Omake: Back on the Hunt
Dylan wanted to puke. He gripped the paper in white knuckled hands, eyes racing back and forth over the offending passage. He needed details,
any details, it was
always a matter of details.
"Dyl, you're smiling. What's wrong?" Alexandra asked. Wordlessly Dylan passed her the paper.
A short while later she laid the paper down and let loose a string of profanity. All that her curses and invective lacked in grace and elegance they made up for with variety, wandering back and forth across three continents worth of languages before reaching a crescendo in an enumeration of Basque obscenities.
"A fucking Martin," she hissed when the tirade had finally petered out.
"The MO is distressingly similar," Dylan agreed.
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Securing a meeting with the president in a timely manner was not the easiest of tasks, even for a signatory delegate. It had taken a prodigious amount of sweet talking and a single lightly greased palm to get Dylan's meeting bumped up to the timeframe he preferred.
"I've seen this before, and I want to help hunt down the bastards responsible" was how he opened.
The president had asked for clarification, pointing out that most of the signatories had at least some experience with Vick infiltrators.
"Its the method. Point blank execution of a guarded target without the guards noticing a thing. I know its only a single killing, so we can't even claim there's the beginning of a pattern, but its distressingly similar to something we faced back in the railroad. From what I've been able to glean, even the weapon used matches."
He was invited to elaborate.
"Back when I was conducting we had a hell of a time getting people settled after we had gotten them out, right? There was this passenger, Bertram, who stepped up. He knew a thing or two about getting people organized from his activist days. He got some regional warlords and farmer groups to support, or at least tolerate, us setting up settlements for the passengers. Things were going well for a few years, then one day bam. Handgun to the back of the skull, guards none the wiser. Bertram was the first, but after that conductors and passengers started dying. Not just leaders mind, but always targets that were in some way guarded. Terror tactics, you know?"
"Took us months to find the killer, a conductor named Martin. When we came for him he was waiting: he was fucking grinning when he confessed. He fucking claimed that the only reason we had caught him was because of the clues he had deliberately left for us, that without his help we'd still be chasing our own asses. Not even burying the bastard alive wiped the smug off his face."
"After that things quieted down for a bit and we got on with the railroad. Then the killings started again, exactly same MO, always hitting guarded targets."
"For all that Martin thought we only caught him because he let us, we'd learned a thing or two hunting him. We found the new killer faster than she expected, but even so she had that same smug look on her face when we came fo her. She had been a passenger, a gay woman we'd gotten out with her wife. Thing is, we'd gotten her out before Martin had even signed up with us."
"She wasn't the last. Every now and again a new assassin would emerge, always with the same method. We came to call them Martins, after the first. They didn't always target railroad people: a lot of people who decided to help us on the outside ended up on the chopping block. Pretty sure I don't need to spell out the message they were sending for you. Took us about a year to piece everything together and figure out where these murderers were coming from."
"As it turned out, the office of Unity and Morality had a Russian adviser. Man was apparently a virtuoso at turning and training operatives, and he'd set his sights on us as a way to demoralize and divide Victoria's enemies, internal and external."
"Thing is, the Viks and Ruskies aren't the only ones who can use suicide tactics. I cost more people than I like to remember, and a fair number of complete innocents got caught in the backdraft, but we ultimately burned that monster down. But we sure as hell didn't get all of his proteges."
"So even if we aren't dealing with a Martin, I think we're dealing with someone who learned in the same school as them. And the thing is, Mr. President, that I have some experience tacking the graduates of that school."
-----
Dylan left the meeting with the assurance that the president would keep his skills in mind for the coming days.
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