When Diplomacy Fails . . .-eARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  He was just glad, and amazed the man was alive.

  On his glasses, Shaman’s image hand signed approval, and sent a text confirmation for record. “Shaman says okay. I’ll look for a music load,” he said. Also, a second blanket to cover the man’s groin.

  It was possible his brain had completely rewired pain as arousal. Was it important enough to discuss with Shaman? Maybe.

  Bart arrived, and he rose and stretched. They didn’t need to sit watch, but they wanted to, and Aramis should appreciate it.

  Back at the billet, Alex met him at the door.

  “Jason, I have a specific instruction for you, which is not an order.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have no authority to require this, but as your boss and your friend, I am telling you not to look at any news or comments regarding the attack on Aramis. Best case, you’ll want to smash things.”

  Jason sighed deeply. “Yeah, I can imagine. That’s good advice, and I’ll give it a few days to age off the list. We’re all mercenary scum and deserve anything that happens to us, yes?”

  “If that was all, I’d be happy. The depths that ‘tolerant’ people will sink to never cease to amaze me.”

  “Okay, then I’m already pissed enough and will avoid it further. Thanks.”

  There was an emotional toll to being an unemotional mercenary scum.

  Alex was drained. Lionel and Corcoran were reliable, but they weren’t part of the regular team. Shaman was back most of the time, but still checked Aramis twice a day. They’d been painted and egged again, and now he had another brief with Captain Das.

  “Good morning, Captain,” he said as he arrived. He wanted to be polite, but he didn’t want to call anyone in the military “sir.” It was too easy for them to take it as subordination.

  “Good morning, Agent Marlow,” Das returned. He probably had the same guideline in mind. They were polite, courteous and supportive of each other, while recognizing that they might have to diverge on strategy at any moment.

  He asked, “Were you able to get the packet from BuState intel?”

  “No, I was not. They won’t release it.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. I was briefed in person and there wasn’t even a recording or a release.”

  “Therefore that briefing never took place.”

  Alex took a moment to ponder that. Shit. He’d missed that.

  “Okay, so why would they do us a favor and not the military?”

  “It could be some territorial issue. It could also be unofficial, but sanctioned because you’re protecting their boss.”

  “They generally stay well out of our way. But I appreciate the heads up they gave.”

  “They didn’t ask for a classification statement?”

  “No,” Alex said. “I’m not officially held, and he didn’t say not to share it with allies, but if I’m going to do that, I need your personal assurance you’ll be discreet on what gets released among your people.”

  Das said, “I can do that. Will you have the room swept?”

  “I don’t need to. I’ll accept your word.”

  Das blinked and stared at him for a moment, and Alex realized it had been a request.

  “However, if Agent Vaughn is handy, it might not be a bad idea, just in case of outside sources.”

  Das nodded.

  He called, and Jason came in, swept the place quickly, and set a small device on the table. It hummed something that wasn’t quite white noise, and shifted in modulation.

  “Go ahead, that’s as clear as I can make it. There’s the captain’s official mics over there, and one in the corner behind the shelf.”

  Das’ eyebrows flared. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware of that one.”

  “I can try to track it later.”

  “Delicately, please.”

  “Absolutely.” Jason waited a half second for any potential invite or followup orders, then nodded and left.

  Alex said, “That’s why I have these people. Okay, Gillette gave me a rundown on threats.” He rattled off as best he could, from memory at the time and his compiled notes, which were not here, being in a safe that was set to char all contents and churn them to powder if tampered with.

  When he finished, Das looked quizzical.

  Das leaned back and said, “There was a substantive threat with seizure and arrest two weeks ago.”

  “Amala?”

  “No, Coalition. The man seems to be a freelancer. He’s suspected in three bombings.”

  That made Alex jolt alert. “Still in custody?”

  “No, he was released on two million bond. He made the bond.”

  And Gillette hadn’t considered that important enough to mention.

  “How was the threat worded?”

  “I’ll bring up a copy. It was directed at ‘enemies of the God of Heaven, and the idolaters and gamblers polluting even His chosen new world.’ That’s this place, and it refers to the stock market that opened up three months back, and any loan agency.”

  “So, not directly at her, then.” Had Gillette not mentioned it because he didn’t think it was relevant?

  Alex never trusted anyone without proof, but at this point, BuState itself moved onto the “not trusted with any significant information” list.

  To Das he said, “Thanks, sir. I’ll follow up on that.”

  “You’re welcome. By the way, I forwarded your generous donation to several officers. It was well-received, and the derision seems to have lessened slightly.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” Though he didn’t think it would please Jason much.

  He shook hands and he turned to leave.

  On the way back he considered their position. Their own contractee was potentially the enemy. That could lead to all kinds of fun.

  They’d need to have two levels of prep at this point.

  Aramis crossed the line from sleeping to awake with a snap. He felt rested, but there was that confusion from the medication, and dread of the pending pain, though it was substantially lessened.

  Elke was next to him.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “I am not allowed to tell you you’ll be on your feet in a week.”

  “Oh, sorry I didn’t hear that.” Good. He wanted out of here. Doing nothing sucked.

  “You did well,” she said. “I am very impressed.”

  “Thanks,” he said. If Elke said that, she meant it.

  “You’ve been here a week. Probably another week. You are bored?”

  “You wouldn’t believe. The pain I can handle . . . yeah, let’s say so. I hate vid and can’t move to do anything.”

  “I will bring more books.”

  His eyes suddenly felt tired. “I appreciate it, but I’m burned out staring at the screen for books or vid. I’ve had enough music. I just need to get on my feet.”

  “You can’t move now, though,” she said, while looking him over.

  He flexed against the bonds. They were to prevent injury. He could undo them if he chose, he just couldn’t thrash and tear anything.

  “No, I’m pretty much restrained between shifts.”

  “Well, good. You can’t strain anything, or interfere with therapy.”

  “I don’t get therapy here,” he said. “It’s all . . .”

  Elke’s hand was under the covers from the side, snaking slowly toward him. He lit up with goose bumps all over.

  “Elke,” he said, “I—”

  “Last time you earned a kiss. This time, you’re unable to manage alone.”

  Her position meant no one passing by the door would see anything untoward, as long as he didn’t trip any biometric alarms.

  Those were the fingers she used to fabricate those incredible bombs, from firecracker to ground shaker. They were amazingly delicate, just feathery touches.

  “So we just hold a conversation?” he said. It felt like that again. He wondered if he’d ever enjoy normal sex again, or if it would all have to be violent, edgy and extreme.

&
nbsp; “If you like,” she said. That look of concentration. She was intent on this, and he could feel it.

  “This isn’t going to take long.”

  “Not if I know what I’m doing, no.” A long caress along his nerves threw his endorphins for a loop again.

  He closed his eyes, tightened his breath and rode out the thudding waves in his brain.

  When he looked, she was sitting in the chair, a calm expression on her face and a towel stuffed into her harness.

  “Oh, damn. I really did need that,” he said, as waves of tension thudded through him and ebbed away.

  “Only while incapacitated. That is not an offer,” she said, with a quirky smile.

  He nodded slightly. “Understood, and thank you most sincerely. I’ll try to stay in one piece.”

  “Bart will be along in ten minutes, and I will revert to bitch. You will respect that, of course.” Her face was professional, but behind her eyes, just a hint of something he recognized.

  “Unquestionably,” he said. Yup, never mention it again. And no, it wasn’t worth getting chewed up, as much as he did appreciate it.

  He hoped Bart would smuggle in some liquor, though, because his brain wanted to match Elke and Caron.

  Goddamit, not again.

  CHAPTER 13

  ALEX WAS GLAD to have Aramis back in one piece. That was his primary concern. Officially, not losing the principal was primary. In actuality, he cared more for his people than the job. Stopping bullets was their mission, but that was just it—the principal was a job. Aramis was a friend and valued subordinate.

  So, whether Aramis was mentally fit for duty or not, he was alive, safe, healed. That was first.

  Das was with them in their own conference room in the BuState compound. Aramis had been debriefed several times in various levels of consciousness. This was to confirm the intel and have him sign off on it, and decide if he would remain on mission.

  “Before we call him in, I need to know if he’ll be fit for the trip next week.” It was a long trip, too, visiting two other cities and several smaller towns. The argument for her visit as minister was incredibly tenuous. It was obviously an election junket.

  Shaman said, “Yes. He will be fit, if a bit weak, and he’s eager to resume operating.”

  “Good, then. I’ll still keep Lionel on call as backup for anyone who might go down.”

  Jason said, “That’s a reasonable precaution. We can also cycle Aramis back with Cady’s group as he spools back up, as an interim.”

  “Yes, we discussed that. It’s possible.” He turned and asked, “Captain Das, are you ready?”

  Das said, “Quite, and relaxed. Please don’t let me hinder you, and I appreciate your hospitality and cooperation.” He still had that faint smile. It was nice to deal with a professional.

  “Well, we appreciate thirty kilos of Composition G. But you can bet Elke will want more.”

  He grinned for just a moment. “I’ll allow it, if we can find it.”

  Jason said, “Here he is.”

  Shaman escorted Aramis in. His limp was mostly gone, and he seemed to be fatigued and battered at this point. That was a significant improvement over the sack of meat he’d resembled a few days before.

  Alex offered, “Morning.”

  “Yes it is,” he said, in mock disgust over the cheerfulness he couldn’t hide. “I should have been drinking to feel like this.”

  “Well, you can do that in a few days, too. I’ll allow one evening of relaxation, if Shaman agrees, regardless of Army rules.”

  “Thanks.”

  He indicated the tablet and hard copy notes on the table. “Here’s the audio debriefs you had, though you’re not coherent in some. You’ll need to go through them again and see if you can decipher your mumbles. We don’t expect additional data, but have to check.”

  “I’ll check. I don’t remember those at all, so it’s going to be a formality.”

  “That’s what we expect. Then you’ll need to review the written notes and sign off. This here is just a release form,” he passed it over, “so Captain Das can officially use your intel. I took the liberty of extending him courtesy on that.”

  “By all means,” Aramis said. He glanced over the page easily enough, printed the thumb block and signed over it in pen.

  Das said, “Thanks. Before anything else, I’m very glad you’re alive and recovering. And I do appreciate the intel. Everything we can get is not enough. You know this and I’ll spare you the breakdown, but do know I’m grateful.”

  “No problem, sir. Thanks for cutting the resources loose to recover me.”

  Das nodded and moved on. “So, we’re still trying to narrow down who might have targeted you as a means of targeting her. They asked about one specific schedule. Anything else you remember at all?”

  “No,” Aramis said and shook his head firmly. “They asked lots of questions, but I only remember that they wanted Highland’s itinerary, accused me of lying for not knowing, disputed that it would be changed if there was a problem. Then they made personal comments about my resistance.”

  Alex pondered, “So the question remains, were they stupid enough to think the schedule couldn’t change, or connected enough to believe she wouldn’t let that affect her?”

  Jason said, “The question may remain a while longer. However, I’m tending toward the latter. They had good intel and surveillance practice to get Aramis, their interrogation was brutal but effective at its purpose of causing extreme pain with minimal critical damage—not even fractures. They understood the potential for embolism, aneurysm, internal hemorrhage and other complications, and avoided them.”

  Alex said, “Except they died quickly. They might know intel, but they don’t know combat.”

  Jason said, “The ones interrogating didn’t know combat. They may not have been the only ones.”

  “We also know they’re local, from genotype and environmental cues.”

  Aramis started and flared his eyebrows.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “The ones who interrogated me were speaking English. North American. Neutral accent.”

  Captain Das said, “You know, I could have used that information the day you were brought in here.”

  Jason looked at the man and said, “Yeah, well he was a bit distracted at the time. One tends to notice the unusual. I suspect being beaten with boat oars was more unusual than hearing someone talk.”

  “Sorry.” Das had the grace to look sheepish.

  Alex said, “Significant. So the brains had vacated the scene when we arrived and left flunkies to die in their place.”

  Das said, “This would tend to indicate we are dealing with seasoned professionals. The MO does not fit the Amala or Shia. It might fit the Coalition or the Sufis, though I can’t find any motives for them. It also suggests it might be an Earth-based faction.”

  “Not necessarily,” Jason said. “Grainneans have several accents, and lots of us sound North American because we were. They could also be hirelings, including possibly suborned military. No offense, sir.”

  Das shook his head. “None taken. I have to consider that, too.”

  “Could the Isolationist groups have hired outside contractors?”

  Das said, “Shia most definitely would not, ever, do that. It would be beneath them. Amala might, but probably can’t afford to.”

  “Are we missing any potentially hostile groups?”

  Aramis said, “Random pissed off rich dude? I know you said we were told it was unlikely, but it is possible. Caron . . . Miss Prescot, might have ideas on who’d be willing to throw money away for that.”

  “I would expect not random, and well-concealed, but it’s worth asking the question.”

  Jason said, “I’ll send that inquiry ASAP.”

  Das said, “I appreciate your cooperation. This would be so much easier if we had control of the mission.”

  “Yeah, and the reverse is true, of course. Any interaction leads to
delays and inconsistencies. I’m also still wondering why BuState wanted us when they have a good security force, and easy access to the military.”

  “They didn’t tell you?” Das asked.

  “Uh, no?” Alex replied. Was this something known?

  “She’s campaigning. BuState can’t use their resources for private escort, just as we can’t.”

  “I knew a bit of that, but they still have some personnel, and they’re paying for it.”

  “They are? Because officially it should be her campaign’s money.”

  “I doubt they can afford us. I will confirm, but I understood they were paying.”

  “Well, that’s a potential discrepancy you may wish to investigate.”

  “Yes. Very. Thanks.” That would fit a lot of things in, but it also compounded the potential number of threats. Did anyone like this woman?

  “Useful. We need to talk more, Captain,” he said.

  “Obviously, I welcome that.”

  Alex said, “Good. So, with that covered, we have a unit issue to discuss.” That was a hint for Das.

  Das said, “I’ll step out for a moment. I’ll come back for the documents shortly. I must secure them before you leave the premises. Official copies will be forthcoming.” He rose and walked out the door.

  Aramis looked at Alex, and then the others.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  Alex said, “First, how do you feel about returning to duty? Are you ready now, or do you need more time?” That left it open for “more time” to be “past the mission” and then indefinite.

  Aramis sat a little straighter and said, “Personally, I’m ready now. I’ll accept your assessment on whether you think I’m ready. But I feel prepared. If need be, I’d be okay swapping out with one of Cady’s people for a few days.”

  Alex grinned. “I’d considered that, too. Well, then, Shaman?”

  Shaman said, “I’ll want to keep checking him, but he seems sound on the whole. Endurance could be an issue, and that limp might slow him slightly, and, of course, we have had actual engagements.”