The Scorpion Jar

by Jason M. Hardy

  A few more seconds, Jonah thought. A little more irritation is all I need.

  He counted to twenty in his head, arranged his face into the expression of a man forcing himself to be polite, and opened his office door.

  “Senator Mallowes,” he said. “How may I help you?”

  “Paladin Levin,” Mallowes said with a convincing imitation of graciousness. “I realize you must be quite busy, preparing for tomorrow, but I’d like to ask for a moment of your time. You must believe that this is important and weighs heavily on the election.”

  Jonah rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. “All right. Come in. But I don’t have long.”

  As he turned, he could almost hear Mallowes bristling.

  Jonah walked briskly to his desk, leaving Mallowes to close the door for himself.

  The Senator sat on the edge of a plain wooden chair. Jonah had considered sawing an inch or two off the legs of the chair, but decided he had more important tasks than mangling the furniture to facilitate humiliation.

  “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” Mallowes said. “I wanted to talk about something I said the last time we spoke.”

  “What was that?”

  “I may have led you to believe there was more of a connection between this Henrik Morten and Gareth Sinclair than actually exists. All I intended to say was that I was not aware of Sinclair severing his ties to Morten, as I had. Whether he actually employed Morten, or what he thought of him, I have no way of knowing.”

  “Why are you coming to me now with . . . it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You can try to cover for your friend all you want, but it’s too late.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “It’s too late.” Jonah gripped the sides of his desk and leaned forward. “I’ve got Morten. And he’s talking.”

  “What is he saying?”

  “Plenty. Enough to guarantee that Sinclair’s career isn’t going forward anymore.”

  “Are you sure Morten is a man you can trust? As I told you previously, I cut my ties to him because I found he lacked the requisite honor needed to serve The Republic in a high position. He would not hesitate to spread falsehood if he thought it could gain him an advantage—for example, if he thought it was something you wanted to hear.”

  “What do you take me for?” Jonah snarled. “Do you think I’d build a case on the word of one man, even if I thought that man was honest? Morten just had to point me in the right direction. Once I knew where to look, I found corroboration. Plenty of it.”

  “It doesn’t look good for Sinclair, then.”

  “Not at all.”

  “What do you intend to do to him?”

  “Bring him to justice! Let the whole council know what kind of man was just admitted into our midst! If I have enough evidence—and I think I will—he’ll be in custody before we take the first vote.”

  Mallowes sat with his hands calmly resting on his legs. The agitation he had shown in the reception area had disappeared.

  “Do you think that’s the best course of action?”

  “I don’t believe I have much of a choice.”

  “We sit at the top of The Republic,” Mallowes said, and his eyes might have actually twinkled. “We always have options.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me to use what I have? You don’t want me to go after Sinclair?”

  “Is that the best use of the man? You know him. You have worked with him. Couldn’t he serve better as a Paladin than as a convict?”

  “So I should just ignore the fact that he was involved in an assassination because I think he’d make a good Paladin?”

  “No,” Mallowes said firmly. “Don’t ignore it. Never let him forget you know it. Make sure he regrets his actions for the rest of his days.”

  “That’s why I planned to send him to prison.”

  “You’re thinking too small, Paladin Levin. Imagine what happens if this situation hanging over Sinclair’s head goes away.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  “More than that.” Mallowes speech came more rapidly now. “He’ll be stunned with gratitude. He’ll never forget the people who pulled him back from the brink of personal ruin. He will be in our—in your debt for the remainder of his career. A debt he will never forget because of the information you hold.”

  “So instead of sending him to jail, I should punish him by blackmailing him for the rest of his life?”

  “Those are not the terms I would use, but I suppose you’ve captured the idea I presented.”

  Jonah leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, as if giving deep consideration to the Senator’s words.

  Finally he spoke. “I’m not sure if I should ask you to leave now or tell you what I think of your stinking proposal first.”

  “Paladin Levin . . .”

  “You call yourself a servant of The Republic? Suggesting that one Paladin blackmail another as a viable means of running a government? You’ve been in office too long.”

  “I ask you to remember to whom you are speaking.”

  “I know full well. A traitor.”

  Mallowes leapt to his feet, his face twisted into a knot of wrinkles. “How dare you . . .”

  “Enjoy your time, Senator. After the election tomorrow, I will do everything I can to convince the new Exarch to divest the Senate of as much power as possible. Maybe you won’t cling so tight to your office when your main job is attending official funerals.”

  “You go too far. Be angry at me if you must, but such an attack on the entire Senate is unwarranted.”

  “The hell it is. I could fit all the Senators who are not either corrupt or incompetent into this room and still have enough room for a marching band. Not that you would be in here to see it.”

  “I made you,” Mallowes said, his words escaping between angry breaths. “I was there when you were raised to a Knight. You will remember your debt to me.”

  “You were there as a ceremonial figure. I don’t mean to sound immodest, but I would have been elevated no matter who was there. You had nothing to do with it. I owe you nothing.”

  Mallowes shook with rage. Jonah wondered if he would take a step toward him, or even make a fist. But Mallowes had long been accustomed to resolving conflicts without resorting to violence. He had found a large body of people who could carry out his violence for him.

  He brought his breathing under control. His face slowly eased into a resting expression. Before Jonah’s eyes, Mallowes transformed back to the familiar statesman of tri-vid reports.

  “We do not have to be enemies,” Mallowes said. “There is much we could accomplish together. The Senate was established by Devlin Stone, and will not go away so long as we remember his vision. We nobles ruled long before Stone came, and we will rule again. You will not be rid of us, so you would be advised to work with us.”

  “Devlin Stone’s vision, of both the Senate and the Paladins, included people working for the good of The Republic, not for themselves. I’d be happy to have a Senate as Stone intended it. But if I had to choose between a Senate of self-interested vipers or nothing, my choice is quite clear.”

  “You’re choosing dangerously.”

  “I’m not choosing. I’m just trying to clean up the mess you, Sinclair, and all the rest have created. You made the choice for me.”

  Mallowes did not show anger again. His face remained neutral, his expression relaxed. Then he turned and walked out the door without saying another word to Jonah.

  Jonah sat, trying to let go of the anger he’d summoned up for this meeting. He hadn’t known how far he’d have to go, and had surprised himself with his more extreme statements. They did not reflect anything he had seriously thought about before. Now that he had a moment to think, though, he began to consider if he actually believed what he’d said.

  51

  Government District, Geneva

  Terra, Prefecture X

  19 December 3134

 
; Levin had seen fire, Mallowes thought as he stalked through the streets of Geneva. Now he’d see ice.

  It had to be done quickly, but not rashly. He couldn’t afford to let his anger push him into incaution. He’d managed to do this once before, and by all accounts carried it off perfectly, completely deflecting Levin from the correct trail. He’d had more time then, but not much. Once he’d received the information about Victor Steiner-Davion’s plans, he’d been forced to move fairly quickly. That was where preparation paid off. Having spent years learning which channels were best used for various types of business, Mallowes had little trouble finding the appropriate people for the job. The very first lesson any politician learns is the overwhelming importance of knowing the right people.

  He didn’t want to be forced into using the same people. He couldn’t, really, since he’d heard, through roundabout channels, some unfortunate things about one of the operatives employed in Santa Fe. It was better to develop an all-new team, to avoid the risk of repeating himself, but he lacked time. Some degree of repetition would be necessary.

  The shame of it, Mallowes thought, is that some of the difficulty arises from having done my job too well. He hadn’t gone into this project trying to create trouble for Sinclair; he’d simply noticed that a few signs pointed in the direction of his protégé and decided it would be advantageous to make sure those signs were seen and followed. He had not anticipated, however, that Levin would become so resolute in his pursuit. The whole purpose of the exercise was to create the proper climate for making deals, not to completely break down the relationship between himself and Levin.

  Maybe it was for the best, though. He hadn’t seen this side of Levin, hadn’t known the secret contempt Levin had for him and the other Senators (though he suspected it—he suspected it of all the Paladins). If their differences were so deeply entrenched, it was best to deal with the situation now rather than wait for Levin to use his influence to make things worse.

  In most cases, there were several options for dealing with a situation like this, but unfortunately Levin made most of them impossible. Levin was simply not the type to take bribes, or to keep a different woman in every port. It wasn’t that he was incorruptible—in his long life, Mallowes had never met a single person to whom that word could be applied—just that, whatever his weaknesses might be, they did not lie in conventional areas.

  Mallowes honestly wished there were some other solution to this problem. He hated to stoop to the same low tactic twice in a single month. However, the short time frame and the dire nature of Levin’s intent left him with no other options.

  It was also unfortunate that Mallowes would not have Morten at his disposal. When all this had blown over, he could perhaps work at extricating the poor man from Levin’s clutches, but for now that task must wait. In the meantime, Mallowes had to find another operative as skilled and as discreet as Morten.

  Another lesson Mallowes had learned in his years of public service is that no one is irreplaceable. If you want to stay ahead of the competition, you must always know of at least three people who can perform any given job.

  Mallowes pressed a button on his phone, then dialed a number. He waited, punched in a few more numbers, then cut the connection.

  He picked up his pace. From the moment he placed the call, he had one hour to reach his destination.

  To Mallowes, every spot in the city of Geneva fell into one of two categories—places where I will be noticed, and places where I will not be. The former division had several subcategories based on the desirability of being noticed at said location, but those were the two primary organizational groups. At the moment, he clearly needed a location in the second category.

  The Museum of Terran Antiquity was just such a place. Established by Devlin Stone during the reconstruction of Geneva, the museum began life as a warehouse holding a wide variety of rubble that survived the Blakist Jihad. The items were painstakingly cleaned and restored, and pieces of Terra’s past were slowly put back together. The museum eventually had enough intact items to open a permanent display, and recently had nearly doubled its floor space as new objects arrived. A recent display of furniture and electronics from the distant twenty-fifth century—items that somehow survived seven hundred years of chaos—was the talk of Geneva’s cultural elite.

  Mallowes was part of that group. He made certain to show his face frequently at the museum, so his entrances and exits were no longer noteworthy.

  Today, museum traffic was light. With the election only hours away, the majority of Genevans were far too wrapped up in Terra’s present to give much thought to its past. Mallowes waved his membership card at the door attendant and walked in without a moment’s wait.

  In the center of the floor ahead of him was a staircase that looked like white marble but was actually a far lighter composite. At its base it was little more than a meter wide, barely enough for a single person to pass. It widened slowly as it ascended three meters, then made a sharp turn to the right. As it rose, it grew broader and made a continually wider circuit. The sloped walls on either side of the stairs emphasized its upside-down pyramid shape. Walkways, which looked to be little more than catwalks, connected the central stair to each level’s promenade around the courtyard.

  Mallowes, who disliked the architectural showiness of the stairs and also felt uncomfortable on the hovering catwalks, opted instead for an elevator to the fifth floor. When he emerged, he walked to the railing looking over the airy staircase. He spent ten minutes walking the perimeter of the courtyard, seeming to gaze at the marvel of the stair from every angle. In truth, he carefully watched the museum floor and the other levels for any face that seemed the least bit familiar. He saw no one who demanded his attention.

  Satisfied, he walked beneath a clear archway filled with swirling smoke. Light flashed from one end of the arch to the other, darting back and forth, spelling out words that burned in place only briefly before fading. The words read A LIGHT IN THE MIST. Beyond the archway was an exhibit detailing the cataclysmic Brazilian rain forest fires of 2718 and how the charred remains contributed to the discovery of a half-dozen new medicines.

  It was the emptiest exhibit of the museum.

  Mallowes walked calmly through a holographic display of a burning forest, which was made all the more realistic by the fan blowing hot air in patrons’ faces. He kept walking until he stood in front of a large case displaying another hologram, this one showing people dressed as lab technicians studiously examining piles of burnt wood and charred plants.

  “That’s not what Elsa Kavendish looked like,” said a woman sitting on a bench across from the display. She wore a long wool coat with its collar folded up and a gray scarf around her neck, as if she was about to go back outside any minute. The only feature Mallowes could clearly make out was the straight black hair running down the side of her face.

  Mallowes smiled ruefully. “I know,” he said. “My understanding is that the museum did not find her true appearance dynamic enough.”

  “What does her appearance have to do with what she did?”

  “Nothing. But the museum wants to present her as a role model, and you know how people are. They respond better to role models that are attractive.”

  “I think it’s a shame when museums play to people’s worst instincts.”

  “I agree. However, like any business, a museum must find a way to bring people inside its doors.”

  While they were speaking, Mallowes removed a device, somewhat smaller than his fist, from his pocket. He twisted a series of dials on its base, then pressed a button in its middle. It emitted a six-meter-wide sphere of nothing. An invisible veil of static shielded their conversation. If anyone came within fifteen meters, the disc would beep three times, then drop its shield. For now, they could talk freely.

  “Hello, Agnes.”

  “Hello. Morten’s missing,” Agnes said. Mallowes always appreciated her willingness to get down to business.

  “I know.”

>   “Should I be worried?”

  “For him? Or for yourself?” Mallowes asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “No. The issue that got him in trouble didn’t involve you in the least. No one is looking for you.”

  “Good.” Agnes paused. “I’m not sure why you called on me. I’ve got enough to do, monitoring what’s going to happen tomorrow. I’m supposed to watch the warehouse on. . .”

  “I don’t want to hear anything about what’s happening tomorrow!” Mallowes said sharply.

  “Right. Sorry,” Agnes said with what might have been a mocking tone. “Anyway, I have plenty to do. I don’t know that I can take on anything else until that’s done.”

  “This is more important.”

  Agnes whistled. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman pushed the hair out of her face, showing blue eyes and an upward-crinkled mouth. She couldn’t keep the expression of wonder off her face. “All right, I’m interested, then. What’s going on?”

  “There’s a Paladin who we cannot afford to let vote in the election.”

  “Who?”

  “Jonah Levin.”

  “Levin? You can’t be serious.”

  Mallowes gave her a look that assured her he was.

  “You want Levin out of commission by tomorrow. With the amount of time left, that doesn’t leave too many options.”

  “I realize that.”

  “I can’t do anything subtle. It’s going to be direct. Probably quite violent.”

  Mallowes held up a hand. “I have no need to hear any details. The job must be done. If it is, you will receive fifty times your normal payment. If it’s not, our relationship is terminated.”

  “A real all-or-nothing guy. I’ve never liked that about you—except when I get the ‘all,’ of course.”