The Bayern Agenda

by Dan Moren

  “Eli.”

  “Please don’t say it.”

  “We can’t leave the prince here.”

  He sighed. “Seriously. I told you not to say it. Look, the guy’s a rotten piece of work, by all accounts. I was going to warn you, but, well, you know.”

  “Yeah, he started getting handsy the second we got into the car – left a nasty bruise on my wrist. I’ll say this for whoever the hell grabbed us: they saved me the trouble of punching him in the throat.”

  “See? Far as I’m concerned, he’s exactly where he deserves to be.”

  “Eli, an incident of this level, even on an independent world, could send the whole galaxy spiraling back into open war.”

  Something tugged at the back of his mind, that feeling once again that he was missing some crucial piece of this whole sordid affair. He shook his head. “From what I hear, sounds like it might be a fair trade.”

  “He’s a sadistic bastard, that’s for sure, but he’s not worth going to war over.”

  “So, who the hell do we think these people are, then? Who’d want him?”

  “Well, we’re talking the heir to the Illyrican Empire,” Taylor said. “I can think of any number of people who’d like to ransom him for a chunk of change.”

  Eli shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I tried to get them to deal when they interrogated me, and they looked at me like I was crazy. Like I should have known there was no chance of dealing.”

  He heard Taylor shift position, and somehow could feel her looking at him. “What kind of deal exactly?”

  Eli wriggled uncomfortably. His voice lowered to a whisper, even though he doubted they were being bugged – these people already had what they were after; Eli and Taylor were just collateral. “It’s, uh, possible that they may be laboring under the misapprehension, which I might add was entirely of their own conception–”

  “Eli.”

  “–that I’m IIS.” If we make it out of here, I am totally fired, aren’t I?

  There was a silence that might have been described as “stunned,” or, more accurately, as “flabbergasted beyond all belief,” and it was a minute before Taylor spoke again.

  “Holy shit.” The expletive was laced with admiration. “Jesus, Eli. It’s possible you’ve found your life’s calling.”

  “Which would be more reassuring if it seemed like there was a little more time left on my clock.”

  “So, they think you’re IIS, and they don’t want to deal. Which means it’s political.”

  “That was the conclusion I came to. But I’m afraid I haven’t really had a chance to study the Imperium’s dissident movements.”

  “Lucky for you, I know them only too well.” She paused. “There aren’t many that would try something this brazen, though. And even fewer that are this well-organized.”

  “Our captors strike me as military. Or ex-military?”

  “Agreed.” Another pause. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Taylor said, frustration creeping into her voice. “It doesn’t fit any of the profiles. Most of the Imperium’s dissident groups are those urging détente with the Commonwealth. The military, by and large, are hardliners – hawks.”

  “Doesn’t seem like they’d have much to gain from grabbing His Imperial Highness.”

  “No. If anything, Hadrian’s sympathetic to their cause. And eliminating him would ensure the throne passes to the next sibling.”

  Eli racked his brain. The emperor had three children: another son and the youngest, a daughter. “Matthias, right? Could he be behind it?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Taylor, haltingly. “He’s smart, sure, but he doesn’t have the ambition. He got the benevolent streak in the family, which has made him a sight less interested in playing politics and far more concerned with the plight of endangered fauna on the tundras of Sevastapol.”

  “You never know with brothers,” Eli said. “Trust me. What about the daughter?”

  “Isabella. She’s the youngest, and she keeps a pretty low profile. Mostly charity work, personal appearances, that kind of thing. Doesn’t seem to have much of a political presence.”

  They fell into silence. In his mind, Eli kept disassembling and reassembling all the puzzle pieces that they’d acquired – it was like his brain was chasing its own tail. There are just too many unknowns. What was the prince doing here? Who grabbed him? Why? What do they hope to gain? Repeating the questions over and over just made him feel like he was in some sort of fever dream.

  Eli rubbed his forehead. “I’m about two seconds from suggesting that you just knife the next guy who comes through that door. Just to do something.”

  “Tactically, we’d probably blow our advantage in the first five seconds,” said Taylor. Her voice softened. “But yeah, that doesn’t make it any less tempting.”

  “How many are there, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. How many have you seen?”

  “Two, I think,” said Eli, searching his memory. “The one who interrogated me: average height, dark complexion, dark hair, dark eyes. Plus, another fellow who was rather unremarkable. Taller, I think maybe with lighter eyes. You?”

  “Well, it looked like a full squad when they jumped us outside of the embassy – plus, they clearly had support to set up that collision. But here I’ve only seen four: the two you mentioned, another guard with a shaved head, and a fourth who clearly had some sort of clout. He was the one who told the guards to throw me in here. Younger, handsome – blond, I think. Looked like someone had given him the business in a fight, though; he had a pretty nasty bruise on his cheek.”

  Blond? It was as though a puzzle piece had clicked into place, jammed right in his craw. There are plenty of blond men, Eli. Some huge percentage of the galaxy. But, still… “Handsome, you say? Maybe about five foot ten? Really blue eyes?”

  “Yeah,” said Taylor slowly. “Did you see him?”

  I think I did. And I think he lied right to my face. That same feeling from the interrogation – that he was in deep water, kicking his feet valiantly to stay afloat – had returned with a vengeance. “This… is probably not good.”

  I thought he was my friend. Following hard on the heels of that thought came a strong sense of the ludicrous. You’re a Commonwealth spy, he’s an Illyrican officer – friendship doesn’t enter the equation. Sure, they’d been friends five years ago at the academy, but it’s not as though they’d kept in close touch. Granted, that would have been tough, what with Eli being stuck on Sabaea for five years.

  And if it had been Erich who had put Taylor in here with him, then he’d bought Eli’s story. There, you lied to him too. Now you’re even. That also explained why the interrogator had bit down so hard on the IIS cover story – Eli had already told Erich, who had no reason not to believe him.

  It dawned on him that it also explained why the heck they’d grabbed him in the first place. Elias Adler the businessman might be wealthy and worth holding for ransom, but they’d already established their captors weren’t in it for the money.

  Eli Brody the IIS agent, though, that would be another thing entirely – especially for a group who was about to kidnap the heir to the Illyrican Empire. They’d been trying to get him out of the way. So why not just kill him?

  “Eli? Care to share with the rest of the class?”

  He almost laughed; it reminded him of Kovalic. “I… I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here, but I’m getting closer. I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger.” There were numerous ways it would have been easier and safer for Erich to just clean up the loose end that was Eli Brody, but he’d ensured his safety. Several times, it seemed. So maybe there’s a glimmer of friendship still in there. Wayyyyyy down.

  And, if there was, he could exploit it.

  “I think I have a plan.”

  It took a solid half hour of pounding on the metal door – which had Eli’s hand throbbing – before anybody so much as came to check on them. Eli had started to worry that their captors had
moved on to the next stage of their mission, whatever it was, and left them there to rot. His pounding had taken on a tinge of the panicky, which explained the alien wave of relief that washed over him when a voice growled from the other side of the door.

  “All right, all right. Knock it off. What do you want?”

  “Tell von Denffer that I need to see him,” said Eli through the door. “Especially if he’s going to go through with this idiotic plan.”

  There was a pause from the other side of the door. “Listen, pal, I don’t know what you think–”

  “Just tell him,” said Eli sharply. “I’ll wait.”

  He perched himself back on the end of the bed, next to Taylor. She’d tucked the knife back into the sheath on her inner thigh; Eli hoped they wouldn’t have to use it, but he wasn’t about to give up any advantages.

  Ten minutes passed, Eli fidgeting in the darkness. He’d just begun to wonder if he was going to have to start making noise again when there came the sound of a heavy iron bolt being shot, followed by the door creaking on its hinges. The room’s lights flooded on and Eli put up his arm, his eyes watering from the onslaught. Beside him, Taylor was also shielding her gaze.

  “Eli.”

  He blinked, rubbing at his eyes to clear his vision. Erich von Denffer sat, legs crossed, in a chair opposite him. The bruise on his face was, if anything, more colorful. I guess that was the real deal; he’s committed. Or, at any rate, he should be. Two of the other men – the one who had interrogated Eli earlier, and the one Taylor had seen, with the shaved head – flanked him.

  “Hello, Erich.”

  “I was told you had something to discuss with me.”

  “What, no pleasantries? No theatrics this time?” His eyes flicked to the other men.

  “It seems like we’ve passed that point, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I’d say.”

  Erich leaned back, blue eyes taking him in. “So. What is it you want?”

  “Oh, oodles of things,” said Eli. “Peace in our time, a fresh croissant, maybe a walk-on role on The Lives We Give–” One of the other men raised his pistol significantly, and Eli put up his hands.

  Erich smiled ruefully. “Same old Eli Brody. Your mouth keeps running even when your brain has stopped.”

  Oh, you have no idea.

  “Fine. I’ll settle for the immediate future. What do I have to do to secure my and Ms Mulroney’s freedom?”

  Erich raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m interested in offering you your freedom?”

  “You haven’t killed us yet.”

  “‘Yet’ being the operative word.”

  Eli leveled a gaze at his old friend, holding his eyes. “I don’t think you want to kill us, Erich,” he said, his voice even. “It might have been a while, but I have a pretty good idea of who Erich von Denffer is and isn’t.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, his mind suddenly summoned up a snippet of conversation from the party. Something Erich had told him…

  “Eli, you like this girl?… Then do yourself – and her – a big favor, and get her out of here right now.”

  Erich opened his mouth to reply, but Eli interrupted him. “You warned me. Me, an IIS agent. You as good as spilled the beans on His Imperial Highness’s… proclivities.”

  Something lanced through Erich’s eyes; it looked like fear. The two men behind him shifted, frowning down at the handsome pilot.

  “Why bother, if you were only going to kill me – us – later?” He jerked his head at Taylor, who had remained quiet.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” broke in the dark-haired man, his brow creased.

  “Typical Eyes mindgames,” said Erich, not sparing a look. But that fear Eli had seen hadn’t been entirely banished from his eyes.

  Eli waggled his fingers at the dark-haired man. “Miiiiinnnnd gaaaaameeess,” he whispered in his best spooky voice.

  “Shut it,” Erich seethed.

  But it was too late; Eli had the piece he’d been missing, and everything else was starting to click into place. “They don’t know, do they?” he said, trying to hold back a grin that desperately wanted to escape. “Your compatriots here – they had in mind a different plan entirely, huh? But you went off script, Erich. Why? Not quite onboard with the whole idea? Didn’t fancy helping a sadistic maniac?”

  Both of the men had tightened their grips on their pistols now. Erich sighed, pinching his temples between thumb and forefinger. “Five years, Eli, and you’re still a pain in the ass, you know?”

  The dark-haired man put a heavy hand down on Erich’s shoulder. “I think we’d better have a talk, sir. Outside.”

  Erich sagged, and the man’s grip loosened. That split second was all it took; Erich slapped a hand on the other man’s and sprung, twisting his body and swiveling the other man’s arm inside out. The dark-haired man blinked in surprise, but before he had a chance to react, Erich had slid his right arm up and under the man’s throat. Shaved Head brought up his gun, but not before Erich had grabbed his human shield’s left hand with his own and raised the dark-haired man’s pistol at his partner.

  “Let’s all just take it easy,” said Erich.

  A knife sprouted from Shaved Head’s shoulder, but he barely had time to register surprise, much less a shout of pain, before a purple blur collided with him, slamming him bodily into the wall. Eli blinked, his gaze snapping to the spot next to him on the couch where Taylor had been sitting quietly only a moment before. Now she was busy ramming the other man’s head into drywall.

  Both Erich and the dark-haired man gaped at the sudden intervention, but the dark-haired man recovered faster, elbowing Erich in the gut and knocking the wind out of him. He dropped the gun with his left hand, then used it to grab Erich’s loosened right arm and swing it around behind the pilot’s back. Kicking Erich’s knee out, the man tried to force him to the ground.

  Taylor, meanwhile, had put the other man into a chokehold that he’d been unable to break, his eyes rolling back in his head as he passed out. She dropped his limp body like a sack of potatoes and scooped up Shaved Head’s gun. Eli’s eyes darted to the weapon that the dark-haired man had dropped, then launched himself off the bed, sliding across the floor to grab it. The movement got the attention of the man, who turned from Erich to stomp heavily on top of the weapon’s barrel.

  But Erich took that opportunity to break free of the man’s grasp, and put all his energy into springing up from the floor and hitting the man with his best haymaker. The man’s foot slipped on the barrel of the gun and he went down, cracking his skull on the floor. Eli scrambled to his feet, raising the gun at Erich and saw Taylor doing the same with the pistol she’d liberated.

  “How many more?” asked Taylor, her eyes locked on Erich.

  Erich’s gaze darted to the two comrades he’d helped take out, then back at Taylor, and he gave a sour smile. “Should have known you’d have had a wingman, Eli.”

  “You should have,” Eli agreed. “Now answer the nice lady’s question.”

  “One more,” said Erich with a sigh. “Here in the house, anyway.”

  “And where the hell is here?”

  “It’s a, uh, personal residence.”

  “Please tell me we’re still in Bergfestung,” said Taylor.

  Erich didn’t meet her eyes, but gave a minute nod.

  Taylor let out a short breath, then cracked her neck. She jutted her chin at Eli. “Check them,” she said, indicating the bodies on the floor.

  Eli dropped to one knee, keeping the gun in one hand as he checked their pulses and searched them. Both were alive, but neither was carrying much more than anonymous payment cards – no IDs. But as he rifled Shaved Head’s jacket, the neck of his shirt snagged and Eli caught the edge of a tattoo beneath. Frowning, he peeled back the shirt; sure enough, a stylized black hawk with a crown above it. He snapped his glance up at Erich – sometimes you put another puzzle piece into place only to realize how much more of the whole picture you were m
issing.

  “All right,” said Taylor. “Let’s get moving, shall we?” She stepped over and grabbed Erich by the collar, shoving him towards the open door. The blond man didn’t say anything, just let himself be sullenly ushered out into the hall. Eli closed and bolted the door behind them, and breathed a sigh of relief. I really did not want to stay in that room for the rest of my life.

  The corridor looked like it was intended for service; undecorated, it had a linoleum floor and no windows, instead lit by harsh blue fluorescent strips. Probably underground, Eli figured. Sure enough, as they rounded a corner they came to a set of stairs leading up. Taylor nodded to Eli to take up a position behind Erich as she climbed the stairs and cracked open the door at the top.

  “She’s good,” muttered Erich. “Spent the whole time crying and screaming.” He shook his head. “Had me fooled, that’s for sure.”

  Sadly, that’s not nearly as hard as you seem to think.

  “There’s a few things I’m still confused about,” said Eli.

  “Oh, by all means,” said Erich dryly. “Let me clear those up for you.”

  Taylor hissed at them from the stairs, then beckoned them upwards. Eli motioned at Erich with the gun, and with a sigh he started climbing.

  “Those guys back there,” Eli said under his breath as they ascended, “they were from the prince’s honor wing. Just like you.”

  “You know how it is. You have to work with people you trust.”

  “That sure worked out great for them.”

  Erich shrugged.

  They reached the top of the stairs, and Taylor raised a finger to her lips, then slipped out the door. Eli pushed Erich ahead, then followed suit.

  It was dark upstairs, the only light filtering through from windows high overhead. As Erich had said, the building did seem to be a private residence – and a lavish one to boot. The side of the door facing the stairwell had been featureless metal, painted a sickly shade of off-white; the outward side was richly appointed in a deep burnished wood, carved with elegant decorations that blended seamlessly into the wall. Eli’s feet sunk deep into a lush carpet and, despite having been surrounded by richness for the last several days, he found himself gawking at the brass chandeliers that hung overhead and the detailed oil paintings on the wall. He’d thought the Imperial embassy luxurious, but this place had it beat hands down.