“I believe the term would have been ‘Accelerated’ set-sets,” Faust spat as if it were profanity. “It’s a new kind. This bash’, if you can call it that, was a first attempt. I skimmed the case notes, they would’ve been something between Pneumonic and Flash. You know how adrenaline and fight-or-flight reactions enhance processing and memory? Grossly oversimplified, this was trying to make that hyperfocus permanent. When finished the children would’ve experienced the world in slow motion. Imagine how impossible, to watch a movie or enjoy a conversation when it all seems like slow motion. Talk about ‘crippling a child’s ability to participate in and interface naturally and productively with the world at large.’ ” These last words, quoted from the Nurturist Eighth Law, made even touch-distracted Ganymede look up.
The Anonymous took a long breath, enjoying Kosala’s scent, before he broke his silence. “Minister Lorelei Cook was on Sugiyama’s Seven-Ten list. Is this why?”
Mama and Papa Mitsubishi exchanged fast glances. “Quite possibly. Masami knows that Bryar and Minister Cook conspired to break up their birth bash’. I wouldn’t be surprised if they mentioned it to Sugiyama-sensei. But Cook wasn’t on Masami’s own list.”
The Anonymous nodded. “No, if Masami themself had published about it I’m sure their background would have come out, but I do imagine an unfinished set-set might hold a grudge. Was Masami trying to manipulate Sugiyama into aiding some kind of revenge?”
Duke Ganymede laughed now, the motion jiggling his sister’s chest. “So, it’s not just Spain, Andō, and me! Even our Bryar had something to gain from silencing Sugiyama’s Seven-Ten list.”
The Cousin Chair seemed to wish she too had a fan to hide behind. “What are you suggesting?”
“Just that it’s amazing a single Seven-Ten list could have had things on it to embarrass so many of us. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I’d have great difficulty figuring out which of us to accuse.”
“Yes, that’s something I have wanted to address.” Now the Emperor withdrew his eyes and hands from his Lady. “This Black Sakura affair has escalated into more than mere distraction. The cars are in danger. That is not tolerable.”
Hotaka Andō Mitsubishi frowned across at MASON. “I thought we’d decided to leave this to Tai-kun.”
“The solving of the case, yes,” Caesar answered, “but the protection of the cars is separate.”
“You don’t think Tai-kun can settle it in time?”
“Of course Jed will solve it,” Kosala interrupted, “but I agree with Cornel, we can’t afford the risk of something happening to the cars before they’re done.” Kosala pushed at a tickling curl at one side of her hair, tempting her lover to nuzzle before tucking it back in place. “Your Grace”—she looked to Ganymede—“what added security have you ordered for the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’?”
“The bash’ is safe, I’ve seen to it.”
That was not enough for the Emperor. “What about preparations in case the system does go down? Is the backup facility ready to go online? Have you trained a backup crew?”
“I presume you intend no insult, Caesar.” The Duke President shot MASON a brief, cutting smile. “I have always had a backup crew, I have always had a backup facility, I have even always had backup set-sets.” A quick glare at Faust. “The transition won’t be seamless—no one is as good as Lesley Saneer or Cato Weeksbooth—but a transition might cost a few minutes’ system downtime, risk of an extra crash or two over the first months the new team is in charge, no worse.” His murder-blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve trusted me with the cars for years, I don’t appreciate being accused of being irresponsible with my own.”
«Temper, temper, your Grace,» Madame chided in French, her voice light as a nanny’s. «These were questions out of concern, not disrespect. We’re all here trying to help each other.»
For her, reader, for Madame D’Arouet alone, see true deference temper Ganymede’s too-blue eyes. «Of course, Madame. Forgive me.»
Spain intervened now, his voice and posture as serene as if he were waiting to be painted into a double portrait with Madame. “We are grateful for your excellent care, la Trémoïlle,” he began, squeezing Madame’s hand tenderly until she gave smile of agreement. “We know no one could guard the cars better, and we trust that, if trouble did arise, you would call on us at once. Most of us are, I think, more concerned about the Black Sakura end of the problem, and the motives of the actors. Déguisé, why did you arrange to fake your own Seven-Ten list being tampered with? That is the first time we’ve seen you lie to the press.”
“Oh, to help the Mitsubishi,” the Anonymous answered, investigating the side struts of Kosala’s bodice. “Unless something distracted the world from Black Sakura, there was going to be big trouble for Andō, anyone could see that.”
“Yes,” Headmaster Felix Faust confirmed, “Déguisé showed me some calculations when they asked me to make a fuss about my list too. There’s always an attempt to steal mine, it’s a student tradition, but make a little fuss and it’s amazing how fast the public will stop obsessing about one Hive and bask in the fantasy of conspiracy. You’re welcome, Andō.”
The Director’s eyes were not grateful. “You could have consulted me first, or did you not want me to be complicit?”
The Anonymous took a long pensive breath. “Nope, no good, can’t concentrate.” Rising, he seized Bryar Kosala by the waist and hefted her over his shoulder, no easy feat given her height and smothering skirts, but they have practice. “Back in a moment.”
“Oh, My Lord!” the lady cried, laughing as she struggled to balance on him for the few steps it took to reach a side room which waited for such eventualities.
The Anonymous fumbled for the speaker control, so they could continue to hear the discussion in the central room while we without were spared the sounds of the activity within. “Carry on, we’ll be listening.”
The others mixed smirks with sighs as they watched the door close behind this most eager of couples. The pair did not, I noted, turn on the light in the little side room, preferring their old habit of meeting in the dark. One might imagine Bryar Kosala would be the hardest of the Seven for Madame to lure to her establishment, but she was clever. Bryar came at first as an inspector, just as she told Carlyle. The Cousin found the curls and skirts and gentlemen charming, but not lure enough to compromise her duty, not until Madame dropped hints that her establishment was graced from time to time by the Anonymous. Oh, how Kosala burned at the thought of putting flesh to the voice she had vied with so many times in print, the wisest of her adversaries. Kindly Madame made the arrangements, a rendezvous like Cupid and Psyche’s in pitch black, with the promise of no speaking, so the identities of both lovers could remain unknown. All it took to lure the Anonymous into the arrangement was to let him glimpse the Unknown Lady in silhouette through a screen as she donned the many pieces of the costume which drives him joy-mad. Dominic was the biggest winner in the betting pool on how long the pair could keep up their affair before they recognized each other in the outside world—seven months. After that there was nothing for it but for Kosala to join this innermost circle of those privileged to see and know the face of the Anonymous. And you say she wears her wedding ring through this, Mycroft? That the ‘Lady’ crowns this farce of an affair by carrying the seal of those vows exchanged with Vivien Ancelet? Of course she does, reader, for nothing stokes the fires of love like sweet adultery. The Anonymous wears his, too.
“You had more to say, Caesar?” Madame invited, running a soft finger along his jaw.