He stopped flipping through the file only when he came to Captain Karna’s daily reports. He moved those pages to the top and turned to the second page.
There it was, obvious for anyone to see, if they were willing to see. Why no one wanted to, Gadiman couldn’t understand. Yet here was his salvation. He would still prevail, and prove to Chairman Mal he was far more adept than that self-righteous doctor.
He took another file from the side of his desk that had a yellow dot next to the name. He opened the file and carefully copied information from Captain Karna’s report for a second record that he alone kept.
He closed the file, pulled out the orange paint and placed another dot on top of the yellow.
He wouldn’t ignore it like everyone else.
If they wanted Shin brought to his knees, Gadiman would find another way to do it—legally, publically, definitively. It might take some time, but knew he had all the time in the world.
For disarming the entire army in front of her husband and with his reluctant approval, then sending the soldiers out in ‘casual’ uniform to the village—which Captain Karna claimed had “charming effects on the citizens,” but was a phrase that made Gadiman involuntarily shudder—Mrs. Shin’s new orange label meant Beyond Watched, but not yet Traitorous.
No woman should have that kind of influence over an officer. Any more power and she’d be one of the most dangerous women in the world.
And she was.
Gadiman could see it in the four letters she sent. She had potential, this one. Far more than any other file in his very full office. And she had the ear of the son of the most powerful officer in the world.
She was a glorious disaster simply waiting to happen, to fully ripen and explode right in front all of their faces. And Gadiman would be the one to call their attention to it. He saw it, right from the beginning. He had written proof, and he would be there at the end when she destroyed herself and everyone else with the last name of Shin. They would all go down hard and loud and messy, and Gadiman would be there to sweep it all up, pour it into a bag, and hand it proudly to the Chairman.
Then he’d set his eyes on the next target, the one file he kept even more heavily guarded than Mrs. Shin’s. In it was only one item of evidence so far, but it was most revealing. He would just wait for the right moment.
Unable to stop himself, he slipped the file out from the secret drawer under his desk and opened it up. There it was, still dark and crisp in the clear scrawl unique to doctors.
Captain Shin, a dozen will be awaiting in the shadows to assist in the care of your wife and daughter.
Gadiman was no doctor, but he was intelligent enough to know to send a copy of that message to the captain, and to keep the original—in Brisack’s own handwriting—for himself.
He would be next, after Mrs. Shin.
Gadiman painstakingly set a precise orange dot next to Brisack’s name. The orange paint was his only victory for the day.
That very wrong, very stupid, very disastrous day.
---
Dormin was ready, waiting in the dark in his room at the Inn at Edge. He paced nervously, knowing that the time had come, and now was past. Something must have happened—
The door opened quietly and two figures slipped in.
“Rector Yung? Why haven’t we left yet? Where are the others?” Dormin began to fumble with a match until he heard Rector Yung.
“No light, son. We have to keep quiet for another few days yet, it seems.”
“What?” Dormin exclaimed. “I thought there was this great rush—”
“There is!” Mrs. Yung said, clearly exasperated. “But there’s been an incident at the fort, and now the patrols have doubled, round the clock. There will be no movement until things quiet down again. Probably four or five more days.”
Dormin exhaled loudly. “But that’s—”
“Hardly a worry for you!” Mrs. Yung snapped in an angry whisper.
Dormin clamped his mouth shut. He’d never heard her so testy before.
“Remember, Dormin,” Mrs. Yung said, trying to calm her voice, “this isn’t all about you. You can sit around here for weeks without a concern, but others are in far greater danger. I didn’t mean to get snippy with you,” she added apologetically. “It’s only that . . . oh, the timing just couldn’t be worse.”
Dormin saw her take a chair at the small table and plop down in it worriedly.
Her husband stepped up behind her and seemed to massage her shoulders. “We have to trust the Creator knows our plight, my dearest. He will fix everything, somehow.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Yung said impatiently. “It’s just that—”