Ambassador 1_Seeing Red

by Patty Jansen

  Ezhya’s two guards clambered over glass-strewn tables out the broken window and ran to the nearest bus shelter. Both held a charge gun in each hand, and fired at some place on top of the roof of the next apartment block. Glass, concrete and splinters of wood rained down.

  A bus had stopped in the middle of the street, rocking as the passengers scrambled to get out.

  Thayu had taken cover behind an upturned table. She was firing at the top of the buildings across the road, cursing. “There’s too many of them; they’re moving too quickly.”

  I still saw nothing. I might be armed, but I felt utterly useless, and guilty, being the focus of the attack. Michael sat with his legs pulled up in the shelter of a low wall.

  A few tables down, a young mother struggled with two children. Her pram had toppled, spilling vegetables and a baby bottle onto the glass-covered floor. The child strapped in the pram’s harness was screaming.

  I crawled out from under the table. “Come.” I had to yell to make my voice heard.

  The hysterical child glanced up at me, a man in weird clothing, and promptly stopped crying. I grabbed the baby from the fallen pram, and crawled into the darker part of the building. The kitchen staff huddled in a corner.

  “Is there a back entrance to this place?”

  One girl nodded.

  “Here.” I passed her the child. “Take him and get out.”

  The girl was so startled that she said nothing, but promptly did as I asked.

  I returned to the front of the cafe to meet the mother and her older child. She cried, “Thank you, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just go. Save yourself. Get out of here.” I virtually pushed all the staff and customers out the door. Michael was last. “Take yourself to safety. Your family has already suffered too much for it. Run home. I’ll call tonight.”

  If I survived this.

  Michael nodded, patted my shoulder, and left.

  I stood in the room amidst fallen and shattered furniture, taking deep breaths to gather courage. I tucked the reader in the inside pocket of my armour and did up the fastening. Slowly, I reached for the charge gun which I had thrust in my belt. It felt warm in my hands. Heavy, uncomfortable. I flicked up the safety switch.

  Glass crunched under my shoes as I stalked back to the front of the shop.

  The shattered sunroom was empty, tables and chairs strewn over the tiled floor. The back of a chair had fallen into the glowing coals in the fireplace and was giving off coils of smoke. I kicked it to the floor and stamped out embers.

  A flash lit up the roof of a shop opposite the square. That was another thing movies involving gamra weaponry often got wrong: charge guns didn’t produce beams. Their charge only became visible when it hit something. A cry rang out.

  As if in slow motion, a black-clad figure fell onto a shop’s canvas awning, which collapsed under the weight. The body flopped down to the pavement and didn’t stir.

  Panic crawled over me.

  I didn’t think that was one of my party; the figure wasn’t wide enough to be Coldi or tall enough to be Indrahui.

  Thayu? I ran to the front of the cafe. The abandoned bus stood there, billowing smoke. The shelter had been reduced to a grotesque piece of modern art of molten glass and metal.

  “Thayu?”

  Another shot rang out, hitting the frame of the by now glassless sunroom. I ducked, but not so quickly that I didn’t see another figure jump down from the roof of the next block. In cat-like grace, it crouched behind a ventilation tower, a gun pointed in my direction.

  A few flashes struck the tower from the side, leaving the figure unharmed. Almost relaxed, the person dug in a pocket and replaced the charges in the gun.

  I slid the barrel of my gun on top of the stone wall of the cafe’s porch. Sweat rolled over my stomach. On the tiny screen, I lined up the reference points.

  Fired.

  Missed.

  Roof tiles flew up and clattered on the street below.

  The figure jumped up and gave a shout. Immediately there was the sound of running feet, somewhere in the building above me, coming down the stairs.

  I didn’t think twice, but clambered over the wall into the street.

  A cacophony of fire broke out over my head. To my side, behind me, on the other side of the street. I ran to the bus shelter, clutching my gun. Where was everyone?

  A man on a motorbike entered the square. A figure leaped from a roof and flattened him. He yanked the bike out of its owner’s hands and jumped on, then came full speed in my direction, over the grass of the park.

  More fire rang out, this time from my side of the street. It hit the roof of the bus stand. Telaris leaped out of nowhere . . . into the path of the motorbike. And as I recognised the bike rider as Kedrasi, and holding a gun, the man fired at Telaris, continuing his path straight for me.

  “Cory!” someone called behind me.

  I turned.

  A shot crackled. I ducked, and the motorbike crashed into the mangled remains of the bus stand without its rider. Panting, I glanced around to see who had saved me. A figure ran along the street, pushing fleeing pedestrians out of the way. I recognised the man. “Nicha!”

  Thayu was firing at another target on the roof. Fire came back, shattering windows.

  Nicha ran and ducked behind the recycling station where I sat.

  We fell into a wordless hug.

  “When did you get out?”

  “Just in time to save your arse, it seems.”

  I flung my arm over Nicha’s shoulder. There was so much to say, but no opportunity to say it.

  Whining sirens echoed between the buildings. First one and then another police van screeched onto the square. A flash of light struck the windscreen of the first van. It skidded into a traffic barrier, and the second van had to swerve. It came to a stop in a cloud of burnt rubber. The doors of both vans opened and police armed with shields and guns streamed out. More flashes hit the pavement. A dark-clad figure ran over the roof of a building opposite us.

  Someone else saw it, too. A flash, and the figure fell.

  The police crowded against a shop wall, holding up their shields. More shots were fired from a second floor window, but a single shot from behind our bus stand put a merciless end to that. I hadn’t even seen a glimpse of the sniper, and wondered who the sharpshooter was.

  Across the square, police officers gathered up someone wounded and bundled him into the van. Evi materialised out of a shop entrance, pushing another person, struggling in vain against his grip. Ezhya’s two elite body guards brought three men from inside the ruined cafe. One was Indrahui, which earned him a slap in the face from Telaris, who’d been standing outside putting recharges in his gun. They exchanged some sharp words in Indrahui which I didn’t catch, swear words no doubt.

  Thayu crouched over the fallen body, searching the man’s clothes.

  Then I spotted movement on the roof opposite. I yelled, “Thayu!” while raising my gun. I didn’t think twice, but fired, once, twice. Both shots went wide. But then there was another, from the roof above me, that struck the sniper in the chest.

  He fell.

  All went silent.

  Blood roared in my ears. Whoever that was had just saved Thayu’s life. Nicha sat behind me, wide-eyed.

  I unclamped my hands from the gun. “I didn’t hit him.”

  “The guy would have shot her.”

  His white-faced, wide-eyed expression sent a chill through me. I’d been right about him and Thayu. A surge of ugly jealousy made my face hot. I couldn’t bear to face Nicha, and raised the gun again, as if more snipers hid on balconies.

  The next moment a shadow jumped down from the roof of the bus shelter. I was too late to react, but it was Ezhya Palayi, tucking the gun back into the bracket.

  “I think we got them all.”

  For all the excitement, the man looked like he’d been enjoying himself. Where I felt and probably looked dishevelled, he glowed with satisfaction. His
hair was still tied up in the ponytail, slick and undisturbed, not a hair out of place.

  He put a warm hand on my shoulder. My feeder made a rushing sound, as if someone opened a door to a room.

  Well done.

  I met Ezhya’s eyes. Had he just opened the link without setting it up? Perfect control.

  Indeed.

  From the other side, a human voice said, in Isla, “That’s one hell of a body guard you have there, Mr Wilson.”

  24

  THE ATTACKERS, twelve in all, three of them dead, were Renkati, or so I presumed because none of them were Coldi, and none of the survivors wanted to speak Coldi. Besides a few hissed words of Indrahui, there was no further communication between them and our party. None of the captives looked any of my guards in the eye, and I couldn’t gauge whether or not they recognised Ezhya. The police made the attackers strip off all armour and weapons which they spread into a veritable collection of non-Earthly gadgetry which they’d managed to get past the border patrols. This had been no amateur operation.

  I sat, numbed and still hungry, through the questions police asked me. They had swarmed en masse into the Plaza, blocking roads and keeping curious pedestrians behind barriers.

  Ezhya and his guards took their own records, and relayed some of them to me so I could inform Amarru. Evi and Telaris spoke with the police in their halting, abrupt way.

  Thayu stood next to Nicha. I didn’t miss the glances of mutual affection or Nicha’s hand on her shoulder and then wished I hadn’t seen. Jealousy was not going to help get this sorted out.

  Because I was the only one who spoke fluent Isla, the police kept me busy longer than the others. Somehow, they seemed reluctant to interfere. Had anyone from Nations of Earth been in contact and ordered them to keep their heads down? Were they intimidated by the huge arsenal of weapons? Did they suspect our party included someone very important? Over my comm unit, Nixie Chan told me that the captives would probably be extradited into the control of the Exchange soon, which meant that they would face a gamra court, would be stripped of their citizenship and sent to work in a labour camp on some backwater world.

  I spoke to Amarru several times, giving her the names and codes of the attackers as Ezhya’s guards uncovered them. They were all residents of Barresh, but there were no Coldi, and no Aghyrians.

  Ezhya’s words about Renkati being nothing but lackeys for the Aghyrians came back to me. Throughout the last few days we’d found no evidence for that hypothesis, not even amongst their weaponry.

  Ezhya came to stand next to me and said in a low voice that Delegate Akhtari had commanded gamra inspectors, backed up by Barresh city guards, to raid the Renkati complex in Barresh and bring all people found there in for questioning. They were to look specifically for the new technology, although I doubted they would find anything.

  I felt sick. Of course the Aghyrian operator and his female friend had long since left, long after the builders of the machine, so all the blame would fall on Renkati. Admittedly, they deserved most of it, but they weren’t alone. Aghyrians got off without questioning. They weren’t even disturbed in their daily activities. The medico would see her patients, Marin Federza would go to his meetings, and Delegate Akhtari . . . did she have anything to do with it? Did any of them? How well were the Aghyrians organised? Did they have a leader?

  I mumbled, “We might have caught these people, but this isn’t over yet.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Ezhya said, in an equally low voice. “It will be quiet for a few years or so, but this issue will flare up again, and by that time, we must have changed gamra law and come out with some sort of compromise.” I’d really like you to take that position. Think about it very seriously.

  I nodded.

  It was almost dark by the time the police offered to take me to the hotel.

  I didn’t say much on the way. Now that all the excitement had been dealt with, the foremost thought in my mind was how I would discuss the subject of Thayu with Nicha, because I had to talk about it or it would get in the way of our friendship. Maybe it was better that Thayu would leave now that Nicha was back. Congratulating Nicha on his impending contract would be hard enough. There was no room for the three of us. I only hoped that Thayu would get the care of the child that would no doubt be the subject of their contract.

  Still, as soon as Nicha and I started work and reconnected our feeders, Nicha would find out. No matter how much I would try to hide it from him, he would probably see how much I cared for Thayu and would offer for me to take up his contract when it finished. That was a very Coldi thing to do as well, but I didn’t think I was ready for a case of girlfriend-swapping. I would do best to forget about her.

  Then why did I feel so awful?

  Because I was back to square one. Now potentially a diplomat with an enviable position, but without a home, a family or a wife. Not that I would go running back to Eva. No, and I had to write to Eva’s parents explaining the situation as well. But I was sick of being alone. Three times in a row I had started relationships that had gotten me nowhere.

  Maybe I should fill out a questionnaire and take it to a matchmaker. There were plenty of those both on Earth and in Barresh.

  What did I want in a woman?

  Someone well-educated, independent, with a sense of humour. Someone who didn’t care about race or language, or about one’s status in society or about clothing. Someone who could handle being shot at, who could handle me being the focus point of attention, and, occasionally, in danger.

  I stared into the dark street unseeing. Everything about this description screamed Thayu.

  When I opened the door to my room, Nicha sat at the dining table, watching a news report on his reader.

  His eyes shone. “I put my stuff in this room. I didn’t think you’d mind me sharing.” All his luggage lay spread on a bed in the corner.

  Oh, I was so glad to have Nicha back again, let there be no mistake about that. I crossed the room and hugged him. Familiar, warm and strong. I would need to reconnect my feeder to him, and then things would be as before.

  Except for Thayu.

  I sat down. There was a chickpea pita box on the table, two pieces still left in it. My stomach rumbled.

  “You’re not having these?”

  “I’ve had enough. I guess it’s better than jail food, but it’s rather bland.”

  I took a bite and struck a piece of chilli. Tears sprang into my eyes; it was easy to blame them on the chilli. I had missed Nicha and his definition of bland.

  “What are you watching?”

  “There’s some interesting news here,” Nicha said. “Sigobert Danziger has confirmed his candidacy for the upcoming election.”

  “That was not unexpected. Who else is standing?”

  Nicha flicked on the holo-projector. The report displayed on Nicha’s reader was from Flash Newspoint. I didn’t even register the names, but thought instead of Melissa Hayworth. I should find out what happened to her. Maybe I should take her up on her offer for lunch. We seemed to have plenty in common.

  Nicha’s voice broke into my thoughts. “I’ll be glad when we’re out of here.”

  “So will I.”

  I picked at the crust of the bread, trying to remember where I’d stored Melissa’s contact details.

  You’re being stupid, Cory Wilson.

  Melissa was a good journalist, but not a woman I should be dating, not even a woman I wanted to date. But I wanted . . . someone special in my life.

  “You made a good start at gamra, I heard.”

  “What is good? I managed to upset a lot of entities.” I forced my thoughts back to the conversation.

  “No. Ezhya told me you did well. I heard he offered you a job.”

  I shrugged. “He did. I guess I don’t really want to say anything until I’m sure of the arrangements. He said it would be a new position.”

  “Oh, it’s sure all right. He told me. I think you did really well. Ezhya Palayi is a notoriously hard man to
pin down. He doesn’t have much time for losers either. If he offered you this job . . .” Nicha shook his head; his expression was sad.

  “If it goes ahead, you’ll be coming. He said I’d have six staff. You’ll be one of them, unless . . .” Thayu.

  Nicha’s sharp eyes met mine. “Unless what? I’d love to come, but I don’t know that the invitation extends to me.”

  “It does. I say so.”

  I took a larger bite from the pita, not meeting Nicha’s eyes. The bread was cold and tasted like rubber. I longed for Eirani’s cooking, but I couldn’t even be sure I’d be back in the apartment. Probably not.

  “But you’re not happy?” Nicha said.

  Was it really that obvious? I shrugged. “We haven’t caught Sirkonen’s killer yet. I’ve been in contact with Amarru, but none of the people we got today were in Rotterdam at the time of the attack on Sirkonen.”

  “Whoever has done it will be caught. Apparently gamra guards and Barresh officials have arrested a great number of Renkati supporters. One of them will have killed Sirkonen, or they will know who did.”

  I nodded and took another bite.

  “But that isn’t it, is it, the reason why you’re not happy.”

  “I’m just tired.”

  I could see in Nicha’s eyes that he didn’t believe this, but I said nothing, picking fallen threads of cheese out of the box.

  Then he said, “I heard you got on well with my sister.”

  I jerked my head up. “Sister?”

  “Same parents as me. What did you think she was?”

  “I thought . . .” I let it go. Obviously what I had thought was wrong. Not only that, what I had thought no longer mattered. His sister! I watched the projection but saw nothing, only felt the heat rising in my cheeks. I whispered, “I thought you were contracted to her. I thought you loved her.”

  “Oh I do, but I assure you, I’m not interested in her in that way.” He cocked his head. “Although I’m guessing you are.”