The first voice lifted to a shout. “Hey, Joe! We ready to roll?”
The cab doors slammed shut with twin echoes. The world erupted into noise; the spare tyre shuddered as we started to move. I caught my breath, blood pounding.
Before we’d gone very far, the truck slowed and stopped. I lay without moving, listening wildly – but then we started up again and I realized we must have passed through the gates.
We were out.
Ingo touched my arm. His breath tickled at my ear as he leaned close to whisper, “Just like flying a Firedove.”
He sounded as tensely hyped-up as I felt. And I knew he meant not just the steady drone of machinery, but the freedom. Exultation burst through me. We would do this. We would.
I would get to Madeline and find answers.
“It’s even better,” I muttered back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
September, 1941
The sudden roar crashed through Topeka’s Harmony stadium like thunder. Belatedly, Mac surged to his feet with the cheering crowd as Sechelski knocked a home run out of the park with two men on base.
He’d never cared so little about such a great play. Everyone sank to the benches again, talking excitedly. As the food vendors’ shouts filled the air, Walter leaned towards him and Sephy again. As always, the Topeka Times editor resembled a large, dishevelled lion.
“All right, you were saying?” Walter murmured.
“A comet’s due to arrive,” Sephy said, without looking away from the playing field. At Walter’s slight frown, she leaned towards Mac for more popcorn and expanded: “A periodic one. I found a reference to it in an astronomy journal. It’ll be in the night sky from early February, for over a month.”
“Keep talking.”
“It interferes with DOTS,” said Mac.
Walter’s bushy eyebrows shot up at the acronym for the Day of Three Suns. “Really?” he muttered urgently.
Sephy nodded. “The whole rationale for it, according to our lovely Miss Pierce, is that the positions of Venus and Jupiter will dominate the sky that evening and make it the astrologically perfect moment to annex Appalachia. But comets are historically portents of doom. Bad news, as far as Gunnison is concerned.”
“If we use this right, it’ll be the end of DOTS,” Mac put in. “He’ll want to delay the signing until another astrologically significant date. Sephy says there’s not another big one till summer.”
“So why doesn’t Pierce know about this comet?” asked Walter.
Sephy shrugged tensely. She wore a red beret; a tendril of black hair graced her cheek. “Guess she’s not an astronomy buff. It’s only a minor one – hardly visible without a telescope. But it’ll be there, all right.”
Mac propped his elbows on his knees. Under the buzz of the crowd, he said, “Walt, listen, we could even spin it so that he should hold the signing here, instead of in Appalachia. Say that the comet means President Weir should come to us.”
His voice was tight with hope. If the historic event happened here, where the Resistance was still largely intact, with luck they could locate the venue – they could still take out Gunnison and Cain.
Walter looked doubtful. “But he’s not going to listen to you about astrological interpretations. Even if he’s tipped off about the comet, Pierce’ll just shoot down anything she doesn’t like.”
Mac sighed, tapping his thigh with a fist as he watched the playing field. “I need to persuade her to put Sephy on her staff.”
Walter winced. “Really?”
“It’s the only way,” said Sephy steadily. “Then I can get Gunnison’s ear about the comet and explain why the stars say the signing needs to happen here.”
From Walter’s expression, he was remembering that Kay Pierce had sent almost all of Gunnison’s former astrologers to correction camps. Mac himself hadn’t been able to forget it even once since he and Sephy had started discussing this plan. He didn’t want her anywhere near Pierce.
But Sephy was the only official state astrologer they had left with enough experience to even be considered for such a post.
Baxter struck out; the crowd groaned. “So can you persuade Pierce to hire her?” Walter asked Mac finally.
Mac took some popcorn and then found he wasn’t hungry. He jiggled it in his hand, looking down. “I’m working on it,” he said. “No dice yet.”
“Well, easy does it,” said Walter grimly. “Don’t push it and spook her.”
Mac didn’t need the warning: Kay Pierce was wary enough these days. So was Mac. He’d finally gotten some information on Gunnison, but didn’t understand it – and had a feeling it could be vital.
The day before, he’d been summoned to John Gunnison’s private office, which was part of a comfortable but not-too-lavish apartment deep in the Sagittarius dome, complete with bedroom and kitchen.
Mac had never been asked there before and was surprised to be now, when he’d hardly seen Gunnison for weeks. One of the ever-present bodyguards let him in, eyeing him suspiciously – and Mac’s fleeting hope that security might be lax here died.
At first there was no sign of Gunnison. Instead, Mac found Kay sitting at the kitchen table wearing only a short bathrobe, her hair loose and tousled. She was peeling an apple, her expression wan.
When Kay heard him she looked up, startled. Then she smiled and pulled the robe round herself more tightly. “Mac. Hello.”
“Hi.” He’d slid onto the chair next to her and nodded at the apple. “Got a piece there for me?”
She’d sliced him one. “What are you doing here?” She glanced over her shoulder at the bedroom door.
“The boss asked me,” he said.
Kay frowned. “He did? I don’t remember him saying… Oh well.” She gave a shaky laugh and pushed her hair back with both hands.
In Mac’s reports to Cain, he’d told his boss that, yes, Kay seemed close to Gunnison, but he didn’t think she was influencing Johnny in any way. Mac hoped Cain believed him; he needed Kay Pierce to stay right where she was. Surely at some point, she’d open up to him?
Sitting there at the kitchen table, she’d seemed more vulnerable than Mac had ever seen her. He fleetingly touched her hand.
“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
Kay pulled quickly away. “Don’t.”
“I’m your friend, remember?”
“I know. Sorry. He just…depends on me so much,” she said, and bit a nail. “If I get something wrong…”
“You won’t,” Mac assured her. “You’re great at what you do.” And she was, that was the hell of it. She had an uncanny grasp of astrology; she could find the interpretation she wanted in the most innocuous chart.
Kay made a face. Mac added casually, “You know, seems to me you could use a little more assistance, though.” He helped himself to another slice of apple. “You got rid of almost the whole astrology staff when you came in. What were you trying to prove, Kay?”
She started to respond and then broke off as a muffled noise came from the bedroom. “Wait here,” she said, and hurried to the door. She slipped inside. “Johnny, what is it?” Mac heard her say.
Mac rose and moved closer, searching for a glass in the nearby kitchen so that he could claim he’d only wanted some water. Voices floated out from behind the partly-closed door.
“They haven’t called yet,” said Gunnison’s voice. “Kiki! Why haven’t they called?”
Kay sounded soothing. “They will. There’s still time.”
“I need it now.”
Mac glanced over. In the slice of room visible to him, he glimpsed Gunnison pacing. Kay stood watching, gripping her elbows.
The phone on Gunnison’s desk rang; Mac heard him grab it up. “Hello?”
Mac took a glass from a cabinet, straining to listen.
“Four thousand seventy-two,” muttered Gunnison, sounding as if he were writing it down. “That’s two less than yesterday.” There was a pause. “You’re sure? Those are the correct names? All right.
Thank you.”
A receiver being set down. “No change,” said Gunnison.
“It’s all right, Johnny.”
“Of course it’s not all right!” His voice lifted to a near-shout.
As Mac poured himself some water he risked another glance. Kay had gone to Gunnison, was stroking his arm. “If you’d just let me get more details…I’m sure it’s absolutely fine. It’s going exactly the way we want.”
Gunnison let out a long breath. Finally he gripped Kay’s hand. He was holding a piece of paper; he shoved it into a folder on his desk. “No,” he said. “Just let it play out. We can’t interfere. Mac!”
Mac jumped, but hid it. He went and poked his head around the door. “Hi, Johnny. I’ve got those reports you wanted.”
Kay let herself out; she gave Mac a brittle smile.
“All right, how are the interrogations going?” Gunnison barked.
Mac, startled, saw that the usually-impeccable leader was unshaven, and had a stain on his shirt.
He instinctively kept his voice calming. “Very well, Johnny. Excellent, in fact.”
Gunnison snapped his fingers, motioning for the reports, and Mac handed them over. “Stay here while I read them through,” he ordered.
The Can-Amer president slouched in an armchair and started flipping through the pages. Mac stood beside the desk. The interrogations were the standard ones to seek out Discordants. He despised doing them, but saved as many people as he could.
“Good…good…but damn it, these don’t even matter,” Gunnison murmured. He rubbed his unkempt jaw, staring at the pages. “It’s still the ups and downs I’ve got to worry about…how it’s all going to play out…”
Ups and downs. That phrase again. Mac’s arms prickled. He hesitated, taking in Gunnison’s distraction.
Silently, he opened the file on the desk.
An astrology chart – not one he recognized. Sun in Aries, and at its centre a symbol like a cross in a square. A scrawled note read: The dark mirror taunts me I am in despair.
The handwriting wasn’t Gunnison’s. Mac closed the file and leaned against the desk. When Gunnison looked up, Mac had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression concerned and helpful.
Under cover of the baseball game, Mac had told Walter about it. Now, as the three of them left the stadium together, lost in a crowd of thousands, Sephy repeated what she’d said to Mac the night before: she thought the symbol sounded like a Grand Cross.
“They’re pretty rare,” she said, her forehead creasing. “Interesting…”
“Dark mirror,” murmured Walter. “Not Gunnison’s handwriting, you say?”
“Didn’t look like it,” said Mac. “But the man was as agitated as I’ve ever seen him. Kay must know what it’s about. I’ll keep working on her.”
Sephy glanced at him and slipped her arm through his. Mac drew her close.
“I wonder if those ‘ups and downs’ are to do with whatever’s going on up north,” mused Walter. “Any luck with those airwave operatives?”
Mac grimaced. “No. It’s worse than a pin in a haystack.”
It was Walter who’d first realized Gunnison was up to something in the Yukon area, from a chance interview with a worker who’d helped build a factory up there – though what the factory was for, the man had had no idea. Mac was still working with a ham wireless set, trying to re-establish contact with their lost operatives. So far, he’d yet to stumble on the right frequencies and times – the code words were never spoken or acknowledged. He could only hope that their northern spies were still monitoring the airwaves, so that whatever Johnny Gun was up to could at some point be uncovered.
“I’ll keep trying,” Mac said grimly.
Walter nodded. “All right, what about Collis? Are you still meeting him later?”
Mac checked his watch. “Yeah, I should head over there now. It’s across town.”
They were standing at a busy intersection under a billboard for Capricorn cigarettes; traffic grumbled past. “Made up your mind about him yet?” asked Walter.
“Not yet.”
Walter looked unsurprised. Even now, no one was certain about Collis Reed. “Well, we all trust your judgement.” He gave a small salute and headed off.
Mac and Sephy kept walking down Central with its flashing neon signs and moving-picture houses. Sephy had her hands in the pocket of her tan overcoat. She hesitated. “Listen, hasn’t this Collis guy proved himself by now? You know, we need everyone who’s willing.”
Mac made a face. “Gut feeling? I’m just not sure about him.”
Sephy was right though, and he knew it. The Resistance as a whole remained scattered, broken. He sighed.
Sephy stopped walking and studied him. She pulled Mac into a doorway. Her lips on his were gentle but insistent. Mac wrapped his arms around her. This, with Sephy, was what was real. Sometimes it felt like the only thing that was.
When they drew apart he touched her face.
“Number nineteen,” he said. “Will you? Please?”
Sephy put her hand over his. “No. But I love you,” she said. “And I hate seeing you so worried. If Collis joins us, maybe he could really help. Just listen to what he has to say, all right?”
After that moment in the hotel bathroom when Collis asked Mac if he could join, there’d been silence. Finally, his face expressionless, Mac had said, “You know, if I were with the Resistance, I’d tell you to shut the hell up right about now.”
Collis had.
Back in Topeka, Mac had discussed it with Walter and a few others. Mac had never thought much of Reed and didn’t trust him. But Collis Reed could be damn useful, if sincere: another man on the inside.
“Test him like we’ve never tested anyone,” Walter had said tersely.
Mac had an anonymous note delivered to Collis’s apartment, directing him to be at a particular street corner in an hour and to tell no one. A few of the guys had tailed Collis, then covertly watched as he waited.
He hadn’t been followed. A switchboard operator who worked with them confirmed that he’d made no phone calls before leaving.
Collis had waited for over six hours before he finally made his way home.
Similar episodes had led to Collis being ordered to locations with hidden envelopes to deliver them elsewhere. These contained false information about Discordants needing aid. The info wasn’t betrayed. Collis hadn’t even looked inside the envelopes.
They’d allowed him to think he’d been accepted. A few of the guys put themselves on the line for this, meeting with him and giving false names – congratulating him. After several weeks of minor missions he’d been asked to a meeting in an abandoned warehouse.
“Guns” had invaded. They’d shot several of the members with blanks; fake blood had made it grisly and realistic. Collis had been taken into custody.
They told him Gunnison wouldn’t protect him. They kept him all night, shouting at him, demanding names. When he wouldn’t give them, they roughed him up – probably pretty good, Mac knew. Collis still hadn’t cracked.
Finally they let him go, telling him to say he’d been in an auto wreck. Collis – bruised and in pain – had apparently realized it was a test then. Though shaken, he’d nodded and left.
Grady, one of their best, had been the head Gun. “I’m pretty sure he believed it up until that point,” he’d reported to Mac. “He was pale – kept rubbing his tattoo. But all he’d say was, ‘You’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t know anything.’”
As Mac had taken this in, thinking, Grady had hesitated. “I’ll tell you what, Mac…when the fellows had to rough him up, I admired him. He’s tough.”
On the surface, at least, Collis Reed was a perfect candidate.
Mac met Collis in a run-down joint called Joe’s Place. They ordered beers and sat at the bar. A boxing match was playing on the telio, sitting high on a shelf. The crowded room erupted in delighted oohs as Leadfist Maguire plastered a solid right hook on Jimmy Donovan.
Mac hadn’t told Collis why he wanted to meet. He’d hardly spoken to him since that morning six weeks ago. Now he kept his eyes on the swinging black-and-white figures and said, “So I hear you’ve been having an interesting time.”
After a beat, Collis’s gaze cut to Mac’s. His face was still faintly bruised. “Not sure what you mean,” he said.
“Oh, you do, buddy. I want to know everything about your past, Collis. Everything. And I’m very good at sniffing out lies. If I’m really with the Resistance, then I promise you: a lie will see you dead in some mysterious way in a few days.”
Mac watched Collis suddenly realize: this was the real test.
Collis’s gaze stayed level. “And if you’re not?”
Mac took a swig of beer and joined the bar in a vicarious oof! as Maguire took a hit. “Then I’ve been putting together quite the dossier on you for Cain, pal,” he said in an undertone. “You’re dead either way in that case – might as well tell the truth. Start talking.”
“How far back do I go?”
“Amity Vancour,” said Mac.
“That’s…pretty far back.” Collis’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t hesitate. “All right. The first thing you should know is that I love her. I’ve been in love with her for years.”
“Go on.”
“We grew up together. Her family had a farm up in Gloversdale, a few hours north of Sacrament. I lived next door to her. Her parents kind of…took me in. Amity and I were best friends.”
Looking down, Collis pushed his beer mug around in a circle of condensation. “See, I was one of those Reeds. I guess every small town has a family like that. My mother was a drunk; my father and uncles were in on every shady deal going. Amity’s family meant everything to me. They treated me like…” Collis paused, clearly searching for words.
“Like you weren’t one of those Reeds?” said Mac.
“Yeah. Exactly. You’ve heard that her father, Tru, was a Peacefighter. By the time I knew him he still taught pilots to fight but he worked mostly for the World for Peace. He was like a dad to me. He taught me to fly. He…”