“Always a pleasure, gentlemen and ladies. Till next month, then, unless an emergency arises.”
The unassuming girl handed coats and hats to the people filing past her. She found it amusing not a one realised that she plotted against them. It terrified her to think of what they would do to her if they ever discovered that she had an excellent memory for details other than their personal peccadilloes and requisite servant duties. Her placid demeanour never betrayed her conflicting emotions.
The Chancellors of Justice from each Section of the Metropolis of Peace and Order were required to attend these meetings in the Central Boardroom. Their duties consisted of dispatching swift and lethal punishment against those citizens they judged to be detrimental to the happiness of others.
Negative behaviour of any kind was no longer tolerated in this society, most assuredly not that of the rebels calling for a return to the old ways of dissenting opinion. She listened carefully to their plans as she poured espresso, buttered scones, and massaged any tensions away, if they so demanded.
Chancellor Hardgrove, from Section Eight Territory, raised the only two motions that day.
“The Government Offices of Section Eight were raided recently by Phoenix Star and her followers. They wrought havoc in the outer offices, destroyed everything that they possibly could. Fortunately, they failed to gain access to anything of great importance and never will, not with our security. But of course, you see where this foolishness must come to an end.”
Amidst the excited signals of approval, the quiet girl slipped into viewing range of Hardgrove’s monitor where the file on Phoenix Star appeared, as it did on all the other screens in the room.
“So you agree, then. I have your permission to initiate Phase Two of our containment edict.”
“By all means, Hardgrove. By all means.”
“Chancellor Hardgrove, I wonder if this might be an opportunity to take care of my problem as well,” said Chancellor Cranther from Section Seven.
“What problem is that, Cranther?”
“We have a poet in our Section gaining in fervour and popularity. Since we need an assassin for your girl, what better candidate?”
“Excellent idea. Unless there are objections, the DNA of Cranther’s poet will be placed at the murder scene.”
As the chancellors slurped and agreed, the girl scanned the new data coming up on Hardgrove’s screen. He quite enjoyed the light rub she gave him as she memorised the face of the real assassin and the details of the mission.
Hardgrove winced and barked, “Enough, idiot,” as her sharpened fingernail scratched just deeply enough to peel a bit of skin from his thick, hairy neck, a harvest sure to please her friend in the Medical Examiner’s office.
“I’m so sorry, Chancellor Hardgrove,” she said. “Let me take that cup for you.”