When Diplomacy Fails . . .-eARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  Das spread his hands and said, “We have identified two groups friendly to Ms Highland who may have, through an excess of enthusiasm, presented so as to alarm others.

  Highland said, “Ah, the Mtali Women’s Conference and the Justice League.”

  “You’re familiar with them?” Alex asked.

  “Of course!” she said, cheerfully. “Such enthusiasm. They’re creating a future for us.”

  Gillette’s expression indicated he didn’t appreciate being blindsided by his own superior. Alex made a note to see if Elke had any other conversations of interest.

  “Well, that’s good to know,” he said. Can you suggest they limit their enthusiasm out of respect for you, to help things move more swiftly? You can arrange a personal meeting with them later.” He intended such a meeting never take place, and he’d juggle schedule and create threats as needed to ensure that.

  “I can try,” she said, shrugging slightly. “But these are a simple people.”

  What a condescending bitch. Worse, she seemed to delight in “simple people” as her support. She must assume most people were “simple.” Beyond that, many of them seemed proud of the fact.

  He brought his attention back to security. There were still items of note.

  Gillette said, “I do note there are ongoing discussions between you and Mr. Blanding. My concern is that his communications may not be secure.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” she snapped. “He’s been a confidant and trusted friend for decades. You may remember he formerly had your job, among others.”

  “I am not questioning his loyalty, ma’am,” Gillette said with a tone that Alex interpreted to mean he certainly was. “But his phone and feeds are no longer subject to shielding through our system. They could be hacked from outside.”

  “He’s very knowledgeable. He’d never let that happen.”

  “Knowingly, no, but some of the modern techniques are very discreet. I stress constantly over your own quarters here, in case someone is pulling conversations and other data.”

  “You assured me they aren’t.”

  “That I’m aware of, they aren’t. That doesn’t mean they can’t.”

  Thanks for that confirmation, Alex thought.

  “I need his counsel. This is a critical time, and will continue to be so for the rest of the election cycle.”

  “Of course. I only suggest you be careful what issues you phrase.”

  Well, this had easily turned to protecting her campaign rather than herself. Still, if she paid attention, it would help.

  Das apparently took a cue to keep her busy and not argumentative.

  “Ripple Creek furnished us with their video and EM records. We are searching it for evidence. So far, there were at least three encrypted networks operating in that area. One was for your supporters. Regretfully, some of them were well intentioned, but seem unclear of where the line should be drawn. They actively agitated for action against your opponents.”

  “While regrettable, that’s entirely understandable, given the cruel and false accusations leveled at me, along with threats and actual violence.”

  Really, was she unable to not make a campaign speech? No one here cared, all knew the score, and this was about a real issue. She seemed to think talking could fix anything.

  Das ignored it and continued, “Well, we’re still trying to crack the other two networks. The encryption was good. Very good. Good enough military experts are fighting with it. This suggests your opposition has serious resources.”

  She came out of politician long enough to be bitch. “It’s taken you this long to figure that out?”

  “We are determining details, ma’am. The method of encryption should lead to a source, and from there we can learn who is involved.”

  “Very well. Inform me at once. The voters must know this.”

  Das apparently didn’t know how to refuse without risking her ire. Alex stepped up.

  “I will also be using that information to determine best routes and appearances for you, ma’am. My job is to ensure your safety during high-visibility appearances.”

  “Yes, with safety that is very high visibility, and excessive,” she snarled.

  “Ma’am, you instigated events to create an impression, and neglected to tell us—” The expressions of the others indicated they hadn’t known that.

  “I did not! I—”

  He cut her off with a steady, firm voice. “Had we known, we’d have helped you arrange it so we wouldn’t respond in a fashion meant to hurt people. I’d have advised against it entirely. You may have now created the meme that it would be clever, amusing or some kind of score to attack you. Now we have to deal with it. My agents respond as the threat appears. If someone tries to look lethal, we respond accordingly. If we don’t, you wind up dead sooner or later and we get the blame. You can have our security, or arrange your own.”

  He hadn’t intended to tell her off, but the woman was beyond irritating.

  “Yes, your job, your company comes first.” Her tone was belittling.

  “Word indeed,” he said. “They do.”

  Everyone looked at each other, embarrassed, though she’d apparently forgotten her rising argument with Das.

  “I see there is nothing further to accomplish here. Good day,” she said and rose.

  Alex realized the other two now considered him a hindrance. He’d had that intel, and not shared it.

  He shrugged, nodded and stood himself.

  Elke found it amusing to listen in that morning.

  Highland was cursing up a storm to JessieM and the walls.

  “Those mercenary assholes! That loose-lipped bastard, telling everyone we staged an attack. They can’t be trusted with anything.”

  JessieM sounded timid as she said, “It’s always best to keep information inside, ma’am.”

  Yes, Highland had told them of the fact herself. She seemed to have missed that. Interesting that she didn’t trust her own intel people, or the military’s. What a terrible world she lived in.

  Highland said, “Well, we’re safe here. Das admitted he can’t spy on us, and Gillette said he detected nothing. As long as our phones are off, we’re okay.”

  That was amusing, and even more so as her monitors picked up two phones handshaking the nodes and logging out. They’d both had active systems.

  So, Elke must assume someone else with similar gear was monitoring Highland, too. It wasn’t certain, but it was eminently possible. That was the nature of their world. Still, their principal assumed she had secrecy. It was a good thing she didn’t know about Shaman’s monitors, also.

  JessieM said, “Ma’am, you present well. You are still perceived as strong, courageous and honest in the face of adversity.”

  “Hmmph. And what is being said about my security detail?”

  “You’re seen as a victim of the administration, with them as its contract muscle.”

  “Close enough to the truth. You say it’s reading well?”

  “Quite. Even the Neo-Stalinists are sympathetic. They’re talking it against Cruk.”

  “Interesting. Then we need to keep playing that. There are just so many issues here. Showing position over him is as important as the opposition proper.”

  “Yes. They’re all opposition.”

  “Exactly. I can have no friends.”

  “You do have me, ma’am.”

  “Of course. You’re trusted and paid, and so is Erickson.”

  If Elke recalled correctly, Erickson was her campaign manager on Earth. She had quite a small personal staff, considering all things.

  Jessie sounded timid when she said, “What about paying Ripple Creek a bonus?”

  “What?”

  A bit more firmly, she said, “You could offer a bonus for their support so far. That might swing them more your way, and amenable to promotion.”

  “No. They’d let it leak eventually, and then I’d be the one contracting mercenaries. That has to be played right, too.”

/>   “I understand. It was a thought.”

  “Not a bad one, but not right for this circumstance. But I’ll call Mogreb.”

  Elke perked up at that. Mogreb . . . oh . . . kurva drat.

  Mogreb was a Serbian thug disguised as a lawyer, who’d been Highland’s employer before she went into politics. Interestingly, it seemed she’d taught him more than she’d learned from him.

  Still, he was an ugly man. Intimidation and coercion were typical of him, though never proven in court. He’d been on her payroll early on, handling interventions for constituents in her district. If she took an interest in a case, Mogreb showed up to “express concern.” Most of the time, the problem then resolved amicably.

  Certainly it saved court costs. It was also certainly unfair.

  So he was either still on payroll, or was a consultant. So why call him? And where was he?

  “Zoltan, hello again.”

  He was on planet, then, if she spoke to him directly.

  “Did you see the broadcast? Yes, Ms. Landinger’s comments were rather unkind.”

  They spoke for several minutes, but Elke gained all she needed from that opening. Highland wasn’t happy with the press, and was arranging for muscles to mix it up. That was useful to know, and the team would need to be prepared for that if she ever went nasty. More than she already was.

  When she briefed Alex and rolled the file for him, he nodded.

  “For two reasons we can’t get involved. First, it’s none of our business what she does to others, except as it affects potential threats. Also, we can’t let her know we have that feed.”

  “She also might escalate against us,” Elke added.

  “Yes. Still, I’d like to find a way to dissuade her.”

  “Without mentioning it?”

  “It was an encrypted signal, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can someone ‘discover’ the signal and report it to us as a security issue? Meaning to Cady’s people?”

  “Everyone knows she has secure and personal communication.”

  “Yes, but can we pretend we didn’t know? Then hint contents to encourage her to shut up?”

  She flared her eyes slightly. “Probably not. I’ll think on it.”

  Highland had what she needed. Keeping it discreet across light years had taken money, patience, effort, and a good rapport with people who could read between the lines.

  Huble was good at that. It had cost money, though. The question was if the payoff would be worth it.

  The newsload should be coming through this system any time now. There was the lightspeed delay from Earth, the wait for a ship to carry the signal through, for it to clear UN BuSec at this end, which should be a formality but could take time. More lightspeed delay. It should be now, dammit.

  She sighed and poured a champagne and vodka cooler. It would happen.

  There.

  Oh, that was brilliantly done, she thought, feeling a rush that was almost naughty. It was even more spiteful than she’d hoped for. She brought the volume up so as to catch all the details.

  —essman Hunter’s wife. According to the release, she caught him in an ‘inappropriate embrace’ with a junior staffer. She reiterates her belief in his campaign, and vows to stand by him despite this personal trouble.”

  The payoff would come shortly, because Amelia Hunter had made no such statement. They’d be days sorting it out, and Highland would have time to regain points.

  But it got better. So much better.

  “The staffer was not identified, but came forward as Angela Soruto. Ms. Soruto asked for Whistleblower protection, and CNNBC News is discussing the release of further details from her.”

  Had he really been nailing the little whore? Or was she an opportunistic bitch making up stories to cash in?

  Either way, that was a one-two punch to the guts of that condescending cunt Amelia. This, right after Huble’s operatives had promised she’d ride out the trouble. She was a spoiled, frigid, diamond-digging cunt, and this should wreck her to more sleeping pills and sedatives. In two weeks, they could claim that was an ongoing problem, and that should be the end of that campaign.

  It was back down to her and Cruk.

  Damon Huble appreciated Highland’s employ. She paid promptly from her not insubstantial personal accounts, her campaign funds from her legion of jabbering idiots, and occasionally, from money shifted from her position accounts. She always repaid that promptly, which would help in any kind of political dispute, but he had warned her once that it was illegal to pierce that veil, regardless of repayment. Official funds were official. He’d warned her. Once. Highland didn’t like being told things she didn’t want to hear, regardless of legality, but for several reasons he needed to cover his own ass. No campaign or administration lasted forever, and any number of suits and charges were possible. Any smart staffer covered all angles.

  Really, it was a delight to perform these tasks for her. They were a challenge, a puzzle, and their resolution always satisfying. They were more satisfying the more artistic the result. He was especially proud of this one.

  She’d covered all costs from a discreet, completely legal account filled with donations from her special fans. He’d kept it thirty percent under his original estimate to her, fifteen percent under his own private estimate. The payments were all tagged for perfectly legal processes and promotions to three companies neither of them owned. They had total deniability of any impropriety.

  In addition, he’d been able to tell another client that he’d accomplished their task at the same time, and pocketed only a consultancy fee, no operations costs. Completely legal, and they were more than happy to make that payment by anonymous transfer through Sealand, Ceres and Breakout Station Bank in the Grainnean system into his anonymous account groundside.

  Politics was the one game where every player wanted to leverage every other player. And if he could use the funds of an inevitable loser—Highland—to support the campaign of a certain winner—Cruk, the Secretary General, then so much the better for all involved. Except for Highland, of course, once the campaign folded. Or if not, once the legal charges started.

  But he had warned her. Once.

  Hepgard would be very happy. No doubt the bonus he was paying would also be reflected in Hepgard’s own account. There was plenty to go around. On Earth, he was sure the SecGen benefited, but wasn’t going to ask. The end result was to soften up Highland so he could get that position. It would probably be a decade, but he’d get the appointment. And if she did win, she might appoint him anyway, with plenty of dirt to use on her in return. Thuggery on Mtali, dishonesty with government money in her campaign. A good start, but it would take more.

  Franklin Lezt sat in another hotel, awaiting Hepgard for followup. He’d had two stiff grape vodkas already. He really wasn’t sure if the man got it.

  He watched the scrolling news feed. It was almost at that critical point, and that meant playing the trump.

  A knock on the door indicated Hepgard, and he buzzed the man in, set the interference and did not offer him a drink.

  “So now she’s at twenty-eight percent and climbing,” he said at once.

  Hepgard said, “That’s just reaction to Hunter being effectively quashed.” He looked around for a seat for himself. There wasn’t one, on purpose. He sat on the bed instead.

  Lezt said, “Yes, but she keeps climbing.” He gripped his drink and the arm of the chair.

  “Guy, my techniques are proven. She’s just molecularly coated against shit.”

  “It seems like it.” He wanted to be angry, but Hepgard was right. It should be working. Just nothing stuck to her. That little twitch personal she had, JessieM, was both a brilliant spinster and very popular. How could anyone hate a college girl turned promoter, who had no perversions, drinking problems, whatever? It seemed her only purpose in life was to ping inane messages around the nodes, and she was brilliant at it, and now getting paid.

  He said, “The first thing
is, do not touch JessieM. No matter what. She’s a favorite pet and it will only be seen negatively.”

  Hepgard nodded. “Agreed. Do you have something specific in mind for the other?”

  “It’s time she made a personal sacrifice for her party.”

  “Guy . . .” Hepgard stopped.

  “Yes, that’s what we’re down to. She cannot break thirty percent!”

  “What is it with you and that number?”

  The man didn’t know, and he’d have to be told. Lezt took another heavy swallow, winced and looked up. “At thirty-two percent, it’s established by the election commission that she can have Special Service security freely as a campaigner. She’d only have to pay transport costs for her own people. No Ripple Creek, still with BuState security, free military resources on request, all government. If she goes down for anything in front of the SecGen’s personal guard, he takes the hit.”

  “I thought that didn’t take effect until ninety days out?”

  “That’s for anyone over five percent. It’s twenty percent at a hundred and twenty days, thirty-two percent at one eighty, which is next week.”

  “You don’t want much, do you?” Hepgard was wide-eyed at the implied but not directly stated subject of assassination.

  “My boss has agreed to the same elements used for that . . . apprehension.”

  Hepgard snorted. “Which doesn’t seem to have worked. They didn’t kill the man, and he’s back at work. Highland benefitted by ignoring it. They’ve demanded more money and got it.”

  “In this case they’ll be available to encourage her into an area where some very bad people will be outraged at civil society and very violent. So sad, but she tried so hard, let us remember her as we move on. Your job is to find that location, prep it, ensure everyone is in the right state of mind, and let me know. Keep in mind there’s about twenty-six hours of delay round trip.”

  “And you want this in a week?” Hepgard looked very unsure. That was a nice score, but he better get sure in a hurry.

  “I do. Why are you still here?”

  Hepgard turned and walked to the door. As he closed it behind himself, Lezt heard him mutter, “Fucker.”