by Eric Thomson
This safe house, just like the earlier one, opened at Talyn’s touch via an airlock-style double entry. Its furnishings were basic institutional grade as well, although the detention and interrogation facilities in the basement lacked the other’s size and sophistication.
After familiarizing themselves with every nook and cranny, they prepared a few emergency escape routes before pilfering the house’s stock of preserved food trays for a late supper. Then, Decker and Talyn spent the night relaying each other on sentry duty in front of a wide monitor showing video feeds from all angles around the house. It proved to be as quiet as it was boring.
*
“That’s strange.”
Decker took a sip of his morning coffee and sat back cradling the cup in both hands. He had been scanning the open net for news after polishing off a hearty breakfast.
“Hmm?” Talyn looked up from the perimeter surveillance monitor. “What is?”
“There’s not a single mention of Wynt or the abduction video anywhere. It’s been taken down.”
“Which can mean many things, starting with news feeds running the story before the cops cleared it.”
“Or it could have been removed by someone with pull. Someone who didn’t want us to know the hunt was on.”
She nodded.
“Of course. And if you want to give your paranoia a good workout, think about the possibility that someone deliberately let the news feeds run with it for a few hours.”
Decker’s face brightened.
“To flush us out of hiding by making us think they’re closing in. Delightfully twisted, except we’re not the sort to bolt without giving it a lot of thought and preparation.”
“You know that, and I know that, but no one else has any idea how we react under duress. Our after-action reports are on the dry side and to the point, with little discussion of our states of mind at a given juncture.”
“Okay, if we go with explanation number three, it means they’re not about to come charging in here, weapons at the ready. Maybe we need to bait the trap, make whoever’s playing for the other team commit himself.”
Decker paused, lips pursed, eyes half closed in thought.
“Here’s an idea,” he said after a moment of silent contemplation. “You could leave a message in the section’s darknet drop box, referring in some veiled way to Peony and saying we’re still running with the operation. Anyone on the side of angels will take note and avoid interfering. However, if our traitor is one of the few with access to that box, he’ll want to seize us as quickly as possible.”
“Baiting a trap is always risky, Zack. We’re not dealing with militia or national guard amateurs, but with some of the best operatives anywhere, even if they’ve been riding desks for a few years.”
“No doubt, but after Wynt’s abduction, his fate unknown, our traitor could be feeling that sweet sensation of impending doom. Keep in mind you and I have a certain reputation. What do you say? Let’s poke at the scorpion’s nest and see what comes out.”
*
“Done.” Talyn broke her link with Caledonia’s darknet. “I hope our quarry is anxious enough to overlook the fact that I’ve basically given away our position for no good reason.”
“Like I said, he’ll want to know what we’ve done and stop us from doing more of the same. Since the traitor would be stupid to come at us alone, I wouldn’t be surprised to see an action team show up in the middle of the night.” Decker rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Then we’ll find out.”
“Just remember that if it’s a Naval Intelligence action team, they could be entirely legitimate and unconnected to Black Sword. That means we can’t use them for target practice.”
“No arguments here. I figure our traitor will be on site to oversee the snatch. All we have to do is identify him and withdraw. We can do that from a remote spot. Link the perimeter surveillance with your tablet, and I’ll build a sensor-blocking cage large enough to pass for our hiding place. They’re sure to scan the building, and without a sign we might be here...”
*
Shortly after nightfall, Decker and Talyn left Peony, having carefully removed any trace of their occupation, save for the makeshift sensor-blocking cage.
They took a wide circuit around the neighborhood and headed for the back of the abandoned tenement near the safe house. Tests run during the day had shown distance limits on Talyn’s link with the safe house surveillance network.
Attempts to boost the signal and give them more working room resulted in a carrier wave readily detectable by military-grade sensors. Therefore, they had no choice but to lurk nearby, hoping their life signs would be taken as those of the many vagrants squatting in the area’s crumbling structures.
They settled in a third-floor room overlooking the street and the safe house, having scouted their escape route beforehand. Decker scanned Peony, pleased to see the faint dark spot he hoped would lure the team in. Then, they settled into their accustomed sentry rhythm, with one of them monitoring the surveillance net and the other napping.
*
A gentle hand roused Zack from his light slumber, and he instantly came to the full consciousness of a man primed for action. Rolling over onto his stomach he let his ears reach out for any sounds that didn’t belong. Talyn wordlessly shoved the tablet under his nose
Dark silhouettes were moving outside, covering Peony’s doors and windows. Dressed as members of a police action team, but without the characteristic blue and white checkerboard stripes on their uniforms, the silent shadows were armed for war.
Talyn’s hand reached out to touch Decker’s and her fingers danced on his skin in the tactile code used by covert operatives.
You called it.
He flipped his hand over and let his own fingers dance on her palm.
You’re recording everything?
She nodded.
One of the shadows touched the control panel by Peony’s door. It opened silently. He slipped inside, followed by four more.
They have the codes. Now we know for sure we have a traitor.
She nodded again.
Another squad entered Peony at some unseen signal. Decker wished he could follow their progress with his sensor, but if they carried detectors, the game would be over.
Nothing happened for several minutes, but then a figure, previously unseen, emerged from the shadows and headed for the safe house door.
They know we’re not there.
Though dressed in dark clothes, the man, for that’s what his way of moving showed, didn’t wear an unmarked police tactical uniform. Nor did he carry a large array of weaponry. His features were half hidden by a brimmed hat, but just as he was about to enter, the man stopped.
Head swiveling from side to side, he scrutinized his surroundings, perhaps wondering whether his quarry was somewhere nearby, watching. Then, he raised his eyes for a brief glance at the tenement’s upper stories, exposing a face hardened by anger to one of the surveillance cameras.
Talyn’s slender fingers grasped Zack’s wrist when the feed from that particular sensor reached her tablet.
Then, Commander Manfred Yang, chief of staff to Captain Ulrich, head of Naval Intelligence’s Special Operations Section, entered the safe house.
Forty-Eight
Talyn and Decker made their way out of the tenement at flank speed before Yang pointed the action team in a new direction rather than withdraw.
“Manny has to have figured out by now we were watching, right?” Decker asked in a whisper once they emerged into a dank alley one block over. “Which means he knows we identified him. If Manny wasn’t twitchy before, he sure as hell is now. I was really hoping the traitor would turn out to be someone else, but this explains our bad luck.”
“We need to contact Ulrich as soon as possible before Yang double-crosses us. He’ll feel cornered, and that makes him extra dangerous.”
“Let’s find a public terminal and pull the boss from his beauty sleep.”
Talyn sh
ook her head.
“No. We’ll visit him at home. Now. We can’t afford to go near something that might give Yang a clue to our whereabouts. He’s likely reached the conclusion we’ve become a shoot-on-sight problem.”
“Then we’d better start walking. Ulrich’s apartment is near the HQ complex, and that’s at least ten clicks away. More for us since we need to stay off the main thoroughfares.” As they set out, he shook his head ruefully. “Why do we always end up walking? This is the twenty-sixth century. We’re interstellar operatives. We cross light years in FTL starships. And once again, we’re walking.”
She gave him a tolerant smile.
“Tradition, big boy. On every mission, we have a tradition of going low-tech, and you have a tradition of grumbling about it.” When he took in a deep breath and made to open his mouth, she quickly added, “Don’t you dare.”
“What?” He asked with an innocent look.
“You were about to channel Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof.”
“I was not.” When she cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, he said, “Okay, fine. I was thinking about it. It’s a catchy tune.”
“It’s also six hundred years old.”
“Can I help it if I prefer the classics?”
*
Talyn studied the almost impossibly balanced octahedral luxury apartment building nestled at the heart of an eye-pleasing mix of Earth and native vegetation. Ulrich’s unit was somewhere near the top, but at this hour of the night, not a single ray of light escaped the glassy surface.
Decker stood guard against unexpected arrivals while his partner mustered enough courage to end Yang’s career and start an era of mistrust and chaos.
“Finding out Manny went over to the enemy really rattled you, didn’t it?” He asked in a soft whisper. “Maybe to the point where you’re wondering if others in the section, including Ulrich, have gone bad too?”
“The boss trusts Yang implicitly. They go back a long way. He’ll have a hard time believing the evidence.” She paused. “I have a hard time believing it.”
“That doesn’t invalidate the fact Manny’s gone rotten. Let’s get it over with.” Decker stepped out onto the stone path and headed for the main door. Talyn caught up with him after a few steps.
The call panel lit up at their approach, and a friendly AI asked whom they wished to visit at this hour.
“Konstantin Ulrich. The name Hera should be on his list of visitors permitted to call at any time.”
“It is indeed, Sera. One moment please.” Less than a minute later, the door slid aside with a soft sigh. “You may enter. Lift number two will take you to Ser Ulrich’s home. He has been advised of your arrival.”
The elevator cab disgorged Decker and Talyn into a small, private, but tastefully decorated lobby. A tall, bald man in his late sixties waited for them, arms crossed.
“The prodigals return, and in the middle of the night, at that.”
“We need to speak with you most urgently, sir.”
“I think I may have deduced that, Commander Talyn. You’re not precisely a frequent visitor to my private quarters, and no one’s heard from either of you for the better part of a year.”
“We know who Zack’s Smert Shpionam is, sir.”
Ulrich waved at the open door to his apartment.
“Then please come in. My night is shot anyway.”
Ulrich led them to a cozy, book-lined room and indicated they should sit on the sofa across from him. Then he gave Talyn an expectant stare.
“Speak your piece.”
*
A band of pink tinted the horizon by the time Talyn fell silent. Her tablet lay on the table between them, having played the recordings of Wynt’s interrogation and the raid on Peony.
Ulrich stood and wandered over to the window, lost in thought, a worried frown creasing his forehead.
“I find it hard to believe Manfred would betray the section, betray me.”
“Yet it fits, sir,” Decker said.
“It does, more’s the pity. The only one whose word I trust as much as Manfred’s is Hera’s and I cannot deny the gravity of the evidence she presented. He organized a raid on Peony without my authorization, an unprecedented act. To think this Black Sword has metastasized within Fleet HQ, within Naval Intelligence even.”
He turned to face his operatives.
“Your story, your evidence, they’re my worst fears come to life. Fleet officers, including one of our own deliberately working to undo Admiral Kowalski’s legacy.”
“What now?” Talyn asked.
Ulrich seemed to engage in a silent debate with himself, then nodded as if he’d come to a decision.
“I — we — shall engage Manfred in a long conversation at one of the other safe houses. Marguerite, perhaps. He and I sometimes go off-site to discuss matters that should, under no circumstances, be overheard by anyone.”
“Using Marguerite would be a bad idea, sir. It’s where we interrogated Wynt, remember?”
“Oh. Right. Daisy, then. We’ll travel there together, and I’ll summon Manfred.” Ulrich studied Zack through narrowed eyes. “I suppose I should make sure you’re back in action as Major Decker beforehand. It might be problematic if things don’t go well and I’m found in the company of a deserter.”
“That would be nice, sir.”
Ulrich nodded once.
“I’m sure it would. You’ll have to wait here while I make an early appearance at HQ. I can only erase everything related to Zack’s legal issues from my work terminal, and his credentials are stored in my office safe. Unfortunately, automating the process proved to be impossible without leaving traces.”
“What about Ariane Redmon?” Decker asked.
“That will have to wait a bit longer. I can’t make her disciplinary record vanish with a simple wave of the hand, but rest assured that she too will resume her rightful place. She’ll still be answerable for her dealings with Black Sword, however. I doubt she’ll be given another assignment with access to highly classified information.”
“I’m sure Ari expects some form of penance.”
“Unquestionably. Redmon strikes me as an honorable officer.” Ulrich pulled a jacket from his hallway closet. “I’ll be back shortly. Help yourselves to whatever you need in the kitchen.”
*
Shortly turned into two hours before Ulrich returned, wearing a thoughtful expression. He handed Zack his Fleet identification and Naval Intelligence credentials.
“Welcome home, Major. It’s as if you never left.”
“Thank you, sir. If I may ask, what’s eating you?”
“Two things. First, someone tried to mess with your file and prevent me from wiping the charges and court-martial record. I assume it was Manfred, since he’s the only one with both access and knowledge. Second, Manfred has put out an all-points bulletin for your arrest, Hera, and for that of a William Whate, which I presume is Zack’s nom de guerre. No specifics are given beyond the national security clause.”
“He’s panicking,” Talyn said.
“I’ve never known Manfred to panic before. He was one of the most stoic field agents we had before his unfortunate shooting.”
“As my partner likes to say, people change. I’ll also add that when a situation snowballs, sometimes even the smartest, steadiest agents lose perspective. From Manfred’s point of view, the situation is dire and getting worse. He has to operate under the assumption we squeezed Wynt dry, that we saw him raid Peony and that we’ll try to contact you with the evidence.”
“Perhaps it might be best if we confront him in my office rather than at a safe house. He’s less likely to do something stupid.”
“Agreed,” Decker replied. “For maximum effect, perhaps Hera and I should find our uniforms and turn back into responsible, sober senior officers?”
“Zack’s belongings are in my quarters, sir,” Talyn said.
“In that case, I’ll drop you off at the officer’s block on the way to work.” He glanced
at his timepiece. “Manfred’s indicated he’ll be with the Sanctum police this morning, coordinating the search for you. Come to the office at noon, and when he walks in, you may greet him personally.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll play it by ear, Hera.” Ulrich gave her a sad smile. “Intelligence officers who betray their organization have no expectation of survival, unless we can turn them. But Manfred would be too dangerous as a double agent and he knows that.”
*
“There was a brief period,” Decker said examining himself in Talyn’s full-length mirror, “when I thought I’d never wear this particular uniform again. It feels good to be back.”
“But you had fun playing private for a while nonetheless, right?” She asked through the open bathroom door. “A return to your misspent youth, perhaps a fantasy boot camp for middle-aged officers.”
“Next time, I’ll take you along for the ride, honey. Both of us in the Marine Light Infantry? To quote one of QD’s guys, it would probably implode from sheer awesomeness.”
Talyn came out, fully dressed, and said, “Doubtful. Do you need to admire your reflection some more or shall we go make people wonder why Major Decker is back among the innocent?”
“Let’s go. I live to watch jaws drop, none more so than Manny’s when he sees us in our Sunday best enjoying the boss’ coffee.”
But to Zack’s chagrin, nobody noticed the big Marine major and his slender naval companion as they rode the underground shuttle connecting the vast HQ complex’s many buildings.
The bullpen outside Ulrich’s office, where field agents worked between missions under Yang’s strict supervision, was devoid of human activity.
“Hera, Zack,” Ulrich’s voice shattered the eerie silence, “please join me.”
They found him standing by the coffee urn adorning a sideboard near his desk.
“Manfred has advised me he’s on his way back and wishes to discuss the problem both of you seem to have become for Naval Intelligence.” Ulrich nodded at the stacked cups. “Help yourselves.”
They settled around the small conference table and sipped their coffees in silence. When a soft chime rang out, Ulrich said, “That’s the security station. Manfred has entered our unit lines.”