“Yes, sir,” Glomma said.
He saluted, then hurried off. Joshua glared after him, knowing that Glomma wouldn't have to pay the price for their failure. He should have known better, when the commissioner had offered him the job. Plenty of experience or not, the task of raiding Mouganthu Tower should have been given to someone higher up the food chain. The bastard had probably decided that anyone higher up wouldn't want the job. It was sensitive.
A young girl screamed as a policeman hauled her to her feet, taking the opportunity to squeeze her breast. Joshua barked orders at him and the policeman backed off, looking alarmingly like a puppy who’d been kicked despite obeying orders. He’d never been punished before for mixing business and pleasure ... but no one gave much of a damn about student bitches and whores. These prisoners were important. He made a mental note to impress that on the jailors, too. They couldn't be given the normal welcome meted out to anyone unlucky enough to set foot in Wolfbane’s prisons.
Damn it, he thought. The sun was starting to glimmer in the distance. His superiors would be wanting a full report soon. He was surprised they weren't already trying to micromanage him. Perhaps they scented trouble and were trying to keep their distance. It was as good a theory as any other. What do we do if we can't find him?
His wristcom buzzed. “Sir, we’ve searched the lower levels,” Glomma said. “They’re completely empty. All spaces have been accounted for.”
“Then check the upper levels,” Joshua snarled. It wouldn't be long before he’d have to explain his failure. “Now!”
He paced into Mouganthu’s office, looking around in awe - and envy. The bastard had lived and worked in a forest, a forest within his skyscraper ... it just wasn't fair. This was a whole different world, a world where the aristocracy got everything and everyone else had to bow and scrape for the tiniest of favours. There was so much money, just within eyesight, that it would have kept him and his entire family alive for centuries. He couldn't even imagine the sheer scale of Mouganthu’s fortune. The man had been so wealthy that anyone counting it probably had to resort to imaginary numbers ...
His fingers curled around his shockrod. Mouganthu had been born into immense wealth and power. He’d never had to work for it, never had to crawl up the ranks, never had to kiss his superiors while kicking his inferiors ... no wonder the world was a mess. No doubt he’d been surrounded by women every hour of every day ... or men, if he leant that way. There was never any shortage of women willing to whore themselves for money or power or protection from everyone else. Joshua had learnt that lesson on the streets.
The very rich are just the same as the criminal underclass, he thought, wryly. They just have more money.
He glared as his wristcom bleeped, again. “Captain,” a female voice said, “this is Tucker. I beg to report that the computer datacores self-destructed ... ah, before I arrived.”
Joshua ground his teeth. Natalia Tucker was a computer expert. It had been made clear to him that he was to be nice to her at all times, if only because she was irreplaceable. Joshua had his doubts about her qualifications, but it hardly mattered. He knew better than to defy his superiors over something trivial. If she’d fucked up ... well, at least it wasn't something that could be blamed on him. No doubt Mouganthu had wanted to make sure that nothing fell into enemy hands.
“Make a full report,” he ordered, as he turned and walked back to the shuttles. “I’ll see you back at the station.”
Which should be just long enough for me to think of something to say myself, he thought. He took one last look at the eerie trees, then left the forest behind. Something that will hopefully not get me arrested or shot.
***
“Mouganthu is gone?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Emma said. The intelligence officer sounded nervous. “He was definitely in his tower, but he escaped in the chaos.”
Rani’s eyes narrowed. Mouganthu was a corporate suit, not a soldier. She didn't think he had any combat enhancements, let alone the kind of training he’d need to use them properly. A man like that would be used to hiring others to do the dirty work, not doing it himself. No doubt he spoke of ‘taking out’ or ‘removing’ instead of killing. How could he have escaped?
She looked up. “Did one of his guards get him out in the confusion?”
“It’s possible,” Emma said. “We’re currently downloading and studying all the security camera footage from the area, but so far we’ve come up with nothing.”
“I see,” Rani said. “And the other directors?”
Emma looked pale. “Both of them left the tower shortly before the raid began,” she said. “I ... Admiral, by now they will know that something happened.”
Rani nodded. A properly run planet would have a datanet that could be controlled and subverted at will, but Wolfbane’s datanet was too chaotic for her intelligence staff to control easily. They’d locked Mouganthu Tower out of the datanet, yet that wouldn't be enough to stop others from spreading the news. Hell, if nothing else, merely jamming every signal within the region would be noticeable.
She ground her teeth in frustration. The raid should have worked. She should have had Mouganthu in her hand, along with hundreds of others. Sure, she had prisoners ... but she'd missed the big prize. And that meant ... trouble. The other corporate directors would assume the worst, even if they hadn't been plotting with Mouganthu. Her shot had misfired and that would weaken her ...
“Find him,” she ordered, curtly. She forced her tired mind to work as she turned to the window. “Put the entire city in stage-one lockdown. Flood the streets with policemen and soldiers. Everyone who doesn't have a valid work permit is to stay off the streets until the lockdown is lifted.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“And start swapping officers we know to be compromised out of command assignments,” Rani added. “We can't risk leaving them alone any longer.”
Paula coughed. “Admiral, that will alert them,” she said. “I ...”
Rani turned to face her. “Time is no longer on our side,” she said. “We have to move and move now.”
She cursed silently, refusing to give vent to her frustration. She’d taken a swing at a lethal enemy ... and missed. Now, she had to compensate for her misjudgement before the enemy recovered his balance and swung back at her. Mouganthu had been crippled - losing his tower had to hurt - but he still had contacts, client officers and the other directors. And he had nothing to lose. He knew she meant to kill him.
“Get the prisoners into a detention camp,” she added. “And see if we can use any of them.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
***
The safe house was a tiny apartment, inside a housing block that had been built decades ago and clearly seen better days. Jasmine had checked the area carefully, when she’d first rented the apartment, but she made sure to check again before helping Mouganthu up the stairs and into the apartment. They weren't in the worst part of the city - thankfully - but she had no doubt that the reward on Mouganthu’s head, when Admiral Singh got around to offering one, would tempt a saint. A few million credits would be enough to set the betrayer up for life.
She held her pistol in one hand as she opened the door, unsure what to expect. Stewart and Haverford knew where to go, if they’d made it out alive. She didn't want to imagine that they might not have made it out alive. Stewart was a trained marine ... he’d been in worse situations. But even the greatest marine could be brought down by bad luck or sheer random chance.
Mouganthu was shaking. She half-carried him over to the sofa and plonked him down, then walked to the fridge and opened it. A bottle of cheap wine was already there, waiting. She opened it, poured a generous splash into a glass and carried it back to him. Mouganthu drank it gratefully, then looked down at his trousers. The dark stain was nearly gone.
“More,” he stammered. “I ... please.”
Jasmine poured him another glass, without comment. Mouganthu had been through hell, as far as he was
concerned. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like, growing up in the tower, but having to flee one’s childhood home had to be traumatic. And jumping from the tower had to have been worse. Mouganthu probably felt as though he’d fallen thousands of miles in a handful of seconds.
It wasn't quite that bad, she thought, dryly. Maybe a few hundred miles.
Mouganthu coughed. “Fuck,” he said. He looked around. “Where ... where are we?”
“Safe house,” Jasmine said. There was a computer terminal on the desk, waiting. Meade had already set it up for secure communications, as well as a few other things. It was hardly the worst place she’d been in, but to him it probably looked like a foretaste of hell. “Are you hungry?”
“Scared,” Mouganthu said. His hand was shaking. Jasmine took the glass before he could drop it. “What ... what happened?”
“Admiral Singh decided to attack,” Jasmine said, bluntly. “The tower was raided.”
Mouganthu sat up. “She’s mad!”
“Probably,” Jasmine agreed. Or maybe not. Admiral Singh had come very close to taking out Mouganthu as well as his tower. If she’d succeeded, she might have lopped the head off the snake before it was too late. “Do you feel up to doing something about it?”
“... I need a shower,” Mouganthu said. He stood on wobbly legs, shivering. “Is there a shower here? And spare clothes”
“Through there,” Jasmine said. “You’ll find some spare clothes in the bedroom. I think they should fit you.”
She caught his arm before he could move. “Do not attempt to use any of the wristcoms or terminals without me. They’ll explode if you don’t put the right code into the system.”
Mouganthu nodded and stumbled towards the shower. Jasmine wondered, with a flicker of tired amusement, if he actually could work the shower. She’d met a handful of recruits from very low-tech societies who had never even seen a working shower until they’d arrived at Boot Camp. Mouganthu probably had people to turn the shower on and off for him. But she heard the shower start, a moment later. She just hoped he didn't waste all the hot water.
She sat down and flicked on the terminal, entering her codes when requested. Meade had done a very good job. The terminal was linked to the datanet, but apparently untraceable unless the enemy got very lucky. Jasmine keyed out a message to Meade - and the others, who should be in the apartment - and then switched to the news channels. Not entirely to her surprise, there weren't any reports about a raid on Mouganthu Tower. Instead, apparently, there had been a fire. The shuttles had merely removed the tower’s inhabitants before they could burn to death.
Nice cover story, she thought, sardonically. It might even be believed. A fire in a skyscraper would be an absolute nightmare. More people would be amused at Mouganthu’s fire suppression systems failing than anything else. It’s not as if anyone outside the tower had the full story.
A message popped up in front of her, from Meade. Jasmine let out a sigh of relief as she realised the others were all right, if scattered. Stewart and Haverford had gone to the other safe house, rather than risk going back to the main apartment. It was a good call on their part, Jasmine noted. The police might have tracked them as they left the building.
She heard the shower stop as another message appeared. “What now?”
“Good question,” she replied. “We’ll have to see how the other directors respond.”
Mouganthu stepped back into the room. Jasmine glanced at him, then started to giggle helplessly. Mouganthu looked like he’d dressed poorly, his trousers and shirt a size or two larger than he needed. It was a far cry from the expensively tailored suit he’d worn only a few hours ago. But it was all they had. God knew it would attract less attention here than an expensive suit.
“I need to contact the other directors,” Mouganthu said. “Can I do that?”
“Yes,” Jasmine said. “Just don’t tell them where you are.”
***
“There’s definitely no sign of Mouganthu,” Glomma said. “Sir, every last square inch of this tower has been searched. We have accounted for every possible hiding place.”
And the prisoners have been interrogated, Joshua thought. He’d questioned the maids personally, knowing they tended to know more than their masters assumed. But promises, threats and outright torture hadn't produced any actionable intelligence. The bastard gave us the slip.
“Damn it,” he said. “Put the tower into lockdown, then send the remaining prisoners to the camps.”
“Aye, sir,” Glomma said.
Joshua ground his teeth. They’d failed ... and an immense mountain of shit was rolling downhill towards him. His superiors had definitely fucked him. They’d known, damn them, that the raid might misfire. He wondered if he'd be arrested himself, the moment he reached the station. The thought scared him more than he cared to admit. There were quite a few prisoners in the camps who’d welcome a chance to settle accounts with him. He’d put them there personally.
He walked towards the police van, wondering if there was a way to escape. There were cracks in the system, places a wealthy man could hide ... but not indefinitely. He didn't need a charge of desertion as well as everything else. He was already in enough trouble. Who knew? The Admiral might be pleased, even if everyone else was mad. He’d definitely captured a few of her enemies during the raid.
His wristcom bleeped. “Sir, we received a tip-off,” the dispatcher said. “Another student subversive cell, readying for action.”
“Really,” Joshua said. He stepped into the van. “Do we have an address?”
“Yes, sir,” the dispatcher said. “It’s on the positioning system.”
“We’ll take it,” Joshua said. “Glomma, take us there.”
He sat down, silently checking his weapons. The cell was probably nothing more than another bunch of idiot students, but it didn't matter. He felt like cracking a few skulls. And besides, if they were a little more dangerous than the average subversives, it might just make him look good. Perhaps even good enough to escape punishment for his earlier failure ...
And it will stop another bunch of subversives in their tracks, he told himself, as the vehicle roared to life. Who knows? This might even be the big break we need to crack the entire network.
His thoughts darkened. And even if it isn't, they’re still subversives. They deserve everything they get.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“You’re supposed to hit me,” Patty said.
Stuart looked doubtful. “I don’t want to hit you.”
Patty rolled her eyes. “We’re meant to be learning to fight,” she reminded him. She’d taken a dozen martial arts classes at university, learning how to defend herself. “Hit me!”
“You’re wasting your time,” Joe called. He peeked into the training room. The sports complex had been abandoned long ago, then reclaimed by the student resistance. So far, it had gone unnoticed. “Your boyfriend doesn't want to hurt you. I’d have thought you’d be worried if he did.”
Patty coloured. “I just want to learn how to fight,” she said. She didn't want to admit just how badly she’d been affected by their tutor’s casual dismissal of her skills. Women could fight. She’d learned that in class. “And he’s not helping.”
Joe strode into the room, his smile widening. He was bigger than either of them, a year or two older than Patty. Patty felt a flicker of irritation, mingled with a certain amount of respect. Joe was on the verge of graduating. He had more to lose than most of the student rebels. If the rebels won, that was one thing; if they lost, Joe would be imprisoned, exiled or blacklisted for the rest of his life. He was putting everything at risk to fight.
“Very well,” Joe said. He bowed, mockingly. “Fight me. I’ll let you have the first swing.”
“Joe ...” Stuart began.
“It’ll be fine,” Patty said. Up close, Joe looked even bigger. The casual overalls he’d donned didn't hide his muscles. He’d probably chosen a set a size or two small
er than he needed, just to show off. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”
“Stuart isn't the one doing something stupid,” Joe pointed out, dryly. His voice turned mocking. “You sure you want to do this?”
Patty drew back her fist and swung. Joe darted backwards, then caught her arm and yanked her forward. Patty toppled, only to be caught by him. Before she could react, before she could do anything, he had an arm wrapped around her neck, threatening to choke her. She stayed very still, feeling her heartbeat starting to pound. His body was pressing against hers, holding her tightly. She’d never been so scared in her life.
“I squeeze, you die,” Joe said. “Do you understand me?”
Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14) Page 32