Tremor of the Law (2)
Jaive Capital Hospital.
Travis, a thug for an organized crime ring, had no trouble slipping past a perimeter that should have been tight.
"Even for lunchtime, this place is emptier than it should be."
He'd met Mairun, Giss's aide, two hours earlier.
The fat sum he'd been handed came with a single instruction: silence a reporter named Meikle.
Mairun had said, "You know what I mean. Just stop him from writing. Use any means necessary."
The weight of the briefcase sent another chill down Travis's spine.
"Is that all?"
It was easier than he'd expected.
"That's all. I've taken care of the prep and the follow-up. You go in and do what you have to do. Just—try not to kill anyone if you can. You're a professional. Once this is over you won't have to work as a thug anymore."
The dream of a dramatic rise in status—a life he'd always thought would never come—felt suddenly within reach.
"Leave it to me. I'll do it, even if it costs my life."
Travis strode through the front doors.
"All right, let's do this."
Once inside, the guards didn't stop him.
"This is where the nobles get treated, huh."
He remembered carrying his son—who'd broken a bone playing—running through the city with the crying child on his back.
"Room 607."
Even though it was the VIP ward, no bodyguards were in sight.
"Heh heh."
Travis, slightly dizzy at the thought of Mairun's power, opened the door and went in.
"W-who are you?"
The large ward held three beds and one patient—Meikle—and his wife.
"You're Meikle?"
The wife hit the nurse call button, but perhaps the wire was cut—the alarm didn't sound.
Meikle stepped forward to block him.
"I asked who you are. What are you? How did you get in here?"
"Don't bother with that. You planning to publish something today? Hand it over and I'll leave quietly."
When Travis moved toward the typewriter, Meikle swung a punch.
"You filthy robber!"
The blow snapped Travis's jaw, but that only fed his anger.
"Get out now! Do you know who I am?" No sooner had Meikle finished than Travis drove his fist into Meikle's stomach.
"Ugh!"
Meikle fell; his wife rushed to him.
"Darling!"
"Don't—don't come near!"
Travis shoved the wife back and barked.
"Why are you doing this? You must be mistaken. If you do this…you'll—ugh!"
Travis stamped on Meikle's face, then looked to the child on the bed.
"So that's it."
They planned to make me take the fall.
"Hey, reporter. I've got no backing. Nothing good comes from getting mixed up with someone like me."
Meikle, face to the floor, thought, 'Why isn't anyone coming? Could Raymond have been compromised? No—no, that can't be…' The Raymond he knew was a true politician, meticulous about personal security.
Travis thought, You gonna keep calling my bluff? If you push me, I'll act.
Meikle fell prostrate to the floor.
"Don't touch my son. His heart's weak. He's a poor child who's been in and out of hospitals his whole life."
A vein twitched at Travis's nostril.
"Damn it."
He had a child too.
"So don't write the article. Then your son lives and nothing happens to you, right?"
"Listen carefully. This isn't just about me. It's a matter of the kingdom's future."
The kingdom's future?
"Is that so?"
He didn't know what a kingdom's future meant—if he did, he wouldn't be living like this—but still—
"What a pain."
Was he supposed to be part of that kingdom's future, too?
"Do you take me for a fool?"
Travis knocked over hospital equipment and grabbed the child by the scruff.
The child was far lighter than he'd expected; the sensation made something in Travis's chest burn.
The wife lunged.
"No! No!"
"Get away!"
As he shoved her aside, the child in his grip fell from the bed to the floor.
The ward instantly became a mess, and Travis's head filled with a terrible noise.
"Say something and I'll listen! Say it! I'll listen!"
Every time he stepped on the unconscious child, his jaw trembled and his strength drained away.
"Uuugh!"
Hold on. He could endure it. Ten minutes—no, five—if he just shut his eyes. Then his family would live.
Feeling his resolve weaken, he let go of the last thread of reason.
"Die! I said die!"
Money.
"You think I'll give up? I'm a thug! I'm human trash!"
That damned money.
"Give it to me!"
His face contorted and, like a madman, he kicked the child in the stomach.
"Give me the money!"
The wife screamed and Meikle crawled over, grabbing at Travis's leg.
"I'll do it! I'll destroy everything—please, stop! I'll do anything, I beg you!"
"Hah! Hah!"
Travis stopped. Meikle shoved the papers from the typewriter into the trash and set them on fire.
"There. Happy? It's over now. Please—leave. Call a doctor! For God's sake—please!"
Travis didn't want to speak.
"One more step and—"
His voice shook so badly he didn't finish the sentence.
Cursing, eyes bloodshot, he strode down the hospital corridor.
His whole body convulsed.
"It'll be fine. I didn't beat him to death. I was told not to cause fatalities."
He was terrified.
"Ugh!"
When he reached the city, every emotion he'd been bottling up exploded.
"Uuugh! Uuugh!"
He couldn't even bring himself to hide behind tears.
The crowd's attention lasted only a moment. From across the block came a boom.
As screams rang out and smoke rose, Travis froze.
"Overthrow Jaive!"
A band of shaved-headed rioters—chicken-heads—cut through the smoke and began attacking citizens.
"Huh? Huh?"
Maybe it wasn't his business, but the chill made him turn—
"Gak!"
A longsword pierced his chest from behind.
"Got him, got him!"
Blood spurted as Travis collapsed. The chicken-heads closed in.
"N-no…"
His hand reached toward his home, but countless blades pierced his body.
"Kwa ha ha ha! Die! Die!"
Amid the lynching by unidentified terrorists, the last thing he felt was a helpless apology.
'Sorry, darling…our son…'
News of the bombing in the capital reached Delta Headquarters as a breaking report.
Fermi walked the corridor reading the file.
- Investigating how the explosive was brought in. Appearance and behavior suggest affiliation with Delta Headquarters' terrorists. Under influence of narcotics. Identity unconfirmed.
'Drugged soldiers. If the brain's memory units are damaged…'
One kingdom was singled out.
"Airon."
Fermi had one country on the southern continent he'd never been able to touch with narcotics.
'Under royal orders they produce the drugs and create soldiers. Random terror attacks are a key tool for strengthening their royal power…'
"Fermi."
When he looked up at the familiar voice, Seriel stood there.
Giss's aide Mairun slipped into the Airon sector, avoiding prying eyes.
'The big hurdle's past.'
Inside the private room sat King Basak of Airon and Prime Minister Pedra of Arakne.
"Hey, Mairun. Congrats. Clean job, wasn't it?"
"All thanks to His Majesty."
Using Airon's terrorists to take out Travis had been the surest option.
Pedra chuckled.
"If a thug croaks in a radical anti-monarchy terror attack, who cares? People love that—seeing punishment done."
So evil had been defeated?
"By tomorrow the Jaive scandal will quiet down. Hey, Mairun—what are you doing? Come sit."
"Ah, yes."
Pedra snorted.
"What, are you keeping it for yourself? You think I skimmed off Jaive? Feeling betrayed?"
"Not at all."
Mairun's eyes narrowed.
'Betrayal? Why would I? I never trusted the species called human to begin with. What need is there to feel betrayed?'
Basak asked, "Where's Giss? I heard his daughter died. I was going to buy him a drink."
"Ah, he had a lunch appointment."
"Ha ha ha—does even this ravel him? In any case, he's an animal. That's why I like Giss. He's magnanimous."
Mairun said, "What matters more is the press conference coming up. From Jaive's point of view it's not over yet."
Pedra snorted.
"You're loyal. Why worry? Giss will handle it."
"But—"
"It's fine. Citizens hate thugs, murderers, rapists—but they don't hate us. They love us. Do you know why?"
Mairun shook his head.
"No matter how much they deny it, there's a hidden desire in them to be like us."
"People can't fully condemn someone they secretly want to be. Their unconscious holds them back. Maybe, just maybe, they could become us. Even if they don't, they imagine it."
Pedra spread his arms.
"In the end we're the embodiment of human desire. You could say we live inside everyone."
"You mean they're all the same?"
"No."
Pedra smiled thinly.
"We are their justice."
Mairun was silent.
"Giss will be fine. He might be annoyed, but nothing will happen to him."
'Is he sincere?'
Pedra winked and nudged Mairun.
"Trust me. There's no way you'll ever lose your power."
At that moment of relief, Mairun realized Pedra's words weren't empty.
'I am human too.'
He was a monster of self-rationalization after all.
Giss and Flu had a lunch appointment.
Having only recently learned of his daughter's death, Flu's words and tone were cautious.
"First…my condolences for how this turned out."
Giss looked up in puzzlement, then realization shadowed his face with sorrow.
"Ah, that. Yes."
Tears streamed from his eyes.
The grief of losing a child is immeasurable; for a moment Flu softened.
"Take some time off. Rest for a while—"
Giss lifted his head.
"I'm fine."
Seeing his calm where there'd been none before made Flu uneasy.
"Heh heh, why? Odd?"
"Ah, it's just—"
"Of course losing a daughter is sad. It still tears at my chest. But what do you gain by showing weakness? A weak state of mind wouldn't have brought me this far."
He chewed his steak.
"Be honest. You must expect something from me. Something I can give. How about giving me a child? I just lost my daughter, after all."
'He's a monster.'
Flu realized why Gaold, the former head of the Mage Association, had avoided politicians.
"How about the Mage Association presidency of Jaive then?"
"Mage Association president. Fine. I like that—you've got good judgment. Tonight? Are you free?"
"Of course."
Flu smiled.
'Yes, Giss. Take my body and mind. But this time you'd better be prepared.'
After the assassination game, Tormia's strategy had shifted as well.
'Today, you die in my arms.'