The only thing I could think of was that she was trying to somehow influence their loyalty, but even that was a bit of a stretch. The boys spent almost all of their waking hours with me and Ms. Dale—I doubted their loyalty could be bought for something as simple as candy and a few pamphlets supporting anti-nationalist propaganda.
Could it?
No, there was no way it would work. I knew my boys; they couldn’t be influenced so easily. There was something else going on, something we just weren’t seeing.
“I want to say she’s buying their loyalty,” I announced finally. “But I can’t see how she could be. The boys can’t be bought with treats. We must be missing something.”
“You’re right—I know we’re missing something; I just wish I knew what. She always was a clever one… always came at a problem sideways.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, I touched on it before, but Desmond used to inspire fanaticism. She’s good at it. Do you remember… oh… thirty-some odd years ago? It was a bit before your time, but the bombing of the Patrian grain silo?”
“Yes.” My father had told me about that day when I was younger. Nearly seventy-five men and women had died from the resulting fires—it had burned down nearly a third of the reserve supplies as well as over a dozen homes and warehouses in the district. Putting it out had taken three days. No one ever claimed credit for it, but at the heart of every rumor, the insinuation was that the Porteque gang was responsible.
“Desmond arranged the whole affair, and she manipulated those men from the Porteque gang from inside their operation. She inserted herself as one of their ‘obedient’ women and married one of the men. Then she whispered to him—who knows what—about how women needed to find their place just like she had. She had those men worshipping her—in their own way—and convinced them that destroying the grain silo was the only way to get the government’s attention. Three men killed themselves bombing that place, and Desmond disappeared into the night, damage done.”
“So… you think she’s after the boys, trying to win them over to later use them in her war efforts.”
She shot me a glance of confirmation. “I trust those boys, but Desmond is insidious—always thinking, planning, scheming. She’s been worming her way in since she saw the success of your program… I’m worried about the boys. They’re vulnerable, and Desmond is reminding them of who got them to where they are and who will continue to help them. And… I’m guessing our names are not being mentioned.”
I rose abruptly to my feet and moved to the door.
“Where are you going?” Ms. Dale asked.
“I’m going to go track Desmond down and talk to her,” I announced.
“Viggo, you can’t! If you tip your hand too soon, then she’ll use whatever she has to bring you down. And Violet.”
“Then what do you propose I do?” I asked, pausing.
“Find a way to watch one of her meetings. Maybe get into her office and snoop around. See if you can’t find out what she’s doing with the boys.”
“And if I find out her intentions aren’t good?”
A cold hard light glimmered in Ms. Dale’s eyes. “Mr. Croft—Viggo—have you ever assassinated someone before?”
I shook my head. It was hard for me to think about—killing someone in cold blood. I knew I could kill someone in self-defense. I could also kill someone while protecting another person. But cold blood? It felt… wrong. Cowardly and unfair.
“I thought as much. It’s not in your nature, Mr. Croft.” She shifted, straightening her legs. “Which is why, if you do find something out, you’ll need to let me out of here. So I can take… precautions.”
I stared down through the corrugated holes in the floor into the bleak darkness below. “It’s not in my nature to hurt people,” I replied, meeting her gaze head on.
She shrugged. “I could argue that killing her would be protecting people.”
“This feels… wrong, Melissa.”
Her mouth tightened and she gave me a sad look. “You might think so, Mr. Croft,” she whispered. “But go to one of her secret meetings. Find out what she’s telling the boys, and then come back and tell me if you still think it’s wrong.”
I frowned, but nodded. “I’ll… check it out. But beyond that… I am not committing to anything.”
32
Violet
The next night, Viggo and I were creeping quietly along the catwalks. I had an electronic winch on a wheeled cart next to me, and Viggo was carrying several lengths of rope. It was late, and there weren’t many people around.