Captain Stiles cleared his throat, eager to begin. “I’ll explain that in a moment, sir. Prince Jason, the ship you requested showed up last night. We let them refuel and then ordered them to leave the station and stay in orbit so Alexandria can’t hold them hostage.”
Jason shifted in his chair and caught himself biting his lip at the mention of wandering ships. “Would they do that?”
“Hmm. I’ve had to communicate with the President through several channels to preserve their ability to deny everything afterward. I was told as long as we don’t make a big ruckus, the police and orbital forces will be conveniently unavailable to impede your departure, sir.”
Jason poured a glass of juice from the pitcher on the table. “Okay. So give me the rundown. How’s this going to work?”
Stiles stood and activated a wall display. “This campaign is going to be a four-pronged coordinated attack.” The monitor showed Dr. Carson entering an unfamiliar building. “Corporal Hicks tracked down Dr. Carson’s home address a couple of days ago. He’s living with a companion, and the apartment is under her name.”
Bill rolled his eyes, looking embarrassed about his inability to track Carson. He pinched his forehead. “Yea, yea, yea. The guy kept losing me on the monorail transfers. I swear he knew I was following him.”
“Thank you, Corporal Hicks.” Jason opened a hand to Stiles. “Continue.”
“Corporal Hicks and Lieutenant Benson, she’s keeping an eye on the building right now, sir… Anyway, they will be picking up Carson. We have no record of the man having any military experience, and he’s not likely to put up much of a fight.”
“So that’s prong one.” Jason searched for the best way to convey command. He limited himself to nodding knowingly and said, “Tell me about prong two.”
“Yes, sir.” The image on the wall changed to Ellen Wingate’s home under the Mr. White identity. “At the same time — and this will all be done in the early hours commencing the moment Ms. Wingate steps out of her place on her way to work — we’ll grab her. I’d like to use Lieutenant Shimizu along with Sergeant Franks for that operation if you wouldn’t mind, sir.”
Stiles wouldn’t be suggesting taking his bodyguard away if it weren’t for the fact Jason would be inside this building during the fight, watching from a bunch of monitors. Maybe he could join this prong of the fight. In the Mirre, they’d taken Wingate down several times without a problem. He opened his mouth, tempted to order himself along, but dropped the idea. They needed a leader, not another grunt. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Yes, by all means. Let her have some fun.”
Stiles made a small bow of his head. “Thank you, Prince Jason.” The man had reverted back to the formal “Prince Jason,” instead of a simple “sir,” during the meeting. It had to be for the benefit of the non-Rhime people in the room. “On to our third objective and the reason…” he paused for a second. “Your other associates are here today. It seems Mr. Ferguson has been in continuous contact with Ms. Wingate the whole time he’s been on Alexandria.”
Both of Jason’s brows shot up in surprise, and his glance flicked over to Bill. “Really? And how did we miss that?”
Bill shrugged. “I thought he was getting laid or something. I didn’t know what Wingate looked like as Mr. White.”
Jason pointed at Shimizu. “Was that who was with Wingate in the restaurant?”
She kept a smile off her face, but the corners of her eyes crinkled with humor. “Yes, sir. The facial recognition software picked him out even with his new look.”
Jason drummed his fingers along the table. “So, how does this change picking up Ferguson?”
Stiles went on. “Depending on their personal plans, it may not change anything. Some nights, Ferguson stays at Wingate’s apartment. If they happen to be together at one place or another the morning of our jump, Bill and Mr. Greer will join up with Lieutenant Shimizu and Sergeant Franks at whichever location they’re at. I believe you can help us in that portion of the plan.”
Jason waved a hand. “Of course. I get to stay behind and jump into everyone’s heads, ensuring everyone is in the right locations before you go in.”
“If you please, Prince Jason.”
“Yes, yes, Captain. I’ll do my chosen role.”
“I would’ve preferred to grab Ferguson a day or so ahead of time so the embassy wouldn’t need to be involved, but if he’s still contacting Wingate on a daily basis, his sudden disappearance will tip our hand.”
“And how about our strike on the office building?”
The Captain adjusted the screen again, and the new image unfolded out of the wall into a hologram of the building. The depiction showed a cross-section of the entire underground facility. “While I do appreciate your efforts to draw us a map from memory, my Prince, I took the liberty of applying a little pressure to the contractor who worked on the facility.” He glanced over at Jason as if waiting for some complaint.
Jason gestured for him to go on. These were the professionals. He couldn’t expect them to risk lives unduly. He could’ve missed something important. Before Captain Stiles could speak, Jason asked, “Just out of curiosity, how close was my drawing?”
Stiles paused long enough to convey he was censoring himself. “Well, your scale was a little off, and you missed two heavily armored doors in the seventh-floor basement. We’re still not sure what’s inside those, but I’m very interested in finding out. The man claims they were only small storage rooms.” Stiles paused and tapped a finger to his lips. “And there’s a dumbwaiter system leading into Wilkes's lab. It’s too small for a person, but we might use it to send a message, asking him to get behind something if we need explosives. And—” He stopped himself. “You did an excellent job, my Prince.”
Yea, yea. He felt like the man just patted him on the head. Jason could vision his drawing hanging on the break room refrigerator door. “Okay, so our raid?”
The meeting went on for another two hours. The power would be cut to the building before the assault during the time when only two guards and Dr. Wilkes were on the grounds. A team of ten would storm the building, incapacitate the guards, secure the blood sample, drag the cloning tanks out, rescue Dr. Wilkes, save the princess, win the admiration of millions, pop open a bottle of champagne, all before breakfast and without making a dramatic scene.
In two days, Jason would get to watch it all unfold from the comfort of the conference room while sipping tea. Oh, joy. Maybe he could arrange for some balloons to drop from the dome ceiling afterward to celebrate the victory.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What would you like for dinner, Lieutenant?” They strolled along the street, heading back to the hotel.
Shimizu brushed a hand along her jacket edge, assuring herself for the millionth time her weapon was in place. “It doesn’t matter, sir. I can find something from just about anywhere you select.”
Jason enjoyed some aspects of this planet. With so many travelers, there was an amazing variety of food available, and the domes kept the weather inside constant and comfortable. Never a rainy day like home. Rhime wasn’t just a wet planet, it was an extremely wet planet. It had an unusual atmospheric makeup that allowed clouds to form and stack on top of each other with the thickness of kilometers. When they let loose, a hundred and fifty centimeters of rainfall in a day was considered average for the capital.
“You haven’t told me much about yourself. I’ve had you in my pocket for a while now. Don’t you get a day off? I’ve heard you talking to your family.”
“The Captain’s already offered me a day off, sir. I declined. My husband complains, but he understands.”
The monorail system provided the bulk of the transport on Alexandria, but a few small delivery vehicles wandered the street. There were no cars on the planet and businesses with permits for vehicles inside the domes used overgrown carts. Some were enclosed like a van to protect merchandise, but most were open flatbeds using antigrav fields. A man coming toward them in one of t
he carts waved as he went by. She stiffened in response to the possible threat, and Jason curled his arm through Shimizu’s so she’d look less like a bodyguard.
“Why decline? I’m sure the Captain could dig up someone else to take your place for a day or two.”
“You’re hindering my gun hand.” She glanced at him and pulled away. “Sir, you’re the most important assignment I’ve ever been given and probably the most important I’ll ever get. My family can wait another week or so until this is over.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, Lieutenant. I suppose if everything works out okay, this will look good on your résumé. So, how many children do you have?” He’d already heard her talking to at least one. They reached the Grand Denmark Hotel and went inside.
Shimizu nodded. “I have a daughter, sir. She’s six. She’s also very excited that her mommy gets to guard you.”
Jason’s lips tightened into a grin. “I’m guessing you haven’t told her how boring most of your day is.”
The elevator door opened, and Shimizu had to use her palm to get it to take them to the private floor with penthouses. “I may add a few interesting embellishments in my nightly calls home.”
He could envision the tales. “Ahh, yes. Making up suitably princely stories about me. I would offer to meet her, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t live up to her expectations.”
The woman turned absolutely red. “Sir, I couldn’t… I wouldn’t…”
Jason broke into a relaxed smile. “Don’t worry about it. When this over, you can put her in a pink dress and tiara, and I’ll kiss her hand while you take a picture.” Why not. He’d done plenty of PR for the company before. “I’ll even wear the uniform.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that, sir.” The elevator opened, and she darted out in front of him, checking the halls with a professional aura. When they got to his room, she said, “Stay here, sir.” Unlocking the door to the suite, she slipped inside. “Won’t be a moment.”
Jason leaned against the wall as Shimizu went chasing shadows. It was time for her evening sweep. A couple came out of another room. He stopped his leaning and straightened his posture. They stared back at him as they walked but then turned toward the elevator without giving any more acknowledgment to him. Shimizu’s paranoia might be rubbing off, but he was cautious about entering hotel rooms these days.
Reopening the door, she called to him. “All clear, sir.”
“Thank you.” He entered the suite and went to the room service menu panel. “I’m starved. Would you like another order of Curtorian dinth nuggets?” And why not, she’d eaten them almost every night.
“That’s fine, sir. Extra spicy, please. So, do you have anyone waiting for you back home?”
Certainly, his father waited for him. What sort of reception he’d offer was another question. His guilt about leaving the population of Rhime to the erratic and increasingly violent leadership of his father hit him again. He really needed to get home and do something about that situation.
“Waiting, no.” He could almost see Sparrow’s face within the jumble of food selections on the menu. He couldn’t picture her pining away her days at home eagerly awaiting his return. She wasn’t on Rhime right now in any case.
“Something wrong, sir?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” He’d forgotten what he was doing and tapped in a few selections. “I don’t really have much in the way of friends, only pre-screened associates.”
“I didn’t mean to presume anything, sir.” She was back to speaking meekly like the first day they met.
Of course, she’d completely lost her mind and treated him like a person for a moment. He tried to affix a smile, but it was a weak one. “Quite alright, Lieutenant.” He lifted his chin and tugged on his jacket. “If you’re interested, there is a young lady of some importance in my life but understanding her half of our…” He couldn’t think of them as having a relationship but other descriptions eluded him. “Well, I just don’t understand her.”
“Ahh.” She grinned. “One of those situations. I’m sure you’ll do fine, sir. I can’t imagine someone turning you down.”
He opened his mouth to ask advice from a female perspective, but she checked the time and asked, “Can you spare me for a few moments, sir? I’d like to call home before Geeza goes to bed.”
“Is Geeza your daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lovely name. Go ahead.”
She wandered into the smaller bedroom while he waited for dinner, flipping through a few entertainment programs. Nothing held his attention. All the images kept morphing into Sparrow.
He’d just changed the channel from a program explaining the best way to increase your odds against the house on the klitch tables — a thinly veiled attempt to get more customers into the casinos — to a show proclaiming the merits of getting out your darkest sexual desires while on Alexandria, when the door to his suite exploded in.
It wasn’t a loud echoing boom, splintering the door, but a muffled thump which left one side still on its hinges and the other blackened and smoking. Four men dressed in dome security uniforms followed a second later as the charred smell of the blast filled the room. Jason barely had time to stand when two of them tackled him. He heard the familiar hiss of a medical injector a moment before everything got fuzzy and numb. Then there was nothing.
When he came back to the world, he found himself in a room he recognized. The furniture had been cleared out since he last saw the place while in the Mirre. They left him on the floor stripped to his boxers. Unsteadily, Jason got to his feet. He went over to the door knowing it wouldn’t open, but as if compelled, he checked. “Yup, locked.” His knuckles rapped the sturdy door.
He crossed the room and tapped the wall. “You still in there, Dr. Wilkes?” The doctor’s lab turned prison had to be on the other side of the wall. Getting no response, Jason paced around the room.
He needed to organize his thoughts. Someone had slipped up somewhere along the line for Wingate and Carson to even know he was on Alexandria. Jason felt an irrational wave of guilt that it might have been him to screw up. Even more horrifying, what happened to Shimizu? Had they killed her or just incapacitated her? Maybe she was in another room.
He couldn’t be sure how long he’d been asleep but from the strength of his headache and his overpowering thirst — not to mention the full bladder — it had to be a day or more. There was a bottle of water and a tray on the floor near the door. Too weak, and perhaps too cowardly, to check the Mirre for the Lieutenant at the moment, he plopped back to the ground next to the tray. The plastic bucket seemed to imply he’d be in here for a while.
Poison or drugs didn't seem likely. If they wanted him dead, they had ample opportunity. No voluntary ingestion required. For what seemed like endless hours, he sat sipping water and gnawing on some kind of disgusting chocolate covered bar of sawdust that tasted faintly of sweat and apricot.
Eventually, he recovered enough to check on Shimizu. As for actually going through with it was another issue. He didn’t want to find emptiness waiting for him when he reached for her. Was he responsible for the death of some little girl’s mother? He caught himself digging his nails into his knee. Putting it off would do no good.
With a heavy heart, he focused. Lieutenant Shimizu. My guardian. Geeza’s mother.
The response was as blank as the walls. It twisted his soul into knots. He curled into a ball and wept until sleep came again.
The next day brought a knock and a shouted, “Step back from the door, or we’ll shoot you.” The classic threats never go out of style.
Complying with the request, Jason moved as far away as possible. The door opened, and two of his attackers from the hotel strutted into the room. Both as tall as him and looking decidedly unfriendly. No longer in their dome security outfits, they wore the same uniform he’d seen in one of Captain Stiles’s pictures of Ellen Wingate — Serigala Marines. The rank markings meant nothing to him.
Picking the one with
the shock gun, he took in the details. Weathered skin. Cropped chestnut hair. Broad-shouldered with the stance of a soldier. Hooded eyes and lips tightened to a thin line.
The other man held another tray with Jason’s next round of rations. A blinding rage ran through him at the sight of them. It could’ve been one of these men who killed Shimizu. His heart raced, and he quivered at the chance to jump at them. He shifted to the balls of his feet, searching for an opening.
The one holding the gun tensed and spoke through a thick Serigala accent. “Don’t try it. You wouldn’t make it two steps.”
He was a few meters away from the door and didn’t stand much chance. Jason’s jaw ached with the tension. His brows knitted together, and he could only scowl as the other man dropped the new tray and picked up the used one. Stepping backward, they closed the door.
He could hear them opening the doctor’s lab next door. While the details were still fresh in his mind, Jason returned to the floor, crossed his legs, and grasped for that immaterial thread which would create a link. Piece of shit soldier. Serigala Marine. From behind.
It took a couple of minutes to form the connection, and Jason landed in the Mirre just as the door to the stairwell closed in his face. He went back and waited another minute before trying again. The second time, the man was alone and down in the seventh-floor basement, but he spotted Jason almost instantly when he turned a corner.
The third time, Jason watched as the guard put his hand on a palm scanner and opened a door. It was one of the rooms he hadn’t seen. From the outside, it looked no different than the flimsy office doors throughout most of the building. Even the heavier doors holding back the sixth floor didn’t have this level of security. Looking more like a vault, it swung open with the aid of rollers along the floor and had to be half a meter thick. The man went inside and closed the door before Jason could come out from the stack of crates he’d been hiding behind.
Back in the cell, Jason’s heart thumped with excitement. Stiles had mentioned something about those rooms being armored, but at the time, Jason let the comment pass from his mind as unimportant.
Shabin- The Reluctant Prince of Rhime Page 19