The Black Guard: Book II: Evolution (Black Guard Series 2)

by C. R. Daems

I spent my time checking in with each contestant. The first day, they were nervous and reserved, but as the time for the second round drew near their total attention turned to preparing for the upcoming contest.

  "Captain, I'm in need of exercise. Would you like to come along?" Zenaida asked, a small impish smile on her lips.

  I nodded, having no pressing duties at the moment.

  She retreated into her room and returned shortly with a small sports bag.

  When Zenaida, Peller, and I reached the workout area, it was surprisingly busy. I didn't see any contestants, only guests and a few staff providing towels and drinks. Zenaida found a treadmill, set up a program, and began a slow run.

  "That was an interesting strategy the other day. A misdirection—the marines—and multiple surprises: the stars, your troops marksmanship, and the second staircase," Zenaida said as she seemed to glide effortlessly on the machine, although the machine had increased in both speed and elevation. "You could have reduced your … casualties had you chosen to let the marines' entrance provide the diversion."

  Deaths, I lamented, although I said nothing.

  "That makes you both dangerous and compassionate, since the marines' casualties would have been substantial. Compassion is a strange quality for a person in a killing profession."

  "I'd prefer to think of it as a saving lives profession." I said. Client and Jax lives, I mentally added.

  "You would lose against me," she said as the machine slowed to a stop.

  "Would I, if real people were involved?" I asked.

  "Hopefully, we will never know the answer. But compassion is a weakness to be exploited."

  Just then a young woman approached with a bottle of water and a towel. "Ma'am, would you care for water or a towel?"

  Zenaida smiled and reached for the water, but Peller stepped in between them and took the water bottle, which she flipped to me, and then snatched the towel from the girl's arm. I approved even though the girl was in our database. I opened the bottle and poured about a third of a glass full.

  "Drink!" I said, extending the glass toward her.

  "I'm not thirsty, ma'am," she said, trying to back away.

  But Peller drew her laser.

  "Drink!"

  "It's just water, ma'am."

  "Drink!"

  Slowly, she took the glass and drank it. I wondered if whatever was in the bottle of water was meant to kill or disable in some way. "There. It's just water."

  I waved to one of the two marines in the area. "Corporal, monitor this young woman for an hour. If she feels all right after that time, let her return to her duties. If not, bring her to me."

  "Yes, ma'am." He nodded and directed her to a chair and stood watching.

  "What if it is just water?" Zenaida asked, a small smile on her lips.

  "Doesn't matter. No one was harmed."

  Zenaida spent forty minutes in the pool before returning to the room. "Well it's been an hour, so I assume the girl passed the test?

  "They've taken her to the hospital ward. She isn't expected to live," I said. "Whatever was in the water caused her to go into a coma. Her brain activity has stopped."

  Zenaida smiled. "You're good at your profession—saving lives."

  * * *

  I was thankful to see the second round approaching. Although the danger would increase, I'd have fewer people to worry about. As each game finished, two marines led the losing contestant to their room and promptly escorted the contestant and guests out of the building. By the end of the third day, we were down to sixteen contestants, forty-eight guests, and forty fewer staff.

  "Captain, the head chef has taken sick and been transported to the hospital," Gunny said, accompanied by another cook and a marine corporal. "This is Antonine, his assistant."

  "Captain, I need to purchase more supplies. When Vetter got sick, he ordered me to get rid of some of our stock. Said he didn't know which was bad, but it had to be one of the items he had me destroy."

  "Make a list of the items you need and the quantities and I'll have Mr. Goebel take care of having them delivered."

  "Thank you, Captain." Antonine bowed several times before walking off with the corporal.

  "You think it's the lack of communication devices?" Trapp asked, grinning.

  "I wouldn't be surprised. You sneak in an assassin and then the damn Jax won't let you give him directions." I laughed. "Make sure we inspect the shipment when it comes."

  After the second round, the matches for round three were announced, and the contestants were given another two days of rest and time to prepare. My two non-critically wounded were returned marginally fit for duty, which gave me two Guards for each contestant and two to work with the marines patrolling the facility. The next day, the food shipment arrived, and Gunny, my lieutenants, and I were there to inspect the delivery.

  "Somewhere in these packages is a message to our would-be assassin, unless high rollers have decided to play fair," I said, eliciting snorts. "Our assignment is to find it."

  An hour later, Ceder held up a plastic container. "Says dietary supplement for Lady Wu. It's labeled Alpha Lipoic Acid. Anyone want to bet?"

  "Ceder, check her database and have the substance checked, but I'm betting everything will check out. Our high rollers aren't stupid. They are just letting our would-be killer know who. So do we withhold the name or let the package stay and try and catch the assassin?" I asked, curious as to what they would suggest.

  "Let's catch the killer," Trapp said.

  Elijah gazed thoughtfully into the distance. "Too dangerous. Catching the assassin isn't our duty. Keeping the contestants alive is."

  Ceder nodded agreement.

  "Duty?" Trapp asked, looking puzzled.

  "Yes, our captain frequently forces us to look at why we are here—duty. It's often enlightening. For example in Halo, we were asked to clear the building, not to kill the rebels occupying it. So, she gave them the option of leaving rather than us having to evict them."

  "It's easy to get confused," Trapp said after some thought. "Here, the object is to keep the contestants alive, and our assassin isn't dangerous if he doesn't know who to kill."

  "The original eight have the highest priority, because one or more undoubtedly has a price tag on their head. We know Zenaida does. And we will keep a special eye on the cook, Antonine.

  * * *

  The third round went off with no problems. Six of the original eight remained, and now the number of Guard and marines was almost equal to the contestant, guests, and staff, which had been further reduced by twenty. I offered to return the marines, but the stakes were high and Colonel Wolfson said it was good training for them. I suspect he liked the idea of the marines and Guard working together.

  The matches for the next round were announced and two days of rest designated.

  "What do you think, Rivka?" Zenaida asked as she prepared for her workouts.

  I had been spending more time with her because she was a known target and, according to Goebel, the odds-on favorite to win.

  "This round will determine who is in the money and who isn't, so it's high stakes for the high-rollers. Therefore, it's the most likely time for any opportunist to act."

  She nodded. "The next three rounds are where the big money is made or lost, but this is the critical round. Who wins or loses can make or destroy fortunes."

  A thought flashed in my head. "Damn," I muttered and clicked on Elijah and Ceder. "I want you to monitor the networks. You're looking for an interview or news about the War Games. Someone trying to get a message to their inside person could possibly do it in an interview. Let me know if you hear anything that sounds suspicious. Consider how you would send a message to me. Get your off duty personnel involved."

  "If I were a high-roller, that's what I would do. Give an interview or make some statement that would make the news," Zenaida said as she left the room with Peller and me following.

  * * *

  "I think you're right," I said after
reviewing the interview. The high roller from the Opal Queen system had stated he wouldn't bet on Lady Wu or Zenaida as they were highly nervous individuals. They wouldn't survive the pressure. It was a strange statement since both were the odds favorites and the reason the woman's statement was broadcast on the local news. "Let's change their rooms." My paranoia kicked into high gear.

  The three exchanged glances and Cedar asked the question on all of their minds. "Why, sir? How will that help?"

  "To be honest, I have no idea if it will. But it may confuse the assassin enough for us to catch him. I want the hallway locked down when we do it, so only the contestants know they've been moved."

  * * *

  "You want me to change rooms, Captain?" Lady Wu frowned.

  "We have information that I believe makes you and one other contestant the prime targets. Moving you may confuse any person … attempting to harm you, hopefully enough for us to catch him. We'll move you when no one can see and continue to treat this room as yours."

  "You already have two Guards on me night and day and a building full of marines. Even I feel safe."

  "Consider me overly cautious or foolish, but it would make me feel better," I said, trying not to scare her.

  She gave me a motherly smile. "If it makes you feel better, I'd be happy to move."

  Zenaida on the other hand just smiled as if she could read my mind. That night I notified the six other contestants that we'd had a minor security breach and the rooms would be locked while we addressed the issue. Then we separately moved Lady Wu and Zenaida to new rooms. With my mind at ease, I went to bed.

  My emergency alarm on my Mfi jerked me awake. When I looked at the screen, I had two priority messages, one from Trapp and one from Elijah. I dressed hurriedly and found Trapp and Elijah in the hallway, watching as Corporal Reti examined a marine corporal lying on the ground. She knelt by him, shaking her head.

  "Knife to the ribs and another in the back into the heart. He died within minutes." She picked up her medical bag and awaited orders.

  "How did he let anyone that close to him without defending himself?"

  "Did anyone check Lady Wu and Zenaida's rooms?" I asked, wondering if our assassin had gotten the word and the marine had interrupted him trying to enter one of the rooms.

  Elijah shook her head.

  "Reti, check rooms 211 and 220." I followed her down the hallway. She was just about to open the door with our master key, when I stopped her. "Do you have a gas mask in that bag?"

  She nodded and reached into the bag, pulled out our standard gas mask, and slipped it on.

  I stepped back, forcing Trapp and Elijah to back up and then nodded for her to proceed.

  She held her ID against the doorplate and it clicked open, then she opened it slowly, slammed it shut, and walked back to us while removing the mask.

  "That room is contaminated with something. I'll have to test it to determine what, but if I had to guess, I'd say a poisonous gas. I've seen a room which had a poisonous gas container exploded in it and this looks similar."

  "Elijah, Ceder will be here shortly," I said as I clicked on Ceder's channel. "The Guard is going to conduct a search of every contestant's room beginning with the six remaining of the eight contestants. Assign two extra Guard to each room. Three Guard will conduct the search while one watches the occupants. After that, have them search the unoccupied rooms. Gunny, I want your marines to isolate all staff and then search their rooms and then the general area."

  An hour into the search, I was notified that a cyanide canister had been discovered in Mr. Banda's security guard's room. Banda was one of the contestants who had beaten Mr. Lacroix in round three. I called Goebel and he decided to remove the guard but leave Mr. Banda, since there was no proof he was involved. The marines found two lasers and the two owners were also taken prisoner.

  Round three the next day eliminated four more and we were left with four: Lady Wu, Mr. Banda, Mr. Chapa, and Ms. Zenaida.

  * * *

  Not surprisingly, the next few days were without incident—a rest day and round five with Lady Wu and Zenaida surviving. Round four had reduced the contestants to fifteen and with a reduction in staff there were fewer than forty people and more than eighty Jax to watch them. And the marines weren't in a trusting mood.

  "I should split my winnings with you, Captain Sapir," Lady Wu said when I checked in the next day—a day of rest before the final match with Zenaida. "I performed poorly the last two times because I was nervous every minute of every day. I nearly decided not to attend this year until I heard the Black Guard would provide security. I almost felt sorry for the high-rollers and their paid conspirators." She laughed. "It's been fun watching you, like a War Game within the War Games."

  "I'd like to think of it as a Peace Game within a War Game—saving lives versus killing."

  She gave me a low bow. "Thank you, Captain Sapir, for a most enjoyable experience."

  I returned the bow and went to see Zenaida. She was dressed and ready to exercise.

  "Who do you think is going to win?' she asked, surprising me.

  I laughed. "Judging by what I've seen so far, you and Lady Wu are prodigies and therefore far beyond my understanding. My uneducated guess would be the one who doesn't care about winning," I said, thinking about Wuji.

  She stared at me for a long time, then walked up to me and touched the dragon on my collar.

  "I always wondered about the dragons of the Black Guard, what made them special—now I see. They have mastered themselves. Yes, you are right."

  * * *

  The final War Game lasted thirteen hours and in the end Zenaida won. If the War had been real, I suspect both nations would have destroyed themselves. I was relieved to see the end of the games. The JCC would consider the assignment a huge success. I was far less pleased. I had satisfied tradition and protected the clients but failed in my duty to protect the Guard and a marine.

  On the way back to the War Horse, I pondered Buddha, a man who taught a path to enlightenment from his own experience. I concluded my path to peace must be through my own experiences.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Faithful: The enemy revisited

  When I exited the shuttle, a Lieutenant Commander stood waiting. He bowed rather than salute. "Captain Sapir, I'm Lieutenant Commander Perrin, the War Horse's communications officer. Captain Hwang received this message from the JCC this morning and asked me to deliver it to you personally." He handed the tablet to me. "He will remain in orbit until you decide. He also asked me to invite you to dine with him tonight if you are available."

  "Thank you, Commander." I scanned the message. My previous opponents on Faithful were asking for me specifically to guard their president, who has had several attempts on his life. The JCC was leaving it up to me whether to agree and to negotiate the contract. "Respond to the JCC that I'll stop in and talk to the United Freelands. And tell Captain Hwang I'd be honored to join him for dinner tonight." I should refuse because it was obvious, whether the threat was real or not, that someone wanted revenge on me for not only thwarting an attempt to rescue their political prisoners but having to apologize for their operatives actions. Maybe I was being foolish as General Lerman had been in deciding to make a statement on Outpost. Or maybe I was just following my path. The JCC appeared to think so; otherwise, they would have refused.

  * * *

  "I'm surprised you agreed to even talk to them, Sapir," Hwang said as he, Wolfson, and I stood sipping drinks before dinner. "This would seem a blatant attempt at revenge."

  "You have to admit it's intriguing. They know they can't just kill me without some form of Jax retaliation. So they must make it look like I was killed in the line of duty; therefore, I'm safe until I sign a contract."

  "Do you intend to sign one?" Wolfson asked, leaning forward.

  "If it's in the best interest of the Jax." I raised my glass. "To family."

  Hwang and Wolfson raised theirs. "To family."

  * * *
>
  A day and a half later, we were in orbit around Faithful. I departed for the city of Alexander, the capital of the United Freelands, a separate continent composed of multiple free states. Alexander was located in the state of Oakland. The shuttle was directed to a small airport where a man in civilian clothes met me.

  "Good morning, Captain Sapir, I'm Director Doyle, the man in charge of President Marshall's security. It's only a ten-minute drive to the capital building from here. Did you come alone?" he asked looking at the combat shuttle.

  "I'm here only to talk about a potential contract."

  "I'm afraid the need is immediate … there has already been two attempts."

  "You succeeded in stopping both so why do you need the Black Guard?" I asked, wondering whether they had one prepared version. If different people had different versions, it may lead me to understand what was actually going on.

  "By luck, I'm ashamed to admit. Guarding important people is mostly making sure the place the person will visit is secure and keeping nut cases from walking up and shooting him. Our people aren't trained to handle professional assassins although we pretend we are."

  "That is both honest and perceptive. Ironically, we provide personal security, which is not what you do. You provide area security, so the services you perform, like building security and checking out places the person intends to visit, will still be necessary."

  He frowned. "Why can't you start right away?"

  "We require a signed contract. It defines what you want the Black Guard to do, and it stipulates what we will and will not do. Without a contract clients tend to assume we are responsible for things that are not covered and feel cheated when we don't meet their expectations."

  "For example?" he asked.

  "We provide personal protection. That means we do not feel responsible for the safety of anyone else in the area and will make no attempt to help unless it's necessary to protect our client. And we are not subject to your laws."

  "I can see why you would want the safeguards of a contract." He nodded. "Like you, I'm a little myopic. I'm concerned about the president's safety to the exclusion of everything else." He lapsed into silence as we climbed into an official vehicle and sped through the city with a motorcycle escort.