Black Holiday (The Black Chronicles Book 2)

by J. M. Anjewierden

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk?”

  “You want me to understand? Fine, but first you need to understand me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  There is a very old concept, the OODA loop. It stands for observe, orient, decide, and act. It’s all very complicated sounding, but basically, the idea is that if you can get information and make decisions faster than your enemy – be they military, economic, or in a friendly game of chess – you will have a great advantage over them. This is because they won’t be able to react to what you are doing, even potentially freezing up and doing nothing at all. Very useful idea. Just make sure it doesn’t get used against you.

  - Militia Captain Conrad Bog, formerly of the Talmis Royal Marines.

  GERTRUDE

  THE DOCTOR had ‘sung’ as the police called it. Oh, he had sung all right, giving them everything he knew about what had happened to Morgan and where she was. It was almost too much information – if there was such a thing in a military situation, which Lady Novan seemed to doubt.

  The problem was, he didn’t know everything, and what he was lacking was some of the crucial parts.

  Among it was the actual location of the cell base where they had launched the attack against Lady Novan from and where they had taken Morgan.

  So now they were back to waiting, with the added weight that now Gertrude knew that Morgan was hurt, maybe badly.

  “It is so hard to tell with head injuries,” the doctor had said, without a trace of emotion.

  He was lucky that Lady Novan knew Gertrude well enough to guess what her reaction would be, and she was moving to grab Gertrude’s hand before it could connect.

  She still wanted to hurt the man, but intellectually she knew it would only lessen the chances he’d be properly punished.

  Now I just need to convince my heart of that, Gertrude thought. Not that it matted. Lady Novan had asked Gertrude to go back to the estate to “check on Haruhi.” Gertrude knew that Emily didn’t mean it as one, but it sure felt like a dismissal. “Yes, sir, right away, sir.”

  Haruhi was resting, quietly, on the bed in the next room over. It had taken a lot to get the girl to finally go back to bed, but exhaustion had won in the end.

  She’s worried too, Gertrude acknowledged, while simultaneously thinking, It’s a good thing she isn’t allowed any stimulant drinks or she’d still be up too.

  Gertrude took another sip of her caffeine-enhanced hot chocolate, not at feeling bad at the small bit of hypocrisy there.

  Gertrude’s uplink, placed within easy reach on the end table next to her overlarge plush chair, chimed with an incoming call, priority.

  “Uplink, answer the call, holo display,” Gertrude said, turning so she was facing it directly.

  The holographic image of Lady Novan didn’t look tired, but Gertrude knew that had to be a lie. They were all tired, wrung out by the long days of waiting and worrying.

  “We’ve found them,” she said, triumphantly, a predatory grin flashing across her features. “They’ll have a SWAT team ready to go within a few hours.”

  “Why so long?” Gertrude asked, tamping down on the hope that was blossoming in her chest. She didn’t dare let it affect her until Morgan was back, safe and sound.

  “The last raids took just about everything they could muster. Between the injured and the exhausted they need time to get a team together. They also want to do a bit more recon before moving in.”

  “I guess that can’t be helped, then.”

  “No it can’t…” Lady Novan trailed off as several alarms went off in the background, loud enough that they carried through the comm line quite clearly.

  “What’s going on?” Gertrude asked. She knew it was irrational to assume the worst, but her immediate thoughts were that something had happened to Morgan, or the terrorists had done something else.

  “I don’t know, but I better check it out. I’ll let you know when I know more. Try and get some rest, Gertrude.”

  The call ended abruptly, plunging the room back into near darkness.

  It was good advice, but Gertrude couldn’t take it. She wasn’t ready to relax yet, or, more properly, she wasn’t capable of relaxing yet.

  I’ll just wait for them to send the team out, she thought. That will only be a few more hours.

  It wasn’t her uplink that intruded on her thoughts some minutes later, however, but the wall mounted holo-display.

  It turned itself on with its own trill alarm, the government warning system.

  Gertrude recognized the person in the holo, one of the better known news anchors for the most popular channel in Ena city.

  “At this time we are advising everyone to stay indoors, and away from the windows. This is only as a precaution. At this time there is no evidence the general public is at risk, but there are reports of targeted violence across the continent.”

  The holo jerked, and then started over at the beginning.

  What in the galaxy? Gertrude wondered, her previous worry and alarm growing. This is a lot bigger than an assassination attempt against a single baroness, isn’t it?

  She wanted to contact Lady Novan, see what she knew, but she resisted the impulse. There was no way the baroness wasn’t already up to her neck in whatever was going on, and she’d be far too busy to take a call from someone as unimportant as Gertrude.

  Picking up her uplink, her drink forgotten, she muted the device and slipped into Haruhi’s room, sinking into the large chair across from the bed.

  For the next hour she went back and forth, watching her baby sleep, calm and peaceful, and checking the updates.

  Ten dead as general’s car forced to crash into building…

  Admiral Sisco dead, poisoning suspected…

  Senator Vanek assassinated, shot from at least a kilometer away…

  The reports were confused, changing and clarifying every few minutes, and still new reports were coming in.

  At least twenty senior government and military officials, dead, within the span of ten minutes.

  It has to be related to what happened to the attempt on Lady Novan, but why tip their hands by acting so much sooner? Why was that one so much more incompetent?

  And, incompetent or merely unsuccessful, it was already clear that whoever had carried out these new attacks was far more professional and precise than the revolutionaries had been.

  Assuming the reports were accurate, almost none of the targets had even had time to realize they were under attack before it was all over.

  She couldn’t take any more.

  Dropping her uplink onto the oversized arm of the chair, she sunk into it deeper, hugging herself against the nonexistent chill in the room, and at last tried to doze.

  What felt like moment later her uplink buzzed with another priority call. Groggily she reached out for it, knocking it onto the carpeted floor instead.

  Grabbing it up she noted fuzzily that it was a few hours later, and that the call was from Lady Novan.

  She knew what the Lady was about to say, but her dread was tempered by a sliver of hope, so she answered, remembering at the last moment to turn down the volume so she wouldn’t wake Haruhi.

  “You’ve seen the news.” As was often the case with Lady Novan it wasn’t a question.

  “Is it as bad as they are saying?”

  “Worse. And that is only the beginning of the bad news.”

  “Morgan?”

  “She’s still safe, as far as we know,” Lady Novan quickly said, “or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that nothing that has happened has involved her or her captors, so far as we can tell.”

  “It wasn’t the revolutionaries?”

  “No. Professional assassins, from the looks of it.”

  “Couldn’t that still be them?”

  “They don’t have the resources or the connections to get even a tithe of the people necessary for this on planet, and that does not consider the cost of hiring them in the first place. No, this is likely unrelated.�
�

  “That is some coincidence.”

  “Indeed.”

  The line was quiet for a few moments.

  “And Morgan?”

  Lady Novan audibly sighed.

  “Any personnel we potentially could have called upon to raid the location gleaned from Doctor Meadow’s interrogation are now busy with cleanup of this day’s events. All of the police are, even those who were not on duty.”

  “So, what, we just have to wait? With Morgan likely in a coma?”

  “I did not say that…” Lady Novan said, her thought trailing off.

  “What? You have another plan?”

  “It is probably for the best I not say, especially not over a communication line that is not encrypted. Or even one that is, for that matter.”

  “But you do have a plan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then good luck, My Lady.”

  “I hope I will not need it, but a good officer never discounts the effects of luck on her side.”

  With that the call ended.

  Gertrude had heard that saying from Lady Novan before. Normally it was longer though, ending with ‘and the effects of not having it on your side.’

  Why leave that part off, if you aren’t worried? Gertrude wondered, not sure if she wanted an answer that could upset her, or just worry about it in ignorance.

  There was nothing else Gertrude could do, so she did the one thing she could. She slid out of the chair, kneeling in front of it, and prayed.

  CHAPTER 11

  There are other aspects of the romanticization of criminals that are both fascinating and worth noting. Take the concept of “honor among thieves.” While it is true that some few individual criminals might have some rules that they follow, generally speaking anyone willing to betray the wellbeing of their fellow citizens for gain will not hesitate to betray their associates and partners for the same.

  - Dr. Susan Baptist, Head Profiler for Landing, planet Calvin

  THE NEXT day Lanky was far more agitated than usual, but every attempt Morgan made to ask why was only met with a grunt or a shake of his head.

  He hadn’t even said anything when he’d taken her to bathroom to shower and change, this time into a dress they’d scrounged up from who knows where that was only slightly too short and tight.

  I’m going to need to try and escape soon, Morgan realized, injuries or no. She remembered something her preventative maintenance teacher on Zion drilled into her class: ‘What can’t continue indefinitely won’t.’ Morgan knew that they couldn’t keep her forever, even though they were afraid to let her go. Sooner or later, they’d let Ms. Ice convince them. They had already shown they weren’t above using violence.

  “What are you thinking about? Lanky asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes as he looked at her.

  Tell the truth, or at least part of it, or reassure him? She thought for a brief moment before deciding and saying out loud, “I’m wondering when you are going to let me go.”

  “When we are ready,” he replied automatically.

  “When is that? The longer I am here the more I might see, and you have to pay to feed me, plus all that medical stuff you used on me earlier. Is your group that rich?”

  “Of course not!” he said heatedly, “we’re fighting for the people, not to make ourselves rich.”

  “So you’re poor. I know what that’s like. Counting every penny, doing without. So why keep me?”

  He started to reply but stopped, shaking his head.

  Frowning slightly, Morgan switched tacks.

  “I know we’re not exactly friends, but can’t we at least be friendly?”

  “Friends?” he said with a chuckle. “I assumed you’d hate the lot of us.”

  A denial wouldn’t be believed… “Oh, yeah, I really don’t like the creepy guy with the syringe who kidnapped me, and that other lady, the one you guys called ‘Ms. Ice’ is really scary, and there is the guy who smashed my head in…” she trailed off, shrugging. “Honestly, I think I got my fill of hate back home. Compared to them, or even the pirates who killed my coworkers, your friends aren’t exactly worth the effort.”

  “And me?”

  She shrugged again.

  “Slapping me was a mean thing to do.” There’s a huge understatement, she added mentally, “but overall, you’re a decent enough guy.”

  Cutting into their conversation was a loud thump, accompanied by a slight tremor in the floor beneath them.

  “What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied, standing up.

  A moment later a muted klaxon started up. Morgan, used to the emergency systems of mines and starships, systems built for true life-threatening disasters and problems, thought it rather pathetic and underpowered, but she supposed it couldn’t possibly be part of the original design for the building.

  What a thing to be thinking about now, she thought, allowing herself a moment to chuckle mentally, Something big is happening and I’m considering engineering problems.

  “How about that, do you know what that is?”

  “I’m going to take your handcuffs off. You really better not try anything.”

  “Because you’d get in trouble?” she said sarcastically, “I don’t think being friendly extends quite that far.”

  “No, because that’s the invasion alarm.”

  “I would think something called the ‘invasion alarm’ would be a bit more… impressive. Besides, wouldn’t that mean the police are here and I’m saved?”

  He shook his head.

  “It can’t be the police. They don’t know where we are.”

  “And they can’t have found out? Who else would it be?”

  He pursed his lips.

  “You don’t know what’s been going on. No way are the cops coming here now. They’re busy with other things.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Please,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. “Trust me on this. I promised I’d do my best to keep you safe. This isn’t anyone you want to meet any more than I do. Now shut up and let me get the handcuffs off.”

  Just as he had pulled the key out of his pocket the door opened, starling him into dropping it on the floor. It made no sound on the thin carpet, and she couldn’t see where it had ended up… not that she could see much of the floor at the moment.

  It was Bert, rushing in with a red face and panicked look. He was giggling, the same creepy high-pitched giggle he’d broken into when the attempt on Emily’s life had gone sideways and he’d grabbed Morgan.

  “What are you doing, standing about like a sheep?” Bert shouted, waving his hands about. “We have to get to the hanger.”

  “What’s going on? Why aren’t you with my mother?”

  “Listen you stupid boy. She sent me to get you out. I would have just left you, but they won’t leave without you, the Old Lady’s orders.”

  Is the Old Lady his mother? How? He isn’t much younger than I am, and she looks younger than Gertrude is… her mind recoiled, remembering a bit of what Lanky had said, not about his mother, but his father. ‘I don’t think she knew him either.’

  “Fine. Help me find the key I dropped.” Lanky bent over, looking around and running his hands along the carpet.

  “You really are that stupid, aren’t you? Leave the hostage, we need to go before they get here.”

  “Who’s they?” Lanky replied, still looking on the ground.

  “The Ice Woman, she’s betrayed us,” Bert yelled, yanking Lanky back upright. “They’re tearing through the men, I tell you it’s like Brighton Bay all over again. Leave her, and let’s go, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder like the whelp you are and carry you.”

  “Coward,” Lanky said, backing up as far from Bert as he could.

  “Damn right I am. I’ve survived. Knowing when to fight, and when to run, that’s the smart thing to do.”

  “I’m not leaving her here. Help, or get out.”

  “Oh for the…” Bert muttered.


  “Look out!” Morgan yelled, but it was too late.

  Bert punched Lanky in the stomach, doubling him over.

  “This is for your own good,” Bert said, reaching down to grab Lanky’s arm.

  Surprising both Bert and Morgan, Lanky, still coughing, dodged to the side enough for Bert to miss, and then surged back up to his feet, landing a solid uppercut on Bert’s chin.

  Bert grunted as he fell backwards, actually bouncing off the door.

  “We will find the key, and then the three of us will go get my mother. Then we will leave.”

  For a moment Morgan actually believed Bert was going to just kill Lanky, and leave them both behind. He stood there, rubbing his chin and looking at them with narrowed eyes, pausing only to spit out a bit of blood.

  The floor shook again, the loud boom sounding a lot closer.

  I’m running out of time. We’re running out of time, she realized.

  Without saying anything, he dug into his pocket and pulled out another key. He stepped up to the bed, roughly grabbing Morgan’s right hand, wrenching it around so he could get to the keyhole. He did the same for her left hand and stepped back, impatiently folding down the railing before pulling her off the bed by the back of her neck. She almost fell, but managed to grab onto the bed to steady herself.

  “She’s not walking so well,” Lanky said, almost apologetically.

  “I can see that.” He turned back to Morgan. “You, hands behind your back.”

  “You can’t put them back on, not while we’re being attacked,” she pleaded.

  “You’re not under attack, we are. And you are not going anywhere with your hands free.”

  “I don’t think you have time to argue about this,” Lanky offered.

  “Fine,” Morgan said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Escape is more important than getting my way, she reminded herself.

  She complied, turning around to present her hands to him.

  No way am I letting him reach his arms around me, she thought, shuddering at the idea of having his arms around her. It was bad enough that she could remember the feel of the syringe sticking into her, the feel of his dirty fingers on her neck.

  Dropping her gaze to the floor she hoped he’d at least be quick. Then she saw it. Lanky’s key.