by Terry Mixon
Envoy Lathrop rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know damned well who I am, Wiley Goodlett. I got you this job. Not only that, I told you who I was going to go get when I left. An hour ago.”
The man looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, Jewell. They told me I had to say that even after I told them it sounded idiotic. You and Commodore Madrid can go in. Everyone else stays outside.”
Brad nodded. “Well, this has been a nice visit, Envoy. You can rest assured that I’ll be telling stories about it for the next couple of years. Come on, Saburo. If we hurry, we can get back to Oath before they get dinner ready.”
“Do we really have to do this?” Lathrop asked with a sigh. “Why don’t I go ahead and cut through all the posturing and provide a solution that doesn’t induce testosterone poisoning in every onlooker within 300 meters?
“Commodore Madrid, the Council is obviously concerned about their security. On the other side of the equation, so are you. I suggest Lieutenant Phan and her fire team escort you into the Council chambers and take a position near the entrance for your personal security.”
She held up a finger before the guard in black could object. “And when I say suggest, I really mean insist. At least so far as the Council Guard is concerned.”
The large man shrugged. “Far be it from me to tell an Envoy what to do. If the Council doesn’t like it, they can tell you themselves.”
Lathrop raised an eyebrow as she turned toward Brad. “Will that be acceptable? Colonel Saburo can remain here in the grand foyer. I’m certain that he won’t have any difficulty finding you if there’s any disturbance.”
The Vikings’ combat team leader grinned at the Council Guard. “I won’t have any trouble at all.”
Once again, Lathrop rolled her eyes. “Jesus. It’s like riding herd on a bunch of twelve-year-olds. Let’s get inside before I have to put anyone in time-out.”
This set of doors, unlike the previous pair, opened silently when Goodlett pressed his comlink. With Lieutenant Phan behind him, Brad followed Lathrop into the Council chamber.
A wide horseshoe-shaped table dominated the chamber. If he thought the foyer was gaudy, he was now forced to reassess his judgment. In comparison to the inside, the foyer was bland.
He mentally floundered while searching for the appropriate description. After a few seconds, he decided the room had the feel of a bordello that catered to men with no sense of taste.
Garish reds and washed-out blues dominated the walls. Unless he was mistaken, the fabric was velvet. He could just imagine how skin-crawling it would feel to run his hands across the slick surface. He barely managed to repress a shudder.
In addition, seven massive oil paintings hung evenly spaced around the room. Following the theme so far, they were of the seven people sitting at the table.
Unless he was gravely mistaken, the wide, polished table was made of genuine wood. The expense of importing something that size could have probably refurbished an entire tunnel in the city outside. Maybe two.
A dozen guards similar to those in the foyer stood arrayed against the rear wall, each rigidly at attention with an automatic rifle held at port arms. Brad suppressed his amusement. Positioning the guards in that manner made it extremely unlikely that they’d be able to respond in a timely fashion to any threats. His fire team could take them out before they got their feet in the right posture to return fire.
Brad focused his attention on the Council of Speakers. Six men and one woman. The woman, seated at the middle of the left-hand wing of the table, was older than any of the men around her.
That didn’t necessarily make her weaker, though. Experience with his own crew proved that, and Brad could tell from the glint in the woman’s eyes that she was a hawk.
Lathrop stepped forward and stopped in the middle of the chamber, executed a bow similar to the one she’d graced him with in his office aboard Oath, and then placed her hands behind her back.
“Councilors, I present to you Commodore Brad Madrid of the Vikings Mercenary Company.”
Without any further fanfare, she walked to the right side of the room and leaned somewhat insolently against the wall.
The man seated at the center of the table, a somewhat corpulent individual, leaned back in his chair and considered Brad. The man’s motion caused an ominous creak somewhere in his seat.
“So, this is the man who saved so much of First Oberon? I somehow suspected you’d be much taller, Commodore Madrid.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, Councilor…”
“Warner Killian, Grand Councilor of First Oberon. Seated to my right are Councilors Booker Santistevan, Lynda Eden, and Stefan Bernier. To my left are Councilors Dewitt Nakamura, Jeromy Maez, and Zackary Schrum. Together we rule First Oberon.”
Brad took a moment to examine everyone at the table. Only one of them appeared on the bronze doors: Lynda Eden. That was probably important.
Something even more critical was the fact that he recognized one of the other Councilors. Brad had met the man identified as Zackary Schrum before, though under a different name.
He knew him as a shady merchant in Oberon City named Ferarre. Back when he’d worked with the Cadre.
Brad was surprised to see the man again. He’d expected the Cadre to hunt Ferarre down and murder him for leaking information that led directly to the destruction of the Terror’s base.
Oh, Brad hadn’t exactly left the man a choice when he confronted him in his dingy office in Oberon City. He expected the man’s long sleeves covered the two gashes Brad had cut into him with his vibro-blade two years earlier.
Ferarre’s face certainly still bore the scars of their meeting. Brad had struck him there with both the hilt of his vibro-blade and his pistol during their brief meeting. Hard enough to knock the man unconscious in the end. And he’d obviously broken the man’s nose, because it hadn’t healed correctly.
Brad was grateful that he’d been wearing a face wrap during the interrogation. While Ferarre—or should he think of him as Schrum?—was scowling, Brad didn’t believe it was because the man knew who stood in front of him now.
No. If Ferarre suspected that Brad was the man who’d beaten and cut him, he’d already be on his feet, shouting.
Falcone would be pleased to get her hands on Ferarre. And, Brad admitted, it was exceptionally convenient that she was on Oberon right now. He wasn’t precisely sure what she was doing today, but he’d be able to get hold of her once this meeting finished.
Finding Ferarre opened up several new lines of investigation that might very well lead them to the people they wanted. In fact, since the man was in a position of power there, it was almost a certainty that he’d been responsible for smuggling in the nerve agent and explosives.
Of course, the fact that he was a person with power there made seizing him directly a chancy thing. They’d have to be somewhat delicate.
The man hadn’t been that wealthy or powerful in Oberon City. How had he accumulated the juice to become one of the seven ruling members of a much larger city in only two years? The answer, Brad suspected, was the Cadre.
Ferarre must still be working for them.
Brad decided to roll with it. If he played his cards right, he might get a direct line to the Cadre’s new base. First, however, he needed to make certain the Council of Speakers respected him.
He spread his hands, emphasizing the empty space in which he stood, and then meaningfully looked at each of them behind their wide table. “I was under the impression that the Council of Speakers wished to discuss today’s events and find solutions. This, however, looks more like you intend to call me on the carpet. If this is how you intend to play things, I’ll just leave now.”
Killian scowled. “The Council of Speakers isn’t used to being spoken to in that tone of voice, Commodore. I suggest that you remember who you’re dealing with. We control this city and our guards control the exits to this room.”
Brad laughed. Moreover, he made certain that he laughed deep an
d long.
Finally, wiping fake tears from his eyes, he smiled widely at the Grand Councilor. “That’s good. I didn’t expect you to go for farce, but this show is very entertaining.”
He waved a hand across his face and put on his most deadly serious expression. “A number of people have found to their sorrow that they can’t push me around. I strongly suggest that you don’t become one of them.
“We can either discuss things in a civilized manner or I’m going back to my ship. If you try to stop me, my troops are more than capable of killing anyone in our way. And that includes the people you think are going to protect you. With the exception of Envoy Lathrop, I should add.”
Brad allowed the silence to drag out for a few seconds so they could consider the seriousness of the situation.
“If you want to fight, we’ll fight. If you want to find the people that tried to kill thousands of your citizens, we’ll do that. Personally, I’d much rather find the bad guys and make them pay, but in the end, the decision is really up to you. Make the call, Grand Councilor.”
The silence that pervaded the room for the next few seconds ended abruptly when Envoy Lathrop began slow-clapping. Every single member of the Council of Speakers, no matter how shocked or angry they were, shifted their glares to their employee.
Rather than deterring the woman, it seemed to only make her clap harder.
She winked—she actually winked!—at Brad. “Twelve-year-olds. Didn’t I tell you?”
The woman ceased clapping and strode out to stand beside Brad. She faced the Council of Speakers with her hands on her hips.
“If you can stop this idiocy, we have would-be mass murderers to find. The Commodore was right to use the word farce. You’re behaving like spoiled children. If you want revenge on the people that tried to overturn everything that we built here, you need to set your petty egos aside and start talking rather than posturing.”
For the first time, Lynda Eden spoke. “Insolently put, but correct. On behalf of the Council of Speakers—whether they want me to speak for them or not—I apologize. If you will allow it, Commodore, I believe that we should adjourn to a more private location where we can discuss these serious matters.”
From the corner of his eye, Brad saw that Ferarre strongly disapproved.
The other councilors were also displeased, but none of them spoke out against their colleague. That had to be a true sign of her influence.
Brad inclined his head. “Nothing would please me more, Councilor Eden.”
Chapter Twelve
As the councilors rose to file out through the door at the back of the chamber, Brad stepped close to Lieutenant Phan. “Call Oath and see if they can get a message to our guest. Let her know that I’ve met an old acquaintance of ours from Oberon City. He’s moonlighting with the Council of Speakers.”
“Which one?” the officer asked softly. “I’ll make sure the Colonel knows as well.”
“Schrum, but don’t use his name on an open channel. I’m pretty sure they can’t tap into our equipment, but we can’t take the risk.”
“I’ll send a runner,” she said with a nod. “I need to let Saburo know we’re going to a different room, in any case. He’ll send someone back to the ship. What do you want him to do?”
“Nothing for the moment,” Brad said after a moment’s consideration. “Trying to directly take this guy into custody might cause us all kinds of unintended complications. Now that we know he’s here, we should be able to take steps against him once he’s away from this building.”
“Copy that. I’ll send my man out now. Once he comes back, we’ll escort you to wherever they’re taking us.”
As soon as Lieutenant Phan walked away, Envoy Lathrop stepped over to Brad. “You handled them better than most. I’ve seen plenty of people come and go, and rolling over for the Council never works. They sense weakness and they can’t seem to stop themselves from trying to exploit it, even when it’s not in their best interests.”
Brad nodded minutely, having already grasped that. “I noticed that Councilor Eden is the only one of them pictured on the doors. I assume that means she’s the only holdover from the Council of Speakers that dedicated the doors. If so, I wonder why she doesn’t hold the central leadership position. Is that by choice?”
“Turnover in her line of work is, as they say, high,” the envoy said with a small smile. “Infighting on the Council tends to have drastic consequences for the losers. The biggest target is always the Grand Councilor.
“In my considered opinion, trying to run this city is a death sentence in slow motion. Somewhere, somehow, the holder of that office always ends up with a knife or two in his back.”
Lathrop inclined her head toward the door the Council had departed through. “Councilor Eden is no one’s fool. Her longevity on the Council of Speakers comes from her patiently laying the groundwork to exercise her power and guarantee her safety. She doesn’t need to sit at the center of the table to exercise that control.”
“Good to know. I have another question, if you don’t mind. Councilor Schrum looks somewhat familiar to me. Is he a new arrival? I feel certain that I’ve seen him somewhere else in the system.”
Lathrop shrugged. “He’s relatively new here in First Oberon. I became aware of him two years ago, but he’s only been on the Council for about nine months.
“I’d watch out for him if I were you. He was one of the strongest voices against allowing the doctors to take up residence here. Strident, one might say. He’s not your friend.”
Lieutenant Phan’s trooper came back through the foyer entrance, and Brad nodded toward the rear exit. “Well, it’s time to go see if anyone on the Council is friendly.”
The room behind the main chamber was a normal conference room. A standard table filled the center of the room, surrounded by comfortable office chairs. Even the wall decorations would have fit inside almost any business center.
This was probably where normal business was conducted. Why the Council felt the need for the drama in the other room was a mystery to him.
There were enough seats on one side of the table for all seven councilors to sit facing him. Once again, Lathrop found a handy wall to hold up.
Lieutenant Phan and her troops spread out along the wall holding the door they had just come through, opposite the Council guards that arrayed themselves along the far wall.
Brad took the hint and sat opposite the Grand Councilor. “Shall we get down to business?”
Ferarre chose that moment to lean forward and scowled. “I want to know why you smuggled those bombs and the nerve agent into our city. What kind of game are you really playing?”
“Excuse me?” Brad asked softly as he raised an eyebrow. “What would make you think I would ever do such a thing, Councilor Schrum?”
The man pointed an accusing finger at Brad. “No one else in this city has anything to gain, and your reputation for destruction proceeds you, Commodore. For reasons unknown to me and the rest of the Council, you smuggled a weapon of mass destruction into First Oberon.
“Or did you? Perhaps you only planted explosives and told the OSE that there was a nerve agent. We have no proof of that, either. Just your unsupported word.”
“Actually,” Command Constable Daskalov said from where he’d taken up station beside Envoy Lathrop, “the Commodore was kind enough to turn over all of the recorded video and audio from his combat team. I’m afraid the proof is incontrovertible. Not only were there explosives—that they had not brought along, I might add—but there was definitely nerve agent in that building.”
“As if he’d give you data that hadn’t already been tampered with,” Ferarre said with a sneer. “OSE is already in plenty of trouble, and you’re just looking for a way out of it. Not only did you allow an unauthorized military force to land here, you stood by like an idiot when they blew up half the damn city.”
From Daskalov’s dark expression, Brad was certain this wasn’t the first run-in these two had had.
He considered keeping his mouth shut and letting the Command Constable tear a strip off the Councilor, but decided that he needed to take control of the situation.
“You’ve got a pretty big mouth, Councilor,” Brad said judiciously. “There’s only one problem with your paranoid delusion. OSE technicians tested our combat suits and they were positive for VX-65. The doctors can confirm that with their own testing.
“As for the bombs, I’m sure you have quite a lot of video of us leaving the port. None of us could have been hiding that amount of explosive on our persons. So, Councilor, when exactly are we supposed to have planted the bombs?”
The man half-rose from his seat. “I’m not the one needing to explain his actions. If you’re not going to answer my questions, I believe that we’ll have to provide some negative inducements to get the answers we want.”
“You mean, to get the answers that you want,” Councilor Eden said dryly. “I believe we’ve allowed this to play out long enough. You’ve had an ax to grind about the doctors being on Oberon for as long as I’ve known you.
“I can’t say that I personally understand it, but perhaps it has something to do with what happened to your face. Did you get bad medical care at some point? I suppose the answer to that is obvious, but just for the record, I thought I’d ask the question.”
“How dare you?” Ferarre said as he stood slowly. “I don’t care who you are, you have no right to speak to me that way.”
Eden laughed as though he’d just told her the most delicious joke. “Don’t be any more of a fool than you must be, Schrum. The Council already decided that the doctors were staying. Perhaps you’ll recall the vote, five to two. You and Grand Councilor Killian have made your dissenting views plain, but you lost. Get. Over. It.”
With a dismissive wave of her hand, Councilor Eden turned her attention to Brad, ignoring the sputtering man she’d just sparred with.
“Rest assured, Commodore, that the majority of the Council does not believe what you just heard. We allowed it to play out so that you could see for yourself who your friends are in this body.”