To Do or Die (A Jump Universe Novel)

by Mike Shepherd

  “Of course I had problems with Alice’s job, but how would you have had me keep her from it? She came in here proud as punch. She’d found a way to get information from inside your Farm. Information that, may I point out, all of your fine technology wasn’t providing.”

  But the brother ended up shaking his head sadly. “I knew the risk. She knew the risk, but she thought she could get away with it. What’s that old song about the young lady from Niger?”

  “Who went for a ride on a tiger,” Mary said, reaching for the bottle and taking a good long pull on it. “The tiger ended up wearing her smile and she ended up inside the tiger or something like that.”

  “I could never make the end of it rhyme either,” Brother Scott admitted. “Now, you should get some sleep, and I need to pray. God, but I need to pray,” he said. Standing and finding a blanket for Mary, he tossed it her way.

  “Where is your God with Alice’s being raped tonight?” Mary snapped. She knew it was a foul question, but she was feeling rather distasteful.

  The religious man stopped at the door. “I would like to think that my God is there, with Alice, holding her hand as she walks through this valley of death.”

  “Does thinking that make you feel better for what you did?”

  He whirled on Mary. “I did. You did. We all did. No. I will pray for Alice, and I will pray for forgiveness. Both for me and for you. I know I need forgiveness. Do you, Marine?”

  Mary hadn’t expected that kind of a swing. Her comeback was slow. “I’ll forgive myself when that piece of shit is dead.”

  “And what if you can’t kill him? What if the people who hold your leash won’t let you?” The brother was showing red at the neck. Clearly, Mary was getting at him, and he was quite able and willing to get at her.

  “A painfully good point,” Mary admitted.

  “I’ll pray for both of us and for Alice. And I’ll pray for those who are doing this to her. Certainly, there must be some hope for their salvation.”

  Later, as she rolled up in the offered blanket, Mary found herself reflecting.

  Which would be the worst ending for Milassi? A turn of heart that left him feeling all the pain he’d caused? Or a fine pit in hell with plenty of vicious demons roasting his dick over a roaring fire?

  Mary decided she wasn’t a very nice person. That pit in hell was way ahead in her voting.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  MARY CAME AWAKE with a start. The back door was opening ever so quietly, but not quietly enough for her to sleep through it tonight.

  Keeping the warm blanket around her, Mary went on bare feet into the main hall. There was Brother Scott and the nun, helping Alice and her loyal knight through the door. Mary covered the space to them quickly.

  Alice was trembling. Mary shed her warm blanket and wrapped it around the two youngsters.

  “Thank you,” Alice stammered.

  “I’m sorry,” Mary said.

  “I didn’t tell them anything, ma’am. They didn’t want anything from me. Any talking, I mean.”

  “I know,” Mary said as softly as she could. This child did not deserve the angry words roiling Mary’s gut.

  “Can I lie down now?” the slaughtered innocent asked.

  “Yes,” Brother Scott said. Sister had two blankets in her arms. She threw one around the two kids, and handed the other off to Mary with a “You must be cold.”

  The two kids moved off toward an empty corner.

  “Do you want to give them a room?” Mary asked.

  The brother pondered the question for a moment, then shook his head. “They’re good kids. Let them hold each other. That will likely be all she can take from him tonight.”

  Beside him, the sister nodded.

  Without a word, both of the religious turned back toward their makeshift chapel, no doubt to thank their God for whatever small gift they and the kids had gotten tonight.

  Mary sighed. It came out more a shudder. Alice had lived through the night. She had her best friend to hold her and two blankets to keep her warm. The Marine could think of nothing more she could do for her at the moment.

  As Mary made her way back to her sleeping space, she caught Gunny’s eye. He was awake, quietly taking it all in with a warrior’s eye. In his eyes, she could see the tally count rising higher.

  Somebody owed a lot for tonight.

  Somebody would pay.

  Mary considered that for a moment. The two religious would pray. Gunny would keep the count of all that was owed and hold it tight for a day of reckoning.

  That was what Gunnies did so well.

  Mary’s mouth went to a grim, tight smile. She knew which one was her job and she liked it, thank you very much.

  Instead of returning to her tiny room, she settled down next to Gunny. He shared his still-warm blanket with her, and she added her cold one to the floor beneath them.

  They said not a word. None was needed. Men would die for the pleasure they had stolen tonight, and the two of them would make sure they did.

  The profession of the sword was a hard one. Its discipline and practice could drive a person to death and madness. Certainly, it had driven Mary from it to the easier life of an Explorer Corps guard.

  Still, getting payback for things like tonight made it all worthwhile.

  Mary promised herself that she’d have her Explorer Corps guards out with the embassy Marines for their morning run. They’d gotten soft.

  It was time to get hard again.

  Which reminded Mary. She’d have to be careful how she explained tonight to her crew. Half of them had grown up as street kids. They’d all taken a shine to Alice and her kids.

  Dumont would have to be told carefully. Like the president-for-life, Dumont had a thing for young girls. Only his thing was to protect them. The last time Du had seen a girl he considered under his protection come to ill use, a lot of scum had died.

  Mary would have to make sure that Du understood the scum would die, but not until the time came and those holding their leashes said they died.

  Du had a hard time understanding the leash thing.

  Sometimes, Mary did, too.

  Light showed through the upper windows of the hall. Mary asked Gunny for the time, got her answer, and began rousing her troops. She checked the chapel; the two brothers and nuns were still in there, kneeling in prayer.

  Or maybe meditation.

  Or maybe a bit of sleep.

  Mary didn’t bother them. They’d have enough trouble picking up the loose ends of what had happened last night.

  Two Marines checked the alley behind the center, found it clear, and all of them headed out. Their cars had not been vandalized.

  Two street kids asleep on the hoods likely accounted for that. Gunny tossed them money, and they scampered off.

  It was a silent drive back to the embassy.

  THIRTY-SIX

  MARY REPORTED TO Trouble and the Foreign Service Officer that she’d made contact with thirteen of the scientists and they looked eager to bail on their employer.

  “You sure they won’t go running to their security types and set a trap for us?” the diplomat asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Mary said. “They looked really interested in a new job. And if they wanted to turn us in, they had their chance last night. President Milassi was there.”

  “At the bordello?” Trouble actually sounded shocked.

  “Not two tables from me,” Mary said.

  “How’d that go?” Becky asked.

  “I got asked to his table,” Mary said, and looked away, wishing the conversation hadn’t taken this turn.

  “What’s wrong, Captain? Did something go bad?” Trouble demanded.

  “Did Milassi remember you?” the FSO asked.

  “No. He made a pass at me,” Mary snapped, “but he got redirected at someone new, untouched. It seems I’m old and damaged goods.”

  “You don’t look it to me,” Trouble said, gallantly stepping in to bolster Mary’s feminine ego.r />
  “Who’d he get redirected to?” the woman FSO officer asked, spotting the potential problem.

  “Our mole inside the bordello,” Mary said, her voice flat. “Little Alice.”

  “Damn,” Trouble muttered. “The troops aren’t going to like that.”

  “Gunny doesn’t,” Mary said. “I don’t. Lots of those of us who were there really don’t like it. Not at all.”

  The diplomat turned to Trouble. “We aren’t going to have a problem with this, are we, Captain Tordon?”

  Trouble braced. “No, Ms. Graven, we will not have a problem with this. Will we, Mary?”

  Now it was Mary’s turn to brace, even if she was still in the little bit of nothing she’d worn last night. “No, ma’am. We know that the best way to get those bastards is to do it by the numbers, and we will do it by the numbers, ma’am.”

  “Good. I don’t want to have any misunderstandings about this,” the FSO said. “We’re too damn close to getting Milassi’s ass where I want it to screw it up because someone couldn’t wait. No more rogues. You understand.”

  For a long moment, the three of them eyed each other. No one flinched. The orders were received, understood, and would be obeyed. There was no doubt of that.

  “Sir, if you’ll excuse me,” Mary said, “I need a shower and a change of clothes. Then I need to talk to my crew.”

  “By all means, Mary, go get cleaned up.”

  Mary left. She did get that shower. Afterward, she tossed everything she’d worn the night before into a burn bag.

  Back in uniform, she went hunting for the team. She looked up Dumont first. She found him alone in the break room, struggling with paperwork. As she expected, briefing him was a full-time job.

  Fortunately, the old street kid was maturing. Thankfully, the break room had one wall with a rubber mat hanging on it. Du slammed his fist into that wall repeatedly as he shouted a long string of language Mary hadn’t heard in a while.

  “We will get the bastard,” Mary repeated.

  “You sure as shit better,” Dumont spat. Despite the matting, he was waving his hurt hand in the air to shake off some of the self-inflicted pain.

  “I want him just as much as you. The captain wants his ass. That diplomat woman running things around here wants his head above her mantelpiece.”

  “You think there’s enough of him to go around?” Dumont asked.

  “There will be plenty of little pieces,” Mary assured her subordinate.

  “Okay, we do it your way,” he said, settling down.

  Next, Mary called a formation outside. With her team of killers and line beasts standing at parade rest in the break room, she filled them in.

  “Some of you are hearing stories about where I and others went last night. There’s not a lot that I can tell you about what went down. It’s heavy shit, and a lot more shit is coming down. What I can tell you is that yes, Milassi raped Alice Blue Bonnet.”

  A low growl swept through the ranks.

  “He had a choice of me or Alice, and he likes them young and fresh. No one would ever mistake me for either.”

  That got a soft titter from the ranks.

  “I cannot tell you how or when, but I can promise you that we will get Milassi’s ass. This is not something to talk about. Don’t even mutter it in your beer. But we will have him by the balls before we ship out. This I promise you, so don’t screw anything up by doing something out of bounds yourself or spouting off your mouth. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” came back at her hard and loud.

  “Very good. Dismissed to duties,” she ordered. Her sergeant ordered an about-face. The men and women took two steps, then scattered to their jobs, talking softly among themselves.

  “Do you think that will hold them?” she asked Dumont.

  “For a while,” he said, anger still burning in his eyes.

  “Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Mary agreed. “I better go talk to the captain about how fast we can separate Milassi from his ass and head.”

  “Yeah, you do that, old lady,” Dumont said, using the comeback the street people had long used for Mary. This time, he had a smile on his face.

  “You’re getting old yourself, boy,” Mary said as she walked away from him.

  “All too quickly,” was his gentle comeback.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  TROUBLE, FOR ONCE, saw it coming.

  Mary presented herself most formally, but her words were blunt. “How fast can we take Milassi down? You can have his ass. Becky can have his head. We’ll settle for his guts for garters.”

  “You’re in luck. We think we can do it in the next couple of days. Assuming the weather cooperates.”

  Mary raised a questioning eyebrow, but Trouble dismissed her. He had work to do and would have to choose very carefully who got what duty assignments.

  The weather had been hot and unbearable for two weeks, despite repeated promises from the weatherman that the heat spell would break. Regularly, the prognostications were for the high off the coast to break up and let the cool, wet marine air in. Day after day it didn’t.

  The heat wave blistered on.

  At the Farm, the heat wave caused a delay in fertilizing the crop of growing drugs. As Ruth pointed out from her farm experience, they needed to wet down the fertilizer after they laid it. If it rained, they got it wet for free.

  If they put down the manure with no rain in the forecast, then they’d have to water the whole thing themselves, and there was a basic flaw in that.

  The water pipes to that entire part of town were about six inches too small. It was one of the results of urban sprawl and a growing population. That, and a government that didn’t want to spend any more than it had to on infrastructure.

  Whatever the causes, the flow of water to that entire end of town was frequently low pressure. Turning on the sprinklers to water twenty hectares worth of drugs would put a major strain on the water supply.

  Of course, if Trouble got Ruth the results she wanted, that strain could only be a godsend.

  Trouble smiled at the prospects.

  As the FSO had suggested, the manure detail was assigned to the embassy Marines. Trouble called in Lieutenant Vu and ordered him to deliver the package himself with a select group of his men and women.

  With a grin and a happy salute, Vu left to arrange for them all to take a nice drive in the country.

  Maybe even a picnic lunch.

  A quick check with the demolition team from the Patton showed that they had plenty of what Vu needed to deliver.

  That check with the Patton also verified that they had the feed lot under surveillance. The delay in shipping manure off to the drug farm and the hot weather had left piles of cow shit drying in the sun. That morning, three large truckloads of the stuff had been loaded up and should have been leaving anytime now.

  Trouble left a note for the Patton to keep him informed of the fertilizer’s progress and made sure he had contract with Vu. Communications would be critical.

  Trouble allowed himself a smile and called Ruth to see if she was available for lunch. She allowed that she was, so they collected a lunch from the embassy cafeteria and carried it to the safe room.

  “Husband, why are you grinning like the canary that just took a big bite out of the cat?”

  “Because I’m serving up revenge both cold and sweet, and I find that it does taste a bit like ice cream.”

  “And I thought I was hard to understand at times,” Ruth said, settling in a chair and taking a bite out of her roast beef sandwich on rye.

  Trouble got serious. “I don’t know whether to tell you the bad news or the good news first.”

  Ruth chewed for a bit, swallowed, and said, “Let’s start with the bad.”

  “You were worried about Alice’s getting that job in the bordello,” Trouble said, not beating around the bush. At least not much.

  “Oh God, no!” Ruth said, then had to grab for her plate before it crashed down onto the floor.

>   “Yes. Milassi himself came to the place last night, and it seems he likes them young. Really young.”

  “We should never have let her work there.”

  “We needed the intel Alice got,” Trouble shot back, then added in a softer voice, “And we didn’t know Milassi’s tastes, and we didn’t know he’d go there.”

  “But . . .” Ruth started but couldn’t seem to figure out what to say next.

  “Because of Alice’s work, Mary was able to make contact with all thirteen of the disaffected scientists at the Farm. They do want out. We think we can get them out tomorrow.”

  “That’s the good news?” Ruth said dubiously, not sounding at all sure the good outweighed the bad.

  “Yes. But I think you’ll like the distraction we’ve got planned to help you get them out.”

  Quickly he filled her in.

  “Oh, that’s good. That’s very good!” she said. “That’s my husband the Marine. Blowing shit up and loving it.”

  “Yeah. And if Becky has it right, taking down the Farm cuts deep into Milassi’s revenue stream. Likely, enough to make this place too hot to handle. Way too hot and not at all profitable.”

  “But will he merely get away, or can we get him?”

  “That I don’t know,” Trouble had to admit. The FSO was not very forthcoming about the next phase of this operation. But then, lacking a crystal ball, Trouble was not at all sure where they were headed.

  “I’d really like for you Marines to get your hands on that little shit. No, you Marines are too straight up for the job,” Ruth said. “I want dogs. Or pigs. Ever seen a man attacked by feral pigs?”

  “Where would we find some feral pigs?” Trouble asked. He didn’t think there were any at hand, but from the look in his wife’s eyes, it might be worth the effort.

  “Or one of those pain collars you wore when the slavers got you. One that you can dial up or down. Let Alice have the controls.”

  “Honey, the little girl’s been raped. Do you think she also needs the burden of being a killer?”