When Diplomacy Fails . . .-eARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  “What is our approach, then?” Bart asked.

  Jason said, “Attack all threats; try to coordinate with Das for intel from interrogations. If we can catch a live one without undue breakage, we ask the best questions we can then turn them in, undamaged, for the military to question further.”

  “We can monitor residue,” Elke said. “Also, some of these incidents might take money. We can narrow down the focus on which groups would be willing to spend it, and have it available.”

  “I want to follow up on her ‘dear friends’ and ‘former employees.’ They might have reason to hate her, or might be plants. Or just suborned, as happened with Caron and her servants.”

  “That’s the ongoing problem in this business. We can keep someone safe locked in our dungeon with no contact. Beyond that, there are threats.”

  Bart said, “I would also watch current events. Any large swings in the economy, or to any nations or groups, will affect her presence.”

  “This is why BuState has its own security and its own intel.”

  Aramis asked, “How is the intel from intelguy? Any good?”

  “It’s not bad, but not great. I don’t know if that’s par for the course, par for him, incompetence, brilliance or deceit. We’re getting more from Das. Obviously, though, that’s directly military.”

  “And her friend?”

  “Yes, I will have to talk to her about him. Let me cue up standard spiel about how enemies may use friends for intel.”

  “Do you think that’s going to work?”

  “No, but I am required to try.”

  He pinged a link to Jessie’s private line.

  “JessieM.”

  “Miss Jessie, it’s Agent Marlow.”

  “Yes, sir, how may I help you?”

  “I need to discuss a communication security matter with Ms. Highland. It should be in person, at her convenience.”

  “Stand by, please.”

  It was only a few moments before she came back on. “Ms. Highland says she can see you now.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be right over.”

  Cady’s people checked him in, and she was waiting at the desk she’d had installed in her parlor. Really, he wished she’d stop with the fake smile. Though it was probably both automatic and a matter of constant practice for her.

  “Chief Marlow, what can I do for you?”

  “Thanks for seeing me on short notice, ma’am. This is a secondary security concern, regarding communications.”

  “Should Jessie be here for this, too?”

  “She can be, but it’s not a technical concern.”

  “Go ahead, then, what do you have?”

  “This concerns Mr. Huble.”

  “You can’t be serious!” she said with a half laugh, half protest.

  “I have no reason to suspect him directly,” he said, to get that in there. “The concern is that any consistent, predictable communication outside can be compromised, either en route or at the far end.”

  “We use PrivatProtocol.”

  “I’m told that’s very good. I also know it can be compromised. That’s the first concern.”

  “There’s more?” She seemed derisively amused, which wasn’t the worst possible response, but certainly not good.

  “Mister Blanding is connected to certain groups that would enjoy information about you.”

  She laughed more nervously. “He would never offer information like that.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest so, without knowing him. But, it’s entirely possible for someone to look for messages from you to him, and crack those. Especially while you are here.”

  She looked thoughtful. “But it’s encrypted . . .”

  “Anything can be cracked. Then, there’s what’s called traffic analysis. Knowing the volume and timing of messages offers keys, as does the sender and recipient.”

  “I could send a lot more messages, about inane matters.”

  “That is an excellent idea,” he said. It was a partial win against other threats, but it all helped. Deescalate one threat enough, you could focus on others.

  He concluded with, “Do please add as much variety and randomness to those communiqués as possible. That will help all over.”

  Meanwhile, he had another PR meeting to prepare for.

  Elke’s position was that interaction with locals was always problematic. Factions made it worse. She hadn’t considered this day’s mission could top all that. They were flying to the event, which she was never very much in favor of. She liked control, and flying meant surrendering control to someone else.

  In this case, the pilot was a local, of one of the factions.

  Elke never screamed. She did, however, get roiling guts and sweats, and this did it.

  They boarded at the military field, around Highland, into the cabin of a Emirates Aircraft EA6 Djinn. That was a so-so aircraft at best, outdated and at least half-used up, if it was here, and now piloted by a local.

  She did everything as required, watching her sector, keeping position and distance from Highland, and putting a visual void over that aircraft.

  Once aboard, she took a seat facing aft, fastened her restraints and donned helmet. She made a cursory visual check for any threats, then gave her attention to her sniffers and scanners. Jason would check also, and the military had done so when it landed. It was also politically inadvisable for their host to stage an attack, so he’d have made his own checks. Between them, the only threat that should remain was pilot error and shoddy maintenance. She shivered again.

  Alex had a familiar expression on his face, and was looking at Jason. Jason gave a nod and a thumbs up. She translated in her mind.

  If need be, can you toss this yokel out the hatch and land us intact?

  Yes, no problem.

  Somehow it didn’t reassure her.

  “Intercom check. Playwright.”

  “Argonaut.”

  “Julien.”

  “Babs,” she said in turn.

  “Pirate.”

  “Musketeer.”

  “Witch and Black Cat accounted for. Pilot reports ready to lift.”

  And they did, as Elke stared straight at the bulkhead.

  Ten minutes into the flight she unfastened two suit buttons for ventilation. It was crowded and warm, faintly chemical, and not in the sweet way Comp G smelled, and the vibration hit a frequency that irritated her bladder and stomach. She was glad she’d not eaten or drunk yet today.

  “A bit turbulent,” Jason said.

  It was more than a bit, in her view. Of course, she didn’t like heights, altitude or movement anyway. The engine tone shifted periodically. That was perfectly normal, she knew intellectually. It still made her flinch.

  It was only five minutes later that Alex announced, “Landing.” Though it took over 200 seconds to make the approach, gauge the winds and reflections, and put the beast down.

  They were in a large compound ringed with low, but multiple walls and fences at comfortable distances, each in overlapping fields of fire. She could even draw the range markers. At least someone here understood basic tactics. Now as long as they respected Highland, or Ripple Creek, enough to not start trouble.

  Bart and Aramis debarked first, she was last, being female and not the principal. She knew some women who’d be incensed over that. It was Alex’s order, and how things were done here, so she did it.

  The Most Beneficent Mohammed Saliman al-Khazra actually greeted Highland in person. His own entourage was clearly a factotum and six guards in silly uniforms, with pompoms on their boots, pointy hats with neck cloths, and pink piping on white tunics and shorts. At that, it was better camouflage than the army issued.

  He even spoke respectable English.

  “Madam Minister, you grace my humble abode with your presence,” he said with a nod that wasn’t quite a bow, combined with an extended hand.

  Highland reached between Bart and Aramis, who stepped obliquely back.

  “Effendi, I greet you.”


  With that in progress, Elke eyed their opposites, who were probably very respectable infantry, from the gear and muscles under those ridiculous outfits. She had no doubt that if Bart and Aramis couldn’t smash four of them, that Jason could drop the rest with one bullet each, and she could shred their legs with a disc explosive.

  Shortly, all the guards sat in a ring, six on each side, sipping from sealed bottles of juice, while the two politicians and their aids sat at a table and chatted, under a hush hood, over a doc screen. Elke’s only significant activity was to escort Highland and JessieM to the toilet, and take a turn herself, while Aramis and Shaman stood guard outside.

  After that, it was another grueling flight back. She’d rather have a firefight than a decrepit aircraft, but at least it was objectively brief, even if it felt like hours.

  Alex appreciated the casual event. If only more could be like that, but then of course, they’d not be employed.

  Nothing. Not even a handful of protesters with signs outside the gate, and it was obvious who’d be on that flight, given its departure point.

  In several ways, that was more disturbing than the violence. It implied both an outside agent, and that a single one, or one that had significant influence over the others.

  The pattern continued.

  Tuesday was a summit on “Environmental Compassion” at the conference center. That afternoon, they met with interest groups to answer questions. Highland spoke like a politician, and gave vague answers. She was professionally competent at raising morale and causing smiles, though how long those lasted after the event he couldn’t gauge.

  Wednesday was a forum debate in the National Parliament, which all groups sent representatives to, but it seemed to be a contest to see who could send the least important flunky with the most impressive name.

  After a week with no threats, Alex was more disturbed than ever.

  “It’s an indication of something, but what?”

  The team was in their armory, being the most secure room. He had a chart up on their secure system, showing the events, locations and which groups were involved, incidents, her running popularity figures, and whether or not they’d had military support. They gathered around in an arc. This was a war council.

  Elke said, “Her popularity increased after each unsuccessful attack.”

  “Yes, which makes me anticipate a successful one.”

  Aramis said, “That, or obscurity as a tactic.”

  From behind a tall glass of raspberry juice, Bart said, “Have her supporters also reduced their actions? There have been no low-level attacks as they do. Those boost her popularity.”

  “They ran out of money,” Aramis said.

  Jason said, “No, I suspect collusion.”

  “Sure, but how?”

  “Okay, let’s go through it. She’s arranged some low-level harassment for PR. Some of her fans picked up on the riff. She’s refused to coordinate that with us, but gets upset at our response. She may have asked them to back off, fearing we’d actually kill someone. Again.”

  “Yes,” Alex said. “Her conflict was between coverage for bravery and headlines, and the risk of us being stuck to her.”

  “But she managed to stick us on Cruk.”

  “Right. So she was benefiting anyway.”

  “Which suggests her random fanbody activist attacks were coordinated by one of her people.”

  Elke said, “It would make sense. They all had the same goal in mind, and were all relatively low-scale, and similar. Random attacks with nonlethal stuff.”

  Aramis said, “And this recent attack, again, not enough to be lethal, but certainly to look so.”

  “That’s aimed at us,” Jason said. “They want us to overreact, to try to bring her ratings down. So that is hostile activity, not propagandist.”

  “Hostile against us, but dialed back against her,” Bart commented.

  “Yes,” Jason agreed, looking thoughtful. “So, all her propaganda seems to have one source. Attacks against us seem to be a second.”

  Alex said, “Which leaves the rioting that increased, then stopped suddenly.”

  Aramis said, “Hostile attempt to either intimidate her, or provoke over-reaction from us—meaning overreaction from a press perspective, not reality.”

  Jason said, “I understood you. So that’s a possible third source.”

  Alex said, “Which leaves a potential fourth aspect or source, if ignoring her doesn’t lower her popularity, which it seems to not be doing.”

  “You expect a bonafide professional hit.”

  “That’s why we’re hired. Someone is spending a lot of money on us, from both her campaign and the administration, to keep her away from her regular security. Part of that is political. She can’t use them while campaigning. But they’re splitting the cost due to some accounting method. So who insisted on us?”

  Jason said, “It comes back to Huble, her adviser.”

  “Is it that simple? He’s a plant trying to drag her down?”

  “I’d say all the promotional attacks are through him.”

  “So why wouldn’t he tell her of the others?”

  It was Bart who said, “Because they’re intended as intimidation against her. They’re more embarrassing, less heroic, and act to work against her campaign.”

  “He’s a double agent then. Strong suspect. But so far, nonlethal.”

  Elke pondered, “The administration runs him? They get benefit in close, and intel. Which explains how he can have the inside information, and manipulate her.”

  Aramis said, “Wait, she orchestrated some propaganda against Hunter, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Cruk likewise benefits from that, out of her campaign, without anything attachable to him.”

  Jason said, “So he backs off to let her wreck the opposition, and himself.”

  Alex said, “That all adds up. So the attacks aimed at us are likely from the left—factions who want us out of the way. No logical reason, they just hate us generally.”

  Elke said, “They hate anything with a profit motive. Wars are bad, if for assets, like Salin. But this war is pure and clean and ideological, for peace, except for filthy mercenaries like us.”

  “If they hurt some of us, they win. If they get us sanctioned, they win.”

  “Are we ruling out local threats?”

  Alex chuckled. “No, I suspect every faction here would like to take us out. We’re either filthy mercs, or guards of the harlot, or poisoning her purity.”

  Elke asked, “And attacks against her?”

  “Amala definitely, when they have the money and capability. They will continue to be third raters. Sufis don’t like her, but aren’t antagonistic to us other than we’re her shield. They’ve hired their own contractors at times. Shia hate her guts. The Faithful whatever Christians hate her for talking to Muslims.”

  Aramis said, “You know, I was disgusted that she wore a glove to shake hands with Bawani. But that gave her some deniable distance from the Muslims.”

  “She still had a riot outside.”

  “Yes, and that’s just par for this place. We’ll go crazy trying to sort that out, then it will change.”

  “So, unscripted local attacks, scripted harassment for PR and intimidation, from the administration. Attacks against us by opposition to hurt us and discredit her, and potential nuke if and when they decide she’s too popular.”

  “The result of that is a wave of sympathy for the incumbent who’s worked so hard, and the party, and without any internal opposition, he goes up five to ten points and wins regardless of any issues.”

  Bart asked, “When do we need to pull her out?”

  Aramis snickered. “The question is ‘can we without tranking her?’”

  “I am prepared either way,” Shaman said, with a nod to his medical pack.

  “So, we watch the news, her ratings, major events, and gauge the ongoing lack of attacks and any resumption.”

  Alex said, “I ass
ume we’re past this stage. The next attack will be a killer.”

  CHAPTER 18

  JOY HIGHLAND HATED THIS PLANET. It had little scenery anywhere inhabited, lots of savage religious nuts whom she had to publicly pretend to respect, was far too distant from her campaign, and she was saddled with too few staff and too many bloodthirsty mercenaries, especially that bitch Sykora, who wouldn’t shut up about “her” explosives.

  Now they were questioning her friends and communication. She’d smiled and laughed, but the sheer gall of that man. His job was to stop threats, not intrude on her private life.

  Which brought up the question of how he’d found that out anyway. Had they been cracking her communications? PrivatProtocol was one of the best encryptions out there, updated weekly, and she used a nineteen digit key. The key was secure, unless someone knew as much about twenty second century beers and twenty third century legal decisions. Though there were ways to derive keys, of course.

  She did send extraneous messages to Huble, but she had to keep real communication up, too.

  Dear Damon, I’m about to head out to the Peace Wall dedication. Thanks for arranging this. It’s visibility I can use, and presents as both official and campaign. The military didn’t even twitch, just authorized the escort. So I will make sure to use it to best effect. Thanks, dear.

  That done, she checked on Jessie.

  “How are we looking?”

  Jessie damped her screens and looked through the transparencies at Joy. “Ma’am, things are trending well, though the violence actually boosted your headlines and perception. It’s leveled off. You’re still fifteen points behind Cruk, but that’s up from thirty behind, and we’ve not yet had the official challenge statement.”

  “Yes, once I announce there’s an alternative, the no-confidence people will pile on him. But we’re stagnant, still?”

  “Not stagnant, but the curve has flattened. It’s still positive, though.”

  “And if the economy is in a state, I can blame him, using Ripple Creek as an example, when I have perfectly good escorts available from the military and BuState.”

  “That seems to be the way to play it, ma’am.” Jessie almost never smiled. She was strictly business, though relaxed and not stiff.