By the North Star | An Odesta Fanfic

Chapter Twelve

Finnick was pacing back and forth across the carpeted floor in Plutarch Heavensbee's office. The curtains were drawn and only a small shaft of the late morning sunlight was beaming down into the room.

"There's a factory in District 2," he was saying. "Production is slow, and Snow's not too happy about all the delays."

Plutarch sat on the other side of the room, jotting down notes. "What sort of delays?" he asked. "Some sort of sabotage, do you think?"

"No, nothing like that." Nothing that useful ever came from his clients these days. "Just poor management, I think. Snow is going to appoint Neo Harrington as the new administrator."

"Is he now?" murmured Plutarch, scribbling something down in his notebook.

"It's not much of a promotion," Finnick went on. "No one likes being connected too closely to the districts, after all. But the Harringtons aren't so well off anymore. Neo's been gambling all their money away for years. It sounds like he hasn't got much of a choice but to accept the position."

"Neo Harrington..." Plutarch repeated. "He's going out with Althea Pane, isn't he?"

"No, they broke up weeks ago."

"Did they really?" Plutarch leaned across his desk, suddenly a great deal more interested in the conversation. "I hadn't heard about that."

Finnick just shrugged. "I think he was trying to keep it quiet, but you know how things are around here."

Plutarch nodded. "Neo and Althea..." he said again. "They've been together for years. Last I heard, they were going to be engaged. What do you think happened? I'm sure it wasn't Harrington that broke it off – he was always following her around like a lovesick puppy, even before they got together."

Finnick shot him a look. The notebook had been pushed to the side of his desk as Plutarch started to ramble on.

"Can we get back to work?"

"Right," Plutarch straightened up in his chair.  "Of course." He looked back down at his notes. "What about last night? Anything important?"

Finnick ran a hand anxiously through his hair as he walked across the office, trying to recall what drunken whispers had been traded back and forth the night before.

"Castillo Jasper thinks he's going to be the next Head Gamemaker," he told Plutarch. "He says Snow wasn't happy with how slow the Games moved this summer. Too easy to hide, I guess – everyone was losing interest by the end. He thinks it's only a matter of time before Snow starts looking for a new Head Gamemaker."

"And Jasper thinks he's going to be next?" Plutarch scoffed. "He's an idiot – and a lazy one. Got everything he has with his family's money."

Finnick raised an eyebrow, glancing around the room. "Imagine that."

Plutarch didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. "Snow's never going to choose him. That's not a secret – he's just delusional."

"He mentioned someone else too... someone he was worried might beat him to the position. Crane, I think?"

"Seneca Crane?" Plutarch looked surprised. "Not my first choice, but I could see it. He's young – only been a Gamemaker for a couple of years – but he's clever." He nodded thoughtfully. "Clever, but not too clever. Exactly the sort of person Snow likes to work with."

"So you think he could be a threat?"

"A threat?" said Plutarch. "No, someone's got to be Head Gamemaker. If you ask me, we're better off with Crane than we were with Adonis Arc or any of the last few we've had."