“Steffan!” declared Minz heartily. “It’s good to see that you’re still around.”
“So far,” replied Dekkard.
“That’s good to hear. Have you met my other security half, Cherlyssa Maergan?”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” said Dekkard.
“We’ve met,” said Ysella a trace too politely.
“We have,” replied Maergan in a similar tone.
“Does the Premier have any surprises for the Council?” asked Dekkard. “More than the usual, I mean.”
“I’d be the last to know,” said Minz cheerfully. “I doubt it. Surprises reflect bad politics and worse government. It’s so much better to do things so quietly that no one notices … or cares.”
Dekkard nodded. “There’s something to be said for that.” Especially for those who are devious and underhanded.
“It’s good to see you both,” said Minz. “If I don’t see you before recess, do enjoy it.”
“We’ll definitely try,” returned Dekkard.
“So should you, Jaime,” added Ysella.
“I’m always trying,” replied Minz. “You should know that, Avraal.” With a broad smile, he turned, and he and Maergan continued along the main corridor toward the floor and the committee rooms.
As soon as Minz and Maergan were out of earshot, Ysella said quietly, “Obreduur couldn’t have handled it any better. I’m also fairly sure that Maergan was the one tracking us. Or me and Obreduur, because she couldn’t track you. She doesn’t much care if we know.”
“Neither does Minz. Seemed as if it was all to deliver that pleasantry. Or message.”
Ysella paused, then said in an even lower voice, “Have you done something I don’t know about? It sounds like more than a few people don’t want you around.”
Dekkard shook his head. “You know everything I’ve done. Getting rid of me is just a step toward getting rid of Obreduur. He was right about that.”
“He needs to know about this, but not until he returns to the office.”
Dekkard nodded.
Ysella led the way to the cafeteria line, where she chose what looked to be a casserole of rice, mushrooms, and chicken. After looking at the spiced ribs and the pasta salad, Dekkard followed her example. Since all the tables for two were taken, they settled at a four-top.
Both ate several mouthfuls before Ysella said quietly, “Laurenz Korriah is heading toward us, along with Shaundara Keppel.”
“Would you mind if we join you?” asked the balding burly Korriah, looking to Ysella.
“Please do. I haven’t seen either of you in months. How are things with you?”
Korriah and Keppel slid into seats across from each other, and Korriah said, “I was actually wondering about Steffan. I heard someone impersonating a Council Guard attacked him the other day.”
“Did that come up with the Security Committee staff?” asked Dekkard.
“How else would we know? Are you all right?”
Korriah sounded truly concerned, Dekkard had to admit, and the other isolate had always been straight with him. “I’m fine. There were two, and the second one got away.”
“And the first one?”
“He had a semi-automatic pistol. I didn’t have time to try for a capture. He’s dead. No identification.”
Korriah shook his head. “Was he looking for you?”
“All he did was ask for my passcard. He didn’t look quite right, and he went for his gun. I was faster. The other one sprinted off when I yelled for the Council Guards.”
“Semi-automatic pistol? Like certain demonstrators.”
“And others,” added Ysella.
Keppel lifted her eyebrows and looked at Ysella.
“Sometimes, it’s easier to see what people put in front of you.”
Korriah nodded slowly. “That’s a good point.”
“Very good,” added Keppel. “Especially now.”
Korriah turned back to Dekkard. “Do you know why someone might be after you?”
“No more than all the other security aides working for Craft councilors.”
“Strange how Commerce councilors get killed or into trouble,” said Keppel, “but how it’s always security aides for Craft councilors.”
“That might be because Commerce councilors don’t have security aides who are as good,” replied Ysella in a voice cheerfully sarcastic.
Korriah grinned. “I like that. It might even be true. What about Landors?”
“Landors must have good security aides, but it doesn’t matter as much because no one wants to antagonize either their councilors or aides,” said Ysella.
“For now, anyway,” added Dekkard.
Korriah turned back to Dekkard. “When do you think that will change?”
“I have no idea. I only know that things always change. You’ve got more experience than I do. When do you think they will?”
Korriah shrugged. “I don’t have any better idea than you. Except that if the demonstrations get worse, some folks might get nastier.”
“Security, you mean?” suggested Ysella.
“Don’t you think so?”
“They’ve been quietly strong, even brutal, already,” said Dekkard.
“It could get worse,” said Keppel.
Korriah glanced at her, not quite disapprovingly.
“Minister Wyath believes in strict adherence to the law,” continued Keppel. “So does Premier Ulrich.”
“I’ve heard that Ulrich believes in more than that,” said Dekkard. That wasn’t quite true; it was more that Minz’s behavior implied that.
Korriah glanced around, then lowered his voice. “That’s true, but it’s not wise to say it in public.”
Dekkard smiled warmly. “I appreciate the caution, but you and Shaundara aren’t public.”
“Thank you. How is that rice mess the rest of you are eating?”
“Less liable to burn out our guts than those ribs,” replied Dekkard. “I don’t have your porcelain-lined stomach.”
“Neither do I,” added Keppel.
From there the conversation was about food.
After finishing their meal, Dekkard and Ysella made their way back to the councilors’ dining room. They waited less than a sixth before Obreduur walked swiftly out and toward them. “Excellent lunch. I’ll tell you about it later.”
As they headed toward the committee room, Ysella said quietly, “Sir, when we’re back in the office, we also need a few minutes to tell you about an interesting encounter.”
“I’m not sure we need any more of those,” murmured Obreduur. “Just wait for me outside the committee room. This will be a short meeting.”
Dekkard had his doubts, but this time Obreduur was right, and he rejoined them in less than two-thirds of a bell—one of the shortest committee sessions Dekkard could recall.
Once they reached the office, Dekkard let Obreduur and Ysella precede him into the councilor’s private chamber. He followed and closed the door.
“You tell me about your encounter first,” said Obreduur, settling behind his desk and gesturing to the chairs.
After both staffers were seated, Dekkard nodded to Ysella.
“Someone was tracking us,” began Ysella. “I’m fairly certain it was Cherlyssa Maergan. She’s Premier Ulrich’s empath. She and his isolate Jaime Minz just happened to run into us…” She described the brief encounter, relating Minz’s words verbatim.
“He actually said that? That it was good to see that you’re still around?”
“He did,” confirmed Dekkard.
“That’s more than a little disturbing.”
“What, if anything, should we do?” asked Dekkard.
“Be very careful … and survive. Outlasting the bastards is often the optimal survival strategy. Revenge for the sake of revenge is a fool’s game.”
“Just … survive?”
“Steffan … in the end, survivors write the laws, and write the histories. They’re also still around to seek and
wield power. If you don’t survive, you can’t do even a Three’s curse on anything.” After a moment, Obreduur said, “Now, let me tell you about my meeting with Floor Leader Haarsfel and Councilor Hasheem. Haarsfel said that Security Minister Wyath believes the New Meritorists are planning demonstrations during the Summerend recess. Ulrich told Haarsfel that if any councilor knows anything about even the possibility of such an event, failure to report it would be considered treason.”
“Why would he say that?” asked Ysella. “Councilors can’t be tried by the Justiciary for anything except high crimes. Only the Council can discipline its members.”
“That just might be why he used the word ‘considered.’” Obreduur turned to Dekkard. “You’ve done better than the rest of us in predicting what they might do. What do you think?”
“I’d have to agree with Minister Wyath. I’d already thought that they might try something during Summerend. The Council is scattered, and a Council response would take more time if necessary. But what exactly they might be planning … I have no idea.”
“If you do come up with some ideas, please let me know immediately. If there’s nothing more…?”
Dekkard and Ysella exchanged glances. Then she said, “No, sir.”
They both stood and made their way out of the inner office. Once outside, with the door closed, Dekkard accompanied Ysella to her desk, where he said quietly, “Things keep getting worse, faster than he expected.”
“But not faster than you expected?” she replied, equally quietly.
“Faster than I thought at first. Too much is evident, and when that much is evident, there’s even more we don’t see, because so much is done quietly.”
“That’s a good point. Why didn’t you bring it up with him?”
Dekkard offered an abashed grin, not quite meeting her eyes. “Because I didn’t think of it until now.”
“I’ll tell him about your insight on the way to the steamer. Now … I don’t know about you, but I have a few things to draft.”
“So do I.” Dekkard returned to his desk and picked up a pen.
At a third before fourth bell, Dekkard finished up the last of the draft replies he’d been working on, a response to an inquiry about whether waterway fees would be increased, and headed from the office down the staff stairs on his way to get the steamer. He was almost to the main doors to the west when a blond woman with a pleasant smile gestured to him.
Dekkard immediately recognized Frieda Livigne and smiled in return, then stopped and waited for her. “Good afternoon, Frieda.”
“The same to you, Steffan. I’m glad I ran into you.”
Although Dekkard doubted that the meeting was exactly by chance, he replied, “Oh? Why might that be?”
“Because you and Ysella know a number of the Crafter security teams. I recently got word that Gresynt, Limited, is looking for someone to be assistant director of security for their Oersynt facilities. They’d prefer someone with security and political experience, as well as a craft and artisan background. I know that you said you weren’t interested some time ago, but I thought you might be able to let others know.”
“I did.” He paused. “Times change … or maybe we all do over time.”
Livigne frowned. “You’d be interested?”
“I don’t know. I never wanted to be just a security aide for the rest of my life. I think you know that. But … with everything that’s happened recently, I’ve been thinking.”
Livigne put her hand to her mouth, in apparent surprise, but a gesture that looked almost practiced to Dekkard. “Oh! I’m so stupid. You were the one that was attacked yesterday.”
“It’s strange,” replied Dekkard. “In one way, it seems like it just happened, and in another, it feels like weeks ago.” He shook his head.
“In something like the Gresynt position, you wouldn’t be just a security aide. There’d be very little of that, just escorting corporacion higher-ups on occasional facility tours. Most of the job is involved with keeping facilities safe from intrusion and in complying with security rules. Do you think you’d be interested?”
“I don’t know,” Dekkard repeated. “I want to wait until the Summerend recess when I have time to think it over.”
“If you’re thinking of moving on, don’t wait too long,” replied Livigne. “The really good opportunities aren’t open forever.”
“You’re probably right,” said Dekkard, “but I don’t like making major changes on impulse.”
She smiled again, knowingly. “Most good security types don’t. That’s why they’re good at it. Whether you’re interested or not, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Ysella and pass it on.”
“I can do that. Thank you for letting me know.” Dekkard inclined his head and then made his way out of the building and across the street to the covered parking, his eyes scanning the parked steamers.
Even with the delay occasioned by his brief meeting with Livigne, he had to wait outside the building, noticing that the Council still was maintaining a greater number of guards around the entrance. He also saw darker clouds building up to the south, suggesting a heavy rain or even waterspouts in the ocean south of the city. Almost a sixth passed before Obreduur and Ysella entered the Gresynt.
As Dekkard guided the steamer out and onto Council Avenue, Obreduur said, “Avraal relayed your astute observation about the subterranean nature of occurrences in Guldor, but do you think it’s as applicable to the New Meritorists?”
Dekkard considered Obreduur’s question for several moments before replying. “I think they’ve gone to more public actions simply because less public ones get hushed up. But it took a lot of effort to organize the demonstrations and the explosions, fire, sewer blockage, and none of that was visible until the events themselves.”
Obreduur fingered his chin. “Have you thought more about what they might do?”
“I have, but I don’t have any more or better ideas, except that, whatever it is, it will result in people getting killed, probably innocents shot by patrollers and Security, or military units.”
“Why do you think that?” asked Obreduur.
“There was little public reaction to the destruction of the ministry building, the water-main destruction, or the sewer blockage. Those acts didn’t generate public outrage. I don’t think they were aimed at that, but at government and the Council. But by minimizing and effectively hiding the name of the New Meritorists, Security and the Council have kept people from associating them with destructive acts. So … what happens if there are wide-scale and disruptive demonstrations, and a few New Meritorists shoot at government forces … and the return fire kills lots of innocents? I could be wrong, but I think many people will believe the government overreacted.”
Obreduur said nothing for a time. “You’re saying that the Security fire, the water-main destruction, and the sewer blockage were all designed to make the Imperador, Security, and the Council angry without upsetting most people.”
“I’d say that they had two purposes. The first I said before. That was to show that they could strike and disrupt things without being anticipated. The second is what I just suggested.”
Obreduur shook his head. “That makes sense, but did they actually think it out or stumble into it?”
“I have no idea. It just makes sense to me.” Just like whatever they do next will make sense … after they’ve done it.
“Most people aren’t that logical.”
“You did call them brilliant idiots, as I recall.”
“They might just be academics, except I’m certain that Security has infiltrated every university in Guldor. So, if they are, they’re keeping their academic duties and their political activism so separate that Security hasn’t been able to connect them. I find that unlikely.”
“So do I, sir, but I’m not exactly an expert on universities.” Dekkard did have his own idea, but he wanted to run it by Ysella before telling Obreduur. “Oh … there’s something else. You said that someone might
hint at or offer a better job outside the Council. You were right…” Dekkard quickly related his encounter with Frieda Livigne.
After Dekkard finished, the councilor replied, “They didn’t waste much time. Your saying that you needed Summerend recess to think it over was a good reply.”
“She may think that I’m still saying no, but more politely.”
“You didn’t say no this time,” pointed out Ysella. “That should tell her that you’re reconsidering.”
“Or that I’m not quite as naïve as I used to be.”
“We’ll just have to see,” said Obreduur. “Remember, you can leave at any time, and I’ll give you the highest recommendation.”
“That’s kind of you, but I don’t have any intentions to leave.” Not after seeing what goes on in the large corporacions.
“I have to say I appreciate that,” replied Obreduur. “Now … if you’ll excuse me…” He returned to writing.
After dropping off the councilor and Ysella under the portico, Dekkard garaged the Gresynt and began his routine chores with the steamers.
Ysella eased inside the garage as Dekkard was doing the last polishing of the windscreen. Cloth in hand, he looked up.
“Just finish up. Then we’ll talk.”
Several minutes later, he walked over to her, noticing that she held an envelope and a sheet of stationery. “A letter from Emrelda?”
She handed the letter to him. “You can read it. I’d like your thoughts.”
He immediately began to read the missive, addressed this time just to Avraal.
I told you it would be difficult to find hard evidence. That has proved to be true. No one can recall seeing Markell after Quindi evening, the seventeenth, but he was not in his room on the morning of the eighteenth, and nothing appeared to be missing except Markell and what he was wearing, including his wallet and engineering timepiece.
… the Siincleer Security patrollers have been incredibly nice and helpful. They’re not exactly on the best of terms with the guards at the various facilities owned and operated by Siincleer Shipbuilding. I’ve gotten the impression from them that SS has ties with less than reputable professionals both in Siincleer and Machtarn, but the station head of the west post—that’s the closest to the facility Markell designed and engineered—has hinted, very indirectly, the investigations into those ties never get anywhere. That may be the most I discover, just like what happened that one time with Seek and Find when we were so much younger …
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