Opus Veda

Andrez adjusted his suit and walked in. Several groups sat in the main restaurant, mingling over quiet rasps of shakuhachi. Chefs in the open kitchen acknowledged his arrival, and returned to their work.

His host would be in a private room at the back. One room had a black tie hanging off its door handle. Andrez sighed and whipped it away.

An auto-waiter wheeled backwards to let Andrez in and bowed. Paper walls enclosed the room, tatami mats covered the floor and three cushions nestled under a low table. His host knelt seiza on one, wearing a baroque dress of silver and black; her striking gaze fixed on Andrez.

He frowned - still uncomfortable with her recent seniority - and sat.

"Katryna."

"Andrez," Katryna opened a menu, "I thought we'd share a sashimi platter."

"No, I'm not in a sharing mood. Waiter."

The waiter rolled forward and invited Andrez to order in metallic Japanese.

"I'll have the bluefin to start. To drink, Dassai 23, room temperature. That will be all for now."

Katryna peered over her menu. Her eyebrow arched.

"You do know I'm paying for this?"

Andrez snapped his menu shut and held it to the waiter.

"Indeed."

Katryna rattled her order off in affected Japanese and waited for the waiter to trundle out. She eyed Andrez up and down.

"I always get the sense you and I have a love-hate relationship, my sweet doctor."

"Quite right Katryna. I love you, but you hate me."

"Oh come now Andrez, are you that worried about me being in charge?"

"It doesn't feel right. You'd never make a good switch."

Katryna's eyebrow arched higher, "are you sure about that?"

"You in charge of me is dangerous. Wine speaks truth, power speaks it more, and you have too much of both."

"The wine I drink's cheaper than the sake you just ordered," her eyebrow lowered to rest, "we are of course here to brief the next contract. This one's been written by our dark mother herself."

Saffiyah. The Cleopatran prodigy who designed and led Opus Veda. That beautiful mind, the angelic way she flourished each idea. Andrez wished other people saw what he saw - the brilliance of the right kind of neurodivergence, intelligence and charisma coping with a bleak past and an uncertain future.

He lifted off his cushion, and tried to compose himself before his peer noticed.

"I saw that," Katryna gave him a scandalised look, "she knows you have a thing for her you scoundrel. That may be why she's pitting you against your male rival for this one. A duel for her affection."

Andrez brushed the accusation off, "as I thought, we're attacking Kensington Palace."

"We are. And Saffi wants you to lead."

He blinked, "you are Insurgency's commander in London."

"And for one night you can be my superior. We're putting everything we have on the palace and taking it before the Red's army arrives."

"...given how little time we have it's a lot to ask. Half of my own section are barely out of placement let alone anyone else's. One of my fighters is brand new."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"If you recruited them you knew they were prepared to die, and die they may. As for the rest of your section…" Katryna suppressed a smile, "I have a little gift for you..."

Someone new leant against the door frame, obscured.

"Doctor Andrez Arazeti?"

That voice. Cold, yet pleasantly surprised. Andrez scoffed.

He walked over and greeted his partner with a firm handshake.

"Detective Luis Schulz. Back at last."

"You're a prick Andrez. I spent ages on those Goldsmiths. You stole my kill, let the Reds take credit for it and I know you felt smug. Don't think that mask of yours can hide it from me…"

"I know…" Andrez tutted, "you were so desperate to win that case as well. But you were busy at the station, detective... I thought I'd just take it."

They held each others gaze, testing one another, a battle for dominance between old friends. Katryna coughed from the table. The men broke into smiles, grabbing one another's arms and hugging. Andrez ushered Luis to the table.

"Fancy something to eat?" Katryna offered him a menu.

"Don't worry, I'll share with Andrez."

"We will try to go easy on you," Andrez stretched his shoulders, "it must be hard for you, wedged between two greater intellects."

"Shall we give Luis a Neo-confucianist analysis of duty in late-21st century England and Wales?"

"I believe we should."

"Aw spare me the cosmopolitan cocktail-bar bullshit!" Luis waved his hands about and grimaced, "I am not here to listen to you two fritter time away on useless social theory."

"It helps us to relate to the people!" Katryna beamed, "ad astra per empathia."

"You would be empathetic, from your high tower of comfort..." Luis bared his teeth, "it's easy to say 'be tolerant' when you don't have to be."

"As you wish..." Andrez shrugged, "you've been briefed already I take it."

"Dear mama wants us hammering against the palace like Harry and Meghan, something like that isn't it Kat?"

"Big changes will come if we pull this caper off; the war's outcome may depend on it. When London is attacked, Faizan Varma's task will be to probe Westminster and split republican defence in half. Their morale will go before he does that anyway, and nothing suggests the Chinese will lift a finger. If the Reds take the city, we're back where we started."

"Who are the revolution sending?" said Andrez.

"Marshal Ferdinand's on the van, General Bryon's behind him. We expect Second Division will tie up Blue units on the city outskirts as Byron peels around and heads for Parliament to claim the glory. The rest are staying behind to hold Marcus Sung off.

We need the revolution to lose, and when they're sulking up north next year, we can make a start on the government-"

The waiter returned, carrying a palette of food. Katryna excused herself for the restroom. Luis swiped the bluefin and made a start on it. Andrez cupped the sake before he could take that too.

The waiter left. They spent seconds in silence, content in their company.

"It's good to see you again Andrez."

"What a year it's been…"

"I was sorry to see Great Ormond Street play out, old friend. We owe Varma some payback."

"It was a stupid defeat," Andrez sipped his drink and brooded, "one would have come eventually but… I don't like that he beat us with guile, instead of force."

"You did the best you could. A graceful retreat isn't easy to achieve," Luis winked at him, "and what a contract we have to reunite for! I'm grateful to be back for it."

"I have an interesting warm-up gig tomorrow too. Feel free to join, before you accuse me of stealing your kill again."

"I can't. Need to get b-team trained," Luis set three cups out, expecting Andrez to surrender his sake, "'my kill' though? Give us the details."

Andrez poured the bottle out.

"Property management firm. Family business. A rather beautiful woman, let down by snobbery-"

"Ali Hogarth!" Luis laughed, "she's a posh cunt, worth knocking down a peg. But is she worth killing off old boy?"

"She will be to our new team member, someone I need to warn you about before you bump into each other in the changing room."

"I don't follow?"

"Good. I told Kristoff not to tell you. Wanted to see your reaction in person."

Luis squinted. Andrez challenged him with a mocking smirk.

"A younger woman. Deep traumas. Bad mother, bad landlord, she-"

"Andrez!?" Luis groaned into his hand, "are you serious!?"

"My fifth fighter, Luis, is Katarzyna Szymanska."

"She might have that Vedary vibe but... are you certain her head's in the right place!?"

"If we turned Tanya into an insurgent - a good one at that - we can manage with Kasia."

"Tanya didn't lose her daughter, her mother figure, and her home in a single week."

"I would argue Tanya faced worse."

Luis pondered. He and Andrez had accomplished much together, and Andrez was the one person who read people as well as he did.

He raised his brow and chose to follow the doctor's lead.

"I will trust you with this Andrez. I've seen Kasia a lot this year, she deserves a chance for justice. I'll be happy to help her with that."

Katryna returned. They split the sake between them and toasted to the downfall of Revolution Britannia.

Then they refilled their cups, and toasted to the downfall of the Republic.