Somebody shouted a political slogan—“Strength and Dignity!” it sounded like, although what those qualities had to do with a woman nearly being run over by a bus in downtown Geneva, Henrik wasn’t sure—and somebody else shouted an insult. One man shoved another into the street, and was himself promptly knocked down by a third. The woman whose stumble into traffic had started the whole altercation was no longer anywhere to be seen.
Henrik turned and walked up the bank’s stairs, jumping quickly to his left to avoid a couple of bank guards moving down the stairs. He quickly returned to his right, placing himself back in his chosen path.
Safe enough, at least for the moment, Henrik stood to watch the end result of the work by a woman whom, before today, he’d only heard about.
21
Office of the Exarch, Hall of Government, Geneva
Terra, Prefecture X
1 December 3134
Heather GioAvanti swore not to look at her noteputer the next time it beeped. She needed to have at least two minutes of uninterrupted thought if she was to accomplish anything.
It beeped. She ignored it. It beeped again, then twice in quick succession.
She cursed and let her thoughts be interrupted.
Kerensky’s Bastards swear vengeance.
Rumors of “Neo-Blakists” found to be groundless.
Two more groups claim responsibility for death of Steiner-Davion.
Two more groups. That brought it up to eight. If these groups were to be believed, a small army had invaded Victor Steiner-Davion’s home on the night of his death.
She quickly scanned the text of the message below the header. She’d never heard of the two groups. But then, she’d never heard of Kerensky’s Bastards before yesterday, and today she knew at least one Knight was convinced that they were plotting to bomb the Geneva offices of Prefecture IX within the next week.
She scanned the evidence compiled in the letter. It was all rumor, circumstance and innuendo, but it was piling up to the point of being pretty damn impressive. The Knight wanted a militia squad to root out the threat, and Heather decided he’d earned it.
“Paladin GioAvanti!” Duncan, an intern, stood at the open door to her office as if a force barrier prevented him from going further. Heather waved him forward. He approached her desk like a deacon walking to an altar.
“Stone’s Cutters are holding a rally in Founder’s Plaza this afternoon,” he said in urgent tones.
“I thought that was Stone’s Legacy.”
“Yes, Paladin. The Cutters are joining them.”
That wasn’t good. Stone’s Legacy was usually content just to demonstrate, but the Cutters preferred more violent confrontation. Still, they were a small group. “Alert the police. They should be able to keep a lid on it on their own. But keep an eye on the situation.”
“Yes, Paladin.” He hurried away, then stopped at her office door. “Oh, I should mention, a messenger arrived with a summons from Exarch Redburn. He would like to see you in his office as soon as possible.”
Heather was out her door almost before Duncan. One of these days, she thought, I’ll have an intern who doesn’t almost forget to tell me about meetings with the Exarch.
While she waited for Redburn, Heather’s noteputer beeped three more times, each with a supposedly urgent message about unrest in the capital. The general public might not be able to vote in this election, but they seemed determined to participate.
When she had a brief moment between messages, she scanned the newssheets for any word of progress into the investigation of Victor Steiner-Davion’s death. They reported no progress, and continued to not mention the name of Paladin Jonah Levin. His ability to fly below radar was impressive, as always. At this point, Heather thought, I may be one of three people besides Jonah who knows he’s working on this. But that couldn’t last—the only way Jonah could continue to maintain complete secrecy is if he didn’t do anything.
The Exarch hurried in at last, looking frustrated and a bit out of breath.
“Paladin GioAvanti!” he said, as she rose to greet him. “Allow me to apologize. I was ambushed by a flying squad of tri-vid reporters and cameramen, and I had to give them a statement before they’d let me go.”
“The perils of high office,” she said.
“It would be worth it if I could believe the people actually listened to anything from the news,” he replied. He waved at the chair she had just vacated. “Please. Sit down.”
She sat down.
“So,” she said. She was a Paladin; and she was near enough in rank to the Exarch that she didn’t need to stand on her dignity around him. “What more can I do to serve The Republic today?”
“Have you been keeping up with the newssheets?”
“Some,” she said.
“What have your sources told you about the riot in Plateau de St. Georges?”
“It wasn’t good. Three dead, and people are blaming Capellan nationalists. It’s not doing much to make anyone feel more secure.”
“Have you heard anything about who may have planned it?”
“Planned it?” This took Heather aback. “Everything I heard pointed to it being a spontaneous disturbance.”
“It may not be. What do you know about the Kittery Renaissance?”
Heather sank into her chair. The dark leather harrumphed. “Oh, God.”
“Exactly.”
Heather had been receiving updates on the Kittery Renaissance for months. Unlike other insurgent organizations, Kittery wasn’t flashy; they didn’t act as if they were desperate for attention. Their actions were precise, focused and always aimed at sensitive targets. Though they were known to be associated with the Founder’s Movement, their exact goals and reasons for doing what they did were unclear. They would have been on the top of Heather’s list of Dangerous Operatives except for an unaccountable silence that had overcome them in recent months.
“They’re back?”
“They’re back,” Redburn said. “At least, that’s where the information is pointing. We’ve gotten a few video feeds from the area and identified a woman there who has been present at some of their previous actions.”
“Let me guess—this is the woman we still haven’t identified?”
“That’s her.”
“Why a riot? Why now?”
“We can only guess; we still can’t get an operative into their organization. I’d imagine the timing of it was to capitalize on the unrest following Victor’s death. As far as why they chose a riot, I can think of two options. One is that their organization has been depleted, and a riot is the only action they can accomplish right now.”
“I hope that’s the case,” Heather said.
“Me, too.”
“I don’t think it is.”
Redburn just shook his head. “The other option is they are ramping up to something bigger. Something that will probably happen before the election.”
“How big?”
Redburn frowned. “The atmosphere of this election is taking on an air of desperation. Too many groups seem to feel it’s now or never as far as getting what they want. They will do just about anything to end up with the government they want. How big are their plans?” He paused. “Anything up to and including the entire eradication of Geneva.”
Heather started. “You don’t think . . . ?”
“No, I don’t. But I can’t be sure.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s one more thing.” Redburn took a deep breath. “We’ve never been able to conclusively identify anyone in this group. We have no idea who they are, or who supports them.”
Heather nodded. KR’s shadowiness was one of the constant frustrations of her work.
“However, the information I received linking KR to this riot also contained a disturbing note. Their support may come from very high up.”
“How high?”
“I’ve sent you a file. Look at it carefully.”
“Yes, sir.” Heather stood. She
didn’t need to ask any more questions—her expected course of action was quite clear.
She walked out of the office and turned on her noteputer. It beeped four times. One of the messages was titled: Past and current political affiliations of Paladins and Senators.
Her heart chilled. Redburn wanted her to look at her fellow Paladins. Could one of them be supporting the KR? Had their process broken down so far?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of red hair rushing toward her.
“There you are, Paladin!” Duncan said as he waved a scrap of paper. “I have an urgent message about House Liao . . .”
22
Pension Flambard, Geneva
Terra, Prefecture X
1 December 3134
Rain was falling again in Geneva, a steady daylong drizzle, and a gray mist filled the street outside the Pension Flambard. Jonah Levin had taken advantage of the pension’s excellent connections to Geneva’s data-and-communications net to spend the day working in his room, putting off until tomorrow those tasks which had to be dealt with in person.
At noon Jonah left the pension long enough to purchase a loaf of fresh bread from the bakery on the corner, then ate the bread at his desk with jam and butter while reading an encrypted report from Burton Horn in Santa Fe, sent to an address Jonah maintained outside of government networks.
Jonah didn’t like having to work outside the networks, because it meant he was seriously considering the prospect of corruption and murder at the highest levels of The Republic. Nevertheless, he had to acknowledge that Victor Steiner-Davion was unlikely, at his age, to have made new enemies outside of his regular circle—and that circle included people who possessed some of the most exalted positions in The Republic of the Sphere. Painful as it might be to contemplate, it was better to take unneeded precautions than to suffer the consequences of a betrayal of trust.
Jonah poured himself a cup of black coffee from the room’s glass-and-silver brewing set, and returned his attention to the report waiting open on his desktop. So far, according to Burton Horn, a visual inspection of Steiner-Davion’s chambers had led the operative to agree with Santa Fe law enforcement: the Paladin had died of a heart attack brought on by overexertion, to wit, self-defense against a murder attempt.
Horn wrote:
The circumvention of all relevant security systems during the critical time period was professionally done. The tampering was evident—minimally—after the fact, but it would have been undetectable on the night. Santa Fe law enforcement remains confident of their ability to locate the killers, given time and the DNA signature taken from bloodstains left at the site. I have left a standing request with them that I be notified if/when they have any individual(s) in custody.
The electronic data in Victor’s office was erased all too easily with an electromagnetic pulse. No muss, no fuss. Whoever was in there didn’t even need to touch his machines.
I have decided to conduct a second interview with Elena Ruiz, Victor Steiner-Davion’s nurse-housekeeper in the last months of his life. By all reports, the Paladin was closemouthed with friends and colleagues alike about his final project. As you are aware, even the subject of his projected remarks at the opening of the Electoral Conclave remains unknown.
It is possible, however, that Steiner-Davion may not have been so reticent with someone like Ruiz, who was not a part of that world. Also, as someone who had daily contact with him, as well as virtually unrestricted access to his living quarters, she may have known or at any rate suspected more about his endeavors than he was aware.
Furthermore—in our first interview, I discovered a possible link between Ruiz and people back in Geneva. She is involved romantically with a gentleman named Henrik Morten. This is suggestive; it would probably repay your efforts to determine if any of the Mallory’s World Mortens by that name are working in Geneva or on Terra in general. The gentleman’s connection with Ms. Ruiz may be only what she says it is. On the other hand—if you will forgive me for saying so—she does not strike me as the sort of person likely to enthrall a young man of Henrik Morten’s probable station by her looks and personality alone.
Jonah closed the message and poured himself another cup of coffee. Burton Horn was indeed a bit of a snob, he reflected—but the operative was also an acute observer of human nature.
If he thought that the unknown Henrik Morten bore investigating, he was probably right.
Office of Senator Leeson, Geneva
Terra, Prefecture X
4 December 3134
The easy part had been confirming Horn’s suspicions. Henrik Morten was indeed of noble blood and seemed to be a promising young man. Jonah found mentions of him connected to trade negotiations in Skye, crafting legislation for military aid to Prefecture IX and organizing humanitarian relief for refugees from attacks by Clan Jade Falcon. Morten, of course, played only a peripheral role in all these activities, but he was prominent enough to get his name mentioned. He was clearly a diplomat on the rise.
The more difficult job was finding out about the man behind the headlines (or, in Morten’s case, the man behind the brief mention buried in paragraph eleven). Jonah knew from long experience that only a small part of a politician’s life was covered by the newssheets.
Luckily, this was an ideal time to be gathering political information, as most high-ranking government officials had gathered in Geneva, awaiting the election. This included Senator Kay Leeson of Prefecture II, who happened to have spent a few years on Kervil.
“Paladin Levin!” she said enthusiastically when he entered her office. “How unusual that we should both be on the same planet at the same time.”
Jonah smiled back. Thin, dark-haired and sharp-featured, Leeson hadn’t changed much in the ten years since Jonah had met her. She had more energy and enthusiasm than her twenty-year-old interns, despite being well over twice their age.
“Good to see you, Senator.”
“Now, I’d love to get caught up with you on things back home, but something tells me that a Paladin walking into my office at eight p.m. with an election imminent is not here for small talk. How can I help you?”
“Well, Senator, the election’s exactly the reason. It’s already started—the bargaining, the negotiating, everything. You know how that works. I, on the other hand—” Jonah spread his hands in a display of helplessness “—have never been gifted on that side of my job. Can you believe I arrived on Terra without a single staff person?”
Leeson laughed and shook her head. “The trappings of office were never your interest,” she said. “No staff? Do you know what those other Paladins are going to do to you?”
Jonah chuckled ruefully. “I know, I know. But I thought maybe you could help me.”
“I’d love to, except I don’t have any staff to spare. We may not be voting in this election, but the Senate is still quite busy.”
“I understand. Actually, I wasn’t going to ask for one of your people. I just wanted you to tell me your impressions of a diplomat I was thinking of bringing in. A young man named Henrik Morten.”
Leeson smiled quizzically. “I’m afraid I don’t know the gentleman.”
“Henrik Morten? Of Mallory’s World? Seems to be just about everywhere lately.”
“Not here.”
Jonah tried to prevent his jaw from clenching visibly. Leeson was lying. A few of his sources told him that Morten, claiming to be on a fact-finding mission from Senator Leeson, had directed a team to explore the ruins of the Yori MechWorks. Whatever “facts” had been found on that mission had never been released to the public.
Jonah trod carefully. “No, no, not here. On Al Na’ir. He gathered some information for you on the Yori MechWorks?”
Leeson grinned. “What information? The place is a wreck. I don’t need to send someone floating around an asteroid to tell me that.”
“You never sent Morten to Al Na’ir?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Senator, but some of my source
s, people I trust a great deal, say he was working for you, armed with full credentials.”
“They are mistaken.” Leeson said that with a note in her voice Jonah had never heard from her. The warmth, the sociability, had disappeared. The friendliest politician he had ever known spoke to him with ice in her tone.
“But, Senator . . .”
“Paladin Levin, you may sit there and call me a liar while I, in turn, call your sources liars, but I can think of a thousand more productive ways to spend my night. If that’s all . . .”
No, Jonah thought, that’s far from all. The rest, though, will have to wait. “Thank you for your time, Senator,” he said.
23
Elena Ruiz’s Apartment, Santa Fe
Terra, Prefecture X
4 December 3134
If I’m going to be living in a hover vehicle, Burton Horn thought, I should rent a larger one. After all, Levin’s paying.
The passenger seat of his rental held a thermos of coffee and two pastries he’d picked up from a diner staffed by tired waitresses and grumpy cooks. In back were his noteputer and several handwritten notes he hadn’t gotten around to entering into it yet. On the floor was a blanket he used in the odd moment when he could grab some sleep.
He’d just tossed the noteputer back there after reviewing the latest dispatch from Levin, which confirmed that his instincts about Morten were right—and then some. He’d immediately called Elena Ruiz to ask if he could talk to her again, though he didn’t mention Morten’s name. She said he could come over right away.
Ruiz’s neighborhood didn’t look much better in broad daylight than it had at night. Most of the buildings were worn and dusty-looking. So were the people. The streets were clean, though, and he judged that he could park the rental vehicle in an unattended public lot without much fear of theft.
And Levin would cover the cost of a replacement, anyway.
He locked the car and walked the short distance from the lot to Elena Ruiz’s apartment. This time she didn’t inspect him through the security peephole for quite as long before letting him in. She looked somewhat less tired than before, giving Horn a fleeting glimpse of the attractiveness that—as much as her level of access to Victor Steiner-Davion—might have caught the eye of someone like Henrik Morten.
The Scorpion Jar Page 10