Breach of Peace (The Lawful Times #0.5)(28)
Heavy black boots made a slow approach at the edges of her vision. The Chosen dropped its ruined mask to the floor. Blood dripped over the grin as the face stared at her.
The Chosen rolled Khlid over with one foot.
Turning her eyes upwards, Khlid saw the face of her husband's killer for the first and last time. Gray eyes set in a beautiful woman’s face stared down at her. “We do need more subjects, little rabbit. It seems you have earned the honor.”
Khlid’s last thought was that she had spent the last few weeks sleeping alone in her apartment, waiting for Sam to get back from that stupid chicken case. She would never get to wake up next to him again.
A boot filled her vision and then, nothing.
8
The Coverup
Jotch Holdir sat at his desk at the Ministry of Truth and stared at the report that had just been handed to him. It was his job to take the Letters of Truth, as they were called, and write them into articles to be published throughout the Empire. This was the first time he had been handed a first-class story. It was a massive opportunity, one he had been eagerly waiting for for three years now.
The problem was, Jotch knew this letter was a lie.
Last night, his half brother Michael, a rather popular prostitute, had come by late at night and told him a magnificent story of an Imperial inspector on the run. The woman had apparently been chased by someone that scared the ever-loving hell out of her. He had been clear that the woman was in a state of complete terror and had been escorted by Mother Christi, his boss, back to her precinct.
Michael excitedly brought this story to his brother, thinking he could write about it for the paper. Jotch had told Michael he would need to gather more evidence first. He promised if he could track down this mysterious inspector in distress and get a full account, he would run it in his personal column. His half brother had left with a smile on his face, excited to have possibly given Jotch his first big story.
Now, the letter in front of Jotch claimed his brother had died last night in a fire at the brothel, well before he had shown up at his door. The fire had supposedly been set by members of the rebellion. In a simultaneous hit, the rebels had apparently burned the entire Seventh Precinct. It went on to claim three traitorous inspectors named Khlid Whitter, Samuel Whitter, and Chapman Hilt lured most of their precinct into a trap at a long-abandoned warehouse. None had survived.
“The Ministry of Defense is cooperating with the Ministry of Truth to get to the bottom of this latest attack by the rebellion. Why they chose these targets is unknown. The Ministries have faith in the vision of the Almighty. Justice will be brought.”
At the bottom of the Letter of Truth was a note instructing Jotch to invite any witnesses to come forward to the Ministry of Truth directly, in order to help the Empire seek justice for what had been done. Jotch had written such invitations dozens of times before. With what he saw now, every single one of them twisted in his memory.
A tear landed on the letter lying on his desk. Jotch realized he was hunched over it, crying. Michael is dead. The full realization hit him like a hammer. His brother had been murdered to cover something up. What, Jotch might never know.
A million ideas spun through his head. He would write the discrepancies and publish—
He would publish nothing. His editor was an absolute loyalist and would have Jotch hauled off for even hinting at what he knew. I’ll go down to the brothel and—
If he acted out of line in any way, it would bring scrutiny. Somehow, the fact that Michael was his half brother had been missed. If they found out now, Jotch would be disappeared, too.
Another tear hit the letter. Michael would never come to his door again to gossip about the weird proclivities of the noble class that frequented his services. They would never again go on holiday with their family in the country. Michael was gone forever.
A third tear hit the letter. Jotch laid his hands on his typewriter, and began writing lies.