“Go check to make sure that there’s no other door out onto the surface,” Fitz ordered. “I’ll keep listening to our friend.”
Mariko nodded and walked around the building, hoping that they weren't watching for watchers themselves. There seemed to be no other way in or out, not even any windows. It was possible that one of the walls concealed a hidden escape route, but she couldn't see any sign of it. She walked back to Fitz, only to hear him muttering to himself. He looked up at her and smiled, wanly.
“And now he wants a list of shipping schedules,” Fitz said. He sounded rather perturbed. “That’s interesting.”
“What?” Mariko asked.
“He mentioned the Wally West, by name,” Fitz said. They shared a long glance as Mariko’s blood ran cold. Interstellar Couriers would be an odd target for the Secessionists, if only because they did have the clout to convince the Grand Senate to dispatch reinforcements to the Sumter Sector. Or had the Secessionists managed to crack their cover story? “I think we need to ask them why.”
Several minutes passed before Richardson emerged from the building and headed back towards the human part of town. “Leave him,” Fitz ordered, already walking forwards towards the door. “We need to meet his contact before it’s too late.”
Mariko stared at him. “But there’s no other way out of the building,” she pointed out. “He has to leave this way, doesn't he?”
“They’ve probably been digging down into bedrock,” Fitz said. “Last year, part of Undercity collapsed because they’d been digging living space under the area officially assigned to the non-humans. Sheer luck they didn't crack the dome and kill thousands before it got sealed.”
He shook his head. “We can't count on anything with them,” he told her, as he produced his sonic screwdriver. “You can bet that they would have a way out of here if the shit hit the fan.”
There was a whirring sound from the screwdriver and the door opened, to reveal the shape of an angry Troll. Mariko gulped and stepped back – the Troll looked as if he had been roasted in a large fire and yet was somehow still alive – but Fitz held his ground. The Troll couldn't be Richardson’s contact, could he? No – he’d specifically said that his contact was human.
Fitz lifted one hand, flexed it in a pattern that caught the Troll’s piggish eyes, and then slammed the other hand right into the Troll’s throat with augmented force. The blow would have killed an unprotected human, but the Troll only stumbled backwards, one hand grasping for the club he wore at his belt. Fitz smiled, feinted again, and then poked the Troll right in the eye. The Troll lashed out with staggering force, but Fitz was never quite where the Troll thought he would be. It was a matter of minutes before the Troll was lying on the ground, groaning.
“And stay down,” Fitz snarled, as he drew his pistol. “Richardson’s signal came from...”
There was a crash up ahead and a set of alien females – close enough to human to be instantly recognisable as female – ran out and right at them, carrying a set of makeshift weapons in their hands. Fitz shot the first one neatly through the head, then ran at them and sliced through them with carefully-calculated strength. Mariko felt distinctly useless as he finished knocking the last alien to the floor, shaking his head at their clothing. What sort of monster would want an alien woman wearing a solid gold bikini?
The next room held an alien who looked like a giant slug and a human, holding something that reassembled a sensor wand in one hand. “Stop,” Fitz snapped, as he burst into the room. “You are all under arrest...”
He stumbled backwards as the wand produced a spray of plastic that covered his upper body. Mariko lifted her weapon, unsure of what to do – and the moment of hesitation almost killed her. The human slapped her pistol out of her hand and backhanded her, sending her crashing to the floor. Her hand hurt so badly that she suspected the slap must have broken something, perhaps a bone or two. All the genetic modification in the universe couldn't prevent broken bones.
The giant slug was still inching towards the exit and Fitz was still down on the floor, struggling against something Mariko could only vaguely see, a thin sheen that appeared to have covered his body. She used her left hand to pick up the pistol and point it at the slug, who seemed to stop and wave both hands in the air as if it were trying to surrender. Without a proper voder, it was likely to be unable to talk to her and announce its surrender formally. But with speed like that, it wasn't going to be a major threat without some help – or augmentation. She couldn't see how a creature like that could even have evolved without some tinkering back in the early days of creation.
She reached for Fitz...and swore as she felt something translucent gripping at her hands. It was a capture web, she realised, something designed to immobilise an augmented opponent without risking life and limb. The more Fitz struggled, the harder the capture web would grip at him until he was completely stuck. And she didn't know how to get it off him!
Fitz lifted one hand and pressed it against his mouth, which was covered by the filmy substance. He had to be having trouble breathing, she realised, and his augments wouldn't be able to keep him alive forever. It wasn't as if he was a full cyborg. There was a flash of red light as his implanted laser burned through the material and freed his mouth. The webbing seemed to recoil, but then it started to expand again, almost as if the laser had supercharged it.
“Water,” Fitz gasped. “Get the water from the pool...”
Mariko followed his pointing finger and saw a pool of slimy water under where the slug had been sitting and ran over to pick it up. She didn't know what to do with it – and the webbing had covered most of Fitz’s body – so she settled for splashing the disgusting liquid over him and hoping. It worked; the capture webbing dissolved rapidly, setting Fitz free. He stumbled to his feet and pulled off most of the remaining webbing before it could dry and start trying to capture him again.
“Thank you,” he said, seriously. “I never anticipated a capture net. That would have been the end of me if you hadn't been there.”
Mariko felt herself glowing with praise, just before Fitz glanced at her sore hand. “The bastard broke several bones,” he said, prodding it lightly while Mariko tried her best not to scream. Improved pain resistance was supposed to be part of the modification package, but it didn't seem to be working very well. “I can fix them on the ship, but we might have to take you to a hospital here and come up with a cover story for your injuries.”
He looked over at the slug. “Where did your friend go?”
The slug belched, emitting a stench that made Mariko stumble backwards as she cradled her damaged hand. “No voder,” Fitz muttered. He pointed his pistol right between the slug’s eyes. “Move from this room and you’re dead.”
He led the way outside before Mariko could say anything, checking through the rooms in the brothel. The sound of panic from high overhead caught his attention and he slipped upstairs, running into a group of naked humans, both male and female, who seemed convinced that there was a raid underway. Their panicking would provide a perfect cover for the Secessionist agent, Mariko realised. He could be in the midst of them and no one would ever notice.
Fitz boosted his voice until he drowned out everyone else. “Get down to the main lobby and wait there,” he ordered. “Anyone who attempts to leave will be charged with gross indecency and giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Move! No, don’t bother to get dressed first – move!”
Still protesting and complaining, the naked humans shuffled downstairs. They’d all have to be checked, of course, Mariko know; if Richardson could be blackmailed so effectively, so could the rest of them. She looked for a familiar face among the brothel’s customers, but she didn't see the Secessionist agent. But her memory might be hazy; she’d barely had a look at him before he’d slapped her down and vanished. He might even have fled out the door and run into Undercity before she’d managed to free Fitz from the capture web.
“Perhaps,” Fitz muttered, as they started moving
from room to room. Most of them held an alien female of some kind, although a couple held males and one held a spider-like alien who was utterly inhuman. Mariko didn't want to imagine how mating between her – if it was a female – and a human might have proceeded. One room held a set of canes, whips and paddles, something she puzzled over until she remembered one of her ex-boyfriends and his odd tastes. Who would pay to have his bottom whipped? “But he doesn't know that we are alone.”
The next room was completely empty, without even a bed. Fitz checked it carefully, looking for something he didn't seem to want to talk about, before finally deciding that the room was as empty as it seemed. But the moment he was outside, he slipped along the corridor wall and started to tap away at it. Mariko watched in confusion as he slipped into the next room, took a brief look at the wall, and then walked back to the first room. It didn't seem to make any sense.
“That wall is really too thick to be real,” Fitz said, by way of explanation. “There’s almost two meters of solid concrete between this room and the next room – does that seem reasonable to you?”
“No,” Mariko said. Planet-side construction wasn't her strong suit, but reinforced concrete had survived so long because it was strong. There was no reason to make a wall two meters thick when it would cost far more than anyone would be willing to spend. “Why would anyone do that?”
“They wouldn't,” Fitz said. “I bet you dinner tonight that there’s a gap in this wall – and a hidden chamber....ah.”
There was a click, the hidden door slid open, and...something burst out of the door, moving with blinding speed. Fitz lunged forward, supercharging his own augmented muscles, lashing out at his opponent. They were moving so fast that Mariko couldn't tell them apart, or fire at them for fear that she would hit Fitz. Both combatants seemed to be evenly matched – and then the Secessionist managed to hit Fitz neatly in the chest. Fitz staggered backwards, giving the agent a chance to turn and run for his life. Mariko started to follow him, only to be pushed to one side by Fitz as he ran with augmented speed. Clutching her damaged hand, Mariko followed him, only to watch them both blazing down the corridor and smashing right through the plaster at the far end. Part of the building’s wall had to have been faked, she realised dimly, just before she heard the sound of someone opening fire with automatic weapons. Fitz hadn't been carrying one, had he?
Carefully, she advanced forward until she could peer out of the hole they’d torn in the plaster. Black-clad men were appearing from the surrounding buildings, advancing on the brothel with weapons raised and ready. There was no sign of Fitz at all. They had to be Secessionists, she realised, and yet how could they have moved an entire army onto Sumter? And they were all human...she slipped backwards as she heard crashes and shouts of outrage from below. They weren't Secessionists, but Civil Guardsmen or Imperial Intelligence. What did she do now? If Fitz had been there, he would have known what to do...
She heard the sounds of running footsteps coming up the stairs and saw a pair of heavily-armed men swinging round to look at her. “Drop the weapon, now,” the leader snapped. Mariko hesitated, and then complied. “Turn around and put your hands on your head!”
A moment later, she screamed in pain as she was cuffed and searched, with all of her tools removed. They didn't seem to care about her damaged hand. There was a long pause while they sorted through her possessions, which ended with an audible gasp when they found the Imperial Intelligence ID card. Mariko almost snickered at how quickly they undid her cuffs once they had checked the card. Arresting someone working for Imperial Intelligence was not a good way to enjoy a long and happy career.
“I think you’d better come downstairs,” the lead agent said. He sounded rather discomforted. A complaint from Mariko could end his career...but it couldn't, because she wasn't a genuine agent. Fitz had told her to be as arrogant as possible if she had to use the card. Real agents were always convinced that they were the lords and masters of creation. “We may have arrested your subordinate as well.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I am Colonel Prather, Imperial Intelligence,” a heavyset man said. He was about ninety, Mariko guessed, although it was hard to tell when someone’s face had been rebuilt several times. At least he didn't have the absurdly young appearance of someone who had been entitled to rejuvenation treatments from a very early age. “What the hell do you mean by operating in my patch?”
Fitz met his rage calmly. “As a Priority-One Operative, my patch is the entire Imperium,” he said. He didn’t sound angry, although he’d had several sharp things to say about the agents who had added to Mariko’s pain. He’d managed to ensure that they stopped in a medical chamber before facing the senior intelligence operative on Sumter. “I was under no obligation to inform you of my presence or my operations.”
“Except for the minor detail that your operation and my operation collided,” Prather snapped back at him. “We have had that nest of Secessionists under observation for the last few months, waiting to see who would make contact with them. And then you go blundering in and wreck months of careful surveillance.”
“Except it wasn't that careful,” Fitz pointed out. “You missed at least one enemy operative working in the Sector Government. How many others were missed, or deliberately ignored...?”
Prather seemed to lean forward on his hands. “Are you accusing me of working for the enemy?”
“I merely note that your surveillance missed at least one person working for the enemy,” Fitz said. “I think that you need to investigate your own ranks – someone either missed the operative’s presence, or managed to suppress it for their benefit. Who in your office might be working for the Secessionists?”
There was a long pause. “I would have thought that they were all loyal,” Prather said, finally. “But if you’re correct...”
“I made a deal with Richardson, after uncovering him by chance,” Fitz said. “I suggest that you send a couple of trustworthy agents to pick him up, bring him in and then start the standard procedure for interrogating captured spies. Once that’s done, you can arrange for his exile to a reasonably harmless world. Amish, perhaps. He couldn't cause any trouble there.”
Prather’s lips worked, angrily. “It sticks in my craw to have to make deals with scum like him,” he said, bitterly. “I never made a deal with him.”
“I did,” Fitz said, sharply. “And if we should happen to acquire a reputation for not dealing honestly with people, how many others are going to willingly make deals with us?” He shook his head. “There is a priority here, Colonel. That’s tracking down the Secessionists on this planet and dismantling their network piece by piece. Richardson is useless to them now – they’ll know that he’s blown. I think we had better watch out for attempts on his life, to shut him up before he can start talking.”
“Understood,” Prather said, sourly. He looked up at Fitz. “You do realise that I will be making an official report to Baron Yu about your failure to cooperate with my investigation?”
“I could also make a report about your failure to realise that you had been penetrated so badly,” Fitz said. “I suggest that we hold off on angry missives until we actually manage to discover just how badly the local station has been...compromised. I’d call for a team of inspectors if I were you, perhaps after you shuffle a few people to less sensitive posts.”
They locked eyes. “Goddamn special agents,” Prather muttered, finally. “You come in here and think that you know this place backward.”
“We have a reputation to keep,” Fitz said. He smiled, charmingly. “And now we’re the best of friends, might we start comparing notes? Perhaps we should start by considering who else might have fallen prey to blackmail.”
Prather nodded, slowly.
“I’m taking direct command of the investigation myself,” he said. Mariko guessed that that was unusual, judging by Fitz’s complaints about how paperwork turned good agents into babbling morons. “As you can see” – he opened a file and
spread the pictures out on the desk – “there are serious security implications in the brothel’s clientele.”
“It certainly seems that way,” Fitz said. By now, Imperial Intelligence had identified everyone who’d been arrested in the brothel, even if it hadn't been able to hold them for long without formally charging them. “My, my; the Special Assistant to the Governor, a senior Imperial Navy Commodore, two heavy-duty businessmen who should know better than to get into bed with the Secessionists...”
He shrugged as he skimmed through the remaining file. “And we have no way to know if they have been compromised or not,” he added. “And what about the small fry? Richardson was small fry and he managed to create a security nightmare all on his own.”
“They will all be investigated,” Prather assured him, “but the bigger fish have political friends who would go to bat for them if I tried to hold them longer than the allotted time span.”
“We could just charge them with Conduct Unbecoming,” Fitz pointed out, before shaking his head. “But that charge wouldn’t really stick, would it?” He smiled, thinly. “Confront them all with the evidence, offer to bury the fact that they have been fucking alien women – for a certain value of women – in exchange for them taking loyalty tests. If they refuse to take the tests, you would have grounds to confront their political allies with their nightly activities and probably destroy their political support. I can't see the Governor being too happy with his Special Assistant after all this, can you?”
On The Imperium’s Secret Service (Imperium Cicernus) Page 23