The Radical (Unity Vol.1) (6 page)

Seraph

I wanted the bastards for myself but the ever-curious part of me wanted to see this woman at work. Camille reached the pair and seemed to hold court with them for a few seconds, before the female of the duo lunged forward. Camille responded by grabbing the woman’s arm swiftly and knocking her to the ground with a swift jab to the throat.

Camille stepped back a
few paces from the altercation and the man started to move toward her with a menacing grin spread across his face. She readied herself in a pose belonging to some sort of martial art; her feet one behind the other, her knees bent and her legs distributing her weight, testing her muscles on tiptoe. As the male emissary neared Camille, she screeched and jumped forward. In a matter of seconds, she performed an inch-perfect roundhouse kick on the unsuspecting son-of-a-bitch and he fell next to his partner. Without sound, Camille came back to earth and drew breath.

She
walked back to me with a confident gait I now recognized was due to her physical discipline. She took a small tubular device from her pocket and brought it to her lips, whispering hoarsely, ‘I have two shadows down on Stonegate that need to be dealt with immediately.’

Camille
was pouring with sweat. A move she made look effortless was obviously exerting. She held a hand out for me to grab hold of and pulled me up.

‘No problem,’ she whispered with assurance, wiping her brow.

‘
Camille,’ I beckoned, squeezing one of her hands, ‘why? They track me but never confront me in New York.’

‘I have something to show you
,
chérie
,’ she replied, rubbing my shoulder in camaraderie. ‘Come.’

She led me further into the ramshackle centre of
York, past what was once the High Street. I noticed many units in desolation and ruin. Everywhere looked shut. Word of the emissaries’ presence had spread.
She led me through so many winding streets that I lost my bearings, forgetting my steps as I watched the worn cobbles disappear beneath my feet.

‘Some used to seek safety in the ancient dungeons or sewers but flooding became too frequent. Now whenever there are whispers of emissaries on the streets, people flock to old churches or chapels. Buildings of the sort do not seem to appeal to their kind. We gather in these kinds of places, seeking safety in numbers, perhaps keeping a sense of community alive.’

‘Oh.’ What else was there to say? I had no idea what point she was trying to make.

I saw the Gothic structure of the Minster up ahead
but as we swept our way toward it, Camille tugged on my arm so sharply I was hauled into a smaller house of worship nearby. A simple-looking place not a patch on its nearby sister. She performed a series of knocks before a heavy wooden door was heaved open.

There was a small gatherin
g of people inside and the doors clunked shut behind us. Camille took my hand and led me to a long, rectangular table around which stood several men and women engaged in debate. When one person at the table spotted me, many more joined in, all of them staring as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.

I heard the whispers, ‘Seraph Maddon.
Seraph Maddon. It
is
her.’

These were the voices of folk who were either grateful or shocked to see someone such as myself in that place. Soon the noise became deafening. They all gathered closer, both those at the table and others milling around the edges of the hall. I noticed their clothing. It wasn’t better than anybody else’s on the streets.

An elderly man eventually greeted me, ‘Seraph Maddon, welcome.’

‘In the flesh,’ I breathed my words slowly, kind of amused and perplexed. They were all making me nervous with their stares.

Thankfully Camille stepped in.

‘Please, ladies and gentlemen. Calm yourselves. Listen, I brought Seraph here for a reason. Philip,’ she gestured, nodding at the old man who had addressed me.
‘Come, spar.’

He walked up to
Camille and they sparred, swiping and ducking playfully. He threw his foot out over her head and she caught his ankle, squeezing it until he succumbed.

‘Camille, please,’ he begged, his face turning purple.

She laughed and freed him, winking in my direction. ‘Apologies. Sometimes, I cannot help myself.’

They all continued laughing as if no danger existed beyond the walls of their conference. The idiocy stifled me.

‘Camille, what is this place?’ I said, cutting into her display.

The Frenchwoman sat on the table, crossed her long legs and swung them underneath her. She played with a nail and looked at Philip.

‘Tell her,’ she ordered.

‘Camille trained us. We trained others. We police this city to a certain extent.
York is not as badly off as a lot of other places, Seraph. You may not think it but resources in New York are plentiful compared to what the average city here or elsewhere has. You need to realize… Eve’s presence in this city somehow stopped them wrecking it completely. She had influence even we don’t yet understand and probably never will.’

‘Say what now?’ I
had an instinct there was something unique about York but I was starting to think these people were part of a crazed cult. ‘What were those sons of bitches doing here if she
saved
the city?’

Philip remained close while everyone else pulled into the background to observe our exchange from afar.

‘For years Officium thought there was something wrong with this place. Maybe they put it down to the geography or the constant flooding, or perhaps it’s simply the case that a city this old may be so old that nothing works like it should. You see, Eve knew a lot of ways of blocking their signals. We don’t know how she knew, but she did. This city has been left relatively untainted by Officium because their comms don’t work here. Before Eve died the only way they could direct their emissaries here was via primitive radio signals and anyone can hack those.’

It got more ridiculous.

‘My aunt
knew
how to block them? Block their communications here? How did she know? Forgive me, but she was a dressmaker first and foremost. Sorry if I sound a little nonplussed, but she didn’t exactly go to spy school, did she?’

‘She just did. We don’t know all her methods. The
Operator
at her very best.’

‘Camille,’ I huffed, ‘I’
m tired of all this mad nonsense. I need plain words. I’m strugglin’ to entertain all this.’

I still couldn’t quite believe it!

‘Seraph, quite simply… this once-fair isle of your heritage is a wreck. York is about the best of the bunch, as your aunt would say. Officium are here but not as starkly as elsewhere. The emissaries are only brave now that her online presence has gone. They never came near you before because she had your back, in more ways than one.’

I gulped.
‘Did they know her identity?’

‘I don’t think so
,’ Camille hastily replied. ‘Although, we may never know that for certain. She was careful but they may have had their suspicions… about why York of all places was protected. Then again, why would they have suspected a simple dressmaker… she had so many fooled, even you Seraph.’

‘Jesus, I know,’ I groaned, scrubbing my cheeks. I was embarrassed about being so ignorant on that one. ‘Anyway, what did she have over them? Why was she able to do this?!’

I
needed to lash out so I did. I meant to swing a fist into a wooden column nearby but instead hit Camille’s open palm. I knew she could take it. She gently let go of my knuckles and raised herself to my height, looking me directly in the eye, unperturbed by my necessary release of anguish.

‘Codes. She had codes. I don’t know where they came from. But she had lock-out information, algorithms and sequences and the person who gave her them trusted only her, nobody else. That was her weapon. She had someone on the inside. She never told any of us how she got those codes, how she knew this contact. We do know Eve used the information to bring their comms down numerous times. She threatened them with total lockdown, and worse, if they didn’t cease building a centre of operations
here. The treaty has held good for a number of years now.’

Light shone down on the bleak, murky abyss that was the dar
k maze of my aunt’s life. Someone, somewhere, had been giving her these “codes”.

I felt like I was in a Cold War novel. Codes. Assassins. Spies. Underhanded tactics. People against people. Communication as power.

‘How bad is the rest of the country?’ I asked.

On my journey to
York from Manchester, all I had seen were the poly-tunnel fields, train tracks and the insides of train stations.

Philip took something from the table, a pair of old-fashioned, Vizar goggles. ‘Put these on. This is footage of
London taken only days ago.’

I slid the oversized glasses over my ears and pictures flashed before my eyes, as though I was walking in the footsteps of the person who had recorded these images.

There was only blackness. Heavy pollution. Huddled lanes of foot traffic. Murkiness. Grubby paths and buildings. Victorian almost.

Philip told me, ‘Everything you see is real. The streets are full. People fear the country
side. London was hardest hit of course. There are countless stories of bodies lying undiscovered for days amongst the living. Such are our times.’

I ripped
the goggles off and went toward the table. I clung onto the edge as I absorbed it all, hunched over as I took some deep breaths. It was no way to live never mind survive. We were all surviving but that was just… purgatorial.

‘You are privileged, Seraph.
New York isn’t as badly off as other places,’ Philip began. ‘There, in their own domain, you are a trifle to them. A pastime. They keep their eyes on you for the fun of it. Their secrets are so tightly kept, they will not give them up. Amongst the relative wealth of New York, you appear to them as nothing more than a naïve investigator with a futile dictate. However, to us, you are something much more…’

I stood straight again. I looked around the room. I stared at their faces until recognition set in. I was known to them. Not just as Eve’s niece but as the one reporter a
ctively chasing Officium’s secrets.

‘So many people here read your work, follow your progress. You give hope where there is none. It is a vile existence we face without Eve. Whatever can be done, will be done. You must not think yourself immune any longer.’

I shook my head. I tapped my lips with a forefinger. ‘My xGen contains information. I cannot tell you of its origin or its content… but it is the sort they would definitely want to keep under wraps. Small details that the director would squirm at. Even though he is estranged from his son, I have things on the former “heir to the throne” that neither would want to be released. Trust me. I made it clear to everyone in my circle that I have this stuff. Some so-called buddies of mine are actually loyal members of Officium and I keep them close because… well… Eve taught me that. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’

I took a breath. It was dawning on me that all my previous moments of triumph were leading up to something so much more important.

‘What do I do?’ I asked them all.

‘Bury your aunt. Then go back to
New York and keep hope alive. We can only do our best. We can keep trying,’ Philip told me.

‘I wish I could go back right now,’ I argued. ‘I feel
hopeless sat here doin’ fuck all.’

‘Hope, remember? Hope is paramount. You stay, show your defiance… and it shall spread hope,’ he assured me.

I nodded and shook his hand. Camille gestured at the door, ‘Let’s go back to the shop.’

Past

Five years previous, my sights were set on Torsten Reiniger, a known asset handler of Officium’s. Handling what – I wasn’t entirely sure to begin with. I thought people were his commodity perhaps, or the secrets they kept, maybe even the scientists Officium traded like gold between their various HQs around the world. Other bleak rumors abounded. Judge a book by its cover and you might miss a good story, but in this case, there was something definitely worth delving beneath.

He wore the most peculiar outfits. His hair was scraped back. His thin, wiry spectacles unnecessary; he had the money for painless, corrective treatment. His eyewear was a prop, I thought. His tweed suits were perfectly tailored, made to measure, all the material matching. His shirts looked drawn on. He had not a hair or speck out of place. I had watched him from a distance as he ate at
Manhattan’s best eateries… always alone. I peered through a camera lens and sensed he knew he was being watched. He was too proud to seem bothered but clearly it pained him to be out in public. A show of defiance, no doubt.

He had spent years hiding in dingy corners, only ever spotted occasionally, and all of a sudden he was everywhere. It made no sense so I asked around and got nada, maybe it was sheer ignorance or fear. I took to thinking that maybe that would be it. I wasn’t going to learn anything more about him and his curious motives.

It struck me as a little bizarre when around the same time, Eve called me up to deliver some news. She wanted to attend Fashion Week for the first time. She asked if I would accompany her and I was aghast at the notion. Of course I could get tickets ‒ Francesca would procure them – though many would observe my presence with suspicion.

I was suspicious, too. Eve
didn’t like to leave her shop and only traveled for purposeful business meetings, if she had to travel at all. However, she was adamant about it, holding a long vis-call with me one night over the damn thing.

I remember the day
Eve touched down. She had gotten herself one of the most exuberant suites in the Plaza hotel. Two-and-a-half-thousand square feet of opulence. I walked into the lounge to be greeted in a broad Yorkshire accent, ‘Seraph, how nice to see you again. My, you’ve changed… and how awful this suite is.’

Never mind that t
he surroundings could have easily belonged in the Élyseé Palace.

‘Aunt Eve, you haven’t changed at all! How d
o you do it at your age?’

I kissed her
cheek and gestured at Eve’s long, platinum hair, which was tucked back into an old-fashioned but graceful style.

‘What do you mean at my age? You’re only as old as you feel.’

‘How did you manage to get a suite here?’

Eve s
poke with an air of superiority, ‘Oh, I thought seeing as though I don’t do this very often, I might as well treat myself. I pulled some strings, my dear.’

‘I see,’ I grinned.

Eve assessed me with an air of cool. ‘I keep up with your reports, you know… some of them are very interesting, but this job must take up a lot of your time and energy?’

Eve motioned for me
to join her for some tea at a terrace outside, and we sat at a white garden table with matching chairs. All around were tubs of fake conifers and dwarf rose bushes, amid a background of smog, traffic and the bustling park.

‘Yeah, I’m kept pretty busy,
but that’s the way I like it… and I don’t need a lecture on that subject.’

I had too many piles
of shit to shovel though I wasn’t going to admit that.

‘What is currently occupying you? I only ask, because, well…’ she trailed off, and
my curiosity over her interest got the better of me.

‘Just say it,’ I urged her.

‘You look exhausted, darling,’ she told me.

‘Thanks, thanks a bunch.’ I rested my head back against the chair and could have taken a quick nap. My head was thick with foggy exhaustion that made me dizzy easily and required perpetual use of aspirin to keep my headache at bay. I was barely sleeping.

‘Come on, you can tell me,’ she encouraged. ‘There must be something, something gnawing away at you. I can see it. One thing in particular…?’

I took some deep breaths and a few sips of the Earl Grey she had already poured for me without asking whether I wanted coffee.

I told her all about Reiniger. His look. His way of being. Aloof and untouchable, unapproachable but there. Always alone. I explained that there was just something about him that didn’t look right, something odd. More than physically odd. He was an unsettling presence.

She absorbed my words before giving
me her opinion on the matter.

‘Assets… my first thought is a secret. That is the world in which we live. He is either trying to protect one or explode one.’

‘Okay…?’ I tried to follow her train of thought though I had no faith it would lead anywhere. I had been trying to figure him out for weeks.

‘
Tweed suits, you say?’

‘Yeah,’ I told her.

‘Only one place still produces custom-made tweed. In Edinburgh. Let me ask my friend…’

She fired off a
message on her gadget, which she kept on her lap so I couldn’t see it. I sensed her protectiveness of the thing, but right then, I didn’t comprehend it.

A ding announced a return message. She pursed her lips, ‘As I thought. They have one foreign customer who fits the bill, spectacles and all. He orders the suits in store, but has them shipped to his house on Park Av. He… wait… she thinks he has a glass eye lurking behind that eyewear.’

She looked up, clearly something had occurred to her. She gazed at the sky briefly before returning her attention to the xGen.

‘Goddam, what?’ I begged. I was shattered.

I watched her expression darken. There was some thought she had that she didn’t want to divulge immediately.

‘Seraph, there is something…’ she trailed off.

‘Yes…?’

‘My assistant Camille once told me a story about a man with a marble eye. I never forget a tale,’ she assured me, ‘nor the details.’

‘That is why he wears the glasses? Makes him seem less… disabled. Just peculiar.’

‘Must be,’ she said.

I knew there was more.

‘Camille told me he was known for recruiting, or should that be trafficking, fighters. For Officium’s force of emissaries, of course.’

‘How would she know?’ I begged.

‘Oh, she traveled, you know. She got about in her student days… hearsay… that sort of thing.’

‘Great, another rumor for me to work with!’

I could have sworn Eve was typing away on her
xGen under the table but her eyes were fixed on me. She was either prattling or able to touch type with great accuracy, which was something on those damn small things.

‘Is he dangerous? Did she mention that?’

‘I think he is,’ Eve told me gravely.

‘Fill me in on the blanks,’ I demanded.

‘Have you heard of UNITY?’ Eve asked.

‘Vaguely.
One of the main resistance groups… they are thought to be even more careful than Officium… headed by a mysterious figure known as the
Operator.
’

My aunt quickly interjected,
‘Seraph, don’t mention names.’

‘Surely we are safe to spe
ak freely here?’

‘Yes, but even still, I don’t like to hear them mentioned.’

‘Okay. Anyway, I hear they are based somewhere in Europe, but have members all over the world.’

‘I heard he was once one of them,
’ she said without hesitation. ‘In fact I think he got very close to the
Operator
… they might even have been friends. He used to deal in all the latest gadgetry but had a different name then. Different hairstyle. Shabbier clothes. He defected, if you like. Got a better offer and swapped sides.’

My aunt stared with quiet interest,
a hand held to her face to offset her true emotions. Her similarity to me was extraordinary; I knew she craved scandal and anecdotes as much as I.

‘You know… I have this unknown source
who has been feeding me bits and pieces of information over the years. A few months ago, this contact told me to watch a man fitting Reiniger’s description.’

‘How do you know you can trust this source?’

She was
still typing I noticed, catching glances down at her lap when she could. I should have slammed my hand down on the table and cursed her for being so rude.

‘I just know that this informant more than any other has
given me some very beneficial insights over the years, so it would be absurd not to trust them.’

‘Nob
ody can be trusted anymore, nobody. You know that,’ Eve warned, her calm disbanded. She dropped her device onto her lap and the knuckles of her hands whitened on the table edges.

I was confused. I felt defensive but told myself to let the conversation take its course. I was just tired. However, with hindsight my hackles must have been raised instinctually. Under that table, she was up to something she didn’t want me to know about.

‘I think I realize that more than most,’ I assured her, ‘however, this is the way I have to work. I have to take whatever bones are thrown my way. My reputation isn’t gonna uphold itself–’

‘Listen to me carefully,’ she interjected, ‘how was this information communicated? To your
xGen? Or otherwise?’

I thought back.

‘Of course, my xGen.’

‘Do you still have the message?’

‘Yeah, but–’

She held out her hand and beckoned me to pass my device over, her fingers outstretched.

‘Now, Seraph.’

The pace with which she took the device from me, got it up and running and the messages sifted through was incredible. It was a custom-made piece of gadgetry even I had been forced to learn to use! She was in within seconds, working quickly, sharp-witted.

Her words echoed when she said, ‘I just hooked you up to a hackfinder app I use, on a server I created. Your device is clean so at least we know they aren’t tracking you from that, thank god. However, if you check the details on that message, the ID numbers of the contact it came from are odd. It must have been sent straight from their central computer, not from someone’s xGen. They delivered it with the contact name, “
Rascal
”?’

She looked down her nose at me.

‘Shit, how could I have been so dumb?’

The
Rascal
’s stuff usually arrived without a signature; most of his calls and messages were anonymous too. I had just trusted it from the off because Reiniger was mentioned and he was too tempting a lead not to chase.

‘They set a trap for you, Seraph. They want to recruit you as an elite emissary. I mean, come on! Look at you! What a boon that would be.’

‘I would never join them!’ I shouted, standing to bash a fist on the table. Crockery spilt and almost crashed.

I was mostly angry at myself.

‘They wouldn’t need you to submit, darling. That’s one of the cruelest truths about Officium. They would systematically brainwash you for months on end if necessary. Gradually chiseling any semblance of personality and humanity away until you only had your outer shell left.’

I turned from the table and paced the balcony.

‘How can this be? I work so carefully!’

Obviously not carefully enough, however
…

‘Bloody girl! You are an asset if ever I saw one! A thoroughbred they could manipulate given half t
he chance. This is what they do… their influence is crushing enough to make you start questioning yourself. It was a silly mistake, yes. We cannot afford those, not in these times, but Seraph… please, remember how important you are?’

It hit me. Dread. It was so thick within my gut I felt ill. So many people had my
xGen number. A little trickery and he made me think he was the
Rascal
. He wanted me to follow him so he could have his cronies pick me up at some suitable juncture. I was the only reason Reiniger was out on the streets. Damn.

In that moment, I heard some terrible noise on the street below. I dared to look over the railing and saw a massive pile-up on Madison Avenue. Sirens blared. Voices shouted. In the distance I saw more collisions take place.

Eve sat with her arms folded, unperturbed, indifferent to it all. Now I realize what happened… she took down entire sections of the city to divert their attention. For days after that, parts of New York remained useless. Without power, phone service or utilities. She shut them down with a little help from her “friend”.

As soon as the city got back to normal, we went to a few fashion shows and I sat alongside her. I noticed
Reiniger at one point, sat “enjoying” a display of recycled clothing. His presence prevented me being bored to tears. He sat at a distance staring at me for a long, long time ‒ with a look that haunts me still. He watched the pair of us curiously, before disappearing with a woman who seemed to be an old acquaintance. If my memory served me right, she reminded me of someone…