Mistborn #04 The Alloy of Law

old Lord Ladrian had kept very good track of what his competitor houses had been shipping. Waxillium scanned the lists for oddities. It took him a little while, but he eventually came up with a theory.
    “Aluminum,” Waxillium said. “Tekiel was probably shipping aluminum, but avoiding taxes by claiming it as something else. In here, his stated aluminum shipments for the last two years are much smaller than they were for previous years. His smelters are still producing, however. I’d bet my best gun that Augustin Tekiel—with the help of some railway workers—has been running a nice, profitable little smuggling operation. That’s why he didn’t make a big commotion about the theft at first; he didn’t want to draw attention.”
    Waxillium walked over and wrote some notations on his paper. He lifted his cup of tea to his lips, nodding to himself. “That also explains the long wait between the first and second robberies. The bandits were making use of that aluminum. They probably sold some of it on the black market to fund their operation, then used the rest to make aluminum bullets. But why would they need aluminum bullets?”
    “For killing Allomancers?” Tillaume asked. He had been tidying the room while Waxillium read the ledgers.
    “Yes.” Waxillium drew in images of faces above three of the robberies, the ones where they’d taken hostages.
    “My lord?” Tillaume asked, stepping up beside him. “You think the captives are Allomancers?”
    “The names have all been released,” Waxillium said. “All four are women from wealthy families, but none of them openly have Allomantic powers.”
    Tillaume remained quiet. That didn’t mean everything. Many Allomancers among the upper crust were discreet about their powers. There were plenty of situations where that could be useful. For instance, if you were a Rioter or Soother—capable of influencing people’s emotions—you wouldn’t want people to suspect.
    In other cases, Allomancy was flaunted. A recent candidate for the orchard-growers seat on the Senate had run solely on the platform that he was a Coppercloud, and was therefore impossible to affect with zinc or brass. The candidate won by a landslide. People hated thinking that someone might secretly be pulling their leaders’ strings.
    Waxillium started noting his speculations around the margins of the paper. Motives, possible ways they were emptying the freight cars so quickly, similarities and differences among the heists. As he wrote he hesitated, then added a couple of stick-figure bandits at the top, drawn in Wayne’s sloppy style. Crazy though it was, he felt better having them there.
    “I’ll bet the captives were all Allomancers, secretly,” Waxillium said. “The thieves had aluminum bullets to deal with Coinshots, Lurchers, and Thugs. And if we were able to catch any of the thieves, I’ll bet good money that we’d find them wearing aluminum linings in their hats to shield their emotions from being Pushed or Pulled on.” That wasn’t uncommon among the city’s elite as well, though the common men couldn’t afford such luxury.
    The robberies weren’t about money; they were about the captives. That was why no bounty had been demanded, and why the bodies of the captives hadn’t been discovered dumped somewhere. The robberies were meant to obscure the true motives for the kidnappings. The victims were not the spur-of-the-moment hostages they were meant to appear. The Vanishers were gathering Allomancers. And Allomantic metals—so far raw steel, pewter, iron, zinc, brass, tin, and even some bendalloy had been stolen.
    “This is dangerous,” Waxillium whispered. “Very dangerous.”
    “My lord…” Tillaume said. “Weren’t you going to go over the house account ledgers?”
    “Yes,” Waxillium said distractedly.
    “And the lease for the new offices in the Ironspine?”
    “I can still get to that tonight too.”
    “My lord. When?”
    Waxillium paused, then checked his pocket watch. Again, he was surprised to see how much time had passed.
    “My lord,” Tillaume said. “Did I ever tell you about your uncle’s horse-racing days?”
    “Uncle Edwarn was a gambler?”
    “Indeed he was. It was a great problem to the house, soon after his rise to high lord. He would spend most of his days at the tracks.”
    “No wonder we’re destitute.”
    “Actually, he was quite good at the gambling, my lord. He usually came out ahead. Far ahead.”
    “Oh.”
    “He stopped