Fading Control

Chapter 6

4

- 4 -

Cat strode along the plain, grey corridor, five levels below ground, passing the numbered doors. The numbers were in no logical order, of course, and there was no signage to assist a visitor. Why would Authority waste resources when the only people down here were those they authorised?

The door numbered 3254 slid open as he approached, and he entered, smiling at the assistant behind her desk.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said. “Is our esteemed colleague ready to receive me?”

There was no need to introduce himself, as the Eyes would have already alerted the assistant to his presence, and she would have checked his image against her schedule.

“You’re right on time, sir,” she said, the cheerful lilt to her voice matching her smile. “Please enter whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

She dipped her head in a nod, followed with her shoulders. That move was practised, and it was no accident that her top was cut just so, allowing a glimpse into her curves. A childish move, really‌—‌but she was an attractive thing, and at one time Cat might have followed up on such an invitation.

Invitation‌—‌a word that sounded so innocuous, yet the invitation he’d received to meet with Don had been a thinly-veiled summons.

There was a door beside the assistant’s desk, and Cat pushed it open.

The office was much as Cat had pictured it, similar to so many others, both here in Ross Dome and elsewhere. There was the subtle lighting, the ornate desk, the easy chairs around a low table, the drinks cabinet, and the art adorning the walls. Everywhere Authority set up its command, it carried its own particular aesthetic.

“Ah, my dear friend!” said the man behind the desk, rising and holding his arms out wide. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Only if you’re having one, Don” Cat said. He didn’t want a drink, but refusing would be a breach of etiquette, even so far beneath the streets of the Dome.

“Something light, then.” Don pulled a couple of glasses free and opening a bottle. “Please, take a seat. It’s been too long since we last caught up with one another.”

Cat understood the implicit instruction‌—‌this meeting was to take the guise of a friendly chat rather than a formal interview‌—‌and he eased into one of the chairs, resting his jacket over the arm.

Don placed a glass of clear liquid in front of Cat, then sat in the chair opposite, retaining a firm hold of his own glass before smoothing down his tailored trousers. He wore a crisp white shirt today, buttoned to the neck, and his jacket hung by the door‌—‌again, the impression was one of informality designed to put others at their ease.

And once at ease, as Cat well knew, people were wont to open up a fraction too much, to lower their guard sufficient for a skilled operative such as Don to extract those details one wished to remain hidden.

Cat sipped his drink‌—‌chilled water, with no hint of anything else‌—‌and gave Don an appreciative nod. The man lifted his glass to his lips, but it was impossible to tell if any of the liquid entered.

Don didn’t speak, and his eyes widened a fraction‌—‌enough to encourage Cat to open the conversation. And Cat obliged‌—‌this man was his senior in role, after all.

He turned his head, made a point of glancing at one of the artworks hanging on the wall. “You’ve purchased a new piece, I see,” Cat said. “An early Borallio, if I’m not mistaken. Reproduction, of course‌—‌the woman’s brush-work was far more aggressive in her younger years, but this rendering has that anger washed out somewhat. Still a striking piece, though‌—‌a fine interplay of contentment and frustration. Apt, I would venture, for much of your work.”

“Your appreciation of art always catches me slightly off-guard, my friend,” Don said. “Yes, a reproduction‌—‌the original resides in the office of my counterpart in Sousie Dome.” He leaned forward, placing his drink on the coaster before him. “But I’m unfortunately pressed for time, so we must get down to business.”

Again, there was the widening of the man’s eyes, the cue for Cat to take the next step.

“You wished to discuss First Dome’s primary Factory?”

“Indeed. Many of my colleagues would find such a rebellion very disturbing.”

“Rightly so. It is fortunate, however, that this uprising failed, as the footage clearly shows.”

Don nodded. “And the way you edited the footage gives a very clear story of the whole incident.”

Was there something in that comment? “I believed it best to provide an overview, although the individual Eye files are available to view, should you require a more detailed study.”

Was there something in that comment?“Oh, your report was as extensive as ever. Once more, your attention to detail and your many years of fine service show through.”

“I do my best.” Cat lifted his shoulders‌—‌not quite a shrug, but a sign of meekness. Don would most likely read it as false, but it was no more false than the praise he’d thrown in Cat’s direction.

“Of course you do,” Don said. “But the rebellion‌—‌I apologise, failed rebellion‌—‌is still troubling. Many of the Factory owners pride themselves on running tight operations, and such a disturbance would be of great personal unrest. Yet Machivelle’s communications seem to indicate an attitude that veers dangerously toward the blasé, wouldn’t you say?”

failedCat nodded, wondering how far Don’s suspicions went. “I would. But her communications have always been this way. They are reflective of her personality.”

“So I understand. I find her concerning.”

“You don’t approve of how she runs her facility?”

“Oh, not that. Her ruthlessness in weeding out potential trouble surely accounts for her Factory providing continual advances in production‌—‌well, until now. No, it’s rather that I believe her to be‌—‌how can I put this without seeming indelicate?‌—‌somewhat unstable.”

“Oh? Last time we spoke, I seem to recall you holding her up as an example for others running Factories.” This could be the moment to turn the conversation toward the facility to the south of Ross Dome, the one Cat needed information on. “Didn’t you suggest that Therrick spend some time with his counterpart?”

Don’s lips flickered into a smile. “A suggestion only. The man is not all we anticipated, is he? But let’s return to Machivelle.” He brought his hands up, elbows resting on the chair’s arm-rests, fingers together. “There are concerns over her dealing with those who attempted to escape. One might have expected her to execute all five of them, but four were simply remanded in custody.”

“That sent a very clear message, didn’t it?”

“Possibly. But she had someone else carry out this execution, and not one of her usual assistants. Someone from the workfloors, I believe.”

“That’s true,” Cat said. “But she saw potential in this person, and this execution was as much a test for him as it was a message to anyone else who considered crossing her.”

“And yet she has made no more mention of this person. I find that intriguing.”

“Is it not likely that she’d only mention this individual again if he wasn’t performing adequately?” Cat pushed his uncertainties aside. Kester had spent long enough studying the woman that he could ape her style of communication well enough to fool anyone.

Don nodded without smiling. “A possibility, although it once again shows her willingness to take her own path. You’ve met her, I believe? I can’t say I envy you there. But you share certain qualities with the woman, don’t you?”

Cat forced his body to relax, to counter the alertness that built as Don tilted his head, the man’s reason for this meeting drawing close.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Cat said.

“No? You both work for Authority, yet have enough leeway to choose your own methods of execution‌—‌if that isn’t a poor choice of vocabulary. You both exhibit a willingness to go beyond what many would consider acceptable. I say this without judgement, of course‌—‌the results are what matters, aren’t they?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Even though you don’t like the woman.”

“Personal preferences have nothing to do with my professional manner,” Cat said. He wanted to reach for his water, but sat steady‌—‌Don would read such a move as the result of nerves.

“To a point. Your preferences are what make you unique, my friend.” Don gave a false smile here. “Where many of us settle for the security of the glass, you prefer to wander amongst the depravity outside‌—‌and this puts you in an ideal position for certain tasks. Where some of us work best as overseers, your natural inclinations make you more suited to field-work.”

“And so,” Cat said, wanting to push this meeting toward its focus, “you have a task for me.”

Don tapped his finger-tips together. “Always in a rush. An effect, no doubt, of time spent amongst those with less refinement. But your eagerness could be viewed as a positive, I suppose.”

He let his hands drop and sat back. “I’m interested in your opinion,” Don continued. “I’ll return your attention to Machivelle’s Factory. Yes, the attempted rebellion was thwarted in good time‌—‌but news has a tendency to spread, despite our efforts to curtail unwanted communication. Ideas of dissension work like a virus, infecting those they come into contact with. If word of even a failed rebellion were to reach workers in other Factories, seeds would be planted. I’m sure you can appreciate how damaging that could be.”

“Which is why we run assessments on all the Factories,” Cat said. “I believe the local facility was visited only a few months ago.”

“Indeed it was. And I’m sure you’ve perused the report, yes?”

Cat nodded‌—‌of course he had. “There are areas for improvement, as is to be expected, but nothing to warrant undue concern at this time.” Then he pushed. “At least, on the workfloors and in the administration departments.”

Something shone in Don’s eyes, impossible for Cat to interpret.

“An interesting addendum,” Don said. “But we both know that there are more to Factories than the workfloors, don’t we?”

An opening, then. Cat took it. “And there is a feeling that the more clandestine functions of this particular Factory might warrant further investigation?”

An opening, then.Don smiled, and Cat returned the expression. Now that they’d reached the point of mutual aims he could afford to relax a touch. And it was always easy to appeal to Don’s conspiratorial nature. It had been that way from the start, back when Cat first recruited the man.

“We’d need a finely-qualified agent for such an inspection, though,” Don said.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“One who understands much of our work that is‌…‌obscured to many others.”

“And those who understand the importance of the work going on beneath the workfloors.”

Don nodded, smiling. “You know, I believe I can name some agents who fit that bill. In fact, there’s one not a million miles away from me.”

Cat allowed his face to drop in confusion, for his eyes to narrow then widen as understanding hit.

“You think I’d be suitable for this role?”

Don nodded again.

“I’m honoured, obviously. But why me? I might know a lot about the districts, but I’ve only entered a few Factories, and others have a far more detailed understanding of the places.”

“Oh, there are others, clearly. But you have the right kind of mind for the more covert nature of these inspections. I think you’re ideal, and I’d encourage you to accept this honour.”

“I‌…‌This is something of a surprise. But of course I’ll accept.”

Cat allowed his smile to surface.

Sometimes, it was far too easy to manipulate people. Especially when they believed that they were the ones doing the manipulating.