Primal Gambit

Chapter 47: Renault Contacts Darwin

The sea of people moved faster than ordinary. Whether it was due to the harsh cold that began with the onset of winter or a lack of security, even in the Inner City, it was harder for the activists to break through to them. A new group began to gather across the street. They boasted signs and pamphlets of their own, dashing the ideas of the activist group and enticing groups of civilians to enter Marcotte for the learning aspect of it. Their audience, the wealthier population, was in stark contrast to Darwin's and they were ample in the city center.

Darwin was fighting a losing battle but he never lost hope. If there was one thing he learned from what his parents did wrong it was to never stop warring for what he believed in. Though there were times where his own beliefs were brought into question, it was at these moments he would give his all toward the wrong journeys. So, there he stood atop the soapbox, reciting the evils of Marcotte in dark candor that spilled over into the waves of society.

His words bounced right back, as though hitting a wall of gray long-coats and rubber gasmasks and stern, stoic faces and reverberating back to his pedestal. Two activists stood on either side of him, handing out fliers with digital codes that, when scanned, would link directly to the human rights website. The pro-Marcotte group across the street handed out brochures of their own – probably devised by company itself. A man across the way stood on a soapbox of his own, hair closely cropped and gelled to his head, screaming until his lungs hurt.

Darwin couldn't hear him – his words drowned out by the sounds of the city. He was sure his own words were engulfed just the same. Yet they both continued to preach. The activist leader never thought he would find opposition that lied in agreement with an organization like Marcotte. Whatever the reason, half the day had gone by and no civvie that shuffled past even batted an eye to the horrors that Darwin and his group were presenting. No one bothered to sympathize with them.

The world had come so far into technological and monetary progression that the people who inhabited the Inner City cared only about themselves, only about their own. Hands wet on the palms in search of the chance shower of economic gain were thirsty and dripping for more. It was the kind of lifestyle that sickened and nauseated people like Darwin – anyone with ties to how life used to be. These individuals were of a unique group with similar interests in either preserving or seeking out old ways. It was rare to find someone whose heart had not been burned black, scorched by an insatiable lust of money.

Darwin was a swindler. It was a lifestyle he could not escape, but there was something unjust about not looking someone in the eyes when double-crossing them. There was honor in the man's deceit.

He lost track of what he was saying. Just as his lungs filled with iron air to continue, the small tablet in his jacket pocket vibrated violently. Darwin let it ring three more times to thwart a possible solicitor but when minutes passed and the phone began to ring again, he stepped down from the pedestal.

Swiping the touch screen on the surface that began to have ash sprinkled onto its glass frame, he put it to his ear:

"Renault," His voice was mechanized through the mask, "what can I do for you?" The people that coursed the streets around him began to disperse as the ash started to fall a bit more heavily.

"I need to ask you a couple questions, Darwin. Shift picked up the car you had prepared for him while I investigated the apartment blocks in Clearway." Renault's crackling voice gave Darwin the idea that the city would likely go dark that night.

"Good, I'm sure Kanon gave him a good deal. And what about you? Did you turn anything up at the apartment?" He prodded Renault, to ensure the old spotter that he had nothing to hide.

"I'm glad you asked. How many people do you have working on this job? And where or how did you seek them out, if you don't mind me asking?" Darwin couldn't see the ex-soldier's face, though he was sure Renault had an intimidating look about him – shadowed grin while he waited for answers.

"I'm sorry? You and Shift are the only two people I've hired. This job requires a certain measurement of calculated speed: you are the calculation, and Shift is the speed." His face began to grow warm as he dug himself deeper.

"Who knows what Shuke's captors have done to him this far. At least in Marcotte we could see most of what was being done to him. But now – now we are completely in the dark. The news feeds don't even know his whereabouts, so tell me what you saw at the apartment." He felt compelled to say one more thing:

"I know you worked for the government, and because of what they've done to your home you have distrust for them. But I don't work for the government, so that distrust is inappropriate and misplaced. I promise you that, Renault. Now, tell me what was there." Darwin smiled on his end. Nobody saw it beneath the mask that exhaled for him.

One of the pamphlets from his group of activists gusted across his feet, catching on a storm drain that was clogged with trash.

"Let me tell you what I saw, Darwin. I saw a squatter with a giant hole in his stomach – so deep it came out the other side. He was assaulted and stabbed by someone called 'The Siberian'. Now, I know that no Siberians are getting through the travel ban, what with the war and all." He paused to catch his breath:

"I also only know one Siberian, and when I caught a glimpse of him on the fire escape, I could have sworn that profile looked familiar. Tell me about the foreign operative, Darwin." Renault was breathing sog over the phone, burying Darwin. The activist leader shuffled his step as if the ex-soldier had been watching. He took a moment to perfect his retort.

"Listen, Renault. I don't know anything about a 'foreign operative'. I hired the two of you and that's all. But I haven't been completely honest – I've left some things out. I've been in contact with someone who works with the kidnappers. I don't know the relationship between them, but I could twist his arm until getting the traffickers to meet with me and negotiate an exchange at a location I've secured. It's a warehouse, not far from the Inner City – on the banks." He wasn't finished, but a chance feeling of empathy washed over him at what he was leading the ex-spotter into. It was obvious that Renault, as a candidate, was insufficient for Darwin's elusive employer. The activist leader had known since Shift's mission into The Yard that he, too, was a weak candidate.

It pained him to bait and lead undeserved men into the breach, but in the end, he found it would be a worthy sacrifice for his sake.

He could hear sighs of discontent over the crackling line.

"What kind of negotiations, Darwin? That sure is a vague word." Renault responded.

"The peaceful kind. I told them the ransom amount and they seemed quite intrigued by it. Unless they intend to double-cross us and leave with both the money and Shuke, I have a feeling things will go very smoothly." There was a halt in the conversation, Renault went quiet.

"Look, I'm sorry you don't trust me – but if you'd truly do anything to get your family out of the pits, then trusting me is going to have to be the first step. This whole thing could be as easy as a simple transaction, and BOOM: your family is on the road to paradise and you'll never have to see or speak to me again." Darwin breathed deep, nearly sucking all the life from the filter.

He stood still in the middle of the bustling street, civilians hustling to get to shelter from the falling ash. A dense fog began to creep between the skyscrapers, obscuring all in a milky white coat. The group of anti-activists across the street had dispersed, disappearing into the crowds. Like a nest of insects the people swarmed about, found relief in nearby buildings until the growing storm finally died down.

Darwin did not mind the ashfall. To him there was delicate beauty to behold in what mankind was doing to their own planet. The ash was a mere warning that worse things were coming; the activist leader found deep respect for it. He stood, momentarily mesmerized by the spectacle before him.

"Alright." Renault cut off his single, disparate moment of serenity.

Darwin wondered if he would ever find it again.