Part Two
Nothing is easier than to
denounce the evildoer;
nothing is more difficult than
to understand him.”
- Fyodor Dostoevsky
Chapter 1
Sunday, 4 November, 1888
Hyde Park, London
Satyr exited the hansom at the northeast corner of Hyde Park near Marble Arch, where a crowd encircled someone spouting the wonders of socialism. He straightened his coat and tie, taking time to gather his bearings.
Though his position as Lead Assassin made him answerable only to the Ascendant, Satyr was mindful that the Twenty also wielded considerable power amongst the Transitives. Comprised of various members of the community, apportioned by rank or commercial affiliation, the Twenty were responsible for suggesting policy to their leader. Though the Ascendant was the pinnacle of their kind, it was the Twenty who decided when an Ascendant’s time had passed. Then the Lead Assassin came into play, dispatching the old so that they could vote in the new.
An eminently practical system of checks and balances.
The last time an Ascendant had been replaced was at the beginning of the year; Satyr could still hear the pitiful whimpers of his previous master as he prepared to deliver the final blow. Such cowardice made the job distasteful.
Unfortunately, the current Ascendant will not depart so easily.
According to tradition, the Twenty had a representative from each of the major guilds, a few lords, a judge or two, and a single female. Satyr knew the identities of some of them, though he wasn’t supposed to know any of them except for the Intermediary, who acted as a liaison between the Ascendant and the group.
The single female on the Twenty was a holdover from the late 1700s, when someone had installed his mistress in the group as a lark. It was joked that naming a woman to the Twenty was much like Caligula making his horse a Roman senator. That tradition continued to the present day, though the woman was no longer some lowly mistress. She was, in fact, the first female Intermediary and the most sought-after courtesan in London.
Before long, Satyr saw her carriage arrive. Her transport wasn’t ostentatious, like some. Adelaide Winston alighted with a grace that made the others of her sex appear like draft ponies. With a few adjustments of her burgundy parasol, she set off on the path inside the park. Men made way for her, many touching their caps in respect. Women, however, delivered veiled glares; they understood that her promenade was as much advertisement as exercise.
Satyr eventually overtook her, offering his arm. She took it.
“Good day, Mr. S.,” she acknowledged, her voice low and rich. It was plain why men paid a ransom to be with this woman. Even if you did not enjoy the carnal aspects of her nature, listening to her was well worth the price.
“Good day, Madam Winston. I trust you are well?”
“In health, I am very sound. In mind, however, I am troubled. But first, tell me why you wished to meet on such short notice.”
He waited until they had passed another couple and had more privacy. “The Ascendant is beginning to cross the line, madam.”
“So soon?” she asked. “In what way is he being inappropriate?”
Satyr related the Lassiter incident and the employment of a junior assassin without his knowledge.
Adelaide gave a slight nod to a distinguished gentleman who passed in the other direction. He returned a faint smile of remembrance. “Do I note a fit of pique?” she gently chided.
“Yes,” Satyr admitted, knowing she valued honesty. “Nevertheless, he has been acting oddly as of late.”
“In what way?”
“He has not been forthcoming about his delays with regard to the plan.”
Her brow furrowed. “Has he delivered the…commercial items he has recently obtained?”
The explosives. “No, he has not. When I ask for particulars, I am ignored.”
Madam Winston nodded knowingly. “When we press him, he dodges our questions as well. Is it true that the materials are no longer in one location, but scattered about the East End?”
Satyr nodded gravely. “Our leader says it is to avoid any inadvertent accident or discovery by the authorities, now that the Fenians are involved.”
Adelaide looked startled. “Why include them? They have no part in this. They only raise the stakes as far as the police are concerned.”
“The anarchist in question was not given a choice, madam.” As they approached the turn south toward the Serpentine, Satyr told her of Desmond Flaherty and the stranglehold their leader held on the man. His companion’s face didn’t change, but he could sense tension rising in her body.
“How old is this girl?” she asked.
“Seventeen, I believe.”
“Is she unharmed?”
“At present.”
They walked on for a time, Satyr scanning the area for potential threats. Though he saw none, he did not relax. Why was he feeling so exposed? Certainly the Ascendant would not attempt to harm him or the Intermediary.
Adelaide Winston’s troubled eyes sought his. “I shall present your news to the Twenty. We will demand answers. At no time should he be acting without our approval. Though I have no love of anarchists, this kidnapping is barbarous.”
Satyr nodded. “I spoke out against it, but it did no good. I suspect that in the coming days he will order the girl’s death, as well as that of her father, to ensure they are no witnesses.”
“You are required to follow the Ascendant’s orders,” she replied softly. “However, I see no benefit to be derived from another murdered girl. Flaherty’s demise will bring the wrath of the Irish upon us. Even if they do not avenge him in the short term, they are known to have very long memories.”
“I will see what can be done within the confines of my duty.”
“That would be best.” They angled around the path to return the way they’d come. “This Miss Lassiter, did she truly present a threat?”
An excellent question. “I’m not sure. She was investigating the death of her lover, which as far as I can tell has no bearing on our work. Yet the Ascendant ordered her demise nearly the moment she arrived in London.”
The courtesan was quiet for a time. “Have you seen Mr. Livingston recently?” she asked, her voice harboring a different tone.
“No.”
“Please locate him if you can. I have not seen him in some time, and that is unusual.”
“I may not be the best choice for that, madam. I received an order just this morning to remove Mr. Livingston at the soonest opportunity.”
Adelaide Winston’s eyes widened. “Why would the Ascendant do such a thing? Malachi…” There was a slight tint to her cheeks. “Mr. Livingston is a valued member of our community.”
Apparently, there was more between the courtesan and her customer than just commerce. “I am sorry, madam, but no reason was given for the order.” A fact that had puzzled him as well. The Ascendant’s decision regarding Livingston felt arbitrary.
“This is unacceptable,” she said sternly. “We cannot have the Ascendant just dispatching people at whim. Unless…could it be that our leader fears that Mr. Livingston might become his replacement?”
“It is possible,” Satyr conceded. “Livingston would be an excellent choice.”
“Then I would suggest you take your time carrying out that order, sir.”
“I am willing to do that, madam; however, there is no guarantee he might not send another in my stead.”
She grew pensive. “I wonder how long it will be before the rest of us are considered a threat, Mr. S.?”
~??~??~??~
Ralph might rail against her about taking unnecessary risks, but Cynda knew this was where she belonged. Perhaps it was the hurly-burly of the city that attracted her, the vitality of everyday life. Victorian London was truly a free-for-all. Voices competed with the sound of carriage wheels and the low rumble of wagons moving slowly down the street. A load of hops rolled by as young boys scampered around the street, calling out to each other. A small knot of women traded gossip in a doorway, looking up when someone passed. All of this was muted in 2058, held in check by the rules regarding noise abatement, how long you could loiter on the street, sit on a bench in a park.