by Ward Wagher
“Nonsense,” Jones grinned, “it is all a part of your education. When you were a military police recruit, you did not see the dirty underside of the vehicle you were driving. We are operating at the highest levels of the government and that requires a thorough understanding of the politics. Arlen Senter was appointed by the old Paladin. He was left to do his job as he saw fit. The new Paladin holds all of us to a higher standard. He reviews decisions that we make and holds us accountable. Some people might not like that.”
“Why does the Paladin not remove him from his job?” she asked.
“Because he would then have to find a replacement.”
“You could do the job, Boss.”
Jones laughed. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Lesa. The fact is that I do not know enough to do his job. Maybe in another twenty or thirty years, I might. I am not the political animal that is Arlen Senter.”
“That is because you are better than him.”
“He is a much better politician than I am,” Jones said. “And regardless of what we may think of the man, he is a good Security Director. And that is what counts with the Paladin.”
“You say so, Sir.”
“No, Lesa, not because I say so. Consider this your educational experience for the job. You have good operational instincts. You need to gain an understanding of what it takes for Senter to do his job. He would be hopeless on the sharp end of the stick where you work. And I would have the same problem in his office.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You do not look convinced,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “That is fine. But you are highly observant. Watch Arlen Senter carefully. If you are going to be effective in this job, you need to understand how he thinks and operates.”
“I think I understand.”
“Good. Now we need to take a look at the duty roster for the Kenosha house.”
§ § §
Chaim Lewis looked up from his desk. “How did you get in here?”
“Hey, Chaim, your security sucks. I just walked in,” Singman Jones said.
“I somehow doubt it was that simple, although you do move like a ghost. Since you have now given me a heart attack, what do you want?”
“I needed to talk to somebody highly placed in the government. You were the logical person.”
“And what about your boss? Or, if not Arlen, you get plenty of face time with the Paladin.”
Jones folded his arms and looked uncomfortable.
“Okay, Sing, what do we need to talk about?”
“I am worried about Arlen,” he began. “I think he is unhappy with the Paladin.”
“There are a lot of people unhappy with the Paladin,” Lewis said. “That includes me from time to time.”
“So am I,” Jones replied. “But there is a difference with Arlen.”
Lewis leaned forward and laid his arms on his desk. “What are you suggesting, Sing?”
“That his level of impatience may lead him to intemperate actions.”
“As in…”
“I do not know, Chaim. Just that it concerns me. I have watched this develop over the past several months since the old Paladin died. Arlen has never had anyone question his decisions. You know how RWB probes. It can be uncomfortable at times. If you are basically insecure like Arlen, it can be very uncomfortable.”
Lewis leaned back in his chair and seemed deep in thought. He began to speak a couple of times and then stopped. He finally decided what to say.
“I do not know, Sing. I appreciate your courage in coming to speak with me. I trust this does not affect your responsibilities to the Security Director.”
“It does not affect my duty to Arlen, or to the Paladin,” Jones stated. “But with all the recent threats to the Paladin, I worry about anything that might compromise RWB’s safety.”
“You do not suppose that Arlen might be a threat, do you?”
“Not directly, Chaim. I worry that if he is sufficiently upset with the Paladin, that he might miss something that is critical. It would put the Paladin into danger.”
“Very well. I understand. Let me do this: I will assign a couple of people to watch the situation. I will also look for an opportunity to broach the subject with the Paladin. Obviously you are not in a position to do that.”
“Thanks, Chaim. That is all I can ask.”
“It is considerably more than you can ask, Sing. You are in dangerous territory.”
“I know that,” Jones replied. “I thought long and hard before coming to see you.”
“For the record, I believe you did the right thing. At this time I think you need to fade and let me work.”
“I understand, Chaim. Again, thank you.”
“You are welcome. Now, get out of my office.”
Lewis looked down at his desk and when he looked up again, Jones was gone. He shook his head. Jones really was a ghost.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Imagine having a private beach. And the view of the lake is wonderful. Can you imagine owning a house like this? And it is not even the primary residence. What do you think we should request for dinner tonight?”
Antonia Riggs had been talking for what seemed like hours. Jones glanced at the antique grandfather clock and noted that only forty-five minutes had elapsed since the Paladin’s guests had arrived at the Kenosha lake house. The nonstop prattling seemed not to bother Tracy Riggs in the least. Lesa Carper seemed to have a slightly desperate look in her eye, though.
Oh well, Jones thought, the day is young, and this will contribute to Lesa’s education.
“Is this room not quaint?” the woman continued. “And I am sure that is real wood planking on the floors. Tracy, have you thought about what your opening sermon will be on Hepplewhite?”
The couple relaxed in the den with fresh-baked apple pie prepared by the resident cook who relished having guests to pamper. Things seemed nominal, so Jones eased out of the room. He had other things to do and a single guard was adequate to the task. Plus, he did not have Tracy Rigg’s equanimity. The man seemed content to allow his wife to talk until she finally wound down. Jones had his own sanity to think about.
Lesa Carper wore a professional expression while on duty, but he had learned to read her. She would have a long day in Kenosha. She had almost begged to remain in Chicago with Cathay to guard the Paladin. Apparently, word had gotten around about Antonia Rigg’s ebullient conversation patterns. Jones came up short on volunteers for the guard junket and had to draft people for the trip.
Lesa was usually the first to volunteer when things like this came up, and she had made a mistake by not volunteering. Jones grinned to himself. The look on her face was priceless when he started selecting volunteers and he picked her first. He would have otherwise probably told her to stay in Chicago and help Richard.
Jones walked into the small office used by the house security and pulled out his comm.
“Status Kath?” he barked when the head of the exterior guard force answered.
“Nominal,” was her clipped reply.
Kath O’Bryan had also been less than thrilled with the assignment. While she and Jones got along well, her group was a bit unhappy about the work conditions. While the summers in the northern part of the Palatinate were comfortably cool, the mosquitos were large, plentiful and aggressive. It seemed that even after several hundred years of development, the nano-enhanced insect repellent did not work very well. Plus, the little pests were adept at flying into one’s mouth, nose and ears. Kath had lectured her people on how it was unprofessional to constant swat at the bugs when patrolling.
“If you like,” Jones said, “we could rotate your people through the house, and I will have my people take a turn outside. It looks buggier than a swamp out there.”
“I noticed the principals did not tarry on the patio,” she commented.
“They did not. They have lived the past five years on the moon and had forgotten about insect life.”
“A rude surprise, I am
sure. And yes, Sing, my people would be delighted to swap places for a bit.”
“I will have Lesa arrange something, then.”
Jones grinned evilly when he disconnected. Lesa would be overjoyed to get out of range of Antonia… for about thirty seconds. He just loved mentoring the younger members of the team, and both teams would learn from it. He wondered if Kath O’Bryan would appreciate the lesson. Sauce for the goose was the ancient phrase, he thought.
Tracy and Antonia Riggs meanwhile enjoyed their vacation. After living in the Lunar colony for five years, Tracy thought that he might be developing incipient agoraphobia, and concluded a visit to the wilds around Kenosha would be a wonderful cure. Their previous short trip to Hilton Head Island had been a good start.
The rapacious insect life though had discouraged outdoor hiking. The house itself was vast and sufficed so far for their explorations. Neither had visited such ancient relics before, and both were fascinated.
“Is there a name for the style of this place, Trace?” Antonia asked.
“I think it is called Tudor,” Tracy replied. “I find it, oh, I don’t know, relaxing, I guess. When we landed and I saw the place, I thought it seemed to fit well in the surroundings.”
“I wonder if we would ever have a house like this,” she continued. “Do you suppose the Paladin visits here, often? It was kind of him to offer our use of it.”
Tracy smiled at her continuous changes of subject. He had learned soon after meeting her that she was not hyperactive. She had a sharp questing mind and loved to flit from one topic to another as she sampled one idea or the other. She reminded him of a butterfly as it moved from flower to flower.
“I did some research on our future mission, Luv.”
“Montora Village, you mean? What little I could find on the Global-net made the place seem a bit backward. But, if God calls us there, I think we would find satisfaction. Do you suppose we could explore the basement?”
“The Paladin told us we could have the run of the place. It might be interesting.”
“Hepplewhite is supposed to have great scenery,” she said, launching in another direction.
They walked down the wide stone steps to the lower level of the mansion. The basement was as well-finished as the rest of the house. The environmental systems were hidden behind closed doors. A large game room was situated at one end of the level. At the other end, another set of stairs descended perhaps a half level with a stone arch and a heavy arched wooden door with an inset stained-glass window ended the short hall.
“Do you suppose this might be a chapel, Trace?” she asked. “Seems a strange place for one. What do you know about the church we will serve on Hepplewhite?”
Tracy eased the door open. “This would probably be a chapel to the god Bacchus,” he said as they stepped into an expansive wine cellar.”
“Does the Paladin drink all of this?” Antonia asked in wonder.
“He seemed pretty sober when we met him at Hilton Head. He has a reputation for loving his parties, though.”
“I wonder if we will sample anything from the cellar,” she commented. “I wonder what this place is like during the winter. During my reading this morning in the Bible I ran across a verse I had never noticed before. Hasn’t God been good to us? Imagine getting a free vacation in a place like this.”
Riggs chuckled. “I’m sure the cook will select something appropriate for our meals.”
§ § §
“Not that I am complaining, of course, but why did you pick the Wabash Club for our weekly game instead of the Kenosha House?”
RWB looked up as he flipped a card to Clinton Worley. “I have guests in the Kenosha House. I did not want to interrupt their vacation.” He looked over at Carlo Roma.
“Two cards, please,” Roma responded.
“Besides, I had to be in Indianapolis today, and thought it might be fun to hold our game here.”
“Hold,” Leonard Cord said.
“Dealer takes a card,” RWB said. “What about you, Archie?”
Archer Gleason held up one finger.
“Archie takes one card and bets.”
Gleason tossed a chip into the center of the table. “Five.”
Worley wordlessly tossed a chip into the center.
Roma rocked his head back and forth as he considered his hand. He finally tossed his cards down. “Out.”
Cord tossed a chip into the center and then threw in a second one.
“Leo raises,” RWB said. “And the dealer drops out.”
Gleason tossed in another chip. “Call.”
With a crooked smile Cord flipped over his cards. “Two pair.”
Gleason snorted. “Not much of a hand for seven-card draw, Leo. I have Aces high.”
Cord laughed and raked in the chips. “How about a short break?”
“Fine with me,” the Paladin replied. “Clint looks like he wants to use the fresher, anyway.”
“Too right,” Worley said as he stood up. “The rest of you must have the bladder capacity of a buffalo.”
Cord looked disgusted. “Might we keep this on a higher plane, Gentlemen?”
RWB glanced over at the businessman from Columbus. “Okay, sorry, Leo.”
Cord apparently decided he was overly sensitive and waved a hand to indicate it really was not important. One of the longstanding shibboleths of Palatinate society was a refusal to talk about bodily functions even with euphemisms, or obliquely. When someone needed to use the fresher, they simply excused themselves.
“Got a question, Leo,” Roma said.
“What do you need, Carlo?”
“I have been thinking about off-planet investments. I do a lot of business on New America. The question is whether you think building a plant there would be worthwhile.”
Cord thought for a moment and then looked over at Gleason. “What do you think, Archie? You have a facility in New Washington, do you not?”
Archer Gleason was the managing director of Gateway Enterprises in St. Louis.
“I have a more optimistic view than most, I think. In the long run an investment almost anywhere in the Sphere of Man will pay off handsomely. Except for Victor, of course.”
Everyone laughed. The saying that characterized the extent of every rule ended in except for Victor. And in the case of off-planet investments, it was very true. Victor was a thoroughly unpleasant planet with a single settlement at its north pole. It was widely known as a haven for pirates and no one else really wanted to live there.
“I do not have Victor in mind for an investment,” Roma said dryly. “But I am curious about your experience with the New Americans.”
“The New Americans are prickly, quick to take offense, and consider street fights to be their primary sport. But they rarely allow their proclivities to get in the way of business. Gateway has a starship refurbishing facility at the New Washington port. It is staffed and managed by New Americans. They are hard workers and the business is profitable.”
“That is good to know. Do you have any contacts that you could make introductions for me?”
Gleason pondered the question for a few moments. “Let me make some inquiries, Carlo. As I said, I think an investment there would pay off.”
“I have an investment in a business there, myself,” RWB commented. “An interesting place to visit, as well.”
“Amen to that,” Worley said as he returned to the table. “I was walking down the street in New Washington, heading from the restaurant to my hotel. A fight spilled out into the street from a bar in front of me, and simultaneously one spilled out from the bar across the street. It turned into a full-scale riot. The police were there mainly to prevent damage to property, it seemed. They otherwise watched the mayhem.”
“Did you get caught in it?” RWB asked. “Sounds like fun.”
“You have strange ideas of fun, young man. No, I shifted over a block to get around the carnage and made it to the hotel.”
“I did not know you had business
interests in New America, Clint,” Gleason commented.
“I really do not. The minerals business is locked up by Avorgadora Enterprises and some outfit out of Caledon. I understand they put the deal together to keep Panslavic out.”
“I do not blame them,” Cord said. “I have never been comfortable around the Panslavic Minerals people.”
“Nothing has ever been proven,” Worley said, “but a lot of people think Panslavic is dirty.”
“Chaim Lewis thinks so,” RWB commented. “I once had an opportunity to get into a project they were syndicating, and Chaim warned me off of it.”
“Closer to home, RWB,” Cord said, “any progress on our terrorists?”
The Paladin shook his head. “Not that anyone has noticed. Chaim is turning over rocks anywhere he can find them. Nothing so far. And Chaim is good at what he does.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Worley asked. “Everyone assumes the Arabians are behind this.”
“Everyone assumes that. But there is no compelling evidence.”
“The team that hit Portland was Arabian,” Cord argued.
“True,” RWB replied, “but there are enough freelancers out there to muddy the waters.”
“I just wish we could nail this down, once and for all,” Roma said. “I hate looking over my shoulder all the time. My competitors are bad enough.”
Cord snorted. “That is one way to put it, Carlo.”
“All right,” RWB said, “are we ready to play cards again?”
“Only if Archie does not call the same silly games the Paladin has been dealing.”
“Here, here,” Gleason grinned.
“No respect for my august persona,” RWB grumbled.
Worley blew a raspberry, and everyone laughed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Carlo, good to see you in the city again,” Chaim Lewis said.
“My Director in the Chicago office seems to have trouble making decisions,” Carlo Roma replied. “By shuttle, it is not that far to travel, and it helps to be face-to-face when I have to mentor somebody.”