When Diplomacy Fails… fc-3

by Michael Z. Williamson

  It was hard to believe, but if even a close confidant thought so, and there were no rumors from reliable sources, it must be true. That aside, however, there was another point.

  “That’s fine. But you are a close acquaintance. She can confide in you, and it will do her good to have close contact with someone.”

  Jessie shook her head sadly. “I suggested that. She’s always been very much alone. Even at home, they sleep, actually sleep, in separate rooms. She’s almost pathological about her privacy.”

  “We noticed. Well, I can talk. Have you considered a stuffed toy?”

  She stared at nothing and shook her head. “No.”

  “It does help. Quite a few of the soldiers here have them.”

  She looked up and said, “I’ll try it. I don’t regard it as immature.”

  It occurred to Horace that with the background she was getting here and now, the young woman might be a serious contender for politics herself in a couple of decades. It disturbed him to realize he’d be more likely to vote for her than any of the current thieves.

  Of course, in two decades, this young lady might be a jaded political whore herself.

  “Go rest,” he told her, and took a look around at the others. She nodded and went to a cot, curled up and closed her eyes. She actually did sleep as exhaustion overcame stress.

  Horace didn’t sleep. He’d have to be more wrung out. He wished he could, though.

  He saw Highland shifting, fidgeting, and eventually, she sat up.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said.

  “I understand, but you should keep trying if you can.”

  “It’s not going to happen.” She swung off the cot and stood up.

  “As you wish. I wouldn’t recommend a sedative anyway.”

  “Due to the need to move?”

  “Exactly that. When you are tired enough, you will sleep.”

  “Or go insane,” she said with an honest smile.

  “We deal with fatigue a lot.”

  “Why do you do it?” she asked quietly.

  “The fatigue?”

  “No, the mercenary work.”

  “We’re not precisely mercenaries. We don’t take just any money, and we do stick to missions that are legal and ethical.”

  “Really? Are you saying that?”

  “Exigencies can force us to be violent, but we engage very little, preferring to use evasion. We rarely act except in response.”

  She looked quizzical, probably considering their actions over the past few weeks.

  “But, in answer to your question, ma’am, it’s a challenge, it’s well-paid, and it’s rewarding to keep someone alive. Doubly so for me.”

  She nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. But why not a regular detail with someone?”

  He had to think about that. “This is more honest, really. We don’t have to like or pretend to like our principal, just do our job. That gives us more freedom than staff security have.”

  “You don’t like me.”

  “I didn’t say that, ma’am, only that we don’t have to.”

  “You don’t need to say it. None of you like me.”

  “There are numerous issues of personality and politics.”

  “And I’m a whore for taking practicality, compromise and yes, money, over ideology.” She sighed. “When I first ran for local judge, I was so earnest and clean myself. I accomplished nothing, but I felt very good about myself.”

  She sighed again. “As time went on, I accomplished more and felt worse. Constituents and now the public at large vote for me, so regardless of anyone’s thoughts about integrity, the Charter of Freedoms or equality, I represent what people want.”

  “It bothers you, ma’am?”

  “Oh, yes it does. Look, I personally have nothing against you, and yes, I think of the resource potential of anyone, any group, any business. I was not in BuState when you rescued Mr. Bishwanath. But it most certainly annoyed certain factions. Ironically, in the same Traditionalist party that your CEO favors. They’d planned on parting out the system as ‘recolonies,’ with ownership of resources passing to them.”

  “Predictable enough,” Horace said.

  “Then, most recently, you protected and made friends with Caron Prescot. Very close friends, I’m led to understand.”

  Horace reflected it was a good thing Aramis was out shopping. The man would be flushing and stuttering at this point.

  He offered, “So the ability to do our job well threatens certain elements, yes. However, if they’re in the opposition party, that doesn’t explain how your party ties in. It reinforces what some people say, that there’s no real difference.”

  She looked up. “We have weird supporters. Jankin is worth a tenth what Prescot is worth. He’s more into politics, though. She has no need to be. No one can touch her, and she’s not petty, I have to say. He is. He purports to support the liberals because it’s advantageous. You also may have noticed that a lot of our supporters are… below average. That’s our appeal, to the common person. He milks that, and profits from it, and he gets a perverse glee out of it. But I can’t see him killing over it.”

  “Is there some deal pending that you oppose him on?”

  “Everyone winds up opposing and supporting him on many issues. He has fingers in everything.”

  “That’s hardly what I’d call liberal.”

  “Of course not. He wants what’s best for him. You don’t get to that position by caring about anyone except yourself. It’s a constant struggle for me-where’s the line between protecting myself so I can do the right thing, and being a petty elitist?”

  Horace twitched his eyebrows slightly, but she didn’t see it.

  CHAPTER 21

  Alex woke as Elke returned, carrying a canvas bag. He’d had twenty minutes of nap. It would have to do. It was probably a good thing. His spine didn’t like cots. He rolled off gingerly and stood.

  She said, “I have a basic, reliable Road Cruiser.”

  “Not bad. How did you get that?”

  “I found an ad for a widow needing to sell property for living expenses. I was able to play the pity card and didn’t haggle over price, and also bought two pairs of work boots and some shirts. They may be a bit large for the ladies, but should make it easier to travel.” She tumbled them out of the bag. The boots were spattered with paint and grease, well broken in and wearing cracks. The shirts were sweat-stained and distressed.

  Highland wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Those cannot be sanitary,” she said.

  “We have disinfectant spray.”

  JessieM slipped her shoes off, waited for Shaman to spray a pair, and slipped them on. Her expression was a neutral mask. She didn’t like this, but wasn’t going to complain. She pulled a khaki shirt over her blouse and became much less noticeable, even here.

  Highland wasn’t disposed to argue. She shook her head and shrugged, and followed suit.

  “What’s that?” Aramis asked, and pointed. It was a small wooden carving of a penguin.

  “She graciously included that as a gift for my son.”

  “Son?”

  “She assumed I had offspring and I saw no point in correcting her, for either time constraints or camouflage.”

  “Very good. It’s a cute figure.”

  “He’s our mascot for now. The Evil Penguin.”

  Shaman said, “Jessie, carry the penguin.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  What was that about?

  Alex asked, “Does anyone have a reason to remain here?”

  There were negatives all around.

  “Then let’s take the valuables and the gear and vacate. Jason, Aramis, what do we have?”

  Aramis said, “We have a choice of nice hotel, flophouse, apartment or rental. There’s a poor working neighborhood I’ve identified where no one will question us. We can pretend to be three married couples and three singles, though Bart’s size is a bit distinctive. Local garb will help.”

  “Demog
raphic?”

  “Primitive Christian. Hats, scarves, coats. Women don’t normally wear pants, but jobs can require it.”

  Highland said, “Agent Sykora refuses to wear a scarf.”

  “I will not wear one for political purposes. I have no objection to wearing camouflage.”

  Highland’s jaw clenched. Alex figured Elke was really enjoying herself, now that she had explosive, someone to taunt, and the rule book sailing through the air.

  He said, “That sounds like our neighborhood. Do we have a reservation?”

  “No. We’ll need to sneak, peek and drop.”

  “Is anyone good with the appropriate scripture for this subculture?”

  “I am,” Shaman said, “though I may stand out. The African emigres were few.”

  Elke said, “I can do it. My family was nominally Lutheran. I’ll just stick to basic references and invoke Christ.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “I feel no animosity to their faith. What some of the more insane have chosen to do with it is a separate issue.”

  “True. The majority of them are still nice people. The whackos just make up for it in volume and violence.”

  “I will go ahead, and take Aramis with me. We can pass as a couple.”

  “They’ll probably expect me to talk,” he said.

  “Yes, and you can be gruff, I’ll be pleasant.”

  “We need to record that. No one will believe it.”

  Elke said, “We must hope they do.”

  They slipped out.

  Quiet could be aggravating. No one was shooting at them, there were no rioters, things were quite calm. That left all kinds of time to fret over being found, or Elke and Aramis being traced, a sudden missile, anything.

  Alex needed to discuss issues with Highland, but he wanted to wait until he had the whole team regrouped and they were ready to roll. In the meantime…

  “Bart, keep an eye out to the east. Jason, you have south.” He kept his voice soft. Highland was actually dozing. Not only did that make her easier to deal with, she did need rest, and her health was their concern.

  Eventually his phone beeped. It showed as Elke, and he opened voice.

  “Coming in,” she said, and was gone. He pointed at the door while pulling capacitor and circuit again. They would need more backups for future use.

  Aramis and Elke arrived moments later. Jason glanced down the hall, Bart closed the door behind them.

  “We have space,” Aramis said. “A small strip condo.”

  Alex asked, “How long do we plan to do this? We’re just relocating as we go.” At one level it made sense, at another, they’d be spinning wheels, wasting assets and risk being seen.

  Aramis said, “Long enough for the news to settle down and see how it’s spun. Whoever gets blamed will indicate potential sources.”

  Bart said, “We’ll get blamed.”

  Alex grinned. “Of course, but on whose behalf?”

  “Good point.”

  “So let’s share coordinates, address, the works.” He docked his phone to Aramis’s and snagged the data.

  After sharing the info around, Alex turned to Highland to try again.

  “Ma’am, I… we need to discuss the threat status and be sure we’re in agreement on the best course of action. We are temporarily, and I stress temporarily, safe here, but we are at risk if we are identified, and need to work around that.”

  “I actually get a choice?” she asked. “I rather thought I was a prisoner of my own security.”

  “It was necessary to vacate the area fast against potential threats. If you so order, we will go where you wish, but it will be recorded and noted so as to cover us. It’s one of the ironies of this business that we’ll catch bullets for you, but we will not enable you to get shot yourself.”

  “Very well. What leads you to believe there’s an immediate threat?”

  “Other than a grenade and someone trying to crush you under an armored vehicle?” he asked. He didn’t think she was that clueless, but she might be that convinced of her own credibility.

  “Look, the SecGen has been so completely clueless even his own party, your party, doesn’t want him. How often do they allow a caucus before a sitting SecGen steps down? But, if he can orchestrate your death, he’ll eliminate the main contender in his own party, and play the other four for sympathy. He only needs a plurality to pull a runoff and eliminate the Randites. They’re certainly not going to vote for the Neo-Stalinists in the next round. The Neo-Stalinists are not going to vote Islamic Conservative. They’re not going to vote Liberal-Labour. The tertiary parties don’t count at all. That means the Equality Party wins, meaning him.”

  Jason stepped in to help.

  “If she runs, what happens?”

  He looked back at her as he said, “Polls are split on you winning, bad for him, or you losing to Liberal-Labour, worse for him. Also worse for the party as a whole. They could play this the other way, too, and have him iced. Except that he’s much harder to hit with the Special Service around him, and that would look suspicious. You being here lets them blame some faction or other, like Celadon only moreso, then come in and stomp as they wish. They then have territory they can parcel out to supporters as concessions.”

  Bart said, “They can also give us as a company bad press.”

  “That, and I wouldn’t put it past any of several of them to want us personally dead after saving President Bishwanath. They put together a scam on that, and we gutshot it.”

  Highland said, “That fits. We’re a hundred and eighty-three days out.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m over thirty percent. At thirty-two and one eighty, I can call for Special Service protection details.”

  “Oh, shit. How the fuck did we miss that?” Really, that was…

  Jason said, “That was it! I heard the conversation and it didn’t click.”

  Aramis said, “Hell, that’s easy. We stay hidden for three days, then call ahead and hand her off.”

  “As long as she has the percentage.”

  “We can fix that,” he said confidently. Son of a bitch, they were about to help with narcissistic cunt win the election.

  “How?” she asked.

  “First, escape, evade and hide.”

  “But where? We can’t get off planet.”

  “We have before.”

  Jason said, “Ms. Highland has an emergency transponder chip. They’ll only find it here with a tight directional scan, but any port will show it.”

  “It’s deep, too,” she said. “When I had my gall bladder worked on, it was set then.”

  And at that moment, her expression changed, to that of a person who knew she was being hunted to death, regarded as a trophy and convenience, and who’d been completely betrayed.

  Elke felt the tickle run up her spine, and kept her smirk hidden behind sleeve and glasses. That was the intangible she wanted out of this, and it was very sweet.

  Shaman said, “I would be reluctant to go digging, without a modern clinic.”

  Jason said, “Which we’re not going to have access to.”

  “How long can we lie low?” Bart asked?

  Alex said, “If we can’t pull this off, it would have to be until after the election. At that point, they’ll shrug and look embarrassed, accuse us of paranoia and kidnapping, and wait for it to fade in the loads.”

  Highland said, “I am not missing the election!”

  Jason looked at her. “Nor are we going to be accused of kidnapping, again.”

  She didn’t even look sheepish. The woman was an uncaring sociopath. Elke might be herself, but at least her suggestions were practical.

  Aramis said, “I don’t see what other options we have. Delay, escape, or fight are the three courses.”

  “Well, I guess we fight,” Jason said. “We stir up enough noise, they have to see us, see the threat against Ms. Highland, then they either give her the protection as her due, or take it from us and make th
e same jokes about us everyone does, pay our fee, and she’s alive, mission accomplished. We’re Ripple Creek’s best team, and we don’t care about cover stories, or looking good in the press.”

  Shaman said, “We’ll be outnumbered.”

  “Likely not. I expect the unofficial government agents on planet are under ten, possibly as few as two.”

  “Based on?”

  Elke said, “Based on what we both know about BuIntel paramilitary teams. We’ve both considered applying.”

  Aramis said, “Paramils?”

  Jason said, “Who do you think snatched you, knew enough to keep you alive, and had locals do the dirty work so there was no connection? That was meant to deliberately scare us into either leaving, doing something foolish, or embarrassing Ms. Highland enough we got dropped. Now that the lethal force is out, we had a very well-thrown grenade, using primitive tactics, and someone able to steal an armored vehicle and get it to our location. Even with foreknowledge, that’s an expert.”

  “Shit,” Aramis said. “Yeah, that makes sense, but… aren’t all those guys former Recon?”

  “Or before it was Recon,” Jason said. “Spetznaz, SAS, Kopassus. All professionals, with extra training.”

  “What do we do about them?”

  Alex said, “We’d have to kill them. Ms. Highland?”

  Slowly, she said, “If they ally against the government, which is me, then they’re enemies.” At least moral decisions were easy for her, as long as they benefited her.

  “Elke?”

  “I could use the practice.” This would mean some nice overpressure.

  Bart said, “We can get allies too.”

  Aramis said, “We could get dead, too, though that or mindwiping seem to be the choices.”

  “We’ve faced that before.”

  “So, you’re seriously proposing attacking the paramilitary arm of BuInt?” He looked shaken, but then, he had been captured by the bastards and tortured. She’d have to add in a factor for that, when she built her charges.

  “I don’t see what choice we have.”

  “Alex, we’re good. We’re really good. But jokes about ‘we might be the best’ aside, those skullbangers are the wrath of the gods themselves.”

  “They’re also few in number, don’t want to be discovered, and aren’t likely to risk their lives for a campaign.”