The sun shone brightly over Deling City, light flooding down between the tower blocks, illuminating ancient buildings gone to seed. It was a beautiful morning, and the city's namesake was up and about already, waiting at the side of a busy road, glaring at the cars as they roared past. They were obstructing him, their Lifelong President, in his mission. Damn them.
He jumped like a skittish horse when someone touched his hand. Deling relaxed slightly when he saw that it was just a little girl, probably five or six years old. Angelic blonde curls framed a thin, hungry face; the combination struck Vinzer as incongruous and oddly inappropriate.
"'Ello," the girl said cheerfully, holding onto Deling's hand like a limpet. "My name's Susan."
"Pleasure to meet you," Deling said distantly. Naïve little brat, he thought. When *I* was her age, I'd already cultivated a healthy dose of paranoia. Eh, children these days…
"I'm walkin' home," Susan announced. "Will you walk with me, mister?"
Deling rolled his eyes, already exasperated. "Where are your parents?"
"Mummy's at work, and Daddy's gone away. Do you know why he went away?"
"No," Vinzer said, searching hopefully for a break in the traffic.
Susan gave him a serious look. "It was very scary. Some bad men came to our house in the dark. Mummy made daddy hide, and the bad men looked for him but they didn't find him. So one of them took Mummy into the front room, and then one talked to me. He said he would give me a lollipop if I went with him. But then daddy came out and said to leave me alone, and they took him away. I never got a lollipop, neither."
"Mm," said Vinzer.
"Do you know why they took daddy, mister?"
Deling shrugged. "Because he was a felon?"
"Nahhh," Susan giggled. "Was because Daddy didn't like Mr President Smelling. That nasty Mr President wanted to talk to him, and then Daddy decided to leave for a while. I 'spect he'll come back now that President Smelling is gone. I miss him something awful, mister. Do you think he'll come home soon?"
"Probably," Vinzer said distantly. At last, the traffic paused long enough for him to hustle Susan across the road. He saluted her affably. "It's been nice to meet you."
"Yeah, see ya, mister," called Susan, wandering away.
Deling headed in the opposite direction, sighing with relief. *That* was why he didn't associate with the commons. They were all so self-obsessed, always with some tiresome hard-luck story to tell. Vinzer had problems enough of his own without being burdened with everyone else's.
---
The ceiling fan swung along a slow, lazy arc like a tired racehorse, mingling the aromas of coffee and sweat with the draft of petroleum freshness drifting in through the door. Piles of paper on the desk ruffled periodically, displaying grainy mugshots and heavy columns of type. Grand Street police station was operating on a skeleton staff, as most of the staff had been called to the Presidential Palace for a security briefing. A portly sergeant and a younger cop were in back, sipping from mugs and talking quietly. On a prickly horsehair couch in the lobby, waiting with unaccustomed patience, was Vinzer Deling.
Snatches of conversation wafted through to him from the two policemen, and Deling listened vigilantly. The moral implications of eavesdropping didn't concern him. Bugs and other 'listening devices' had been invaluable to him over the years. Other people's conversations could prove most illuminating to a man who prized information.
"You want this last donut?" asked the sergeant, his accent revealing him as a Deling City native. Apparently he didn't wait for the young man to reply, because Deling could clearly hear munching noises.
The other cop said something too quietly for Vinzer to hear, then continued, "What's with the old guy in the lobby?"
"How should I know?" the sergeant demanded through a mouthful of donut. "Why don't you go ask him, Pete?"
"Ask him yourself," Pete drawled.
Deling frowned. Such a lack of respect when addressing a superior officer – it was quite unacceptable. Still, what could you expect from a boy who talked like one of the Traitor's bunch from FH?
"Smart ass," said the sergeant. "Nah, we'll let him cool his heels a while." They were quiet for a minute, and then the sergeant continued. "Say, did that guy look familiar to you?"
Pete paused, then said, "Like the late, not-so-lamented president?"
"Yeah, I thought so too. Well, that's rather weird…"
"He's probably here to report his murder," Pete said, a smirk evident in his tone. "Actually, boss, they do say that everyone has an exact double somewhere."
(I have eight, actually, thought Deling. Except now there's only two.)
The sergeant hesitated before speaking. He sounded thoughtful. "Yeah, but what if… What if this guy is Deling's brother or something? He might be looking to cause trouble."
"Think we oughta lock him up, just in case?" asked Pete, sounding quite chipper at the idea.
"The Sorceress would probably be grateful, wouldn't she?" mused the sergeant. "Okay, then, not like we've got anything to lose. Follow me," he instructed, striding into the lobby.
No one was there.