TRIPLE UPDATE!
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Seventy-Eight; The Still before the Storm
Wirin growled in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he ran from the car towards the building's entrance, his collar pulled up uselessly against the pouring rain.
"Damn weather," Wirin cursed furiously under his breath. He stepped into the familiar lift, running an agitated hand through his sodden hair, his usual orange flame like streak darkened to a coppery colour by the rain.
Wirin stepped out smartly into the familiar foyer, by-passing the routine security checks mandatory for other visitors. Wirin didn't need to bother with any of that hassle. He could stride about this familiar building with as much confidence and ease as Seneca could in the Gamemakers' Design Centres. He was well-known here; Wirin Xavier, Chief of Staff for President Snow and more covertly known as the President's most trusted confidante. There was nothing Wirin Xavier wouldn't do for his President.
Wirin reached the welcoming station in the richly furnished foyer. He tossed his drenched coat irritably over the glossed mahogany and frosted glass, feature design desk. The seated secretary on the other side startled, immediately leaping to her feet nervously. She was new here, Wirin knew. He had had to have Sharpe take care of the last secretary and her clueless delivery boy lover when Wirin had caught them prying into secret documents, concerning the surveillance President Snow had his son Seneca under.
The previous secretary's disappearance and unknown fate was still whispered about. And the new, wide-eyed secretary in front of Wirin looked at him in sheer terror. Wirin frowned impatiently as his eyes flickered to his coat and the woman hurried to gather up Wirin's carelessly deposited, soaked coat.
"Make sure that is dry-cleaned. It cost more than your annual salary," he barked authoritatively and the woman nodded eagerly, already rushing off to do his bidding.
Wirin allowed himself a smug smile as he straightened his pristine suit. There was a reason he loved this building. In this building his reputation preceded him and people respected, revered and were terrified of him in equal measures. Here where he was Wirin Xavier, Chief of President Snow's staff, who could whisper one word in the President's ear and make you disappear. There was only one other that trumped Wirin however; no matter how loyal it was known Wirin was to Snow.
Seneca. Seneca was President Snow's son and the Head Gamemaker and no matter how hard Wirin tried, he could never compete.
Wirin's mood soured again. His mood had been slowly worsening since his morning spent with his uncle and pseudo-brother Seneca as they made jibes at him concerning his incompetence and past errors. Seneca seemed intent on driving Wirin to the last tether of his patience until he would snap. Expert at practicing discretion?! Wirin almost scoffed. It seemed Seneca was becoming more careless the further involved he became with Stephanie Trindlesworth.
Wirin took off briskly down the pristine corridors on his usual route. He took a slight detour to freshen himself up, smoothing his dry hair to perfection once more. Then he set off down the marble corridors again, until he reached the guarded, imposing oak door, where the scent of roses hung heavy in the air.
He rapped twice sharply and smartly as he always did, before entering.
President Snow was stood at the window, his back to Wirin as he looked out over his vast gardens being churned beneath the sheets of falling rain.
Wirin took one more brief moment to check his appearance was impeccable before clearing his throat pre-emptively.
"Sir – "
"Wirin. I was under the impression that you were supposed to be keeping my son's involvement with Miss Trindlesworth concealed, not allowing such damaging information to become the latest gossip in every newspaper." President Snow cut over Wirin's burgeoning words scathingly, eyes like ice as they flashed to Wirin.
Wirin swallowed tightly, flexing the fingers of his clasped hands behind his back nervously. He resisted the urge to point out that any gossip was a direct result of Seneca and Stephanie's own indiscretion with their affair. President Snow wanted solutions and answers, not excuses or petulant, finger-pointing blame.
"Miss Trindlesworth's name has not been linked with Seneca's in any newspaper – "Wirin began to assure President Snow confidently, but Snow didn't let him finish again.
Snow chuckled mockingly. "If it had of, we would have been having a very different conversation at this moment," Snow murmured softly, eyes almost amused and voice filled with a deadly threat. His eyes had sharpened to flinty points in the next moment though as the weather outside continued to turn fouler.
"All the same, my son's behaviour has been too lax to avoid suspicion and gossip. I hear snippets of rumours concerning Seneca's changing demeanour even flitting about these offices."
"Meaningless words – " Wirin tried to shrug off.
"Words can be the most dangerous things of all Wirin. Never forget that." Snow said icily.
Wirin fidgeted anxiously. "I have explained to your son countless times the crucial need for discretion," Wirin protested vehemently. "And that district tramp of his is clueless when it comes to affairs she cannot hope to comprehend. She is naïve and stupid enough not to know the risk she places everything at, when she pulls such stunts as she did at the party, insulting Seneca publically and forcing that telling, public apology."
Snow turned fully to face Wirin, his figure silhouetted by the thunderous black clouds outside, just as the first fork of blinding lightning split them.
"Spare me your impassioned defence, Wirin," Snow spat contemptuously. "I can see clearly how well your attempts at trying to scold my son have proven," he continued scathingly, eyes resting meaningfully on Wirin's painfully bruised face. "And as for your words concerning Miss Trindlesworth. I'm disappointed. Being bested by a stupidly naïve district girl is not something to admit so freely to."
Wirin remained silent, recognising that now was most certainly not the time to push his luck. He gritted his teeth, feeling his composure crack and fissure, just like the blinding lightning was cutting through the rumbling, black clouds outside like fracturing fingers of white.
President Snow moved across the room to seat himself leisurely behind his glossed, mahogany desk, leaning back comfortably in his imposing, wide-backed armchair. "I fear your hatred of my son and your fixation to best him definitively, has allowed you to lose focus of your true goal, Wirin" Snow mused, voice coolly composed.
Wirin's eyes cut to his President frantically as he started forward slightly. "Never President Snow. My only goal is to ensure Seneca's affair with Miss Trindlesworth remains concealed and doesn't damage you."
"And yet every day I read more and more articles telling me how much Seneca has changed, how different he seems. By some reporter's standards I should barely recognise my own son anymore, if he were to walk into this office now. These are articles my enemies read and use to calculate their next move with, searching for the chinks in my armour."
"I will fix this, Sir. I will make sure Seneca remains discreet. Your enemies will find no weaknesses because there will be none."
"Too little, too late Wirin. As surely as the hunt for Miss Trindlesworth's Capitol Lover was launched, so too is the hunt on for my son's 'Mystery Woman'. All it would take would be one careless incident for Miss Trindlesworth's name to be linked with Seneca's, and then it would all be over."
"But Sir, even with reports of Seneca's 'changing demeanour' as it were; no one would hardly think to jump to the conclusion that your son and the Head Gamemaker is involved with a tribute for his own Games."
"Perhaps they wouldn't. But my enemies no doubt would. They are forever watchful for any mistake to use against me. They would exploit the situation whether they believed it to be the truth or not. And once my son's foolishness was exposed, his Games would be scrapped. A hundred years of Capitol legacy thwarted by one district girl. Then my enemies would question the fairness of Seneca's previous Games, instilling the doubt in the minds of these brainless fools that the odds had already been predetermined. And I as Seneca's father would be dragged down with the scandal. My position as President would be called into question and I assure you Wirin, I by no means intend to let things get that far."
"Things would never be allowed to be brought that far, Sir. And even if they were, Seneca – "
"Wirin, killing my own son as you killed your father, is a last resort. Despite Seneca's current idiocy he is invaluable to me. As weak as he threatens to make me now, there have been countless other times when he has been instrumental in bringing down some of my other enemies."
"And Stephanie Trindlesworth?"
"Stephanie Trindlesworth," Snow repeated hatefully, eyes flashing furiously. "I would have her killed a hundred times over by now. But my son isn't stupid, far from it. And Seneca has protected her so effectively with himself as the shield; that to kill Stephanie Trindlesworth now would be tantamount to exposing Seneca, when the inevitable inquest into her death would be conducted. There is only one possible death Miss Trindlesworth can possibly meet at this stage."
"The Games," Wirin answered definitively.
Snow laced his fingers together; elbows perched on the armrests of his chair as he glared at Wirin. "I do not intend to leave these Games to the odds though."
"I assure you President Snow. The 100th Hunger Games will be the most predetermined Games there has ever been in the history of The Hunger Games."
"I want facts, not promises Wirin. How far are you into manipulating the arena?"
"I have yet to be able to obtain Seneca's master passkey to gain access to the arena's blueprints."
"That's not good enough. I want definitive proof that when this troublesome district girl goes into the arena she will not be coming back out."
"Stephanie Trindlesworth will die in the arena. I will rig the arena to kill her as surely as I rigged it to allow a tribute to rebel, and use the arena to their advantage ten years ago with Haymitch Abernathy."
Snow scoffed. "Your words are worthless if you cannot deliver on them. How do you intend to get Seneca's passkey? Such things cannot be replicated or forged. Only Seneca's personal, master passkey to the arena blueprints will work."
"If Seneca will not relinquish the passkey to his loving, helpful brother, then I have other means to obtain it."
"I'd suggest using your other means now. Despite his recent tendencies, if you are waiting for my son to suddenly dissolve into a simpering fool then you will be waiting another century," Snow said contemptuously.
"I won't fail you," Wirin vowed solemnly. "I will ensure Seneca's behaviour is impeccable until the Games rid us of Stephanie Trindlesworth entirely."
Snow's eyes narrowed. "You better not fail me Wirin. Even when we had other avenues open to dispose of Miss Trindlesworth you begged me for this opportunity to show me what you were capable of. A display of your loyalty. You assured me your plan was the perfect solution to our meddlesome rose: Miss Trindlesworth. The arena would take care of her easily, Seneca's reputation would remain intact and my position would never come under scrutiny. All this you promised me."
"My plan still does guarantee that Sir, I swear to you," Wirin assured fervently.
Silence stretched for a few moments as Snow fixed Wirin with a piercing look that caused the latter to almost shudder. "I hope so Wirin. For your sake I hope so," Snow murmured. Wirin gulped, feeling a shiver race up his spine.
"And the current situation?" Snow prompted impatiently the next second.
"Seneca's affair with Miss Trindlesworth is still concealed. Seneca has roped in my uncle Vash to help with Miss Trindlesworth's recently diagnosed, fatal fainting spells. Obviously, Vash poses no risk to your Sir, but if you wish I will have Sharpe take care of him to ensure complete discretion?"
"Wirin, do not try and settle your personal scores with your uncle in my name. We may have gotten away with having Sharpe dispose of Fas Clearwater, but if you continue to kill anymore high profile people, my son will swiftly arrive at only one conclusion. That I know and am involved. I would rather not have Seneca working against me. He does present a rather formidable opponent. But then, he is afterall my son. I'd expect nothing less of him."
"As you wish Sir. There are trusted guards and drivers that Seneca uses now when he is with Miss Trindlesworth. My opinion would be to allow them to carry out their duties and then have Sharpe dispose of them when the Games begin and Miss Trindlesworth enters the arena."
"Agreed," Snow answered in an almost bored tone.
"The other individuals are Ficen Sains, Dess Landa and Dan Flickerman. Miss Sains knows quite a good deal but she is utterly loyal to Seneca and hence poses little risk. Seneca holds her entirely under his control. Dess Landa doesn't know explicitly about Seneca and Miss Trindlesworth. He knew only what Ficen told him; the same lies she told Fas Clearwater. Even though Seneca further threatened Dess Landa into becoming Miss Trindlesworth's biggest sponsor, I shouldn't worry. Dess Landa may be an idiot but he is more concerned with self-preservation. As such he will play the role Seneca demands of him while remaining ignorant. Likewise is Dan Flickerman dutifully carrying out his charade while remaining as ignorant as he is allowed to be, to ensure his own survival. They are both glaringly aware that it is sometimes far more dangerous to know too much than too little."
"Good. And who else knows explicitly about my son and his district filth?"
"There are only two more people in the Capitol Sir. And neither are Capitolites. Miss Trindlesworth's mentors; Electra Hocol and Haymitch Abernathy."
"District dwellers; entirely untrustworthy but utterly controllable," Snow remarked carelessly. Wirin smirked fleetingly.
"Exactly Sir. I would confidently stake my life on Miss Hocol's silence on all matters. She stands to lose too much if she breaks it."
"And Haymitch Abernathy? The man you have allowed Seneca to be punishing all these years in your place for the death of Lark."
"He is a liability, Sir. Seneca had his entire family killed so he can't be controlled. He is also Miss Trindlesworth's District lover."
Snow sneered. "Very well. Have Sharpe take care of Abernathy. Afterall Miss Trindlesworth really only needs one mentor." Snow waved his hand dismissively and Wirin tilted his head respectfully, as he moved purposefully across the room to the door.
"Out of curiosity Wirin, what end are you envisioning for Miss Trindlesworth in the arena?" Snow stalled Wirin just as his hand closed around the door handle, voice lilted with mild inquisitiveness.
But when Wirin looked over his shoulder at the President seated behind his desk, Wirin could see the coldness in his eyes.
Wirin smirked. "Oh, I was thinking water Sir. You see like all roses, in too much water Miss Trindlesworth drowns."