Shoe repair was a difficult art. Eagan had learned a lot from his father, and yet he was always developing new tricks to make the footwear last longer. People from the Seam rarely had the budget for new shoes and people in the business district didn't wear them out so quickly. New shoe sales were rare. Most of the Westfall budget came from repair work.
His strong fingers anchored the hardened fabric in place as an epoxy sealed it to the sole and the steel covering the toes. Steel-toed boots were not common, even in the mines. These were owned by one of the shift supervisors. After the required number of seconds, Eagan released his grip and the material stayed in place. Next, he would apply a chemical sealant that would keep the nylon from fraying after scratches.
Eagan junior and Fiona would be out of school soon, back to the shop to help clean. He always anticipated the time when his children showed up. They livened up the place. Few people came to the shoe shop for conversation. Willow worked as the telephone operator in the Justice Building, so the kids never got to see her until she came home for dinner to their apartment above the store.
She was happier that morning than he had seen her in some months. It had taken a number of weeks before the Capitol's camera crews finally stopped wandering around, filming everything. Getting so much attention was sure to strain the nerves a little bit. Eagan had been on edge, himself.
Something about Willow's response was more powerful, though. She had told him about growing up in District 13, about the severe regimentation required of every person. District 12 was much more relaxed and easy-going. Maybe she had worried the Capitol wouldn't approve of the clutter and disorganization in the town. It didn't matter now; they had left a few days earlier.
The bell on the front door clanked. Eagan set the boot down, expecting Fiona to run in for a hug. Instead, a gruff voice called out, "Anybody back there?"
"Be with you in a minute," Eagan called back. He tried to place the voice as he wiped his hands on a rag. That sealant could dry skin out something fierce. It was pretty toxic stuff. He couldn't picture a face or hear a name for the graveled voice. But then, it could just be grizzled from a bad case of black cough.
Eagan stepped around a few shelves of supplies and shoes, past a basket full of scraps too small to use, and through the doorway that separated the workroom from the store. He rubbed his hands together as he looked at the patron. Peacekeeper in his off-duties, older though. "I'm sorry. I can't buy any shoes right now. Got way more than I need, actually."
Peacekeepers never bought Eagan's footwear. They ordered their regulation gear from the Capitol, and sometimes sold the old stuff to the stores. Most of it was barely used.
"I'm not here to sell. I'm here to buy some boots."
"Buy?" Eagan squinted.
"You the proprietor?" The Peacekeeper set a palm on the counter.
"Yeah, I own the place. Ever since my father passed." Eagan shifted his weight between his feet. Why would a Peacekeeper want to buy boots rather than ordering them?
"I was told to come see you." He reached a hand out to shake Eagan's, "Volente Covas."
"Oh," the men shook hands. "Eagan Westfall."
Covas softened his voice a touch, "I hear you have to be careful in the mines. The government boots may not cut it for crawling a few miles down."
Peacekeepers didn't work in the mines. They relied on 12's shift-managers to drive the crews. "Yeah, that seems about right. You'll be going into the mines then?"
"Only where it's safe."
Eagan grimaced, "It's never safe in the mines."
"There're always a few safe places. Most people don't know where they are." Covas leaned forward and patted the wooden counter, soft as a feather.
Covas waited for a reply, but Eagan had no idea what to say. He glanced between Covas and the counter where Covas' hands rested. Finally, he managed, "Haven't been in the mines, myself."
"But you've been here," Covas tapped the counter one more time. "And it's been safe."
Silence dragged on again, stretching seconds into a minute. Eagan constructed his reply slowly, careful to leave himself a way out. "It's been safe so far… The Peacekeepers leave me alone to do my work…" He folded his arms and leaned back, "How do I know I can trust you?" It was a risk, but someone would have to break the ice with the newest member of the Underground.
"You can't, and that's the problem we have all over this country, isn't it?"
"One of the problems, yes." Eagan trusted the people who had told Willow this man would be coming to the district. He couldn't trust Covas, himself, yet.
Covas shrugged, "We'll work on that. I'm just here to introduce myself, for now." He straightened his back and waved an arm over the shop. "Oh, and buy those boots."
The electricity was on more often now, part of the gifts the Capitol sent to District 12 for producing the most recent Hunger Games victors. It was off for the moment, the shelves of footwear illuminated by sunlight from the front windows.
Eagan relented and showed Covas a pair of the nicest work boots he carried: steel toes, waterproof, leather hide, laces up half the calf to keep the dirt and grime out of the socks, special soles for extra grip on stone.
There were much nicer boots out there, carbon fiber reinforced, insulated, extra padding, temperature controlled. No one could afford them, so he never carried them. Covas turned down the offer for a special order, settling for Eagan's most expensive pair. He tried on a pair for himself and gave Eagan the dimensions for another pair.
"So why are you going into the mines?" Eagan wrapped the boots up in two paper packages, tying them closed with twine. "Peacekeepers don't go into the mines."
"This Peacekeeper does. The Capitol is looking hard at your district, Eagan. I'm their eyes now, and I plan to give them a good show."
Not quite sure why, Eagan began to feel that this man was trustworthy, that he had 13's confidence for a reason. He began to wonder what this Peacekeeper had done to have such favor with the Capitol, while being so useful to the Underground. Covas was clearly at ease, totally comfortable with the precarious situation in Panem. Eagan ventured to trust Covas, like putting the toes of one foot on a bridge you can't be sure about, "What should the rest of us be doing?"
"The only thing that we can do is distract Snow and bring the Everdeen girl into the fold."
"Into the fold…" Eagan began. The paper crunched under his fingers as he considered the statement.
"She needs to have some level of understanding about her value to the districts now, to a rebellion."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. It's just…" He looked at the receipt pad for a minute. "Haymitch is pretty sure that's a bad idea."
Covas stared, eyes masked of his thoughts.
"Have you met him yet? Haymitch Abernathy?"
"No, I've been orienting myself to the district. You're the first member I've contacted directly."
Willow had mentioned meeting Covas in passing. To risk this sort of conversation in the Justice Building was too dangerous though. Eagan was to be Covas' primary contact to the local Underground. "Well, Haymitch says she won't be receptive to anything we might plan."
"We'll see. You'd better write up the bill for me."
"Yeah, alright." Eagan leaned over and jotted down the model numbers for each pair of boots, jotting in the prices and totaling the sale up. "By the way, I heard you upset Cray."
Narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, Covas guessed right, "Did your wife tell you that?"
Eagan acknowledged the question with a nod. "He fired off some calls to the Capitol about you."
"I expect he did." The reply was frank, unconcerned.
"You shouldn't be stirring up the pot here. Cray's got his sleazy side, but at least he lets people do what they have to to eat." Eagan tore the receipt from the pad and handed a carbon copy to the Peacekeeper.
"Things aren't so simple as getting by until the rebellion takes off, Eagan." Covas counted out enough money to pay for the boots, hanging on to the bills as he spoke. "Snow doesn't like Cray. In fact, the only reason Cray's still around is the Commandant stood up for him."
Eagan opened up a cashbox that served as a register and drew out a few coins for change. "Why would the Commandant care about Cray?" He began to realize Covas knew far more than anyone he had ever talked to. After long years of service for the Capitol and the Underground, he had developed a broad network of contacts.
"Because he knows that 12 is no threat at all; it'd be a waste to change out the guard here. Snow knows that too, except his only answer to a threat is to kill it. Of course, he can't kill the Everdeen girl; she's too popular. So he wants to tighten up the district, show her that challenging the Gamemakers was a mistake."
"Snow wants to scare Katniss Everdeen and…?"
"Snow wants to scare everyone. The anti-Capitolism in the districts is running pretty hot." Covas moved forward to pick up the packages. "But the Commandant has to worry about personnel count. His budget is pretty tight keeping the other districts in check. He wants to leave 12 alone, as it is."
"Wait a minute!" Eagan griped. "Why would you make Cray out to be incompetent then? Isn't that just playing into what Snow wants? Now he's going to force the Commandant to shakeup the Peacekeepers anyway."
Face crumpling in a frown, the strongest response Eagan had seen from the man, Covas shook his head, "You don't understand. Broadmark and I are the shakeup. That was the point. We sent Cray running to the Commandant with his tail tucked. He'll lick his wounds and meanwhile the Capitol thinks they've got 12's Peacekeepers back in line."
Eagan bit his upper lip. It was quite a risk, but then again, two weeks had gone by and Cray was still the Head Peacekeeper in 12. If he questioned Covas any more, he could risk damaging their working relationship before they had a chance to collaborate. "What level of contact do you have with the Underground?"
The Peacekeeper picked up the two packages by the ties. "Minimal. It's going to be tough in such a small district."
"It's good that we're a distraction then, right?"
"Not quite. We may still need the Everdeen girl to rally the districts."
They arranged a system of contact; if the Underground wanted to meet with Covas, Willow could mention a call from someone named Harris (Eagan didn't know if it was a real person or not), and if Covas wanted to meet with anyone, he would come to the shop for socks. He was going to keep Broadmark on a wild-goose chase to find out how the Reaping was rigged. Covas assured Eagan twice that it wouldn't get back to Madge Undersee.
As he moved through the front door, Covas said, "Next week, I want to meet with you, your wife, and Haymitch."
Eagan could only say "Okay" before the door was closed again.
Within a few minutes, his children arrived home from school, Eagan junior immediately setting to work on a pair of shoes a friend had asked to have repaired. It was a boy from the Seam and they couldn't afford to pay for the work, so Eagan let his son be generous.
Fiona spent the time telling her father about school, about the homework she had been given, and the extra food in the cafeteria. The kids from the Seam were all astonished by the victory gifts from the Capitol. That wasn't why Eagan had helped arrange the Reaping, although it didn't hurt.
Something about Covas was bothering him. He was distracted enough that Fiona tired of his distant replies; she went outside to find some of her friends. Eagan sat down and lost himself in thoughts and work.
He had hardly noticed it had darkened outside when Eagan junior asked when they were going to close. The summer days were shortening, the season drawing to an end. Eagan hung the sign, locked the door, and the pair walked home.
Willow had expected them a little earlier; it had been his turn to cook dinner. Neither of them was very good at cooking, although his efforts were generally more successful than hers. 13 apparently didn't train anyone for anything unless it was to be their sole duty in life. As they worked up a passable dish of steamed vegetables and scrap meat, Eagan related the meeting with Covas to his wife.
She listened without so much as a sigh of response, taking in his encounter exactly how he described it. When he finished, the boiling water popped and hissed, filling the quiet kitchen with savory steam. Eagan added a few flicks of turmeric.
"I dunno, Willy."
"What?" She asked.
"Just… Something about Covas… Kept me off kilter, somehow."
Willow smiled. "Eagan, that's what he's done for years. That's how he operates."
"I know, but it was weird. I'm not used to being so…"
"Outmatched?" The word wasn't the one he was grasping for. Unfortunately, it fit well. Still, it didn't help that Willow was so plain about it. Years ago, he had grown used to many of her quirks, aspects of her personality from 13 she had never changed. Surely, she knew to not poke fun at something that bothered him this much, right? Apparently not.
She continued, "It doesn't matter. He's subordinate to us."
Eagan turned the contents of the pot slowly with a wooden spoon. "How do you figure?"
"He left all his contacts with Thirteen back in Eleven. He spent so much time there, the only resources he has left are only good for intel from the Capitol. He can't get orders from the Underground now, except through me."
"You think you can handle him?"
"We both can." Willow saw the doubt on his tightened lips. "Remember, Eagan; he's on our side."
"He may demand to have direct access to Thirteen."
She shrugged, putting on mitts to pick up the dinner. "Too bad. Thirteen sets the rules, and Twelve's part is mostly done for now."
Covas thought otherwise, Eagan knew. He wondered whether the new man would try to take control of the Underground. He was a key player. Eagan decided to ignore that as the family sat down to a dinner by candlelight. No electricity for most evenings now that the celebrations were over.
The meeting with Haymitch probably wouldn't go well. Nothing could draw Haymitch out of the bottle, not the victory, not the advancement of the rebellion, and certainly not a double-agent from the Capitol.
Haymitch was Katniss' mentor. It would be up to him to guide her, get her to be the rallying symbol for the Underground, and for the common subject too. And Haymitch had abandoned the idea of Katniss cooperating. In fact, since returning home, Haymitch had abandoned all things, left behind the District for the world of spirits.
Maybe 12 wasn't in the clear yet. If Snow and the Commandant were both watching how the little ants crawled around their coal seam, then Eagan could be sure the balance wouldn't be easy to maintain; subversion and concealment. A gnawing ache weighed into his stomach, an impending dread.
He had come to peace with the evil that the rigged Reaping was. It was a necessary one, if a horrible act in any case. It had nearly destroyed Madge, the way her mother was devastated by the loss of a twin sister to the Hunger Games. Eagan had learned to use those demons, and he had not needed them for several months. Soon, they may come again, to fight the demons from the Capitol.