Episode 23

(Chicago, June 17, 1996)

[Author’s note: Over a year has passed since the events of Episodes 15-22.]

The door burst open and Rin dashed into the hallway half-naked, frantically looking for whoever slid the letter under her door. She knew this was pointless; it had been done quietly. She also had no idea how long the carefully-folded missive sat there unnoticed. Its author would not have delivered it in person, anyway. She herself had recruited Anton and would be appalled if he was that irresponsible.

Nevertheless, the commotion was not without purpose. It gave Rin a feeling of control. If she required more information, she knew how to seek him out. But that would compromise his future utility and accomplish little more than lending a human voice to words she dreaded reading. Then she would have to kill him, and Rin did not wish to kill Anton. He had proved nothing but loyal in the nine years she had known him.

More than this, she had grown fond of the boy. She still remembered the incorrigible street urchin, his clumsy attempt to rob her at knife-point, the laughable incompetence writ all over that little round face, and the endearingly stupid expression when the blade snapped and almost severed one of his fingers.

Rin had felt a pang of pity watching the blood spurt from the child’s wound. He hardly seemed to notice it himself and just stared at her in disbelief. Such a creature surely would not survive on its own, and that was as it should be. But something about him moved her. He had used the blade, and that at least was something. Many children would be willing to do so, of course. Most, Rin guessed. But most would not find themselves in such a predicament. They would pick a better target, or flee when mere threats failed, or just stab her without preface or thought.

This kid was just the wrong combination: hesitating when he should act and acting when he should hesitate. Rin decided to set herself a challenge. She would turn the boy into something, or at least teach him enough to be marginally useful. What was the saying? Teach a man to fish and he’ll always smell awful.

Most important, there was material here to work with. A twelve-year-old child who didn’t hesitate to knife a beautiful woman and didn’t piss himself when the knife snapped could have potential. There was no viciousness in his eyes, only hungry calculation. That meant he could be trained.

The investment paid off. Rin felt a touch of maternal pride in the man Anton had become. Or, more precisely, the man her organization had molded him into. To burn such an asset for dubious cause would be wasteful. It also would be disrespectful to herself and the effort she had made.

There were practical considerations as well. Such a move could arouse suspicion and reduce morale elsewhere in her organization. Centuries of experience had refined Rin’s management technique into the most efficient that circumstance and disposition allowed. It did not require great wisdom to realize that a leader who killed loyal followers soon would cease to have any.

But this was not a dubious cause. An improbable benefit still could be worth chasing, even if it cost her Anton. She always could adopt a new stray if need be. As for morale, she could put it about that Anton had betrayed her in some way. It would dishonor his memory, but what would a dead man care? He was a street rat and owed her all he had beyond that. What claim did he have to anything so grand as honor? He was hers to use in any way she chose. Rin was not sure what she would choose but was sure she could afford no mistake in this matter. It wasn’t often she was reminded to be afraid, reminded there was another out there who could hurt her.

Rin returned to her room in a particularly foul mood. Even before reading the letter, she knew what it contained. Her stomach had turned when she saw the handwriting. Anton had been assigned a specific task, and the letter could mean only one thing. Consternation aside, Rin was grateful for her precautions. Whenever they seemed excessive and tedious, whenever she began to doubt their value, whenever she was tempted to reckless action, something like this happened to prove their worth.

If the Proteges thought the same way, she would have had a hard time finding them. Despite all her grumbling, Rin would have preferred that. She always hoped for an exciting hunt and almost always was disappointed. With few exceptions, her prey proved stupid or lazy. For all their time on Earth, most so-called immortals never seemed to learn a damned thing.

Sometimes a cat grew tired of chasing mice and wanted craftier, bigger prey. Sometimes a cat wanted to chase its equal, but there was no other Rin. On occasion, she had considered warning the Proteges or even teaching them how to elude her. Then they would be more of a challenge. The inevitable was inevitable, and with unlimited time she may as well make it fun.

Rin grew sad. The inevitable was inevitable. And that meant she herself would be found, however cautious she may be. But she could postpone that day of reckoning for as long as possible. There had been three close brushes in the last century, but Rin’s sentinels did not fail her.

Meticulous adherence to certain procedures had kept her safe so far, and there was no reason to expect that to change now. Before moving to a new city, she typically spent a decade cultivating a network of spies. On the rare occasion when an unanticipated move was necessary, Rin still established this line of pickets as best possible. These days, she had operational networks in most major cities and could use their contacts to quickly spawn smaller ones wherever she found herself. It also didn’t hurt that she was unrecognizable.

There was a silver lining to the letter, if a small one. It proved Anton actually was doing his job. This was the first communication since he had been put into play three years earlier. Given his role, it was plausible that he never would be called upon to report in. There were some who would take advantage of such a posting, but Rin knew the young man and had faith in him. If he was going to betray her, it would be to her face. Since he was reporting in, the information probably was accurate and timely. This gave her a little forewarning, which ultimately was all she could ask for and all she needed.

From the details of Anton’s letter, Rin surmised that someone was indeed tugging on the web but only had reached an outer thread. It would be a few weeks before an experienced tracker could find Rin, assuming she took no evasive action.

Once Rin’s initial dismay subsided, she decided there was some breathing room. In a pinch, she just had to break her routine and hide in plain sight. She would be impossible to find, if she kept from giving herself away. Though Rin had vanished this way in the past, it always was risky and difficult. Breaking habits was harder than it seemed, especially ones entrenched for centuries. She preferred to avoid the attempt unless absolutely necessary.

She would leave, and she would do so quietly. This would require some preparation. There was no surer way for an unrecognizable woman to be recognized than through hasty action. For all she knew, someone deliberately could have disturbed the web to prod her into exposing herself. Though Rin was too experienced to fall for such a ploy, the very existence of the web posed a danger, if an unavoidable one. However loyal or afraid of her they were, people only could stand so much pain. The web could be traced and its center located. A wise spider did not sit at the center, but its presence still deformed the membrane. In time, it always could be found by one sufficiently well-versed in such things.

The problem was that Rin did not know how well-versed Sree had become or how long she had been aware of this particular web. She always had been less pragmatic than Rin, but it would be foolish to underestimate the woman — especially after all these years. Rin was acutely aware of the price of underestimating an adversary. She had seen it many times, etched for eternity on the faces of her victims.

At least there was no indication that Sree had a web of her own. Rin weighed the possibility that this was intentional, a sign of skill rather than neglect, but deemed it unlikely. In any endeavor there were grades of proficiency. Rin was not foolish enough to assume nobody could surpass her, but it seemed implausible that the first instance would be by so great a margin. Over the centuries, opponents of intermediate aptitude would have portended such an eventuality. Besides, Proteges generally avoided contact with one another. Only a few had the inclination to seek others out. Sree probably was new to that game.

Rin decided that Sree lacked a web. The woman simply had not learned to rely on such things. The need for that sort of tool probably hadn’t even occurred to her.

Rin put aside such speculation. It made no difference to the required course and served little purpose other than to waste time. She would play the game as best she could, regardless of the opponent. It would be clear soon enough whether Sree could do better.

The one certainty was that Rin could not afford to tarry too long. She would move to a nearby location, wait a week, and then leave the city without alerting anyone. Her network would operate without interruption as long as they were funded, and Rin had made ample provision for this. The trail of money in each branch of her organization led to between one and three managing individuals. Nobody stole from her, nobody betrayed her.

There was a reason for this. Without really knowing who she was, Rin’s men held her in near-religious awe. And they all were men. She never cultivated women. Rin had learned long ago that men could be trained but women always turned on their mistress. Besides, men were more fun to have around. She discouraged actual worship, having seen too often where that could lead. But she did maintain a certain mystery about her person. For those unswayed by beauty and mystique, an abundance of rumors made clear what would happen if one’s reach exceeded one’s grasp. Rin always had laughed at that expression. What man’s reach did not exceed his grasp? Such flawed ambition was beneficial, to a point. The key to successful management lay in recognizing that point and enforcing it.

In fleeing — though she would have preferred a less pejorative term — the operation of her organization did not concern Rin. It had many branches, and worked in absentia almost all the time anyway. Sree was welcome to torture her way through the ranks if she could. Her teeth would find only gristle, and the meal would slow her.

Anton had given Rin what she wanted, and she would have no further need of this branch for years to come. Rin decided that nothing he could tell her in person would affect her course of action. He would be allowed to continue, perhaps to one day profit her by his life or death. Besides, he could prove useful if she chose to check in periodically on Sree’s progress — though it probably would be safer not to. For now, she had no need of Anton or his craft. But there was something she needed.

Rin picked up the phone to call Daryl. Then she put it down. First there was another matter to attend to.

The one saving grace about moving was that Rin only had a single suitcase to pack. She quickly located a new apartment three blocks away, paid cash, and told nobody. It would do for a short while, but then she needed to disappear for at least a couple of months. That would ensure complete unrecognizability. Otherwise, there always would be the possibility that somebody — perhaps even from her own organization — had been watching and would continue to recognize her. This in itself wasn’t a threat — unless it happened to be Sree, in which case the game already was lost — but such an individual could reveal Rin’s location if compromised.

Rin estimated she safely could see out the week. Then she quietly would leave with Daryl. Unless very well-informed, Sree wouldn’t be looking for a couple. Avoiding direct recognition was easy for someone unrecognizable, and avoiding obvious mistakes was easy for someone with a brain. But avoiding clever statistical analysis could be much harder. Rin knew this from experience. Long before the modern world had given them names and discussed them in classrooms, she had invented several such techniques. It would be no exaggeration to say that Rin had discovered much of the theory of statistical inference a century ahead of everyone else.

If Sree was smart enough to use similar methods — or had recruited individuals who were — then Rin could at best hope to delay her. Worst case, she would need to hide for two months and become unrecognizable. Only one person ever had managed to see through this, and even he failed in the end. Well, failed from his standpoint. He had become an invaluable employee, though he still liked to whine about justice and morality from time to time. Rin allowed this because it amused her. Also, he was really good in the sack.

These days she saw less of him than she would have liked, though Daryl proved a suitable successor. A wistful expression crossed her face as Rin wondered what it would be like with both of them. Daryl probably just would do as he was told, albeit with a lot of complaining. But Jim wouldn’t be into that. Fuck Jim. Well, that was the basic plan. She smiled at the thought of the face he would make if asked.

A moment later, Rin’s levity had vanished. Over the years, she had grown very skilled at sensing when someone was trying to fool her. With nobody was this more critical than herself. A couple wouldn’t be as noticeable? What sort of idiotic dream was that? Daryl was an obvious weakness. He was recognizable. If anybody was watching, he could be linked to her. She may as well wear a t-shirt with her name emblazoned on it. Well, Daryl was sort of like a favorite t-shirt.

The more she thought about it, the more Rin realized there was no getting around this. Daryl would be a major liability. They must part ways for now, perhaps even permanently. Nothing was worth the risk of being found by Sree.

Of course, Sree still could find him. But if that happened it would be the boy’s own damned fault. Rin had trained him, and he should be good enough to avoid capture. But by Sree? She was unsure. Life had been so much simpler when she was sure. Daryl had become a problem, and Rin had little patience for men who were problems.