The Veil
Page 114
How could I be sure anyone right now was trustworthy? In a matter of days, everything I knew about the world had been turned upside down. The splitting of the Veil had proven that magic existed, and it was no fairy tale.
“Are you sure Containment is trustworthy?” I asked him.
“Of course not.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean ‘of course not’? You work for them.”
Done with the silverware, he closed the cloth-lined box. “People always say it like that. Like Containment is a unified thing, a force against evil.” He looked back at me. “Containment is just people, Claire. It’s made up of people, some good, some bad, most in between. Just like any other organization in the world, it’s only as trustworthy as the people who are in it.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way.”
He made a harsh sound. “It’s not exactly a popular opinion. And it doesn’t help people very much. They need to believe there’s good and evil in the world, and that the dividing line between them is very, very clear. That’s how we made it through the war, Claire. Because in the midst of tragedy and violence and death and worse, for all that evil, there was still good. There was still a good guy.”
Now, that sounded like the Containment I knew. But Gunnar wasn’t saying that the world really was black and white—just that people needed to believe it was. I couldn’t really argue with that.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Gunnar grunted.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to believe you had any part in it, even accidentally. But there aren’t a lot of options.”
“Again, I offer Quinn.”
I shook my head. “He plays it close to the vest, but I think he’s got a good heart.” Not that I’d ever tell him that. “He may be paid by Containment, but I don’t think there’s any love lost there.”
Gunnar walked toward me at the counter. “He told you about his previous employment? About his work for Containment?”
I nodded. “Ya. And that Broussard’s got it in for him. Do you think that would motivate Broussard?”
“I didn’t know.” This time, there was regret in this eyes. “I’m sorry. I know how much the store means to you. How much all of it means to you. But I swear, I didn’t know. Warrants shouldn’t even go through the Commandant without going through me first.”
I sat up a little straighter. That was very interesting. “They shouldn’t?”
“No. Which means someone avoided me. I wouldn’t have thought Broussard had the chops for this, but who knows. I checked him out around the office after you said he talked to you. The man’s like a dog with a bone. And he’s got it in for Quinn over that last contract.”
“But surely that’s not enough to decide that I’m hosting Sensitive tea parties. That’s a pretty specific accusation.”
“You aren’t, are you?”
He was grinning, which meant we were okay. “No. But only because I can’t find any tea.”
Gunnar smiled. “Don’t think about the world as good and evil, Claire. Those are labels that don’t mean anything. We assign them out of fear. Think about what is objectively right, and what is objectively wrong. That’s how I stay employed in Containment. Because I understand the difference between those things.”
God, I wished I could tell him about everything. I knew I couldn’t—it would put everyone at risk.
He looked at the wreckage of the store with his hands on his lean hips. “I work for Containment, Claire, because it helps New Orleans. That’s what I was born to do. But that’s not all I am. For now, let’s do what we can. Let’s get back to work.”
“Are you sure Containment is trustworthy?” I asked him.
“Of course not.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean ‘of course not’? You work for them.”
Done with the silverware, he closed the cloth-lined box. “People always say it like that. Like Containment is a unified thing, a force against evil.” He looked back at me. “Containment is just people, Claire. It’s made up of people, some good, some bad, most in between. Just like any other organization in the world, it’s only as trustworthy as the people who are in it.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way.”
He made a harsh sound. “It’s not exactly a popular opinion. And it doesn’t help people very much. They need to believe there’s good and evil in the world, and that the dividing line between them is very, very clear. That’s how we made it through the war, Claire. Because in the midst of tragedy and violence and death and worse, for all that evil, there was still good. There was still a good guy.”
Now, that sounded like the Containment I knew. But Gunnar wasn’t saying that the world really was black and white—just that people needed to believe it was. I couldn’t really argue with that.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Gunnar grunted.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to believe you had any part in it, even accidentally. But there aren’t a lot of options.”
“Again, I offer Quinn.”
I shook my head. “He plays it close to the vest, but I think he’s got a good heart.” Not that I’d ever tell him that. “He may be paid by Containment, but I don’t think there’s any love lost there.”
Gunnar walked toward me at the counter. “He told you about his previous employment? About his work for Containment?”
I nodded. “Ya. And that Broussard’s got it in for him. Do you think that would motivate Broussard?”
“I didn’t know.” This time, there was regret in this eyes. “I’m sorry. I know how much the store means to you. How much all of it means to you. But I swear, I didn’t know. Warrants shouldn’t even go through the Commandant without going through me first.”
I sat up a little straighter. That was very interesting. “They shouldn’t?”
“No. Which means someone avoided me. I wouldn’t have thought Broussard had the chops for this, but who knows. I checked him out around the office after you said he talked to you. The man’s like a dog with a bone. And he’s got it in for Quinn over that last contract.”
“But surely that’s not enough to decide that I’m hosting Sensitive tea parties. That’s a pretty specific accusation.”
“You aren’t, are you?”
He was grinning, which meant we were okay. “No. But only because I can’t find any tea.”
Gunnar smiled. “Don’t think about the world as good and evil, Claire. Those are labels that don’t mean anything. We assign them out of fear. Think about what is objectively right, and what is objectively wrong. That’s how I stay employed in Containment. Because I understand the difference between those things.”
God, I wished I could tell him about everything. I knew I couldn’t—it would put everyone at risk.
He looked at the wreckage of the store with his hands on his lean hips. “I work for Containment, Claire, because it helps New Orleans. That’s what I was born to do. But that’s not all I am. For now, let’s do what we can. Let’s get back to work.”
