“Evening,” Sullivan said. There was a chorus of responses, some more positive than others. Regardless of Sullivan’s effectiveness against Imperium forces, he was a controversial figure at best.
“Hello, Mr. Sullivan. Have you found your white whale yet?” Jacques asked.
“Read that book. Don’t want to ruin it for you, but the whale turned out to be real. I’ll keep this brief as possible. We raided the Imperium monitoring station at the North Pole.”
“You did what?” someone blurted. They’d known Sullivan was chasing his unicorns, but apparently not everyone had realized just how far he was willing to go in order to catch them. Of course, Jacques had already thought this through, so he wasn’t surprised in the least. Sullivan’s decisions were proving no more shocking than those of the man who had recruited him. Black Jack Pershing would have approved of such decisive actions. “The Imperium will retaliate against us all!”
“I’m talking to dozens of people all around the world, so I don’t have the Power or the inclination to debate this again. We took a few casualties, but we learned that the Enemy is already here. It’s all over the Imperium, hiding at every one of their schools. The invasion has started.”
There were some angry cries from the disbelievers, but Jacques cut them off. “The schools are beyond our reach. What do you intend to do now, then?”
“We think the imposter Chairman is somehow in on this. Toru figured out who he is. I’ll have your knights send you the details. In the meantime, I plan on taking out the Chairman, in public, so that the Iron Guard will know they’ve been compromised. Once they realize that, they’ll have no choice but to clean out the infestation for us.”
“Another attempt on the Chairman? Every such action has always caused a terrible response,” one of the elders shouted. “Permission denied!”
“Good thing I wasn’t asking for any.” The Heavy was not so easily riled. “We’re already on our way. The Pathfinder’s got a head start, so we need to act fast. Exposing the fake Chairman is our only fast option.”
Jacques nodded. It wasn’t like they had not already tried to assassinate the Chairman many times before. The most recent attempt had been a disastrous plot, which had rocked the elders’ council, murdered Pershing, cost Harkeness his life, and sent Rawls into banishment. “It will be a shame to throw away the lives of forty knights.”
“And a far bigger shame to have the Power flee and all of us be eaten by this Enemy,” said another elder.
“Assuming it is even real!” declared the American elder. He was the newest member of their leadership, and it had been a difficult decision for the others to choose between this man or John Moses Browning. Both had been capable candidates, but it had been felt that Browning had been getting up in years, which seemed an ironic reasoning for a position called elder. “You want to risk the lives of our men, my men, all on the word of an Iron Guard? Absurd.”
“Button it,” Sullivan ordered, which was a rather surprising breach of etiquette, but Sullivan was, after all, an American too, and they tended toward direct speech. “We’re making the attempt whether you like it or not. Anybody on this airship who doesn’t want a piece, I’ll let them off before we hit Japan. But one way or the other, we’re going in. So the society can either help, or it can get out of my way.”
There was a long silence as the most powerful and influential Actives in the world weighed the consequences. Their stated purpose was to protect Actives from the world, and to protect the world from Actives, and it had been clear for generations that the Imperium was the greatest threat to human liberty in history. Attempting to assassinate the Chairman was practically a tradition at this point. “It isn’t like the Nipponese can possibly come to dislike us more,” said a British elder with a laugh. “I say good hunting, Mr. Sullivan.”
One of the more cautious elders interjected, “Are we willing to lose so many valuable knights over this?”
Fool. They are going regardless of our opinions. They were young, idealistic knights, eager to strike a blow against tyranny. The elders were old, looking at the big picture yet unable to grasp the passion which inflamed their soldiers. Whether Sullivan realized it or not, he had inspired many. They would follow him, and this task would be seen through to completion, regardless of the outcome. Personally, Jacques thought the entire concept of the Enemy sounded implausible, and, in fact, he had doubts that Okubo Tokugawa had ever been killed to begin with. The Chairman had easily destroyed all of the knights who had come against him before, so why would this time be any different?
Yet, he could still feel the weight of the poison in his breast pocket, and the thought occurred to him that this suicide mission offered other opportunities. If it could not be stopped, then it should at least be utilized in the most effective manner.
Jacques cleared his throat. “I agree. It is a risk, but the Society is already at war with the Imperium. Regardless of the actual existence of this Enemy, if the Chairman is truly dead, then Sullivan’s expedition may well succeed and throw the Imperium into complete disarray. If the Chairman is, in fact, still alive, then perhaps this time we will get lucky and kill him once and for all. The knights on this mission are all volunteers. Since they go willingly toward this end, who are we, so far from the actual danger, to deny them their courageous attempt… You have my full support, Mr. Sullivan.”
With Jacques’ statement, the balance had shifted. There were a few murmurs of assent, and the dissenters were quiet. It was close enough.
“Thank you,” Sullivan said. The Heavy may have been uncouth and unflinchingly violent, but he was also struck Jacques as an honest man. “I need up-to-date intelligence and I could use any local support you’ve got to help us get close. I’ve heard we’ve got a few knights hidden in Japan.”
“That may not be necessary, Mr. Sullivan,” said the British elder, his face shrouded in magical shadows, but still obviously gnawing on a cigar. “Setting foot on the home islands is a death sentence. Japan is locked up tight as a vault. However, there may be another opportunity in the near future, which will offer you better odds. It is also deep within enemy territory, but it is not quite the belly of the beast.”
“I’m listening.”
“My sources have told me that Okubo Tokugawa is planning an inspection tour to China within the month, mostly military bases along the front, but his itinerary includes a lavish award ceremony for his officers in Shanghai. Perhaps he will be presenting trophies for most butchery or best torturer. The knights in that city have faced terrible setbacks over the last few years, so there are not very many of them left to help, but it is still a far more approachable, and more importantly, escapable place.”
“I’m not exactly set on this being a one-way trip myself, sir.”
“Indeed, Mr. Sullivan. Some of my men volunteered and are with you on your fool’s errand. I am rather fond of them and would prefer for them to return home in one piece.”
“Shanghai’s one of the Free Cities. That’s got possibilities.” Sullivan mulled it over. “It could work. I’ll talk to the captain and see what we can do. I’ll be in touch.” Abruptly, the communication spell was broken. The mirror instantly lost all of its unnatural color, fell, and landed safely on the bed.
Jacques watched the silent mirror for a time, thinking about what he’d just done through a few simple words. He’d never been much for politicking, but he had just thrown his considerable support behind an assassination attempt that would almost certainly fail. Jacques returned to his chair, picked up the glass, and poured himself another finger of bourbon. He pounded it down in one gulp. His words had just authorized many good knights to end their lives in a futile attempt against an immortal.