When Diplomacy Fails . . .

by Michael Z. Williamson

  Then Elke shoved ear muffs at him, bulky, but hard wired directly into the vehicle’s system. He yanked them over his head. “Test.”

  Aramis replied, “I hear you.”

  Alex said, “I’ll direct if needed.” He was at the commander’s console, with screens slaved to Jason’s.

  “Understood. We’re in traffic. I’ll try not to kill anyone.”

  Alex said, “That would be best. We’ll be hard to hide as is.”

  “Do you want to debark for alternate transportation?”

  Alex said, “Not yet. Right now, the armor and speed are useful. I’m hearing chatter about pursuit. They’re trying to figure out whose vehicle it is. They’ve just now figured out it’s ours. My phone is ringing. I may as well decoy before I disable it.”

  “Agreed.”

  Intercom went dead as Alex played stupid and innocent. Seconds of delay there could provide minutes of leeway here. He was back in less than ten seconds, though.

  “They didn’t buy it. I don’t think they can scramble aircraft fast enough, but they can get one up for recon soon enough, or even satellite will help once they locate us. They will pursue on ground at once.”

  “And shit,” Jason said, looking forward. “Homebound convoy about to pass us.”

  “I see them. They’re wondering where we’re going in a hurry.”

  Aramis said, “I’m smiling and waving. We’re all friends and there’s no threat.”

  “They seem to be buying it. We’re rolling.”

  They passed out of view, and Alex said, “Thank god for bureaucracy. They still haven’t figured out who’s where, and of course, they dare not shoot at us with Ms. Highland aboard.”

  “Do they know that?”

  “Yes, I made sure to tell them it was an urgent need on her part.”

  Jason smashed into a vehicle that strayed across the road.

  “Very urgent. I just crushed a Mercedes.”

  “Casualties?”

  “I don’t think so, just the nose and part of the side. Occupants should be fine.”

  “Cady has a location picked out. She’s stashing a car for us. We’ll debark nearby, hoof it, load up, relocate.”

  “Understood. Though I’d much rather fight from this platform.”

  Aramis said, “We’ll steal another.”

  “Or more.”

  Elke had managed to plug herself in, and said, “I can offer distractions if need be.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get a chance soon.”

  “That will be good for our relationship,” she said brightly.

  He took another turn and found the way blocked. There was heavy construction here.

  “I can’t turn, going through,” he said, as he swerved around a small crane. It looked as if they were doing sub-road drainage repair.

  He hit the trench at speed and bounced over, causing slumps and collapses along that width. The excavated fill slowed them slightly, and he felt the vehicle rise, then flatten the pipe section awaiting installation.

  Beyond that was a man with a multiwindow camera setup, leaning against his car and shooting video of the scene. The ARPAC was unmarked, so it wouldn’t immediately tag to Ms. Highland, which was a good thing, because he slammed into the man, smashed him into a broken bag of cold cuts against the car, which he crushed under the wheels in a popping, rolling, bumping, grinding crunch. Well, if you stood in traffic, you were liable to get hurt. Jason told himself he didn’t care, but didn’t believe it. Stupid or not, the man had been a human being, and not actively hostile.

  His introspection stopped when Bart quipped, “I believe it’s crush hour.”

  He stifled a response, and instead asked, “Where to?”

  Aramis shouted, “Take any left, three squares lateral, then north again.”

  “Left three, resume north, roger.”

  It was easy to tell who was who in traffic. Extreme Muslims didn’t dodge. Insh Allah—as God wills. Sufis swerved, then cursed and threatened. There weren’t many Baha’i or Christians in this neighborhood, but they cleared the way and pulled back afterward, shrugging it off without public commentary. Local police dodged faster than anyone, and might even go onto the sidewalk. Mercenaries went over any obstacle or threat, and if it came down to it, might back up for a second try.

  Highland was not only well-tranked, she was weeping. He assumed it was for her career, not from any real compassion. Still, alive she might pull it off. Dead she’d be only a footnote.

  Alex said, “You have alarmed the locals. There are gathering groups and I predict armed response.”

  “Yeah, that was not my intent.” He thought for a moment and added, “But I guess it was inevitable. Do we FIDO, unass or split up to do more damage?”

  Alex said, “Right now, FIDO. Follow Aramis’s directions.”

  “Fuck It, Drive On,” he muttered loudly. They might get that fight Aramis suggested, right now.

  He reported, “The road is getting clogged. They’re less willing and able to clear a hole.”

  Highland was functional enough to bawl, “How many poor people do you plan to kill?”

  At least one more, he thought. JessieM’s transmissions were completely squelched, he hoped. Otherwise there’d be military force en route to them as well.

  “Aramis, advise me.”

  “Keep going north. How far out do we want to abandon ship?”

  “How hot is it?”

  Elke said, “Very. Milnet full of talk. Local police being brought in.”

  Alex said, “They probably won’t shoot us with Ms. Highland in the vehicle, but mistakes happen. We need to unass soon.”

  Aramis said, “Miss Jessie, are you agreeable to churping some misdirection? Which can also leak out the intel we need known?”

  “I can. You’ll . . . have to tell me what to say.” She flushed and blushed at that.

  Alex said, “Damn, what do we say?”

  Aramis said, “I have an idea. Jessie, churp that we’re heading west to seek shelter with the Right Baptists.”

  “Okay. Just like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jason, where’s your safehouse? We’ll divert there.”

  “It’s a safe room. Northwest.”

  “‘Safe room’?” Highland asked. “As in an emergency retreat?”

  “Not very secure, but no one should know it exists and we can keep jamming against scans. We can gear up there. I have some extra funds stashed.”

  Jessie asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see. In the meantime, we’re heading through an area controlled by the Pure Shia. They’re looking at our lone vehicle rather angrily.”

  Alex said, “I think it’s more hungrily. They have quite a few veterans who know how to operate one.”

  “Good point. In either case, there’s no way around and I expect some trouble.”

  “How’s the traffic?”

  “Starting to get very tight. I can plow or crush light scooters. Actual cars will stop me.”

  “Detour as needed, keep moving. We’ll need to swap out and abandon this. Elke, we don’t want them to get hold of it.”

  “Fireworks it is,” she said, clearly cheerful.

  Jason said, “It’s going to be soon. I’m on a secondary now, if I have to turn again we’re going to be hosed.”

  “Roads aren’t wide enough?”

  “No, they seem not to have taken advantage of the modern grid layout other than the main thoroughfares. They balkanized their neighborhoods on arrival and made a mess.”

  Alex called, “Everyone ready for transfer?”

  There were nods and rattles.

  “Ms. Highland, Jessie, we are about to abandon this vehicle and commandeer another. It will be noisy. It may be a bit rough. Grab onto Elke’s pack, and Jessie, you onto Aramis’s. Keep hold as much as possible. There could be some bruising. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you h
ave, Jason?”

  He took in the surroundings and reported. “I think we have a half a block. I see several good Mercedes we can use. I have a coder that should work on most of them. They’re common enough to get us farther out before another swap.”

  “Sounds good. Do it.”

  “They’re in front of a hotel. Elke, you’ll need to distract people.”

  Elke stood swaying and took broad steps to the rear. “I have smoke, squibs and mild irritant.” It was about time she got to do her job. She gestured to Highland, who nodded a bit vacantly but did grab Elke’s harness.

  He braked hard and she clutched a rail to avoid sliding forward.

  “In five, four, three, two, one. Drop the ramp.”

  Aramis hit the ramp release; it clanged to the ground. Shaman went first. Elke followed, skipping down the angle with Highland hanging on through a near stumble. Once in sunlight, she took station still half on the ramp, her body and the side armor protecting the principal.

  Bart was right behind her, and went past at a brisk walk.

  Shaman knew his stuff. He casually opened the car’s gullwing door, reached in before the driver could respond coherently, and dragged the man out by his collar. Bart slid into the driver’s seat and dropped the door. Elke shoved Highland loose, next to the passenger door.

  The driver’s expression went from confused to irritated to angry, and he started jabbering in Arabic or Turkish or something, as Shaman zapped him with a stun baton. It was all still relatively quiet, but some bystanders had passed the surprise stage and were in the alarm stage. That was Elke’s cue. She thumbed a code, slid a package tab into it, then tossed it on the sidewalk. It whuffed into a cloud of smoke that obscured them from anyone on that side. She followed with a second thrown behind the car and in the middle of traffic.

  Aramis came through with Jessie clinging to his back, bent over and making meeping noises. Aramis dove in the back easily, Shaman helped shove Jessie in. Jason made a quick check, assumed the package in the ARPAC was Elke’s parting gift, and rolled in himself.

  Alex grunted, “Elke, go.”

  “Moving,” she announced for Highland’s benefit. At least the woman was trained well at this aspect. She moved well enough.

  The crowd was starting to panic and point, though. Elke tossed squibs in two directions as Shaman steered Highland into the rear. She waited a moment for the squibs to start cracking in loud, echoey reports, and slid in, using her arse to shove Highland further back.

  Alex came last. He rolled rather nimbly for a man of his age, over the quarter panel, and slid into the shotgun seat. He hadn’t finished closing the door before Bart had them in traffic with the throttle nailed.

  “Your coder works,” he said to Jason.

  “I thought the engine was already running.”

  “The driver had a disconnect. He pressed it and looked smug. Then he looked concerned. Then he ceased looking anything when Shaman dropped him.”

  Alex said, “Well done. Get us lost first.”

  “Moving,” Bart agreed and took a turn.

  Elke scrolled through her feeds, didn’t see something, and said, “Alex, we have a problem.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Jessie’s update is not showing on the churp feed. I am seeing other feeds that look like her style. Did you say something about a trip to the Eastern Forest Reserve?”

  Jessie looked confused. “No?”

  Alex shouted, “The receivers. Jessie, give your phone to Elke right now!”

  Jessie stuttered and said, “Uh, okay. Hacked?” She handed her phone over reluctantly.

  Elke flipped it, popped the back, pulled the power cell, pulled the card and fumbled for a case. She had one in a thigh pocket she used to isolate circuits, but she was squashed next to the door and Jessie. It took considerable wiggling and arching, but she got it and placed the card inside.

  “Yes, hacked,” she said. “None of this is going on local or system feed. Someone has control of the service, which is run by the Lezt family. They are either corrupted or conspirators. And oh, yes.” She clicked her detonator. There should be two warning pops to reduce casualties, a shame that, and then . . .

  BANG, flash, thump.

  She did love overpressure.

  Highland seemed to come around to something at the mention of Lezt. She didn’t notice the explosion.

  “It would take someone in UN Security Agency or Intelligence to order the nodes locked, even that minimal amount. It must be Lezt doing it for some third party.”

  Jason said, “And that third party is UNSA or UNBI, working under orders from someone in your party.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not convinced of that at all. You’re being dangerously paranoid.”

  Alex said, “That’s my job. I’m paranoid so you don’t have to be. Regardless of who it is, they’ve set it up so they can get signals and you can’t communicate. We have spare phones, but we can’t waste them for Miss Jessie to churp notes. If they accomplish nothing else, they’ve cut your communications, and are masquerading as you.”

  “I agree with that. How do we stop them and get control back?”

  Jason said, “That depends on how they approach it. This just became an intel fight.”

  Aramis said, “As I see it, and I’ve done publicity, they can play this at least three ways.” He ticked off on his fingers. “They can simply post reports, and compile B roll video, to show you having meaningless PR meetings with small groups. The locations will be vague, so you can’t be positively pinned down. That gets you out of the campaign eye. Or, they could have you say some odd, malicious or incriminating things to wreck your campaign. At the far end, they’ll try to locate and kill you.”

  Alex said, “It depends on if they think slowing you will do the job, sabotaging you, or if they need you as a martyr.”

  “We don’t martyr people in the Egalitarian Party,” Highland snapped.

  Elke said, “Except for trigger-happy mercenary bodyguards, and potentially silly but useful hangers on.”

  Color drained from Highland’s face, then flushed back. That had hit her hard.

  Elke did enjoy being able to love her work.

  Bart said, “Cruk’s ratings are low and sinking. He needs a substantial boost, and less competition. The Party specifically said they were ‘looking at all options for candidates,’ when I saw the German feed. They are not confident of his popularity even in your own party.”

  Highland snorted. “It’s not that I think he wouldn’t do it. He’d readily do it. He’s just too fucking stupid. He’s a pretty face and a soothing voice, and never ran even a Third World constituency. He wins elections by handing out largesse and manipulating people.”

  “This would manipulate you, yes?”

  “He couldn’t do it, though.”

  “So who got him in?”

  She was silent. Bart drove, maneuvering constantly.

  Eventually she spoke. “I have to trust you with my life. That’s much easier than trusting you with party dirt.”

  “Ma’am, unless you want to be a martyr, I’d suggest you relay us information. Have you heard anything ugly about our previous principals, from us?”

  “No. But it’s not that simple.” She sighed. “I suppose I must. You’re seen as a threat.”

  She left it hanging as if it were a revelation.

  Elke said, “We deduced that before we left Earth.”

  Jason said, “We’ll continue this inside. We’re here. Alex, how do you want to do it?”

  Alex never hesitated. Elke appreciated that.

  “Jason, you’ll lead Elke in with Ms. Highland. Bart will get out with Aramis. Shaman will take over driving. Around the block, I’ll get out with Jessie. Shaman ditches it and comes last.”

  Bart pulled over and they started debarking, onto a sidewalk lightly traveled by only a few matrons with wheeled baskets if poor, or humming floaters if a little less so.

  After two stops, Horace slid
over to drive. JessieM was still stunned silent, and debarked with Alex. That left him alone to park a stolen vehicle, and of course, that’s when he drove past a parked police vehicle.

  He made no funny moves, just drove as a limo driver would. In the rear screen, he saw them frown slightly. The vehicle was out of place in this area. It wasn’t out of place enough for them to risk the wrath of whichever mucky-muck was aboard. He took a side street, then another, keeping direction and distance in mind. It was quiet and dusky, so he pulled over, raised his scarf to a hood, checked his pistol, parked and stepped out.

  All his gear was already inside, or should be. He shouldered a small cross-pack that held emergency sundries, and kept a clear path between hand and pistol. No one molested him; indeed, he saw almost no one until he reached the thoroughfare, where he seemed to blend in well enough. Three minutes of steady but unhurried walking got him to the saferoom.

  Horace hadn’t expected any particular apartment. Location and discretion were primary, then cost always played a role. Too pricey would raise inquiries. Too cheap affected reliability of the landlord and neighbors. He was surprised when he walked in the door.

  Furnished, it would be a very nice place. Seven plastic chairs and seven basic cots filled a nicely laid out common room. This was probably considered a studio, but it was a large studio. The bathroom was back there, with a frosted one-way pane. The kitchenette was modern, and quite a few cans, instant packages and beverages sat waiting.

  “New phone,” Jason said, and underhanded one. Horace caught it.

  Elke stood in the middle observing. She said to Jason, “You already set the bathroom window with a line and a breaking charge.”

  “Yes.”

  “Not a bad job. Should I tune it?”

  “I assume you can do better, so yes.”

  Elke seemed happy and relaxed with explosive in hand. For most people, that would be insane. For her, it was comfortably normal. Good.

  Alex said, “I hadn’t planned on Jessie, so we’re short a cot. However, we’ll need someone on watch.”

  “I am on now,” Bart said. He had a tub of soup open, steaming, and sipped it like a drink.

  “We won’t be here long,” Alex said. “We’ll be planning an offensive and moving. Ms. Highland, Jessie, while this location is probably safe, nothing is guaranteed. Remain dressed. Keep all property immediately at hand. We may move on a moment’s notice. Do not make any communications. That is an order.”