before her. She glanced up in gratitude and took a sip.

“Where?” she finally managed to choke out.

“He was in China, working with the rebellion to fill kermanite.”

No, she wanted to say. He wasn't working for China. He was used as a weapon
against
the Chinese, more destructive than any hellfire, any Durendal.

“As for how he got there,” Sutcliff continued, “Warden Sakaguchi smuggled him out of the country twenty years ago. The Japanese government has letters, evidence of them corresponding over the years. This past year, Japan censured Sakaguchi. He's forbidden to leave the Bay Area. I'll take a guess that he's violating that order right now.”

“Then why didn't they arrest him? Put him before a tribunal?”

“The case was likely still being built against him.” Sutcliff's mustache twitched. “With the evidence I've gathered, I'm sure judgment will be swift. But I need to find the man, Miss Carmichael.”

“I think that's a wonderful idea.” She stood, drying her cheeks with quick swipes. “Once you've found him, Captain, please let me know. I should head home. It's past my bedtime.”

The two soldiers at the door sidestepped to block her.

“It's very late,” said Sutcliff. “Not an hour for a proper lady to be wandering the streets alone. And where would you even go? You haven't been home in days. I do wonder what
tong
you're working with in Chinatown, but interrogation on that subject can wait. The matter of the auxiliary and the kermanite is enough for now.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“The correct term is
protective custody
. One of my superiors is on a Wyvern set to arrive here at dawn.” His nostrils flared. He didn't seem too pleased that he would soon no longer be the ranking officer. “They wish to question you. If you cooperate now, it'll make matters easier.”

“It would also reflect much better on you.”

“Miss Carmichael.” Captain Sutcliff stood and looked at her levelly. Weary sincerity weighted his gaze. “This isn't about me. This is about the security of the United States. This is about a piece of kermanite that could be utilized as a very dangerous weapon against us. I don't want that to happen.”

His loyalty was to America, not the Unified Pacific. A noteworthy distinction, and one Mr. Sakaguchi had made as well.

“I don't want it to happen either. That's why I want to stop this attack that's about to happen. I'm not trying to deceive you or distract you. They're meeting with others at Mussel Rock at dawn. Please. Send men there. Stop whatever they're trying to do.”

He stared at her a long moment, frowning in thought. “Miss Carmichael, even if some attack is imminent, it's not going to be carried out with this piece of kermanite. It would take months, if not years, to engineer a machine able to tap that much power, and take countless hours for geomancers to fill it.”

“I don't know how this could involve the kermanite either, but this Thuggee admitted to blowing up the auxiliary. Please—”

Captain Sutcliff raised a hand. “Don't demean yourself by begging,” he said, but hesitated, frowning. Watching his face, Ingrid could almost see the cogs turn in his brain. She had to push him; she had to reveal the cards in her hand.

“I know about the Gaia Project,” she whispered.

Captain Sutcliff's frown deepened. He motioned to the other soldiers and they filed from the room. The captain shut the door behind them.

“The Gaia Project,” he echoed.

“It's something I only just found out about, but Mr. Sakaguchi wasn't part of it. He was trying to stop it.”

“There have been rumors of it, but I heard it'd been scrapped . . .” He stopped, as if remembering who he spoke to.

“The weapon's already been used in China and killed hundreds of thousands. I know what you want to say, that those lives don't mean anything.” She took a deep breath. “If you've been researching Mr. Sakaguchi, his beliefs, you know he's been central to any humanitarian effort the auxiliary's done. Mr. Sakaguchi isn't simply a Chinese sympathizer. He's a life sympathizer. He was even arguing we should send help to Italy for Vesuvius, right before the building . . .” She couldn't say it. “He wouldn't be a part of something destructive, and neither would I.”