“Mr. Rumson?”
“Yes.”
“Come with me, please, Mr. Rumson. You are under arrest.”
“On what charge?”
“Conspiracy to murder and treason, Mr. Rumson.”
“There’s been no indictment.”
“Under the president’s emergency powers, there doesn’t need to be an indictment, Mr. Rumson.”
“She’s invoking high justice against me? This is outrageous.”
“Right this way, Mr. Rumson.”
All told, ten high-ranking members of the Equality Party were arrested: Rumson, Gary Bertrand, the party’s governing committee, and the party treasurer. The latter had assembled the funds to pay off Mario Scarpa for the assassination.
After they were arrested, auditing of their personal banking revealed a truly astounding amount of graft had been going on. All those arrested had secreted large sums away into private accounts in the First Interstellar Bank of Westhaven. With the Empire’s agreement with the Republic of Westhaven – and the intervention of Section Six – the banking records were obtained, and the funds clawed back to the Julian Treasury. Official corruption charges were added to the charges against them.
Turley made it all public. The banking records, showing their corruption all the while crying crocodile tears for the poor, the arrangements to pay for the assassination of Mark Chapman, and – most damning of all – the full sight-and-sound VR recordings of the meetings between Mario Scarpa and various party members arranging the assassination.
Turley let that run around the public for ten days while those arrested languished in the prison to which they had consigned so many of their political opponents.
Then she had them shot.
“Did you see the latest news from Julian and Verano?” Amanda Peters asked.
She was curled up in her favorite chair, with Bobby Dunham seated on the sofa opposite.
“Yes. Everybody did a fantastic job.”
“I expected the head of the resistance to run for and win the presidency on Julian, but I didn’t expect the outcome on Verano.”
“Yes. I suspect our friend Gerry will be miffed to lose Ms. Prieto, but she’ll probably make a good president.”
Peters laughed.
“I agree with you. I just didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know she qualified on residency grounds. But it leaves you with some decisions to make, I think. What’s next for General Turley and General Vargas?”
“I think that’s their decision more than mine,” Dunham answered. “After a job like that, I think they could name their situation. I would certainly go along.”
“Excellent.”
“What are you scheming, my dear?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
But she was smiling.
Turley was surprised to get a VR meeting request under an Imperial header. Once again, it was the Empress Amanda. Turley accepted the request, and found herself once more in the small conference room, the Empress, her avatar dressed in a business suit, seated on the other side of the table.
“Yes, Milady Empress.”
The Empress stood and waved to the chair opposite her.
“Please have a seat, Madam President.”
Turley sat and waited. It was Milady Empress’s meeting, after all.
“First, that is a splendid job you’ve done in Julian. It has not escaped the notice of His Majesty.”
“Thank you, Milady.”
“Now, I understand you are about to become the former president of Julian, Madam President.”
“Yes, Milady. Next week, in fact.”
“And then you’ll be in a position to consider what you will do next, Madam President.”
“The obvious thing would be to go back to Kendall, Milady. Or Stauss Interstellar, at least.”
“Yes, Madam President. That is the obvious thing, but it is not the only thing. You have many choices, and I thought I would make sure you understood that.
“For example, you might stay on Julian. You probably have friends there now, and might consider staying on in some capacity.
“Another thing would be to have your commission reinstated in the Imperial Marines. I am aware of why you retired, Madam President. My condolences, by the way. But if you wanted to take up your career in the Imperial Marines, you would be at least a Major General, with some time in grade toward your next promotion. Giving some consideration to your actions on Julian, that is.”
“That would be possible, Milady?”
“I have it on the highest authority, Madam President.”
The Emperor had considered her situation and would back such a move? Oh, my.
“I don’t know what to say, Milady.”
“You don’t need to, Madam President. You do not have to decide anything now. But when you decide, you should let me know what you decide.”
“I understand, Milady. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Madam President. And there is yet another option. You know by now, of course, Paul Gulliver is more than a sales rep for Galactic Equipment Company. Much more. He is a member of an organization that– Well, let’s leave it at that. But that organization is another possibility for you, either as a lone operator, or as a team with Mr. Gulliver. Teams are valuable, and there are few teams where both members are so capable and work together so well.”
“I knew something of the kind, Milady, but I hadn’t considered that an option for me.”
“Well, it is, Madam President. After the job you did on Julian, anything is an option for you. Consider your options, and let me know. And you can always get in touch if you want to discuss them.”
“Thank you, Milady. You are most generous.”
“Oh, thank you, Madam President. You exceeded my wildest hopes on Julian, and I owe you a great debt. I hope to hear from you soon.”
With that, the Empress nodded and cut the connection.
When the meeting with the Empress concluded, Turley sat back in her office chair and considered. She had not thought much about what came after. After Julian. After Bob’s death, for that matter. She had simply stayed on with Kendall after he was gone. It was an important position, a meaningful one, but it was nine-to-five, a desk job, in the same office every day. Quite a contrast to her career in the Imperial Marines.
In contrast, she had never felt more alive than she had on Julian. The excitement, the tension, the decisions, the stakes. An entire planet, careening toward disaster, hers to diagnose and cure. The sheer scale of the problem. And the scale of the solution. Armor, and personnel, and the refinery, and the dam.
The dam! Talk about a huge undertaking. The size of it. The size of the lake it would create. The hydro power plant. The water treatment plant. What they all meant to the people of Julian. The dam construction was complete now, the reservoir filling, its benefits to Julian just around the corner.
To go back to Kendall, to her nine-to-five job, to her condo, to her life pro ante? Hum-drum. Boring. Oh, with Bob there, it had been great. They had had all that time together, until at the end, when the cancer finally caught up with him, finally broke past the maintenance medications. The end at least had been quick. A few weeks.
And then she had just kept going as she had been. Until Julian.
Until Paul Gulliver.
To go back to the Imperial Marines was an interesting option, but it had a “been there, done that” feeling about it. And Major General – or Lieutenant General, for that matter – were desk jobs. Not field operations. There simply weren’t any enemies of the Empire big enough to field that kind of force against. Not anymore.
The problems the Empire had now were more limited, more subtle, less kinetic. More like Julian.
Paul Gulliver had a similar quandary.
The Julian assignment was over for him. The government had been overturned. A new and better government had been installed. The bad guys had been dealt with. The refinery project was complete. The hydro-electric project was complet
e. He had been dawdling since the election, reluctant to move on.
And he knew why.
Ann Turley’s assignment wasn’t quite complete.
Turley had to stay on through the month between the election and the inauguration of the new president. To clean up the loose ends, the things best done with the unlimited powers she had under the emergency powers act. When that month was over, her assignment would be complete. She would move on, as would he.
Why did that thought terrify him so much?
Gulliver had been aggressively single his entire life. He had had no desire for children – still didn’t – and could, under most circumstances, take it or leave it when it came to sex. He had done both, take it and leave it, his entire adult life.
This was different.
But why? They were such an unlikely pair. She was fifteen years older than he was, though she was fit and trim in the manner of many career military types, the by-product of a lifetime of habit. She had most recently been a desk-jockey, where he had always been a rolling stone. He was self-dispatching, self-contained, self-sufficient.
But now?
He would have to talk to her about it. The man who had defied the Secret Police, performed dangerous surveillance, directed the overthrow of a tyrannical government, staged an assassination – performed one perilous act after another for months – was suddenly filled with dread.
Turley had had the police collect a ‘John Doe’ body from the big hospital in one of the poorer sections of Monroe. Thus the Police had eleven bodies, not just ten, from the execution of the conspirators to the assassination attempt on Mark Chapman. The families were allowed to claim the bodies of their loved ones, and all did, except for the family, if any, of Mario Scarpa. The body being unclaimed, the Police buried the John Doe as Mario Scarpa.
Paul Gulliver had also resumed his normal appearance, that of the nondescript sales representative for Galactic Equipment Supply. Gulliver was thus able once again to move about freely as he had before he had insinuated himself into the higher levels of the Equality Party.
The Equality Party was now discredited and more or less defunct, though its true believers were working to get organized into a new structure. Meanwhile, the government’s accounting department was actively going after other corrupt former officials. Turley let it be known that anyone who declared their misdeeds and returned the funds they had secreted off-planet would be pardoned, but the offer was only valid until the inauguration, when her power to pardon them expired. More than a dozen people took her up on it.
Gulliver, though he was now free to roam about, stayed on in the guest room of the president’s residence. Nominally, at least. In fact, he was living with Turley through the end of her term of office.
Neither knew what would happen after that. The future was a blank, and it was coming at them fast.
The evening of her conversation with the Empress, Turley and Gulliver retired to the living room of the president’s residence in the Executive Building.
“Mr. Gulliver, we need to talk,” Turley started.
“Actually, I agree, Madam President.”
“This afternoon I had a VR meeting request. From the Empress.”
Gulliver’s eyebrows shot up.
“You don’t get one of those every day, Madam President,” Gulliver said. “Actually, I don’t think anyone does.”
“She wanted to thank me for what we’ve accomplished here on Julian.”
“Very gracious.”
“Yes, Mr. Gulliver,” Turley said. “Then she said something else. Basically, that I could name my situation going forward. In particular, if I wanted to reinstate my commission in the Imperial Marines, she had it on the highest authority – her words – that it would be done. If that’s what I wanted.”
Gulliver’s heart fell. The Imperial Marines. Her whole career. How could he compete with that? When he spoke, though, he did not betray his dismay.
“The notice of the Emperor is not always to be desired, but that is extraordinary.”
“Yes, but I’ve already done all that. The Imperial Marines. And Major General is a desk job. I find myself uninterested. The Empress also offered me another alternative, however.”
“Something more interesting, Madam President?” Gulliver asked.
Turley took a deep breath. Here we go. What will he say?
“Yes, Mr. Gulliver. As an operative in your organization. Your real organization. Even as your partner, if you wish.”
The revelation hit Gulliver like a hammer. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility.
“Madam President. Ann–“
Gulliver choked up. Turley waited. He tried again.
“Yes, Ann. I would like that very much.”
“As would I, Paul. We’re decided then?”
“Oh, yes, Ann. Very much so.”
It was with some trepidation that Ann Turley put in a VR meeting request to the Empress Amanda. She had checked the time in Imperial City, on Center, and selected mid-morning of the business day. The Empress took her meeting twenty minutes after she sent the request, and they met in the small conference room as before.
As before, the Empress stood when she joined the meeting.
“Please, Madam President. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, Milady.”
“Did you have questions for me, Madam President. Some point of clarification, perhaps?”
“No, Milady. I’ve made my decision.”
“That was quick, Madam President.”
“It was an easier decision than I thought, Milady. A desk job, even in the Imperial Marines, holds little appeal.”
The Empress nodded.
“I think I just won an internal bet, Madam President.”
Turley smiled.
“I want to join the organization Paul Gulliver really works for, and be his partner.”
“And have you talked to Mr. Gulliver, Madam President? Does he concur?”
“Yes, Milady. It’s what we both want. A great deal, actually.”
“Very well, Madam President. I will ask the head of that organization to call you. I don’t know what name he will use for his call request, but the subject line will include the letters D-X-A.”
“Thank you, Milady.”
The other thing Turley wanted to get done before Inauguration Day was to name the High Court. This would not require Council approval under her emergency powers. In consultation with Noyce and Chapman, Turley named Aidan Reid, Ravi Singh, and Marcel Colbert. Adam Mercer, the oldest of the four former judges, begged off the duty citing his age and declining health.
Inauguration Day was a bright, cheerful day. The ceremony itself was conducted in the broad boulevard running past the front of Government Center, where the assassination attempt had been made six weeks before. The crowd was jubilant, the ceremony was moving, and Julian had a new president.
Ann Turley’s Julian assignment was complete.
Moving On
During the inauguration, the residence staff had packed up most of Ann Turley’s wardrobe for shipment, and moved the rest of her things into the guest bedroom with Paul Gulliver. Mark Chapman had invited them to stay as his guests for as long as they wished.
The four original conspirators had dinner in the residence the night of the inauguration.
“My understanding is all of you are leaving Julian. Where are you off to, then?”
“We’re all heading back to Alexa first, Mr. President,” Turley said.
“Yeah,” Gordon said. “The former Marines have all left, since the refinery and dam project are complete and you filled out the ranks of the Police. They’ve been dribbling out here and there for a while, now. The Hydraulix guys who came in for the dam – Ian McLeod’s bunch – they’ll stay on until the water treatment plant and the hydroelectric plant come on-line. Won’t be long now. The reservoir is filling fast.”
“And you, Mr. Gordon?”
“Oh, I’ll be heading back to Hydraulix, Mr. Pres
ident. They have a bunch of new projects under way, and, well, they still need me to knock heads together once in a while.”
“And you, Madam President? Back to Kendall?”
“I’m switching jobs within Stauss Interstellar, Mr. President. I’m moving to Galactic Equipment Supply. Mr. Gulliver and I make a pretty good team. We decided to keep it together.”
Chapman looked to Gulliver, and Gulliver nodded.
“Well, you two make a good team. I wish you happiness. Working together. You know.”
Chapman winked at them. Turley giggled and Gulliver actually blushed. Turley knew Chapman had suspected for a while.
“We should all stay in touch,” Chapman said, raising his glass. “To good friends. Always.”
They all clinked glasses and drank.
Turley received a meeting request the day after the inauguration. It was from ‘George Connolly.’ She knew no one with that name. The subject was ‘Recommendxation.’ She took the meeting request and found herself in the simulation of a normal-looking executive office.
“Good morning, Ms. Turley,” Gerry Conner said.
“Good morning, Mr. Connolly.”
“As a matter of etiquette, I will note that is not my real name, which you will likely never learn. Not while I am alive at least.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I am given to understand by a mutual friend that you wish to join our organization. The organization Paul Gulliver works for.”
“Yes, sir. I find a desk job to be singularly unappealing after what we accomplished on Julian.”
“I understand, Ms. Turley. That was a fantastic job, by the way.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Conner waved it aside.
“So, let me get down to business, then. We are a secret organization. A very secret organization. The only people other than our own people who even know we exist are the Emperor, the Empress, the Co-Consul, and Dieter Stauss.”
“Dieter Stauss, sir?”
“Yes. The Stauss family have been strong supporters of the Emperor, and the head of the Stauss family has been of immeasurable help to us in placing agents in deep cover throughout human space.”
EMPIRE: Intervention (EMPIRE SERIES Book 13) Page 27