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insignia Masozi had
seen on the Mayor’s desk. The three inch-wide, hexagonal piece of metal
featured an open eye depicted at the center which was bordered by the Timent
Electorum agency’s three mottos: Ure Infectus , Sic Semper Tyrannis ,
and Mors Proditores. “For all we know, this terrorist’s primary goal is
to blame these murders on the Timent Electorum in an effort to undermine our
society’s most fundamental principle in the eyes of the public.”
    “Why?” she asked after a brief pause to consider her
superior’s words. “I mean if these aren’t sanctioned hits, wouldn’t the
Timent Electorum condemn them as the murders they really are?”
    The two men shared a brief look before Agent Stiglitz
replied, “There is a very real possibility that the Timent Electorum itself has
been infiltrated. But since we do not know the mechanisms which drive it or
allow its continued operation, we cannot investigate to determine their
responsibility.”
    “You mean…no one has ever caught one of the agents before?”
she asked disbelievingly.
    “Caught?” Stiglitz repeated with a hard edge to his voice
that gave her more than a hint of trepidation. The short, muscular man took a
step forward and, in his perfectly pitched, razor-sharp voice said, “Yes, we
have caught several of them…we’ve even interrogated them on occasion to verify
they were who they claimed. But the Timent Electorum is unlike any other
government agency so we cannot audit it, nor can we interview its ‘leadership’
since it has no formal hierarchy of which we are aware.” He turned his back and
moved to the window, his hands still firmly clasped behind him as he added,
“There is an increasingly popular opinion among modern social scholars that
they are little better than state-funded terrorists born of an irrational fear
aimed at the old, Imperial Aristocracy.”
    “They aren’t state-funded,” Masozi said pointedly, and again
Stiglitz and Afolabi shared a brief look that she didn’t quite understand.
“They have to operate purely on donations made by volunteers.”
    “That is the official line, yes,” Agent Stiglitz said
tersely before making a short, chopping gesture, “but whatever role the T.E.
was once meant to serve, it has likely ceased to do so.”
    Masozi considered the implications if the First Right, which
served as the most fundamental component of their society’s two hundred year
long history, had indeed been coopted for nefarious purposes. All across the
system—and likely beyond—there had been rumblings that such may have taken
place, but such murmurs had generally been dismissed as conspiracy theories
bandied about by the nutters of society.
    “This is a lot for you to process, Investigator Masozi,”
Afolabi said levelly, interrupting her silent ruminations. “I suggest you take
the rest of the night off; take in a meal, rent a VR booth, or spend a few hours
at the gym before heading home so you can clear your head. Report to my office
at the start of your shift tomorrow and we can discuss your potential
involvement in this matter. Much may depend on your role in the next few days’
investigation.”
    “Indeed,” Agent Stiglitz said, once again offering his hand,
“I look forward to working with you, Investigator.”
    She was well and truly at a loss for words, so Masozi did
the only thing she could think of and accepted his hand. She then shook Chief
Afolabi’s hand and exited the Chief Investigator’s office, closing the door
behind her.
    Her boss had been right: this would take a few hours to wrap
her head around.

Chapter
V: One more makes Two-for-Two
    Jericho finished fastening the full-body harness and then
proceeded to triple-check each of the clasps. When it was clear that everything
was in order, he attached the deceptively thin, metal wire which his life would
depend on for the next few minutes. He could have had the wire made of the same
carbon tubules as he had used at Cantwell’s