She paused. “I won’t say I’ve never taken favors. It’s part of politics. But this man’s a petty Czech thug who’s been set up to be nothing but a graft nexus. They want him in place.”
Jason was bemused. “And you didn’t think they’d kill over that?”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t think they’d kill me over that. I do have a large following, visibility, and security.”
“They set us up so they could take us down with you.”
Bart asked, “I would like to know why Corporate let us take this mission.”
Alex said, “Because if we pull it off we’ll be untouchable. If we die, we die protecting a major persona, and I expect there are ways to expose the source. I have all our recordings, for example.”
Meyer may also have planned to use that information as blackmail. He wasn’t going to say that in public. It was easy enough to figure out, however. Highland had been in BuState since the debacle with Bishwanath. She’d just taken over the reins about that time. So she very well might have been involved in trying to off him, or at least in profiting from it. Dirt over her would be very useful if she were elected.
Jason said, “Well, we know where everyone stands. The local threats are no longer significant. Bart?”
“I concur,” he said. “We can easily avoid or overwhelm the locals. The relevant threat is some agency under orders from New York.”
“Agency?” Highland asked.
Bart said, “I have trouble with English at times. I mean an agent, an actor, under their orders. It may or may not be an actual agency.”
Aramis said, “I suspect it would be. It’s much easier for them to bring gear in.”
Elke said, “Didn’t someone bring in that crate of gear two weeks ago? It was immediately out the gate and we were told not to worry about it.”
Alex said, “That was BuIntel . . . who have all kinds of shady connections.”
“Equipping local hires?” Shaman asked. “Or doing it themselves?”
“Too obvious themselves,” Alex said. “But just in case, we’ll plan accordingly.”
He addressed them all.
“Is everyone rested? Cleaned? Latrined? Fed? Stocked with ammo, batteries, fresh phones?” He pointed and said, “JessieM has two units prepped. We have maps,” he nodded to Aramis. “We’re going to create a riot, and . . .”
It suddenly came to him.
“Jessie, we want Ms. Highland’s supporters to demand she have Special Service protection, that her electability has reached that point. It doesn’t matter that she has BuState personnel and us merc types, she deserves and must have official escorts.”
Jason grinned. “I like it.” If the SpecServ had control, they’d have to take the bite on anything happening to her. It would be too obvious it was action from within. It also meant acknowledging she was a challenge at caucus for the serving SecGen. So Cruk would be admitting her status and protecting her.
Hypothetically, it was possible to arrange a hit then try to spread the blame around to other agencies, since during the transition, SpecServ, Ripple Creek, BuState Security Directorate and the military would all be milling about. But it would still generate suspicion, and it would be much safer to run an actual election, no matter how crooked.
God, I’m glad I moved off Earth, he thought to himself. There was corruption everywhere, but even Salin had nothing on Earth.
Alex concluded, “And we pass off the ball amid a massive scrum, bow politely, and leave the hostiles wondering.”
Elke said, “Does this mean I can blow things up?”
“Anything hostile, obstructing us, or that makes a nice video for the news.”
“Always with the restrictions,” she sighed. “But I’m in.”
Shaman said, “You didn’t ask me, but I have a full trauma bag and enough painkillers to turn a hippopotamus toes up. I suspect we may need it.”
Highland was wide-eyed again, but give her credit, the trembles didn’t show in her face, nor did she object. She was a world class bitch, but she did have guts.
After a moment’s pause, Alex said, “Okay, we’re out of here,” and pointed to the door.
Highland moved okay for a civilian. JessieM was faster. They were still the lag factor on the rest of the team.
“Elke,” he said, “this building is not to conveniently explode after we leave.”
“It’s not full of hostiles,” she said. “Why would I waste explosive?”
“Just so we’re clear. Everyone has water, food bars, a small pack, and we have two rucks of big stuff for backup, plus medical, the jump harness and extra guns.” He checked off and pointed as he counted.
Probably someone noticed them all piling into the car, meant for five, jammed with eight plus gear. It wasn’t likely anyone would tag them as Highland’s contingent, but only as one more factional group of many. Without knowing whom they represented, most people would leave them entirely alone.
Aramis navigated by memory. He really did excel at it. When they first formed the team, he’d been just an expendable grunt with an attitude. Brave, tough, but irritating and just muscle. He’d matured, improved and become a crack pathfinder.
“Destination is fifteen kilometers generally northeast,” he said. “Take any route north to Peace of the Prophet Way, then west. Yes, I said west. We have to go around one of those stupid peace walls.” The glance he shot over his shoulder seemed to be a dare to Highland to argue. She didn’t.
Bart drove, partly because he was the best in civilian vehicles, partly because he wouldn’t fit anywhere else, nor could anyone sit on his lap without being crushed. He was laconic as always, but took Aramis’s directions and moved them smoothly. It was still most of a half hour before they neared the coordinates Aramis provided. The roads were that messed up. This hole wasn’t colonial. It was a dump.
Aramis said, “This is the right area. We’re going to need to debark, get seen, then depart before we get too much attention. Do we want to keep this same vehicle?”
Alex said, “If it works, we’ll use it. If we see something better we’ll take it.”
Shaman said, “I see a very nice church van. On the one hand, opposition groups will be more likely to shoot at it. On the other hand, they can’t shoot very well, and the allied groups will avoid shooting at it, and will act to defend it.”
Alex said, “On yet the other hand, it’s fine transport and I don’t care what the locals think. Jason, steal the church bus.”
“On it. Elke, I need a distraction.”
Bart braked to a stop right alongside the van. Jason kicked the door, Elke bounced off his lap, he followed. She jammed something into her detonator coder and tossed it, and it erupted in a drumroll of squibs.
The locals didn’t stick around to determine if it was actual gunfire or not. A woman in a long black robe and hood, with four kids in tow, snatched up two and shuffled quickly for a doorway as the other two kids hung onto her robe, just as Ripple Creek taught its principals to do. In moments the area was clear.
Jason jammed a wedging bar into the door and heaved. Since they didn’t care if the vehicle survived the ordeal, they didn’t worry about cosmetic damage, and a sheet plastic door was cosmetic. It wouldn’t stop any fire, so it wasn’t a concern.
Once he had the door open, Alex shoved Highland off Shaman’s lap.
“Move, ma’am, now!” he said. Aramis unassed from the front, tossing JessieM ahead of him. Bart kicked out of his door and Alex came last.
Elke’s ass protruded from under the dash, but in moments she’d completely bypassed the control module with a universal one of her own. Most of the instruments probably wouldn’t read, but all they cared about were wheels and motor.
Or in this case, engine. Diesel engines were easier than most modern electric drives, and that’s what it had. Still, it rumbled and farted to life and Jason looked for instructions.
“. . . six, seven, eight, roll,” Alex ordered. Eight including Jessie? Yes, eight.
Good.
Aramis said, “As we head south, we want to draw some attention to ourselves.”
Alex said, “Everyone loves a parade. Let’s wake them up.”
Elke fumbled with her window, it didn’t open, she raised her carbine butt and cracked the plastic out of the frame, then she reversed it, fired a burst across a building, and tossed out something that flared incendiary bright for a few seconds, then screamed and banged.
“Drive slowly,” she suggested.
Nothing happened for two minutes, but just as they hit that tick, two vehicles fell in behind and the occupants started shooting at them, badly of course. A pedestrian fell clutching at his leg, and one round punched obliquely through the roof.
“Don’t stop them,” Alex said. “We want to be followed.”
“Just roll the dice,” Shaman said.
He grunted. Enough bullets in the air meant someone getting hit sooner or later.
“Jessie, now churp the location we left.”
“The condo?”
“Yes.”
“Found condo on west central side, but must leave soon. All supporters meet us . . . where?”
“Where we stole the van would work fine.”
Highland asked, “Are you trying to kill my supporters?”
“No, ma’am. Any threats will beat them to that location and anyone smart will avoid the resultant firefight.”
She said, “While most of my supporters run the median, some are . . . not too bright.”
I’m not surprised, and we might be better off without them, Alex thought.
“They should be fine,” he said. “No more at risk than anyone else here. Elke, do you have a spare feed handy?”
“I do.”
“You churp Ms. Highland returning to the BuState gate.”
“Understood.” Her fingers fluttered for a very few moments.
“That ties them up in two places. Next, since we can’t hide entirely, I want to bring them closer to us, still split by some margin, so they create multiple trouble zones behind us and near each other.”
Aramis said, “I can word a press release from us that we’re doing something.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not sure. Possibly that we’re vacating the city due to the growing violence? This would be aimed at mass release, not to just the tagged observers.”
“Do it.” That was rather slick.
JessieM was getting into it, too.
“I can do a release either endorsing or denouncing you,” she said.
“Make it denounced. You’ve left our vehicle and are on foot. Jason, find her a place to transmit it from.”
“Will do. This is going to be all kinds of entertaining.”
He bumped his phone, said, “Cady, now’s the time to work on that conference,” then handed it to Elke. “Make this go away.”
She looped something around it and threw it out the window toward a cluster of adults with guns. They departed, the device banged, and the phone turned into plastic confetti.
Bart said, “Traffic is blocked ahead. Divert or debark?”
“We better debark. We wanted a blockage, we have it.”
Bart pulled to the side and stopped. They rolled out into a square around Highland, with Alex next to her, standing close.
“We need to present as a social group,” he said.
“You’re kidding,” Highland said.
“Watch.”
Aramis and Elke took the lead, weapons slung behind them, moving slightly closer and suddenly appearing as a couple. Bart got next to JessieM. Shaman pulled back with Jason.
“I see what you mean,” Highland said with a fake but friendly smile. At first glance, they did look like three couples and a pair of friends. Anyone glancing at them would be unlikely to look again.
Alex kept multiple views up. Jason had a news feed running on his glasses. He tapped Alex’s arm and spoke.
“Boss, it’s working. They’re tangling up with each other and it’s spreading. If they’re in a hurry to get Highland, they’re going to wind up fanning it into a brushfire battle.”
“That serves our purpose, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand for us.”
Jason said, “It might. Do you hear it?”
“The gunfire? Yes, distant, but regular.”
“It’s been getting closer and there are now reports in six locations. Das says we didn’t get that from him.”
“Very good. You have him on phone?”
“No, he gave me access codes for their threat feed. I believe we can trust him, and I’m only on receive.”
Someone IDed them as a threat, there were shouts, and a couple of half-hearted shots not really aimed in their direction.
“Do we need transport?”
Aramis said, “It might be an idea. If we keep changing, they won’t know where our final destination is. Right now, any reports will make them think we’re going to ground. So changing would confuse them more.”
Bart said, “There is a market a block that way. There are lots of parked cars.”
“Then we’ll take one.”
Bart led the way with Jessie, who had to stride fast but kept up with him.
They found a microbus with a rolloff roof, rolled off. It was secured by recognition software, but Jason worked around that by shooting into the module as Elke clipped her bypass unit in place underneath. They jumped in, exposed but with lots of visibility as a tradeoff, and Bart slid into the driver’s seat as Jason took shotgun again.
“Elke, how’s recon?”
“I can’t do this very often,” she said with a flare of her eyebrows, but she leaned back and shot a cam straight up. She lowered the shotgun, touched a button and sent the scrolled image to Alex.
He reported, “Running gunfight north of us, small arms with light support weapons, seems to be a handful of machine guns. The army is west. It looks like they don’t want to engage the existing battle—”
“Probably politics,” Jason said.
“—I assume so, and is trying to coordinate counterfire against that incoming rocketry.”
Shaman said, “That leaves us here with two very hostile snipers and two unknowns with local help.”
“Do we want to stick it out, fight the mob, or try to meet up with the army?”
Jason said, “Army is not our friend. They’ll have orders to detain us, probably phrased as ‘coordinate with.’ Staying here means being sniped at their leisure. The local conflict is something we have practice with. Ma’am, we’re going to need to go through that local battle. We’ll be going fast, attempting not to engage, but if we do get engaged, we’ll need to fight very violently to break contact and continue.”
“I would like a weapon,” she said. “For my own protection.”
“I don’t have a moral objection. However, what is your training level?”
“I’ve shot guns on the range. I handled the M Ninety once on a military reaction range.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Tell me honestly, was that mostly for show?”
“Yes,” she nodded, “but I know which end to point.”
“Very well,” he nodded, and Jason handed back a spare carbine. Highland checked the chamber and flipped the safety off without much fumbling. “Keep it pointed away from any of us, and do not fire unless one of us fires first. Jessie, what about you?”
“I’ll sit in the corner of the seat and be very small.” She seemed too scared to be embarrassed.
“That’s a good tactic. We may need to debark and run, though. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“I need you to remember that we have to cover Ms. Highland first, and can only cover you if circumstances permit.”
“Yes,” she said again, her lips trembling a bit.
“Let’s move. We find new transport, Bart drives, Jason shotgun, Aramis tailgunner, Elke clears the route as needed, and the rest of us cover Ms. Highland and Jessie.”
Jason said, �
��An open truck is not my first choice, but we can get that one right there.”
The truck contained six fighters in mixed camouflage and keffiyeh, with a mounted machine gun and rifles. There was a gunner in the passenger seat and a driver wearing a helmet and looking almost professional.
“Do it. Elke, chase them off.” Aramis vaulted out and took off at a sprint at that command. Bart led Jason.
Instantly, Elke grabbed a softball-sized something from her harness and flung it in a high arc. It dropped accurately, popped a tiny chute, and started exploding in a string of vigorous reports. They were not firecrackers, but probably blasting caps. The crew in the bed fled, taking their weapons and leaving the rest of their gear. The passenger unassed, but the driver fumbled as if to shift gears and move.
Aramis reached him right then, punched him solidly in the side of the head, pulled the door and unceremoniously yanked the unconscious form out. He swung his legs up into the bed, tangled and tumbled over his cannon, then got positioned. Bart scooped up the driver’s dislodged helmet and squeezed in, cursing in German. Jason rolled across the hood. His entry around the door in a twist and leap was far too gymnastic for a man in his 40s.
Elke tossed another distraction and some smoke. It was thick, yellow and smelly, but probably proof against IR and UV frequencies.
Alex had one of Highland’s shoulders, Shaman had her backpack, and they ran, with Jessie sprinting behind while shrieking in a whimper.
Shaman jumped and pressed himself over the bed side, reached down and pulled Highland up by her armpits as Alex shoved her rump. He then turned and grabbed Jessie between her legs and by one shoulder and handed her up to Shaman, then jumped, pressed and rolled in himself.
“Go!” he shouted, and looked around to get organized.
Aramis had just passed his cannon forward to Jason, who laid it across the battered panel and hood. There were no windows left in the vehicle. Aramis looked quite comfortable in a reclining lounge chair, even if it was half-mildewed, sun-bleached and torn. He did a quick function check of the AA-tripod mounted machine gun in the middle, and leaned back, letting the gun sweep buildings as Bart nailed the throttle. It was a fine sunny day for a drive around the park in a truck full of weapons.
When Diplomacy Fails . . .-eARC Page 29