Sins of Empire

Chapter 21

Michel waited outside the office building for Fidelis Jes to arrive. His Iron Roses kept a cool distance, none of them eager to face a Silver Rose’s foul mood, while Warsim had disappeared on another errand. Michel kept his eyes closed, his mind frantically working as he tried to come up with something – anything – to tell Jes about how his investigation wasn’t a complete failure. He’d been handed the opportunity to catch Tampo red-handed, and he had failed. Sure, he’d done all the groundwork and set himself up for that possible success. But Fidelis Jes wasn’t going to see it that way.

What was he doing wrong? Was he not considering all the angles? Was he out of his depth? In Tampo, he was clearly dealing with a professional. But wasn’t he supposed to be a professional, too?

“I’m a spy,” he muttered to himself. “Not a bloody investigator. This isn’t what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at getting inside people’s heads,” he countered himself. “You’re good at knowing what people will think, and why, and when. That’s all the basic stuff an investigator needs to do, right?”

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I am not an investigator. I know what people will think about me, and why and when. All that matters is keeping my cover. That’s not the case here.”

“So,” he muttered back at himself, “what is the case?”

“I need to know the why and when regarding their relation to what they’re doing. Not in regards to their relations with me.”

Michel ran a hand through his hair, then tapped the side of his head with his fingers. That might be the key here. Michel was so focused on simply catching the guy that he hadn’t considered his motives. Why was Tampo doing all this? He seemed awfully organized for a revolutionary. Revolutionaries tended to be high on passion and low on critical thinking and this was certainly not the case.

Could it be he wasn’t a revolutionary? Did he have another motive for attempting to destabilize the country? Michel still had a copy of Sins of Empire in his pocket, and wondered whether the writing behind it was calculated to incite revolt, rather than a work of passion as he’d assumed.

It was an intriguing thought, and it gave him an entirely new outlook on this case.

The clop of hooves on cobbles brought Michel out of his reverie and he stiffened, watching as a carriage with a white rose on black curtains pulled up in front of him. The door was thrown open and Fidelis Jes emerged before the carriage had even come to a stop. The grand master was clearly in a foul mood, his jaw tight and eyes pinched, the collar of his immaculately pressed jacket undone. Michel knew Jes was a man of a strict schedule, and he wondered if this case was really important enough to have him out in the middle of the night like this.

Fidelis Jes stopped in front of Michel, glancing around as if to ask where the culprit was.

Well. No delaying the inevitable. “He slipped away, sir.”

“Explain.”

The one word made a bead of sweat trickle down Michel’s spine. “He’s a professional, sir. Someone with counterespionage training. He had several fail-safes in place so that we couldn’t catch him, and tonight’s raid has tipped our hand. I’m worried he’ll go deeper undercover.” Fidelis Jes opened his mouth, but Michel pushed onward with a sudden spike of confidence. “Sir, I think we’ve been going about this wrong. In light of this revelation, I don’t think we’re up against a revolutionary. I think we’re up against someone who is dispassionately trying to take down the government. My first instinct is that someone is betting against us, against our economy, and I’d like permission to make a thorough search of wealthy foreigners who have traded against our market. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks, and all I have to do is see him in a place of business and then we’ll catch him and bring him down.”

Fidelis Jes stared at Michel for several moments, his eyes going out of focus as if his mind was elsewhere, and he gave a brisk nod. “Intriguing, Agent Bravis. I expect you to continue your investigation immediately.”

Michel felt like a refreshing wind had just passed through his body. Every muscle relaxed. That was it? No death threats? No anger? Just a nod and “carry on”?

Fidelis Jes looked around at the Iron Roses and gestured for them to come closer. It was only eight or nine people, but the grand master addressed them as he might an army, with his hands clasped behind his back, chest out, sword at his side. “You’re all to report to the Millinery immediately. Every Rose is on double duty for the next week.”

No one gave voice to the groan they must have all been holding in, but several of them shifted uncomfortably.

Jes continued: “There has been an escape from one of the local labor camps. A dangerous war criminal by the name of Benjamin Styke. Every Iron and Bronze Rose is on alert until Styke is caught. When you report to the Millinery you will be given a description and an exhaustive report as to all his known associates. Find him. Catch him. He must be brought in alive. Dismissed.”

The Iron Roses scattered, and Michel found himself alone with the grand master a few moments later. They remained standing in silence for several minutes while Jes looked up and down the streets, eyeing rooftops, as if considering where this dangerous criminal could be hiding.

Michel knew the name. Pit, everyone knew the name. Colonel Styke had practically surpassed “war hero” and gone straight to “folk hero.”

“Sir,” Michel finally ventured, “isn’t Ben Styke…”

“He’s alive. Forget everything you know about Benjamin Styke,” Fidelis Jes said, his eyes still examining the surrounding buildings. “He is a crazed killer. He will murder anyone and anything, and he holds a grudge against the Lady Chancellor. I fear for her very safety.”

“He’s just one man, sir.”

Jes whirled on him, forcing Michel to step back. “Styke is his own army. Do not underestimate him. He’s older, crippled, but he will not be easy to take down.” Jes took a measured breath, before going on in a calmer voice. “Styke has the loyalty of the city’s veterans. The last thing I need is him stirring up trouble.”

“Of course, sir. Am I… still on this investigation?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Well, this Styke thing seems to be important.”

“Oh, you’ll be keeping your eyes open for Styke as well.” Jes smirked. “Your failure to catch Tampo tonight has just made your job infinitely harder, Agent Bravis. I’ve been questioning the traitorous prison officials who allowed themselves to be bribed to secure Styke’s release. It turns out they were paid off by a Mr. Tampo, Esquire. They even gave a description that matched that of your suspect.”

All the relief felt at not having gained Jes’s ire disappeared in a single instant. Michel sagged. Not only had he not managed to capture Tampo, but now he had to face the possibility of dealing with a dangerous war criminal. Michel wasn’t an investigator, and he definitely wasn’t a fighter. If he did manage to catch up with Tampo, and Styke happened to be with him, he’d be a goner.

He knew it, and from the smug look in Jes’s eyes, the grand master knew it, too.

The very real prospect of a violent death was punishment for his failure.

“You’ve made great progress in such a small amount of time,” Jes said, almost kindly. “I expect you to wrap this up quickly. Bring me Tampo and you will earn your Gold Rose. Bring me Styke as well, and I’ll be in your debt.”

Michel watched Fidelis Jes return to his carriage and drive away. The odds had just tipped significantly against him. But the rewards… he couldn’t imagine many people had Fidelis Jes’s favor. But if he was going to catch Styke before anyone else, he’d have to be fast.