by Mark New
‘We never found the cryptid, you know.’ He was having an internal debate about how much to tell me, I could tell. It was like having a friend again.
‘No. It was worth looking but it was a long shot.’
‘Boss...’ he tailed off. I was Boss again. I actually felt quite emotional but I was able to keep it from my avatar’s expression. At that point he made up his mind. ‘Becky thinks that there is more going on here than she or I know and that you’re pursuing a completely different objective to us or the rest of the Argonaut team.’ So Becky had confided a little to him about our brief conversation at corporate headquarters. I wasn’t surprised given the nature of their relationship but I was surprised to find that I didn’t mind either about her sharing information or the relationship itself. Congratulations, Harvard, you might finally be growing up.
‘That’s true.’ Of course, the trick was to decide if Peter was still genuinely one of the good guys.
‘And that’s not something you’d like to share either?’
‘Not at this point but it might change shortly.’
‘I see.’ He thought it over. So did I. I also kept an eye on the other patrons in the establishment but, so far, there was nothing out of the ordinary amongst the NPCs.
‘Why did you want to see me?’ After all, he had asked to meet.
‘Ah. You know about the payment of the ransom but I wanted to update you on the discussion at Argonaut before the recommendation was made.’
‘You wanted to update me about it in a location far away from Argonaut itself, I note.’
He shrugged. ‘You aren’t going to be surprised to hear that I had some misgivings.’
‘No, I’m not. Had I been there, I would have had a few things to say on the subject.’
‘I bet.’ He grinned. ‘You’ll be pleased that everyone was a bit shocked about your accident, though.’
‘I bet,’ I echoed him but in a flat voice. He went quiet for a second, then he sat up straight and looked at me in surprise.
‘I get it,’ he said, pointing at me, ‘You think that it wasn’t an accident and someone in the team may have been behind it.’ He considered it. ‘So Becky and I are suspects?’
I lowered my voice and leaned over the table. He leaned towards me to catch what I was saying. ‘I know it wasn’t an accident, and yes, I haven’t ruled anyone out.’
Peter looked disbelieving. ‘But why would they want you dead when they are the ones who hired you in the first place? And what about the group who have the codes?’
I decided to take something of a gamble. We were running out of time and being able to trust Peter would be very useful. It wasn’t an irretrievable stake, though, as I could give him something that I could trace back to him if it leaked. I picked up the glass of beer and looked at it closely.
‘Have you played Knights of Camelot lately? I inquired idly.
Just a few days ago, when my emotional control was shot to pieces, I would have gleefully enjoyed the look of utter astonishment on his face. In fact, though I was on a much more even keel at that point, I still found it quite amusing. It took him several minutes without speaking to recover his composure.
‘Seriously?’ was still all he could muster. I nodded and smiled and said nothing. He was a senior UN agent so he was aware of the stature Sir Edward enjoyed in the corridors of power even though, to my knowledge, he and Sir Edward knew each other only by reputation and had never met. ‘Shit,’ he whispered into his glass.
‘So you see, my investigations may not necessarily have objectives that align with those of Argonaut Industries,’ I said quietly. ‘It depends if they’ve been behaving themselves.’
‘I can see that.’ Peter was still rendered almost speechless, a situation that had to change if I was to extract any useful information from this meeting.
‘So what happened at the meeting that upset you so much that we’re drinking in World War Two?’ I prompted.
‘It was just a bit odd to me.’ He managed, after a struggle, to get back to the reason for the rendezvous. ‘To be fair, Becky wasn’t surprised at the outcome and we voted unanimously on the recommendation. I just had a little nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.’
‘Little nagging feelings have saved our lives before.’
‘I know, that’s really why I wanted to get it off my chest.’
‘So spill,’ I waved my beer at him.
‘Basically, George brought everyone up to date on your unfortunate,’ he grimaced as he said the word, ‘accident and all of us were suitably shocked. Jason said he’d arrange for everyone to be well looked after and he would send you suitable thanks and the like. Then we moved on to the problem of securing the New Mexico facility against anyone attempting to use the codes. There followed a long examination of Mr Catz by both George and Jason. Becky and I could only add a few points as it’s not our field. Catz was trying to tell them how secure it was but there were little apologetic parts where he admitted that certain scenarios that George and Jason presented weren’t completely preventable despite being long shots as far as any perpetrator was concerned. We also talked about whether payment of the ransom would buy enough time for the UN to find the FKKT members responsible in the event that they didn’t hand over the codes when they’d been paid. Or even if they did, I suppose.’
‘On the assumption that they might fight over dividing up the spoils,’ I thought aloud.
‘Yes, or in case they chose to hold onto the codes in the hope that they could come back for another big financial windfall in the future.’
‘What ever happened to the honour of thieves?’ I asked generally.
‘I think you mean honour amongst thieves,’ Peter corrected, ‘and I’ve never seen any evidence that it exists.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Eventually George suggested that we vote on what to tell the UN and I was asked to convey the message.’
‘And your niggling doubt?’
Peter frowned. ‘I think we were played.’
I thought so too but I wasn’t yet going to tell him that the ransom was a red herring.
‘Why?’
‘It just seemed as though it had been somehow rehearsed: all the little hints that there might be a problem; that no guarantees could be offered; that the Latimers could pierce the ring of confidence with a few well-timed questions. There was nothing I could put my finger on and nothing to give me a reason not to vote in favour.’
‘Just the feeling, huh? I’m glad you told me. I was uncomfortable when I heard about paying it but that clarifies the issues a bit. Sounds like you may have a point.’
‘So I did good, Boss?’ Another stock phrase from unit days. Interesting that he was deferring to my judgement now.
‘I can work with it,’ I said airily. ‘Any idea when the ransom is going to be paid?’
‘As soon as the Security Council authorise the dispatch. I understand that they’ve already approved in principle. It’s just working out who is stumping up.’
‘Any chance they can trace who ultimately receives it?’
He took a swig of his beer while he thought about it. Peter was the expert in the field - with the exception of Avalon Red, it seemed - so his judgement would be worth having.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said finally. ‘Assuming they’re savvy enough to have worked out the mechanism, the split and the race through accounts will be too fast for any spy AI to follow. The whole point of the banking structure is that all of the bank seneschals are programmed to prevent that kind of tracing in case the bad guys use it for evil.’
Wasn’t that beautifully ironic? The bad guys would get away with it because the banks were taking measures against bad guys. Previous decades had seen some entertaining financial scandals so the current risk managers would prefer to allow the odd dodgy transaction to go through rather than monitor everything and accept that corrupt practices in the hierarchy would occur as a result. Tangled webs, indeed. Peter’s an
swer told me a number of things. The first was that the UN didn’t know that the Western Central Bank seneschal had been compromised; the second was that Avalon Red’s ability was incredible; and thirdly that if we really could trace the payment, the bad guys wouldn’t see it coming. Assuming, of course, that Peter wasn’t withholding information from me but I was reasonably sure now that he was on the level.
‘I’ll just have to plod on as best as I can then,’ I said.
‘So why do I think you’ve got a scheme in mind?’ He knew me of old and this was starting to remind me of those old days in the unit. I dodged the accusation.
‘It wouldn’t hurt if you’d keep an eye on our fellow team members where possible,’ I suggested.
‘Will do, Boss. Um, how much of this can I tell Becky?’
That was a delicate question. I could forbid him to say anything to her but I had no way of knowing if he’d go along with it. I wasn’t his commanding officer anymore and she was more than just his pal (again, no pangs at the thought of their relationship). Also, she had taken me aside at Argonaut so she already knew I was up to something. On the debit side, I still hadn’t eliminated her from suspicion and, if I was being entirely honest with myself, Peter hadn’t been cleared yet either. In the end, if I was wrong it might flush out the bad guys so it was worth the gamble.
‘Everything. Just no wider, OK?’
‘Got it.’ He seemed surprised that I would trust them both to that extent.
‘I’d better make arrangements to return to the good ol’ US of A,’ I said.
‘Jason was talking about chartering another trans-orbital for you and what’s-her-name.’ That was news to me.
‘Taylor. I’ll speak to her when she’s discharged from hospital and see. I think we ought to wind this up while we’re ahead unless there’s anything else?’
‘Nothing my end. Look after yourself, Boss, and I’ll see you soon.’
‘You too. Love to Becky.’ He laughed at the audacity. I didn’t think Becky would be terribly impressed at receiving my sentiment and, evidently, nor did Peter. We both stood up and headed towards the door of the pub. I made a final mental sweep of the NPCs and found nothing amiss. Peter exited the game with a wave when we got outside. I left it a minute or so and ambled along the country road before making my own exit.
My awareness returned to the cottage. The storm noise had died down and I was contemplating going for a walk on the beach - after I’d had a further cup of tea, obviously - when I felt a presence in the comms bot.
‘John?’ It was Merlin and he sounded excited, at least more excited than I’d ever heard him before.
‘Present. Is Camelot on fire or something?’ Speaking aloud to him was still a novelty. I savoured it as it was unlikely that I’d be alone at any other time in the near future.
‘You’ll never guess.’
‘The ransom has been paid and you know who the human accomplices are?’
‘No. Smart-ass.’ He still sounded excited.
‘Then what?’
‘The Ambrosia Promise left me another message.’ I doubted it was going to be anything good but such pessimism didn’t correspond with Merlin’s demeanour. I was genuinely interested in what it might be. I turned on the kettle but my attention was directed at the bot.
‘Do I have to drag it out of you?’
‘Sorry, it’s just so unexpected and it could be a big break.’ Now I really was curious.
‘Honestly, you’re worse than a vir-soap. What is it?’
‘John, The Ambrosia Promise left an invitation addressed to you where she knew I’d find it. She wants to meet you. Face to face.’
Chapter Twenty
‘She failed to kill me on the jet and now she wants to meet me Online where we know she’s capable of killing with black ice? Am I the only one sensing a pattern here?’
‘She sent you an invitation. Why would she do that when she could just attack at any time without warning and give herself a better chance of success?’
‘You don’t think that me standing in front of her gives her an excellent chance of success?’
‘Perhaps you should read the invitation?’
‘Do you guarantee that the invitation won’t try to kill me?’
‘Yes. You’re just being paranoid. Besides, Lancelot has already checked it.’
I noticed that I was accused of paranoia only after he’d checked it for himself. It’s one of those irregular verbs so beloved of the smoke-and-mirrors profession: I take reasonable precautions; you are paranoid; he wears aluminium foil hats to keep out the Venusian thought waves.
‘Let’s see it, then. I don’t promise I’ll agree to meet her.’
‘Acceptable. Here it is.’ The message appeared in my Inbox. I ran a deep security check on it before I opened it. I knew Merlin noticed but he didn’t make any comment. It was framed as a properly posh invitation of the kind that I always anticipated receiving from the King (though he singularly failed to invite me to dinner despite all I’d done for him, admittedly without his knowledge). It was in a nice black font that I didn’t recognise against a cream background and read:
‘The Ambrosia Promise requests the pleasure of the company of Colonel John Harvard at afternoon tea at 4pm (local time to him) on a day to be mutually agreed at a venue specified by the hostess under flag of truce for the duration of the occasion. RSVP.’ There was a tiny asterisk against the word ‘occasion’ and at the bottom of the invitation it was reproduced against the small print. ‘Terms and conditions apply.’ I admit it - I actually laughed.
‘Do we know what the terms and conditions are?’
‘No. I suppose you’ll hear about them after you’ve replied.’
‘Did we know that she has a sense of humour?’
‘No, she hasn’t previously demonstrated one in any of her communications with me.’
‘You suggested that this could be a big break. Why?’
‘Think about it, John. We know she has killed already and, as the deaths weren’t demonstrably necessary for her purposes, we assume she did it because she liked it. She is using someone - perhaps many people - to set up her obliteration of the human race but this is the first time ever, to my knowledge, that she has shown any interest in interacting with a human opposed to her.’
‘Which tells us what?’
‘That she’s acting out of character. It could be a chink in her armour; she could be rattled by something you’ve done and she wants to see what you know or she might be having second thoughts and wants another point of view. The crux of the matter is that everything up until today has been done in the single-minded pursuit of her goal except now, this. Aren’t you curious about why? What’s changed?’
‘Yes, a bit, but not to the extent of being the next to die. Can’t we just send her an email and ask?’ Now that really was old-time communication. It occurred to me that Avalon Red might not even know what it was. I wasn’t entirely serious about not wanting to meet her. Merlin’s reasoning was good. We thought that I might have stumbled on to something that caused her a problem and while this might be a straightforward attempt to murder me, there was a distinct possibility there was something more to it. Plus, her methods in killing had been underhand before and it was out of character for her to try anything overt. In fact, the jet incident had come very close to achieving its purpose so, if she truly wanted rid of me, another similar attempt was the obvious choice and not afternoon tea. The more I considered it, the more bizarre it sounded.
‘What does Lancelot think?’
There was a pause, presumably while Merlin consulted. ‘He says that if the location is a social site or a public or semi-public place in a vir-game then it’s possible that the risk can be minimised because of her likely reluctance to be in the public eye.’ My years of experience in the field made me lean towards agreement with him. Unless this was the absolute endgame and Ambrosia merely wanted to boast about her evil success (in which case it was already too late) then i
t made sense that she would still want to retain some element of secrecy. A big fuss in a public area of Online was the fastest way to primetime exposure in the Online news bureaux and not what any self-respecting genocidal maniac would want before achieving global termination. Even some semi-public area should be relatively safe if my reasoning was correct. I was enough of a bad-ass with my newest upgrades that I could ensure she received a worldwide broadcast even if she succeeded in killing me. If I put my former commanding officer’s hat on, back in the day I would have thought it worth the risk to an agent’s life for the opportunity to gather such invaluable intelligence. Oddly, in the old days I used to agonise about risking someone else’s life but now - to my surprise - I was a little less upset about risking my own.
‘How would I reply?’
‘I’ll leave it where I know she’ll find it.’ He didn’t specify and I didn’t press him. I doubted that he’d tell me anyway. I began to see that he really did feel as though he was dealing with the black sheep of his family. Funny how he’d previously claimed that he couldn’t find her but now he knew how to communicate with her. I filed the thought away.
I put my tea down and sat back, diving into my portal for a minute as I did so. Compiling the response was easier when I could do it in my cave. It was literally only a minute before I emerged and showed it to Merlin through his comms bot. I used the same font and cream colouring.
‘Colonel John Harvard is pleased to accept your kind invitation and looks forward to afternoon tea at our earliest mutual convenience.’ There was an asterisk against the word ‘convenience’ and at the bottom it was reproduced against my own small print: ‘Subject to full disclosure and acceptance of your terms and conditions.’