The Hidden Hand

Summary

A cabal of masked plutocrats, convinced that destiny has entrusted them with the wiring diagrams of human fate, stage-manage a city’s pulse from velvet-draped parlors where cigar smoke coils like bankrupt seraphs. Beneath this chandeliered smugness, a war-shattered lawyer—Henry Sedley’s restless widower—receives a lacquered coffin instead of his morning mail, a memento that flips his grief into scalpel-sharp obsession. Across town, William Slade’s crime-scene photographer—half mercury, half monk—develops negatives that bleed: silhouettes of councilmen in the embrace of contortionists, debutantes trading pearls for passport forgeries, a child’s marble resting on a senator’s tongue. Arline Pretty’s pickpocket-professor, equal parts Sappho and sleight-of-hand, lifts evidence from lapels while lecturing on Lucretius, her lips the color of a warrant. Mahlon Hamilton’s tuberculosis-ridden coroner keeps cyanide in a perfume atomizer, spritzing death like cologne whenever mercy overstays. Together they chase a ledger bound in human leather, its ink mixed from the melanin of dissidents, each page a mortgage on tomorrow. The trail tunnels through opium cellars painted with constellations of extinct currencies, past a marionette theater where the strings are catgut arteries, into a subterranean courtroom lit only by bioluminescent jury foreheads. The climax arrives inside a funicular descending the cliff of industry: as the car dangles above foundries that smelt dawn into scrap metal, the conspirators vote on whether to release a contagion of debt disguised as gospel. One conspirator tears off his mask—revealing the widower’s own brother—while the photographer snaps a flash that burns the negative of reality into the spectators’ retinas. The final shot frames the city waking up to a counterfeit sunrise, its light a copper coin glued to the sky, leaving viewers to wonder whether the hand was ever hidden or merely unnoticed.

Synopsis