Horace examined Highland as she flared her eyebrows and said nothing. She at least understood the practicalities of the situation. Jessie just nodded.
Highland said, “I’ll try to rest then.”
“Good idea. I want half down, half up for now. Eat, rest, rearm. How’s our stock?”
Jason said, “We’ve hardly shot anything. I have spare ammo here so we can take full loadouts, but that’s mass.”
“Juggle it on a personal basis. Ammo first, then water, then food, then sundries.”
Jason said, “I’d like to see about finding a deeper hole, cruder and more remote. We can spend a little money and do things discreetly.”
“How fast can you get a vehicle?”
“Fast isn’t the problem. If I stick down a wad of cash and shiny metal, someone is going to know it’s questionable and word will get out. I have no way to justify financing. So I need to find a private party and make it worth their while, but we still don’t know we can trust them.”
Aramis asked, “Would they rat us out, knowing they might lose their payoff?”
“They might be that stupid, or they might just lie about how much it was.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“So I can get transport, but we must then move at once.”
“At the risk of sounding prejudiced, we want to stick to Christian groups.”
“Or the Turks, or one of the rare Bahá’i.”
“Possibly.”
“I really hate trying to sound as if I give a damn about religion. It’s dishonest of me, and I feel worse because it matters to them.”
Highland said, “But you’re fine with shooting people.”
He faced her and said, “Mercenaries have morals, too.”
“I can do it,” Elke said. “I’m not particularly religious, but I can accept a blessing and offer friendliness in return.”
“You and Aramis. Go.” As they left, he dimmed the lights to ten percent.
Since they’d picked up JessieM much like a stray dog, Horace considered her one of his patients and charges. She looked very wrung out at the moment, and her breathing indicated a borderline panic reaction.
“Jessie, let me check you for injuries quickly.”
“Oh, if you need to,” she said, snapping alert and looking worried, growing a shade paler.
“It’s just a precaution,” he said. “Have a seat here.” He indicated the corner away from the plotting and scheming, and kept his voice low. Highland took no notice. Though to be fair, the stress was affecting her, too.
“You seem a little out of sorts, so I want to make sure it’s not trauma.” There were no marks on her.
“Oh, it’s stress,” she admitted readily. “I’ve been through a battle. I don’t know how you can do that more than once. There were bullets . . . explosions . . . things fell. I saw bodies blown apar . . .” she turned greenish and paused for a moment.
She sobbed and continued. “I hate this. Publicity and presence is my job, and I can’t do it here. Not only can’t I do it here, it’s deadly if I do. I never learned the details of politics. I just rented out to promote in clear, short phrases. I’ve been with Joy for ten years now. I don’t have any useful skills.”
Horace said, “If I may professionally and discreetly inquire, is there more to your relationship?”
Jessie looked quizzical for a moment and then said, “Oh. No. I wish there were. She’s so powerful and exciting.” Horace said nothing, shivered slightly, and considered that everyone had at least one unique taste. “I think she knows that, but she really is a very dedicated wife.”
It was hard to believe, but if even a close confidant thought so, and there were no rumors from reliable sources, it must be true. That aside, however, there was another point.
“That’s fine. But you are a close acquaintance. She can confide in you, and it will do her good to have close contact with someone.”
Jessie shook her head sadly. “I suggested that. She’s always been very much alone. Even at home, they sleep, actually sleep, in separate rooms. She’s almost pathological about her privacy.”
“We noticed. Well, I can talk. Have you considered a stuffed toy?”
She stared at nothing and shook her head. “No.”
“It does help. Quite a few of the soldiers here have them.”
She looked up and said, “I’ll try it. I don’t regard it as immature.”
It occurred to Horace that with the background she was getting here and now, the young woman might be a serious contender for politics herself in a couple of decades. It disturbed him to realize he’d be more likely to vote for her than any of the current thieves.
Of course, in two decades, this young lady might be a jaded political whore herself.
“Go rest,” he told her, and took a look around at the others. She nodded and went to a cot, curled up and closed her eyes. She actually did sleep as exhaustion overcame stress.
Horace didn’t sleep. He’d have to be more wrung out. He wished he could, though.
He saw Highland shifting, fidgeting, and eventually, she sat up.
“I can’t sleep,” she said.
“I understand, but you should keep trying if you can.”
“It’s not going to happen.” She swung off the cot and stood up.
“As you wish. I wouldn’t recommend a sedative anyway.”
“Due to the need to move?”
“Exactly that. When you are tired enough, you will sleep.”
“Or go insane,” she said with an honest smile.
“We deal with fatigue a lot.”
“Why do you do it?” she asked quietly.
“The fatigue?”
“No, the mercenary work.”
“We’re not precisely mercenaries. We don’t take just any money, and we do stick to missions that are legal and ethical.”
“Really? Are you saying that?”
“Exigencies can force us to be violent, but we engage very little, preferring to use evasion. We rarely act except in response.”
She looked quizzical, probably considering their actions over the past few weeks.
“But, in answer to your question, ma’am, it’s a challenge, it’s well-paid, and it’s rewarding to keep someone alive. Doubly so for me.”
She nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. But why not a regular detail with someone?”
He had to think about that. “This is more honest, really. We don’t have to like or pretend to like our principal, just do our job. That gives us more freedom than staff security have.”
“You don’t like me.”
“I didn’t say that, ma’am, only that we don’t have to.”
“You don’t need to say it. None of you like me.”
“There are numerous issues of personality and politics.”
“And I’m a whore for taking practicality, compromise and yes, money, over ideology.” She sighed. “When I first ran for local judge, I was so earnest and clean myself. I accomplished nothing, but I felt very good about myself.”
She sighed again. “As time went on, I accomplished more and felt worse. Constituents and now the public at large vote for me, so regardless of anyone’s thoughts about integrity, the Charter of Freedoms or equality, I represent what people want.”
“It bothers you, ma’am?”
“Oh, yes it does. Look, I personally have nothing against you, and yes, I think of the resource potential of anyone, any group, any business. I was not in BuState when you rescued Mr. Bishwanath. But it most certainly annoyed certain factions. Ironically, in the same Traditionalist party that your CEO favors. They’d planned on parting out the system as ‘recolonies,’ with ownership of resources passing to them.”
“Predictable enough,” Horace said.
“Then, most recently, you protected and made friends with Caron Prescot. Very close friends, I’m led to understand.”
Horace reflected it was a good thing Aramis was out shopping. The ma
n would be flushing and stuttering at this point.
He offered, “So the ability to do our job well threatens certain elements, yes. However, if they’re in the opposition party, that doesn’t explain how your party ties in. It reinforces what some people say, that there’s no real difference.”
She looked up. “We have weird supporters. Jankin is worth a tenth what Prescot is worth. He’s more into politics, though. She has no need to be. No one can touch her, and she’s not petty, I have to say. He is. He purports to support the liberals because it’s advantageous. You also may have noticed that a lot of our supporters are . . . below average. That’s our appeal, to the common person. He milks that, and profits from it, and he gets a perverse glee out of it. But I can’t see him killing over it.”
“Is there some deal pending that you oppose him on?”
“Everyone winds up opposing and supporting him on many issues. He has fingers in everything.”
“That’s hardly what I’d call liberal.”
“Of course not. He wants what’s best for him. You don’t get to that position by caring about anyone except yourself. It’s a constant struggle for me—where’s the line between protecting myself so I can do the right thing, and being a petty elitist?”
Horace twitched his eyebrows slightly, but she didn’t see it.
CHAPTER 21
ALEX WOKE AS ELKE RETURNED, carrying a canvas bag. He’d had twenty minutes of nap. It would have to do. It was probably a good thing. His spine didn’t like cots. He rolled off gingerly and stood.
She said, “I have a basic, reliable Road Cruiser.”
“Not bad. How did you get that?”
“I found an ad for a widow needing to sell property for living expenses. I was able to play the pity card and didn’t haggle over price, and also bought two pairs of work boots and some shirts. They may be a bit large for the ladies, but should make it easier to travel.” She tumbled them out of the bag. The boots were spattered with paint and grease, well broken in and wearing cracks. The shirts were sweat-stained and distressed.
Highland wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Those cannot be sanitary,” she said.
“We have disinfectant spray.”
JessieM slipped her shoes off, waited for Shaman to spray a pair, and slipped them on. Her expression was a neutral mask. She didn’t like this, but wasn’t going to complain. She pulled a khaki shirt over her blouse and became much less noticeable, even here.
Highland wasn’t disposed to argue. She shook her head and shrugged, and followed suit.
“What’s that?” Aramis asked, and pointed. It was a small wooden carving of a penguin.
“She graciously included that as a gift for my son.”
“Son?”
“She assumed I had offspring and I saw no point in correcting her, for either time constraints or camouflage.”
“Very good. It’s a cute figure.”
“He’s our mascot for now. The Evil Penguin.”
Shaman said, “Jessie, carry the penguin.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
What was that about?
Alex asked, “Does anyone have a reason to remain here?”
There were negatives all around.
“Then let’s take the valuables and the gear and vacate. Jason, Aramis, what do we have?”
Aramis said, “We have a choice of nice hotel, flophouse, apartment or rental. There’s a poor working neighborhood I’ve identified where no one will question us. We can pretend to be three married couples and three singles, though Bart’s size is a bit distinctive. Local garb will help.”
“Demographic?”
“Primitive Christian. Hats, scarves, coats. Women don’t normally wear pants, but jobs can require it.”
Highland said, “Agent Sykora refuses to wear a scarf.”
“I will not wear one for political purposes. I have no objection to wearing camouflage.”
Highland’s jaw clenched. Alex figured Elke was really enjoying herself, now that she had explosive, someone to taunt, and the rule book sailing through the air.
He said, “That sounds like our neighborhood. Do we have a reservation?”
“No. We’ll need to sneak, peek and drop.”
“Is anyone good with the appropriate scripture for this subculture?”
“I am,” Shaman said, “though I may stand out. The African émigrés were few.”
Elke said, “I can do it. My family was nominally Lutheran. I’ll just stick to basic references and invoke Christ.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“I feel no animosity to their faith. What some of the more insane have chosen to do with it is a separate issue.”
“True. The majority of them are still nice people. The whackos just make up for it in volume and violence.”
“I will go ahead, and take Aramis with me. We can pass as a couple.”
“They’ll probably expect me to talk,” he said.
“Yes, and you can be gruff, I’ll be pleasant.”
“We need to record that. No one will believe it.”
Elke said, “We must hope they do.”
They slipped out.
Quiet could be aggravating. No one was shooting at them, there were no rioters, things were quite calm. That left all kinds of time to fret over being found, or Elke and Aramis being traced, a sudden missile, anything.
Alex needed to discuss issues with Highland, but he wanted to wait until he had the whole team regrouped and they were ready to roll. In the meantime . . .
“Bart, keep an eye out to the east. Jason, you have south.” He kept his voice soft. Highland was actually dozing. Not only did that make her easier to deal with, she did need rest, and her health was their concern.
Eventually his phone beeped. It showed as Elke, and he opened voice.
“Coming in,” she said, and was gone. He pointed at the door while pulling capacitor and circuit again. They would need more backups for future use.
Aramis and Elke arrived moments later. Jason glanced down the hall, Bart closed the door behind them.
“We have space,” Aramis said. “A small strip condo.”
Alex asked, “How long do we plan to do this? We’re just relocating as we go.” At one level it made sense, at another, they’d be spinning wheels, wasting assets and risk being seen.
Aramis said, “Long enough for the news to settle down and see how it’s spun. Whoever gets blamed will indicate potential sources.”
Bart said, “We’ll get blamed.”
Alex grinned. “Of course, but on whose behalf?”
“Good point.”
“So let’s share coordinates, address, the works.” He docked his phone to Aramis’s and snagged the data.
After sharing the info around, Alex turned to Highland to try again.
“Ma’am, I . . . we need to discuss the threat status and be sure we’re in agreement on the best course of action. We are temporarily, and I stress temporarily, safe here, but we are at risk if we are identified, and need to work around that.”
“I actually get a choice?” she asked. “I rather thought I was a prisoner of my own security.”
“It was necessary to vacate the area fast against potential threats. If you so order, we will go where you wish, but it will be recorded and noted so as to cover us. It’s one of the ironies of this business that we’ll catch bullets for you, but we will not enable you to get shot yourself.”
“Very well. What leads you to believe there’s an immediate threat?”
“Other than a grenade and someone trying to crush you under an armored vehicle?” he asked. He didn’t think she was that clueless, but she might be that convinced of her own credibility.
“Look, the SecGen has been so completely clueless even his own party, your party, doesn’t want him. How often do they allow a caucus before a sitting SecGen steps down? But, if he can orchestrate your death, he’ll eliminate the main contender in his own party, and play the other four for symp
athy. He only needs a plurality to pull a runoff and eliminate the Randites. They’re certainly not going to vote for the Neo-Stalinists in the next round. The Neo-Stalinists are not going to vote Islamic Conservative. They’re not going to vote Liberal-Labour. The tertiary parties don’t count at all. That means the Equality Party wins, meaning him.”
Jason stepped in to help.
“If she runs, what happens?”
He looked back at her as he said, “Polls are split on you winning, bad for him, or you losing to Liberal-Labour, worse for him. Also worse for the party as a whole. They could play this the other way, too, and have him iced. Except that he’s much harder to hit with the Special Service around him, and that would look suspicious. You being here lets them blame some faction or other, like Celadon only moreso, then come in and stomp as they wish. They then have territory they can parcel out to supporters as concessions.”
Bart said, “They can also give us as a company bad press.”
“That, and I wouldn’t put it past any of several of them to want us personally dead after saving President Bishwanath. They put together a scam on that, and we gutshot it.”
Highland said, “That fits. We’re a hundred and eighty-three days out.”
“Yes?”
“I’m over thirty percent. At thirty-two and one eighty, I can call for Special Service protection details.”
“Oh, shit. How the fuck did we miss that?” Really, that was . . .
Jason said, “That was it! I heard the conversation and it didn’t click.”
Aramis said, “Hell, that’s easy. We stay hidden for three days, then call ahead and hand her off.”
“As long as she has the percentage.”
“We can fix that,” he said confidently. Son of a bitch, they were about to help this narcissistic cunt win the election.
“How?” she asked.
“First, escape, evade and hide.”
“But where? We can’t get off planet.”
“We have before.”
Jason said, “Ms. Highland has an emergency transponder chip. They’ll only find it here with a tight directional scan, but any port will show it.”
When Diplomacy Fails . . . Page 27
