In this Night We Own (The Commander Book 6)

by Randall Farmer

  “Keep your real motives and real plans hidden away deep inside,” Tonya said. “I’ve never given this advice to a Focus as young as you are, but since the problems found you, you have no choice.”

  “That’s awful, um, Orwellian.”

  Gail hadn’t expected a chuckle. She got one. “Yes, indeed. Out here in the East Region, we call this Transform Doublethink,” Tonya said.

  What she implied was: ‘Gail, I’m afraid you’re on your own about all these problems’. “But, why? Being forced to work and think that way can only weaken us Focuses and endanger our households, in a world that’s actively against us.”

  “Yes. By design.”

  Crap. “You sound stressed,” Gail said. She hadn’t imagined Tonya the crockery-throwing type. Besides, if one avenue of questions didn’t work, try another. Reporter instincts.

  “It’s the Arms,” Tonya said. “They aren’t doing what the Council wants and I’m stuck with the responsibility to clean up the mess.”

  “Uh huh,” Gail said. If she prodded Tonya discretely enough, she might get the older Focus to vent. She sounded unguarded enough to do so tonight. “Sounds bad.”

  “This has been going on for quite a while,” Tonya said. “You heard of the Arm Flap, I’m sure.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I was acting under Council orders to help the Feds, and needless to say, the Arms blame me for what happened to Arm Hancock.”

  Gail frowned. The Arm Flap had been a nasty business, from everything she had read. She repressed her urge to say something critical, and concentrated on squeezing more information out of Tonya. “Sounds difficult.” Transform Doublethink in action.

  “Uh huh. Worse, the Council ordered me to keep working on the Arm problem, and everything I try to do to bring them in line just gets the Arms angrier at me.”

  How Nazi of you, Tonya, Gail thought. Using ‘I was just following orders’ to excuse bad behavior just doesn’t fly. “I got the letters,” Gail said, non-committal. If she told Tonya she was being the bad guy, Gail would end up apologizing to the older Focus again. Once with that error was enough.

  “The letters aren’t the half of it,” Tonya said, ire in her voice. “I’m backed into a corner, where every action I take will damage my household, including inaction.”

  Almost too much, there. Without the proper prompt, nearly any source would clam up after saying something so personal.

  “Isn’t this the same dilemma I have with Focus Adkins?” Gail said, reaching for anything to say, and, alas, summoning forth a bit of likely unwanted Rickenbach ‘wisdom’. “You strongly hinted I need to make peace with Focus Adkins, even though facing her down will endanger my household.” Tonya didn’t answer. “Both you and Beth say that when things get rough, negotiate.”

  “This isn’t the same,” Tonya said, resigned. Gail had feared anger at her nervy comment.

  She pushed forward. “Is the official position ‘no negotiation’?”

  “Actually, if you look at my orders correctly, negotiation is almost mandated.”

  Then the situation was identical. “I may be out of line suggesting this, but since I’m facing the same fears with my own relationship with Focus Adkins, I feel compelled to make the same suggestion you and Beth gave me.”

  “Surrender and negotiate?”

  “Uh huh. It’s the right thing to do. I know as a Focus I can’t always do the right thing, but when possible, we must. Anything else and we risk becoming an amoral monster.”

  “This is a far more complicated situation.”

  Enough! Gail couldn’t bite her tongue any longer. “Forget complicated. What’s right? You know what the right thing to do is. What’s right?”

  “Don’t talk to me about right!”

  Well, that went about as poorly as Gail expected. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Tonya hadn’t hung up the phone, though, and Gail heard choppy breathing on the other end. She kept going. “Tonya, this is eating at you. Even I can tell. Can you…”

  “Drop it,” Tonya said, cutting her off, in what was supposed to be a hard voice, but ended up being too shaky to be convincing. Gail stopped and waited. She had never imagined the older Focus so vulnerable, but whatever she did with the Arms had obviously gotten to her in a big way. Gail would have loved to know the details, but this obviously wasn’t a good time to ask.

  Eventually, after several long moments, Tonya spoke again. “I apologize for my outburst.” Her voice was thin and strained. “I seem to have become overemotional. I’ll talk to you later when I can be more polite. Thank you for your concern.”

  “Tonya,” Gail said, but Tonya had already hung up. Gail stared at the phone, wondering if she would ever find out what the hell was going on. She had taken a few hints, though. Tonya hadn’t said so directly, but she had as much as said ‘yes, those are Crows you are dealing with, and you should keep dealing’. She implied, far more baldly, that Gail needed to keep dealing with Arm Keaton.

  Early on in her meeting with Keaton, Gail had momentarily paused to wonder whether interacting with the Arm was a good idea. That’s why she had called Tonya, but she hadn’t needed to. The answer had been staring her in the face the entire time: dealing with Keaton was right if doing so helped to protect the household. If Gail was in danger, the household was in danger.

  That was her decision and she was going to stick with it.

  Tonya Biggioni: December 3, 1968

  Tonya cried.

  It had been years, but the household remembered the drill. The Transforms huddled in corners and waited it out, while the normals stood guard around the household and her, just outside the kitchen. No one came in to disturb her.

  Tonya picked up a white ceramic dessert plate and sent it flying into the cupboards with a crash, where it then fell to join the shards of other broken plates.

  “Damnation! Fuck! Motherfucking bitches!” The obscenity reminded her of Keaton, and so didn’t help at all.

  Months of political warfare, against Arms, Focuses, and even Crows, and she showed no cracks in her defenses. Sympathetic honest questions from one of the few people who liked and respected her, and she fell apart.

  “Damnation!” There went another plate. The crockery tossing didn’t help, either.

  ‘What’s right?’ Gail had asked. How could anyone expect her to worry about morality with all of the other pressures crushing her? Except she knew very well that if she hadn’t been worrying about this herself, the question wouldn’t have bothered her. She remembered the look of Hancock in the CDC, unconscious wreckage after she had been through withdrawal. The lust she heard in Wini Adkins’ voice when she savored every moment of Hancock’s pain, and, later, Adkin’s willingness to spend obscene money for her own protection. Suzi Schrum’s eagerness to have Tonya break her problem children instead of help them, and the other innumerable horrors the woman was responsible for. The conscious damage wrecked on the younger Focuses through the mentoring program.

  The fact Hancock had actually offered to make peace, despite everything Tonya had done to her. Tonya took her offer and used it to break her link with Lori.

  The fact she had broken her word to Lori and betrayed the trust of her own people to continue her fight with the Arms.

  ‘What’s right?’ Tonya damned well knew what was right. She threw another plate. Plate shards still didn’t change the definition of right and wrong. She couldn’t avoid the issue, no matter how many plates she threw. She put her head down on the kitchen table for many long minutes.

  She might as well admit to reality. She wouldn’t be escaping it. She stared at the now much smaller pile of crockery in the cupboard behind her. So willing to die in a futile attempt to assuage Tonya’s conscience. So useless for the purpose. She could buy nothing so major for so cheap a price.

  “Delia?” Tonya said. Her voice was harsh from the tears, and of course Delia was curled in a ball somewhere like all her other Transforms. Cynthia Hersch stumbled into the kit
chen at the sound of Tonya’s voice.

  “Cynthia. Take a message for me.” Tonya’s voice was stronger, now. Making a decision always helped. “To Focus Rickenbach in Detroit. Tell her ‘you were right.’ Tell her ‘if I’m going to do mine, you have to do yours.’ And send me Delia.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Gilgamesh: December 4, 1968

  “Crow Gilgamesh,” Focus Laswell said, taking his hand and doing the Focus juice feel thing. Then she gave him a hug, followed by a wink at Carol. Ever since the Chicago adventure three weeks ago their relationship had warmed beyond the strictly business. “Glad to have you back in town.”

  “Thank you,” Gilgamesh said. “It’s about time for Focus Biggioni’s next trick, and Carol and I are afraid you’re the most obvious target for her to strike at.”

  “Perhaps she already has,” Focus Laswell said. She led them out back, into the household’s tiny back yard, to a small round patio table. Her Transforms had the table set up for an afternoon snack. Carol, mind somewhat elsewhere, sat first. “It may not be bad news, though.”

  “This sounds interesting,” Carol said. “You’re being hesitant. Is this something you can’t tell us?”

  “I’m hesitant because this sounds too good,” Focus Laswell said. “Focus Biggioni sent, through channels, a surrender offer.” Focus Laswell reached into her purse and brought out a well-folded inter-office memo-style manila folder. She handed it over to Carol.

  Arm Hancock

  I would like to end this conflict in a peaceful manner. I understand that our conflict has moved beyond the point where mere public apology from me will suffice. What are your terms? I would like to talk to you in person on the subject, if possible.

  Focus Tonya Biggioni

  Carol put the note away. “Pass along verbally that I’ll be sending along terms shortly, after I’ve discussed this with my people.” She studied Focus Laswell. “You said ‘channels’?”

  “This was hand-delivered by a courier from Focus Connie Webb; and verified by a phone call to Connie.”

  Carol nodded, and looked over at Gilgamesh.

  “As best as I can tell, there’s nothing out of line here.” No juice or dross tricks.

  “Then let’s move on to the next topic,” Carol said. She wasn’t convinced by Biggioni’s offer, clearly.

  They talked local business arrangements for the next two hours.

  ---

  “How did your meeting go with Merlin?” Carol said.

  “He won’t help, unfortunately,” Gilgamesh said. “Right now, the only Crows willing to set foot in Philadelphia are the anonymous ones.” Carol pulled into the driveway of her house and leapt out of the car to berate the contractors again. Despite the good news, she was still wary. Gilgamesh followed, staying out of the way until Carol finished being the business predator.

  “Well, I hope this offer is good, then. Otherwise, we’re out of Houston next week.”

  Not good news, especially since they had just lied through their teeth to Focus Laswell about their business plans. Establishing cover, he guessed.

  “May I ask why we have to leave Houston?” This had to be a sore subject. Arms didn’t like to move territories. Carol would be Tiamat for weeks.

  “Because the next thing Biggioni’s going to do is spill everything she’s collected about me to the FBI,” Carol said, with a Tiamat growl. “Keaton’s promised me she’ll know ahead of time, somehow, and since Arms are more portable than Focuses, being able to move will give us the advantage. As soon as Biggioni forces us out of Houston, we go public with what she’s done. To the Focuses. Keaton’s convinced that the Focus’s outrage will force Biggioni to surrender.” Gilgamesh nodded.

  “Hera’s potential move would also prompt Shadow into releasing the information I collected, to you,” he said.

  “I’m counting on that.”

  Carol stalked into the den, now remade into a meeting room, where Tom and the Good Doctor were waiting for them. She had called ahead, from Focus Laswell’s, to set up the meeting. “We have an offer from Biggioni. I’m looking for ideas on what we should do. My gut says this is a trap.”

  Hank read the letter. He passed it over to Tom. “There’s a trap in there somewhere, I’m sure,” Tom said. “I’m not sure what it is, though.”

  “It’s the ‘meeting in person’ part,” Hank said. “She wants a chance to go after you with her charisma.”

  “Then we can’t let that happen, now, can we?”

  “You can if you’re careful,” Hank said. He gazed up at the ceiling, as if he was embarrassed to have to give this advice. “You need to know that Focus charisma doesn’t work well at all if the Focus is injured.”

  Carol’s eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise. “Oh, that does have its possibilities,” she said. Tiamat would provide the injuries and likely enjoy every second. “Any ideas about what I should demand?”

  They talked over options for an hour. Hank suggested a suitcase nuke, mostly in jest, but Carol put that on the list the same as the other ideas. Gilgamesh, based on what he had seen of Biggioni’s operation, suggested blackmail material on both Texas Senators. His suggestion earned him a Tiamat stare, as if he was joking. “I’m still underestimating her, aren’t I?” she said, after she read his mind.

  Gilgamesh nodded, as did the Good Doctor.

  They sent the following letter to Focus Laswell, to send on to Biggioni:

  Focus Biggioni

  One of the following would do to satisfy my anger: a billion dollars, blackmail material on both Texas Senators, a working suitcase nuke, a seat on the Focus Council, or a mind scrape. If you are unfamiliar with the latter, ask Arm Keaton, as she’s the expert.

  Arm Carol Hancock

  ---

  “Biggioni’s agreed to the mind scrape,” Gilgamesh said. Carol put down the free weight and toweled off her face.

  “That was fast,” Carol said. They had only sent the letter off to Focus Laswell an hour ago.

  “Although Focus Laswell sent the letter off by courier, she also talked to Focus Webb, who talked to Focus Biggioni, who agreed to the mind scrape over the phone.”

  “So it is a trap, and she wants me in person.”

  “More than just you. She’s requesting Hank, Lori and Stacy as well,” Gilgamesh said.

  “As if I’m going to tell her who’s going to be there?” Carol said. “Tell Focus Laswell I’ll take the counteroffer under consideration, and that I’ll want Focus Biggioni here no later than the 12th.”

  Gilgamesh nodded. “Carol?”

  She grunted as she moved on to a form of exercise she called ‘lunges’, which looked deadly to Gilgamesh in the numbers Carol did them.

  “I think we should have Lori here.”

  “You’re afraid of Biggioni’s tricks?”

  “Stacy told me that Biggioni could roll her if she wasn’t careful about her mood.”

  Carol growled. “You think I need backup? Fine. If you can get Lori here, she can be here for this, but only if you agree to be here as well.”

  Gilgamesh yelped and moved to the side, somewhere more comforting and defensible. “Ma’am? Carol? I’m…”

  “The only reason Lori can roll you is because of your emotional connection,” Carol said, not even bothering to ask why he had yelped. “Thelma can’t. Unless you’re planning on forging an emotional connection to Biggioni, you shouldn’t have even close to a problem.”

  Gilgamesh shook his head in disgust; his dislike of Biggioni was far deeper than any fear of her rolling him. Still, they needed Lori here. Based on what he had learned from his spying, and from Sky and Lori, Biggioni rolled everyone she met in person. “Biggioni got Sky during the rescue, Ma’am. True, Sky was wounded and messed up very badly, but still…” Gilgamesh said. Carol shook her head and didn’t meet his gaze. He took a deep breath. “I’ll agree, but only if you’re going to follow the Good Doctor’s advice.”

  “Beat her up first?” Carol laughed. “I’m h
aving a Crow suggest I beat up a Focus to the point where she’s nearly dead? Oooh, twist my arm harder.”

  A polite knock on the doorjamb swiveled both their heads over that direction. Zielinski was there, and he looked winded and sweaty, as if he had been running outside…several months ago. Outside, it was bright and sunny, in the sixties, and Carol had the windows open, a rarity in this town.

  “Ma’am,” he said to Carol, intensely anxious. The Good Doctor had lost his nearly always phlegmatic emotional control. He radiated awe, terror, curiosity, wonder, and extreme disbelief. “This is turning out to be one hell of a day. You would not believe who I just talked to on the phone.” He paused and blinked. Carol waited him out. “Are you up to a quick trip to Boston…to visit the Nobles?”

  Earl Robert Sellers: December 5, 1968

  “Focus Rizzari can’t attend this presentation,” Occum said. They gathered in the half-restored candy factory, resting, eating, and getting cleaned up. “Too much politics at too wrong a time.” He still bounced, though, after spending three days in Inferno, meeting Focus Rizzari in person for the first time, helping her get her mental shit together using the Great Enabler, and helping Focus Sport Racshke heal herself.

  Earl Sellers smiled. The technical details weren’t his business, and his personal worry, that Occum would end up a love-sick wreck like Gilgamesh and Sky, had proved unfounded. Sellers and his peers had presented to Inferno, a four-hour affair, with the Duke doing most of the talking, and they had wowed the audience.

  Now, a presentation to the Commander, at what Occum insisted was going to turn out to be the perfect time. Sellers suspected Occum had been talking to the Madonna of Montreal again. This sounded like one of her crazy bits of advice.

  Duke Hoskins came in from the back room, freshly dressed in his best suit, and glared. “Nancy, what are you doing back here?” he asked Focus-Sport Racshke. The presentation to the Commander was just under two hours away, back in their old camera shop, currently vacant and on the real estate market.