by John Appel
“For now,” she said. “Amazonas popped out of a-space before the Iwan Goleslaw made its orbit. I think Captain Andini wasn’t ready to escalate things with the Commonwealth ship in the same system.”
“Not the nannie minister?” Eduardo used the pejorative term for the Saljuan official.
Toiwa recalled Dinata’s final words in the previous night’s conference and felt a chill. “I think,” she said slowly, “that if Minister Dinata had her way, her inspection teams would either be deployed by now, or the Navy would be exchanging fire with her ship.”
Eduardo scraped the last of the food waste into the recycler, put the final dish into the sanitizer and switched it on before grabbing his own coffee cup from the counter and sitting across from her. His face always wore his feelings, and his feelings right now were clearly ‘worried’, judging from his frown. “Why wouldn’t the PM allow the inspection? Surely we’ve got nothing to hide.” He took a swallow of coffee. “Unless it’s a matter of not looking weak in front of the Commonwealth?”
“I honestly don’t know, love,” she said, which was the literal truth, if only just. “That’s above my pay grade.”
“For now,” her husband said, giving her a grin that made him look ten years younger.
She glanced at her time display. “Aren’t you going to be late?” Eduardo was a pediatric nurse, which had come in handy when the children were small. He worked at the forward ring’s hospital.
He took another drink and waved his other hand dismissively. “Pavan is covering for me until I get there. I figured this might be our last leisurely meal until things settle down.” He waggled his eyebrows, making her laugh. “How much time do you have, anyway?”
“Not that much, you lecher,” she said, and he laughed back. “Besides, even if we had time for that, I wouldn’t have time to climb back into this.” She smoothed her hand over her uniform blouse.
“Why are you all dressed up?”
“Amazonas’ lighter is docking shortly, and I’ve got to meet whomever they’ve sent.”
Almost on cue, her message indicator lit with a call from Kala Valverdes. She waved it open.
Toiwa signaled the door to unlock and open.
Valverdes bustled in and Eduardo rose to greet her, swapping cheek kisses, as Toiwa donned her tunic. She left the damned collar undone for now, though. She glimpsed Chijindu’s bulky form lurking outside the open doorway as Valverdes fended off Eduardo’s offer of coffee to go. Eduardo kissed Toiwa goodbye and she swept out, her aide at her heels.
Chijindu, a towering man who looked like he regularly bench-pressed transit cars, murmured his greetings before turning to lead the way to the lifts. Toiwa’s rank entitled her to a security escort, but she’d never used one before. With the heightened tensions the High Commissioner had made the sort of suggestion that was really an order that she do so. She’d decided to leverage her newfound rapport with Sergeant Imoke and asked for his recommendation; he’d named the mountainous corporal without hesitation. “We’re in good time, ma’am,” Valverdes said as they fell in behind him. “Change of plans at the 0730 briefing. Lighter’s docking at the trailing-ring spindle instead of the hub. Colonel Carmagio’s people are shuttling the Commonwealth arrivals straight to Government House and the welcome will be there at 0900.”
“I won’t say no to getting to avoid a morning in zero-g,” Toiwa said. “Though I might have eaten a bigger breakfast if I’d known.” She smiled at Kala, letting zer know it was a joke and not a rebuke.
Their second escort, a short, slight woman awaited them at the building’s entrance. She radiated a ‘don’t cross me’ aura just as potent as Chijindu’s that Toiwa sensed from across the lobby. As they approached, she exchanged glances with Chijindu, then gracefully pivoted around towards the street exit. She ducked her head out and scanned the street, and held the door open for the rest of the party, letting Chijindu take the lead and falling in behind Toiwa and Kala. The pair of constables automatically created a bubble amongst the pedestrian traffic as they walked briskly to the transit station.
With shoptalk forestalled for the moment, Toiwa took the opportunity to gauge the mood on the street. She couldn’t tell if people walked more quickly than normal, but to her relief, she saw few signs of obvious furtiveness or fear; no one hunched over as they walked, and the only tightly gathered group she could see was a bunch of pre-school children being herded by their caregivers. She spotted the rabbi of the Congregação Israelita headed the other direction and exchanged nods of greeting with her. Across the street, a neighbor she knew only from passing in their building’s corridors whirred past in his power chair. The young sweet-bun vendor was in his usual spot, sporting his customary wide grin and clever sales patter—no, wait, he was actually chatting up a good-looking man his own age, dressed in a bright yellow baju melayu with a dark sarong wrapped around his hips.
“Are things like this in your neighborhood?” she asked Kala.
Her aide nodded. “For the most part. There was a shouting match on the floor above me overnight, but I think it was because Douala lost the football match. Nothing like what’s going on in the capital.”
Unease warred with relief before she decided to accept the small gift of peace on her own patch. “I expected a little more tension, or something, after yesterday.”
“I expect it has something to do with them.” Valverdes pointed at the cluster of officers in public-order gear posted near the transit station. They were mostly groundsiders, shuttled up overnight, with a pair of station constables attached. Toiwa noted with approval that her people interacted with the locals while their visiting reinforcements hung back. She stopped for a few minutes to chat with them, commending the sergeant in charge for disposition of their officers, and greeted her own by name until Valverdes quietly pinged her a reminder that they still needed to transit to the trailing ring. She broke off and moments later all four were ensconced in a car Chijindu summoned.
With their privacy fields snapped in place, her aide passed over the latest of the morning’s reports. Toiwa quickly reviewed the search for the suspected Saljuan cell that had squirted out a message when Iwan Goleslaw arrived; two empty safe houses raided, search still ongoing—before bringing up another bit of last night’s business. “I’ve highlighted Inspector Li’s report about the gang that assaulted the Commonwealth woman,” Valverdes said. “There’s definitely something odd with that.”
Toiwa found the indicated report and popped it open to scan the summary. She frowned. “What does she mean, there’s no connections between these people?”
“Exactly that. None of them are related or have any kind of personal association that we’ve been able to trace. No social connections closer than three degrees. Well, two of them appear to eat at the same cafe on the south ring occasionally, but never at the same time in the last six months.”
“Some kind of flashgang?” Toiwa asked, rapidly skimming through the report, disturbed by the abnormality.
Valverdes shrugged. “That’s Li’s working theory.” Chijindu grunted, and both Toiwa and Valverdes turned to look at him. “You have a thought, Corporal?”
The big man nodded crisply. “I do, ma’am, and my thought is that theory stinks. I’ve never seen a group coordinate like that without any prior contact. I watched the surveillance vids of the attack,” he added. “They moved like a unit.”
The corporal seemed to share Sergeant Imoke’s disdain for deference to authority; perhaps, Toiwa reasoned, it’s why they got along. She personally found it refreshing.
Toiwa called up one of the vids in question and watched it at high speed and found she was inclined to agree with Chijindu’s assessment. “I see what you mean, Corporal. I agree things don’t add up.” She looked at Kala. “What do the techs say about their signals traffic?”
“Intelligence only released their djinns a few hours ago, so they’re still working on them
,” Valverdes said. Toiwa felt cold anger rising. Her aide shrugged. “I don’t know if Captain Teng got cute or if his superiors did, but they held onto the djinns when they released the prisoners. They fulfilled the letter of your demand to Teng but held the djinns, at least until Inspector Li realized what had happened and called them on it.”
Over the years, Toiwa had learned to channel her anger into action. “Who’s the Directorate chief on the station? Is that Kwame?” Valverdes flipped through zer AR fields for a moment and confirmed her guess. “I want a meeting with them at headquarters at”—she glanced at her schedule—“1030 hours.”
“We won’t be back from Government House before 1100 at best, ma’am,” Kala objected.
Toiwa’s smile showed teeth, but not in a nice way. “Indeed. They can wait in the secure conference suite until we get back.” The signal-shielded conference suite was notably lacking in creature comforts. It would be a suitable venue in which to lay out for the Directorate just what Toiwa was prepared to do to people who interfered in Constabulary investigations. And Kwame can stew in their own juices without infonet access until I get there. “Find out who Kwame reports to in the Directorate, please. I may turn the HC loose on their boss.”
They pulled into the transit station built under Government House just as Valverdes finished making those arrangements. They made their way up to the reception hall on the main level. With security well in hand between the Army and the governor’s security detail, Chijindu and his partner faded back, hovering close enough to reach them in a few steps but otherwise leaving their charge free to work.
Toiwa found Major Biya, Colonel Carmagio’s second-in-command. He was a dark-skinned man of medium height, solidly built, with broad shoulders and large hands. He looked far more comfortable in his dress uniform than she did in hers. The lack of a high stiff collar probably helped, she thought, quelling her urge to tug her own collar open by tucking her thumbs into her belt.
“Thank you for the loan of the breaching team,” she said after they exchanged greetings. She’d asked for Army backup in case the suspected Saljuan team resisted forcefully. “We hope to be finished with them soon.”
“Glad to assist,” he said. “They don’t get much opportunity to use their skills on-station. In fact, I’d like to talk with you about setting up some joint exercises when things are a little less hectic.”
“And when do you think that might come to pass?” she said, one eyebrow arched.
He laughed softly. “After the referendum, perhaps.”
Further discussion was cut off by the arrival of Colonel Carmagio and the Commonwealth delegation. Toiwa and Biya found their places in the reception line, and the ritual of handshakes and greetings got underway.
The third visitor introduced herself as Dr. Ngila. Toiwa’s djinn fed her the details from the doctor’s social profile. “I’m curious about the diversity of fields represented,” she said. “I didn’t expect scientists to be part of the delegation. You’re a biochemist?”
“A molecular biochemist,” Dr. Ngila corrected her gently. She was a short, thin, dark-skinned woman in her early seventies, with warm, fine-boned hands and a soft voice Toiwa strained to hear over the background chatter. “Though I’ve been dabbling in neuroscience for the last decade or so.”
Her last statement set off a furious itching in Toiwa’s brain as Dr. Ngila moved onto the next Ileri dignitary and Toiwa found herself fumbling her greeting to the next visitor. Pieces clicked together in her mind.
A long-hidden secret network running Exile-era code related to the Unity Plague.
A group of individuals with no known affiliation gathering together to commit an organized assault on a Commonwealth agent.
An agent who was working with the Directorate on unspecified matters of planetary security.
A Commonwealth scientific delegation that looked, now that she scanned the rest of their specialties with the possible connection in mind, as if it was tailored to look in nanoware.
Defense Minister Vega and the PM stonewalling the Saljuan inspection team, who were definitely geared up to look at nanoware.
Mother, there might be something going on here after all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Noo
Canteen Four, Constabulary Planetary Headquarters, New Abuja
The nerve center of the planetary police force was staffed around the clock, all twenty-seven hours of it, which meant its canteens were always open. But during emergencies few officers or civilian staff took breaks for meals, choosing to eat at their workstations instead. So Noo wasn’t surprised that when she finally tracked down the Commonwealth woman in the canteen, she sat alone with the remains of a plate of groundnut vat-chicken over rice.
Noo grabbed herself a cup of coffee and a packet of cream and crossed the room to Ogawa’s table, taking a seat across from the other woman. Ogawa looked up briefly from a private AR window and gave a small wave of welcome before turning back to her reading. Noo added cream to her coffee, sipped, and waited patiently. Ogawa wrapped up her business, whatever it was, and closed the window with a downward swipe of her right hand. She looked as tired as Noo felt; they’d both taken their share of pounding over the last couple of days.
“All done reviewing the groundsiders’ reports?” Ogawa asked.
“For now. They’re still running smart agents against stored imagery.” Noo took another sip of her coffee, which was surprisingly good. Or maybe not, since this canteen was up in department-head country. “Thought you might be resting in the transient quarters they assigned us.”
“I got the notice, but needed to feed the nanosurgeons, and had things to check on first,” Ogawa said. Noo looked at her quizzically, but Ogawa declined to elaborate, instead lifting another morsel of chicken to her lips.
Of course she’s going to keep her secrets. Noo realized she couldn’t expect the Commonwealth woman to behave the way Ileri investigators, Constabulary or private, did: everyone focused on the case, everyone sharing information. You didn’t crack a case through solo efforts, no matter what the feed dramas said. Major crimes were solved by diligent work, by chasing down the leads and then feeding every data point into the big machine that was the investigation, then letting smart people and smart agents look for patterns. For correlations. For outliers.
But back on the station Ogawa had gone off by herself, pursuing whatever trail of crumbs she’d been following until she’d been caught, alone, and beaten bloody. Maybe spies worked differently.
Or maybe just this spy.
Noo tried a different tack. “That was quite a display you put on this morning,” she said. “How did that gang catch you last night?”
Ogawa swallowed, shrugged. “I was ambushed, though I still have no idea how I got made. I thought I could evade them long enough for reinforcements to arrive, or to get somewhere public with too many witnesses to be taken without someone seeing. If I could have dodged them for another couple of minutes, it might have worked.” She gave Noo a small smile. “Thank you again for coming to the rescue, by the way.”
Noo waved her hand. “You’re welcome. Just sorry Fari and I didn’t get there a little sooner.” She sipped her coffee again. “Still, you fought brilliantly this morning. Even with a broken arm.”
Ogawa glanced down at her cast. “It’s a good thing a big part of capoeira is about kicking.”
“Um hm. How is your arm, by the way?”
Ogawa grimaced. “Itchy. I can take the cast off tomorrow, though.”
“Well, you seem to be in fighting trim otherwise.”
“For short bursts, anyway.” Ogawa rolled out her shoulders. “I’ve spent a long while in low-g and microgravity, so I’m a bit out of condition.”
Noo filed that tidbit away, intending to follow up on it later, but decided she might try an oblique approach. “This morning, you said your cover was true but not complete. I’m guessing most surveyors don’t train for close combat.”
Ogawa leaned back a
nd studied Noo. “What you call cover, we call ‘legend’. It’s our backstory, the public persona. A good one is built from as many verifiable facts as possible. In my case, my career as a planetary surveyor is a matter of public record. It let my work for the Service fly under the sensor horizon for a long time.”
“What happened?”
Ogawa sighed. “I was part of the expedition that found the Fenghuang last year. There were... aspects of that case that required assistance from your Directorate and military to resolve.”
Understanding bloomed. “And now the Directorate knows who you really work for.”
“Something like that.”
The rescue of the Fenghuang’s long-lost survivors, trapped for nearly three decades in nanostasis, had been a major media event. Noo supposed that didn’t help to keep a secret identity, well, secret. But where had Ogawa been in the system in the months since? Another item for later investigation, she decided. “That’s why you have contact with, er, our mutual friends?”
Ogawa nodded. “My turn.” Noo waved for her to go ahead. “This person we’ve followed down the cable, Rio Mizwar. What do you know about him?”
Digging for information, or cross-checking? If the information exchange was going to be a tit-for-tat affair, so be it. “Not terribly much. His ID claims he’s from Singapore Baru, but even I know how common false IDs from there are. He arrived on a driveframe from S-B about ninety days ago, though, so he at least passed through the system.”
“Huh.” Ogawa rubbed her right hand over the cast absently and her eyes took on a faraway look; not that of someone viewing a private AR window, but rather of someone in thought. “What’s his occupation supposed to be?”
“Logistics specialist.”
Ogawa laughed softly. “Really? That’s what they went with?”
