War To The Knife

by Grant, Peter

  He looked at Tamsin. “Help me up.” As she did, he pulled the strap from around the Vice-President’s shoulder and slid it over his own. Her blood was on the strap and case. Some wiped off on his new uniform, staining it, but he neither noticed nor cared.

  “I’ll take that, Major!” the Ambassador said sharply, striding forward and holding out his hand. “I’m now the most senior representative of Laredo’s Government-in-Exile. Hand it over!”

  “Like hell!” Dave snapped. He looked down at the Terminal police sergeant still kneeling by the dead Vice-President’s side. “Sergeant, will you please state publicly and for the record what you heard the Vice-President say and do before she died?”

  “Yes, Sir.” He rose to his feet. “She gave you that bag and appointed you her successor, Sir.”

  “Nonsense!” the Ambassador exploded. “You must have misheard!”

  “No, he didn’t,” one of the journalists corrected him. “I filmed the whole thing. It’s all in here.” She patted her vid recorder. “She did just what the Sergeant said.”

  “Thank you,” Dave said, nodding to her in acknowledgment. “I’d be grateful if you’d please let me have a copy of that vid for our records. I’ll pay for it, of course.”

  “Sure.” The woman’s face was white and strained.

  “How’s the other lady?” he asked the policeman.

  “She’s out cold. The bullet grazed her head, but didn’t penetrate the skull that I can see.”

  “She should be OK then.”

  Dave opened the attaché case, already knowing what he’d find inside it. Sure enough, the Great Seal of Laredo nestled in a special container in the front compartment. The metal seal matrix was attached to a low, flat handle carved from stone quarried in the Matopo Hills. Beside it was a flat box holding different-colored sticks of sealing wax. A small leather wallet held a card that Dave recognized as a bearer key for Laredo’s account at the Handelsbank, identical to the two already in his possession. The rear compartment held what looked like official documents.

  Dave took out the Great Seal and held it up for everyone to see. “As Vice-President Johns’ freely chosen successor, I’ve assumed her office as President Pro Tem of Laredo’s Government-in-Exile in accordance with the Declaration of Emergency filed with the United Planets. Ladies and gentlemen of the Press, please witness my first official action in that capacity.” He turned to the Ambassador, his voice coldly formal. “Ambassador McNairy, you are dismissed with immediate effect from all your posts and offices. Your diplomatic immunity is also revoked as of this moment. You no longer have the authority to represent the Republic of Laredo in any way, shape or form, or make use of any of her assets or funds. You will hand over all official documents, records, equipment and other paraphernalia to me or to anyone I designate to receive them from you.”

  “You can’t do that! It’s preposterous! You’re acting illegally!”

  Dave lost his temper as he shook the Seal under his nose. “This makes it legal, damn you! You know that – just as your behavior proves you knew the attack was coming! If this weren’t a neutral planet, I’d execute you here and now as a traitor to Laredo. Get out of my sight before I change my mind!”

  McNairy opened his mouth to reply, then caught sight of the fury blazing in Dave’s eyes. He gulped, sidled backwards, then turned and fled into the crowd of onlookers that was picking themselves up from the floor, gathering round, staring, pointing, exclaiming in shock and horror.

  “I’ll take that, please, Ma’am,” he heard the second Terminal policeman say. As he turned to watch Tamsin handed him the pulser she’d picked up, holding it by the frame, barrel pointing downwards. “Thank you for not shooting,” the policeman went on. “The risk of hitting innocent bystanders would have been too great.” Tamsin rolled her eyes rebelliously, but said nothing.

  The police sergeant asked, “What was in that suitcase they took, Sir?”

  Dave thought fast and chose his words carefully. He was being recorded, and knew whatever he said would doubtless be on news bulletins within the hour. He didn’t want to give anything away. “That suitcase was prepared on Laredo to contain all the evidence we’d accumulated over the past three and a half years of Bactria’s atrocities and war crimes, plus our bearer bank account keys and other information and materials that Vice-President Johns would have found useful.”

  A contingent of police approached on the run, bursting through the crowd with two medical carts hot on their heels. Dave could see more heading for the doors to assist the older couple who’d been bowled over by the escaping attackers. As the medics bent over the Vice-President’s body, the police Sergeant asked, “Do you need medical attention, Sir? Even if those bullets didn’t penetrate your uniform, they’ve got to have left a mark.”

  “They did. I’m going to have some bad bruises there come morning. I’ll want to change, and get a doctor to look at them.”

  “We can do that at our station here, Sir. If you’ll all come with me, please?”

  “No, Sergeant.” Dave spoke as firmly as he could. “I realize you want statements from us, but we have work to do – even more urgently now that Vice-President Johns is dead. We’re all traveling on diplomatic passports, so you can’t detain us. I’ll arrange to give statements tomorrow once we’ve had time to begin putting the affairs of our Government-in-Exile in order.”

  “I’ll need to confirm your diplomatic credentials, Sir.”

  “Of course. Passports, everyone, please.”

  It took less than five minutes for the Sergeant to scan all the passport numbers, compare them to a list of accredited diplomats, and find where Vice-President Johns had registered them in the Neue Helvetica Foreign Ministry database. “You’re free to go, Sir,” the policeman advised reluctantly. “Please don’t forget those statements.”

  “We won’t,” Dave promised. “We want Vice-President Johns’ killers apprehended far more than you possibly could!” He turned to his team, wincing at the pain in his back. “All right, people. If someone could please deal with my suitcase, I don’t feel up to it right now. Let’s get a passenger van and head for our hotel, call a doctor, then send a message to the others aboard ship to let them know we’re safe. If they hear about this first from news reports, they won’t be happy with us. I’ll tell them to join us as soon as possible. I think the immediate danger has passed.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The tall, graying man rose from behind the ornate wooden desk as his receptionist showed Dave and Tamsin through the door of his office. His face was creased with concern.

  “Major Carson, Lieutenant Gray, I was so terribly sorry to hear the news this morning! Vice-President Johns was a remarkable lady. Even though she couldn’t access your planetary account, she set up a secondary account for her mission with us, depositing in it the funds she brought from Laredo plus occasional contributions from sympathizers and well-wishers. She was a frequent visitor.”

  Dave shook his hand. “Thank you, Herr Gottschalk. I’m glad she had the services of the Handelsbank at her disposal during the past few difficult years.”

  “We tried to ease her way through the jungle of interplanetary finance,” the executive agreed as he shook Tamsin’s hand, then waved to comfortable seats around a table in the corner. As they sat down, he asked, “How is her assistant?”

  “She’ll be OK,” Dave responded as he lowered himself carefully into the chair. He was unable to suppress a wince as his bruised back touched its softly upholstered surface. He tried to sit in such a way that he hunched forward, away from the pain. “She has a mild concussion, nothing worse.”

  “Are you all right?” Gottschalk asked in concern.

  “Not really, but I’ll cope. You said the Vice-President had a secondary account here. I’ve succeeded to her office, as you’ll know if you saw the news reports about this morning’s events. How much is in it?”

  The man flushed, seeming almost ashamed. “There were two authorized operators of the acc
ount, herself and your Ambassador to the United Planets, Mr. McNairy. Within an hour of her assassination he entered our banking hall downstairs and withdrew the entire contents of the account in cash. I’m very sorry to say – particularly in the light of what you said to him this morning, as reported by the news vids – that he left here with all her funds.”

  Dave tightened his fists in frustration. “How much did he steal?”

  “It’s not technically theft, Major – he did have authority to use the account, after all. He withdrew the balance of close to half a million Neue Helvetica francs.”

  “It’s theft all right, Herr Gottschalk. He’d already been relieved of his post and his authority to make use of Laredo assets, which would include bank accounts. However, I’m glad to hear it was a relatively small amount compared to Laredo’s main planetary account. I’m here to take charge of that and make new arrangements.”

  “Ah, yes.” The executive sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers together, shrewd eyes fixed on him. “Do you have three bearer bank keys?”

  “I do; Vice-President Johns’ key, plus two that I brought from Laredo.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out the three cards in their protective envelopes.

  Gottschalk accepted them from him. “May I please validate these, Major? There are certain security checks, you understand. They won’t leave this room.”

  “In that case, go ahead.”

  “Thank you.”

  Gottschalk summoned his secretary, who made a call. Within five minutes two uniformed security officials came through the door, pushing a cart bearing a large, sophisticated card reader on its surface. Gottschalk inserted each card in turn into a slot in the top of the machine. After a few moments, each card elicited a sharp beep! as a green light illuminated.

  “These are in order,” Gottschalk agreed as the men wheeled the card out again. “If you also have the Great Seal of Laredo with you, to authenticate your office as the new President Pro Tem of Laredo’s Government-in-Exile, we can proceed.”

  “I do.” Dave produced the Seal from the attaché case he’d brought with him.

  “Excellent! What are your instructions concerning your planetary account?”

  “I see no reason to transfer the funds anywhere else. The Handelsbank has looked after them safely for several years, which we appreciate. However, we’re going to be doing a great deal of space travel over the next few years. I’d appreciate your advice on how best to arrange access to our funds from other planets whilst preserving security. I also want to set up an operating account for everyday expenses, separate from our reserve account. I’ll need two certified drafts, the first payable in Lancastrian Commonwealth credits to a Mr. Manuel Espada for five per cent of the current balance of our account, the second payable to the United Planets for twenty-five million Neue Helvetica francs. I need to withdraw more funds in the form of cash and prepaid debit chips. I want to cancel all our existing bearer bank keys and have new ones issued of a different type, so the old cards can’t be used by anyone else. Finally, I need your advice on valuing and selling a number of large and very high quality uncut diamonds that I’ve brought from Laredo. The proceeds will be deposited in our account. I’m told they should fetch several hundred million Neue Helvetica francs.”

  Gottschalk was smiling. Dave imagined he could hear old-fashioned cash register chimes in his head as he contemplated the fees that the Handelsbank would earn from all those transactions. “I’ll introduce you to one of our banking specialists, who’ll be delighted to take care of all your needs, and I’ll start researching the names of trustworthy diamond brokers. With an account balance currently in excess of six hundred million Neue Helvetica francs, and more to come from the sale of your diamonds, you certainly count among our more valued clients. Where shall we – ”

  His secretary interrupted, opening the door and looking inside. He frowned angrily at her. “I gave orders that we were not to be disturbed!”

  “Yes, Herr Gottschalk, but after the Vice-President of Laredo was shot this morning, journalists besieged the Bactrian Consulate. Something’s happening there! It’s on Channel 5!”

  “What?” The executive clapped his hands sharply. “Open Channel 5!”

  A holovid display sprang to life on a cabinet against the far wall. It showed a two-story building on a commercial street, flanked by shops. Thick green smoke was billowing from the open front door, and several figures were coughing and spluttering on the sidewalk outside. As they watched another man stumbled blindly through the door, gray suit stained with green, eyes streaming uncontrollably. Despite his screwed-up face, he was clearly recognizable as Ambassador McNairy. A news reporter was babbling excitedly in German, which neither Dave nor Tamsin understood; but they didn’t need to under the circumstances.

  “Got you, you bastard!” Dave exclaimed in savage glee.

  “What do you mean?” the banker demanded.

  “I chose my words very carefully this morning when I described the suitcase that was stolen. Everything I said about it was true, but designed to make listeners believe that the evidence we brought from Laredo was still in it. It wasn’t. We took it out last night, and substituted a few folded blankets and towels to make it feel heavy. One of my team bought a super-pressurized security cartridge on New Brisbane to help secure our belongings. Do you know them?”

  “Of course – we use them as well. They emit a dense impenetrable smoke, enough to fill several rooms very quickly, which carries teargas and pepper spray elements in suspension and will also stain everything it touches. It can’t be washed off by conventional means.”

  “That’s right. Ours went even further. It had DNA markers suspended in the smoke, to attach themselves to every surface it touched. We have the invoice for the purchase of the cartridge. It lists its DNA code, so the markers can be identified. We rigged it inside the case, set to go off if the lock was forced without a disarming code being entered on the cartridge’s remote. If that’s the source of the smoke in the Bactrian Consulate, it’ll demonstrate beyond reasonable doubt that they were connected to this morning’s tragedy. The fact that our former Ambassador to the UP has been caught on camera coming out of the enemy’s consulate also proves I was right to be suspicious of him.” Inwardly Dave vowed to arrange a very nasty surprise for McNairy as soon as possible.

  “That’s outstanding!” The man’s pleasure and excitement were clearly unfeigned as he reached for a comm unit. “With your permission, Major, I’d like to tip off an independent journalist, a personal friend of my wife’s. Her name’s Gretchen Griessel. She’s very well-known and highly regarded. I’ll advise her to take swabs from the wall of the Consulate, and perhaps from some of the railings and trees outside it. If the swabs match up with the DNA markers your cartridge used, not only will she have a scoop for the morning news, but you’ll get all the publicity you could wish to implicate your enemies in the murder of Vice-President Johns.”

  “Thank you, Herr Gottschalk. Please do that before we continue.”

  The banker made the call, speaking in rapid German to someone on the other end. He looked at Dave as he said, “Gretchen will have swabs taken at once, and have them analyzed this evening at a laboratory she’s used before. They’ll do a rush job for her. She asks whether she can get details of the DNA marker code from you.”

  “Of course. She can contact me at our hotel this evening. I’ll set up a press conference tomorrow to discuss this morning’s events and anything she learns, and to make certain announcements. If you vouch for her competence and discretion, and if she can guarantee it’ll get into major news media, I’m willing to give her an exclusive interview.”

  “Thank you.” Gottschalk began talking in German into the comm unit once more.

  “It’s a good thing we brought our own publicist with us,” Tamsin observed in a low voice. “She can advise us on how to handle all this.”

  “You’re right. The fact that she’s Manuel’s sister makes me a lot
more comfortable working with her. With a brother as competent as he is, I’m hoping it runs in the family.”

  “You and me both!”

  May 17th 2850 GSC

  NEUE HELVETICA

  The team assembled next morning for a shared breakfast. They didn’t dare use the dining-room after the barrage of publicity following the previous day’s events, because journalists were waiting in hordes to swamp them with questions. Instead, the hotel offered to cater their meal in a room at its business center. Waiters set up a buffet on side tables, and everyone helped themselves as Manuel scanned the room with an instrument he guaranteed would detect any listening devices. Finding none, he locked the door behind the waiters, took a plate of food for himself, and joined the others at the table. For a few minutes there was silence as everyone ate and drank.

  At last Dave came to his feet. “There’s a lot to tell you,” he began. “Tamsin and I haven’t slept all night – we’re living on stim-tabs at the moment. Let’s start with current developments, then go on to our plans for the foreseeable future.

  “Gretchen Griessel spent two hours with us last night. She’s a very influential Neue Helvetica journalist – we checked her background – and comes highly recommended. We gave her an exclusive interview on the situation on Laredo, our escape, the death of Vice-President Johns, and a brief glimpse of our plans for the future. She’ll be doing a series of articles about all of us, and we’re going to give her priority access to our archives. Elisabeta,” and he nodded at the publicist, “sat in on the interview, and she’ll act as our liaison with Gretchen. In fact, I’m pleased to inform you that she’s accepted a permanent position with us as our press secretary.” The others grinned. Manuel’s sister had become popular among them on the journey here, and she and Captain Deacon had been seen together more and more often.