“You folks seem to have a talent for turning up in the middle of a shit storm.”
Messier paused and Gallego jumped at the opportunity. “Yes. But if you’ll hear us out, we can explain everything. As we told your constables -”
“Don’t bother!” he barked back. “The rescue crews already found the vessel and retrieved the records from its internal sensors. It confirmed just about everything you said. There were extra people on the boat, none of whom were part of the passenger list. There was also evidence of a large firefight, multiple attackers, and the window in the observation lounge was wrecked. That’s consistent with what your friend said about breaching it so you two could escape.” He paused to point an accusing finger at Cheboi. “More importantly, the ship’s sensors confirmed that one of the attackers was standing over Najafi during his time of death. Still, you two are on the hook for the fact that you caused severe damage to an expensive ship.”
Gallego sighed. On the balance sheet, destruction of property was probably the best they could hope for. Her sense of relief dissipated as Messier leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. His words took on a menacing and suggestive quality as he spoke his next piece.
“I don’t suppose either of you knew in advance that the passenger cabins would all be ditched in the event of a structural failure?”
Gallego was struck dumb. She considered that outcome extremely fortunate but hadn’t known about it in advance. Luckily, Cheboi was able to answer confidently for both.
“Absolutely. Before we stepped onto the vessel, I ran over all the scenarios in my head. Najafi’s request to meet us there presented many dangers, but I would have never allowed Veronika or myself to get on board had I not had a plan on how we could all get out in a hurry.”
Messier stood back up and crossed his arms. “And was Najafi’s death part of that plan? Or was he merely expendable as far as you were concerned?”
Cheboi took a deep breath before responding. Her words conveyed no trace of anger or resentment. Mainly, she sounded repentant.
“If I could have saved his life as well as the two of ours, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Unfortunately for us, the people who attacked us didn’t leave me much in the way of options. I’m sorry for your loss, sir, nut I would remind you that the inspector chose the meeting spot.”
“So, I heard.” Messier looked to one of the walls and shook his head. Gallego could plainly see what was eating at him. He was already in possession of all the details, but that didn’t make them any easier to swallow. One of his officers was dead, and Gallego was sure he knew the rest.
She decided to say it all the same. “I’m not sure if you’ve considered this. But the people that attacked us. They were almost certainly the same people who were behind the deaths of your officers.”
Messier didn’t respond. He kept staring at the wall and was tapping one of his feet anxiously. He looked like he might explode at any moment and try to break something.
Yes, he has considered that.
“And the others,” he said coolly. “Do you happen to know who they were?”
“I wish I could tell you. It’s a mystery for us too. They were similarly equipped, but that does not really help us much. As far as we can tell, they were trying to protect us. In all honesty, they saved our lives.”
Messier turned to them and scoffed. The way he was nodding showed that he was aware of that as well.
“The timing of their appearance would suggest that,” he said. “But you seriously don’t know who they were? Maybe some backup your boss sent your way?”
“No,” Cheboi said flatly. “Councilor Elenko entrusted Gallego’s safety to me. She was concerned that bringing anyone else into this mission would compromise it. There’s no way she would bring in outside help to ensure its success. Besides, their profiles - the other ones - they weren’t consistent with Council agents. They had to be private contractors.”
“Private contractors?” Messier echoed. “You mean mercenaries?”
Messier pondered that for a moment. Then he went right back to looking on and shaking his head. He even added angrily muttering to the mix. “You fucking people. They send you here to help, but you only manage to make things worse. Every fucking time...”
“Chief Superintendent,” said Gallego, using his official title rather deliberately. “I know this seems like a disaster right now, but shortly before Inspector Najafi died, he told us something very interesting. He claimed that witnesses could place the suspects at certain locations during the time of the attack. We were preparing to pair that with some research of our own which indicated that the drone that witnessed the attack was likely hacked.”
“It won’t matter,” said Messier. Gallego persisted.
“But if we keep digging, we can corroborate -”
“It won’t fucking matter!”
Messier’s hands hit the table again; this time, much harder. The impact sent echoes off the walls of the small chamber and made Gallego wince. Cheboi reclined a little but didn’t react otherwise. Only Messier seemed disturbed by his own reaction. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself and began slowly explaining.
“While you were out, the Selket High Court reviewed all the evidence that would be presented at trial. They’ve decided to grant the Chief Advocate’s office request that the maximum penalty be applied. Unless you’ve got something hard right now, there’s no way we’ll be able to present it in time for the trial.”
Gallego raised a hand. Her mind raced to produce and organize counter-arguments. One by one, they began firing from her mouth like rapid-fire slugs. She raised the issue of the drone again, added what she and Cheboi had ventured about the airlocks along the transit line, and another helpful tidbit that had only recently become available.
“If you could upload the data from our suits, you would have access to raw footage of the real attackers,” she said. “Everything we saw was recorded and I managed to get a decent enough look at them during the firefight.”
Messier paused for a moment and considered what she had to say. But even as he was thinking it over, she could feel her argument unraveling. What she had provided was small points that, when connected, formed a possible line of reasoning. But there was little there to connect them. Eventually, he went back to looking sullen and shook his head.
“No, that’s not going to do it. Unless you can identify the people in question, we won’t be able to track them down. And unless you’ve got something that can tie them to the original crime scene, the trial will proceed as planned.” Gallego tried to interject again. This time, Messier cut her off. “Once again, Ms. Gallego, save it for the Advocates! None of what you said is going to put a dent in the prosecution’s case, and you know it. Unless we can find something more, you can expect a conviction. End of story.”
Gallego had no more arguments to make. Messier was correct about one thing: she was arguing the case herself. If the High Court were to let her, she would happily speak on behalf of the accused. However, she knew enough about Jovian law to understand that with the limited information and limited means she and Cheboi had at their disposal, there was no way they could change the outcome.
In the end, the actual perpetrators had covered their bases quite well. To make matters worse, the one person who was willing to entertain their theories was now dead, murdered by the same people who had set everything in motion in the first place.
They beat us, Gallego thought. There was no other way to feel about their situation right now. They had come so far to determine the truth behind the attack. Despite their best efforts, they had changed nothing in the end. The only possible consolation Gallego could think of was that in this one respect, the Solar Council now had something common with the Jovian Alliance. Elenko and her colleagues all wanted the situation resolved before something bad came of it. Alas, it seemed that whoever had orchestrated the attack had effectively outmaneuvered the Council.
In the case of the Alliance, things wer
e immeasurably worse. For them, Gallego and Cheboi’s failure meant they would have to execute some of their own.
When Messier talked again, his words sounded entirely final. He was on the verge of leaving them now that there was nothing to be said to make him stay.
“I’m sorry you came all this way. I do hope you learned something.”
“What’s that?” Cheboi asked. Gallego tried to stop her but was too late. There was no way his words were going to be uplifting to helpful. But with the question now posed, she braced herself for a serious rebuking.
“People out here pay a steep price for the way your worlds play politics,” said Messier. “You meddle in people’s affairs, you create all kinds of shit. Most of the time, it’s our problem. But since you two decided to get involved, you got some of that shit on you. As much as we appreciate the effort, you were in over your heads the moment you stepped off the ship that brought you here.”
Messier clapped his hands together, then began rubbing them together if he were washing them clean of something. “Hey, don’t feel too bad. Soon enough, you’ll be able to go home and wipe the memory of this clean from your minds. The rest of us will still be here, dealing with the mess, and you’ll be able to console yourself by thinking that you did the best you could.”
Messier turned to the door and rapped on it loudly. One of his officers opened it and looked inside. Messier uttered something to the man, then looked over his shoulder at Gallego and Cheboi.
“You two are free to go. They’ll have your equipment at the front desk.”
Messier departed then, his officers falling into step behind him. The door was left open, air and noise trickling in from the corridor. The invitation was as clear as day. “Get out” it said, but Gallego couldn’t bring herself to stand up quite yet. She felt so profoundly deflated that the act of standing seemed damn near impossible. So, she stayed seated, oblivious to the voice in the back of her mind that was urging her to do as she was told and get out.
Cheboi stayed seated next to her, saying nothing. Whether it was out of sympathy, or because she was also feeling deflated, Gallego couldn’t tell. In time, Gallego was able to recover to the point that she could speak. One of them had to. “What do we do now?”
Cheboi’s reply was prompt, an indication she was being quiet out of respect.
“We do what we came here to do. We go to Europa and find the authors of the Manifesto.”
Gallego sighed. Technically, that was the next step in their mission. However, she had been speaking metaphorically.
“What might that accomplish now? The wrong people are about to be executed for a crime they didn’t commit.”
“This is true,” Cheboi replied. “But the Chief Superintendent was right about one thing. It was always a long shot that we might be able to prove someone else was responsible for the terrorist attack. We took a shot at it, but we’re out of time on that one. The only hope we have left is to find whoever published the Manifesto and prove that what they said was true. If we do that, we could prove to the Jovians who the real enemy is.”
Gallego was far from convinced. Continuing their investigation at this point felt futile, but as long as there was another move to be made, there was reason to be hopeful. Five innocent people were scheduled to die, but there was the possibility that other lives could be saved. At least, innocent lives. A crime had still been committed, and a reckoning was needed. Perhaps the Manifesto was the thing to make that happen.
“We go to Europa,” Gallego repeated. She still couldn’t see the path forward, how their search for the document’s author could make things better. Of course, it didn’t seem likely that it would make things worse either.
“Why not?”
THIRTY-THREE
EMILE STEPPED BRISKLY into his office. The message, according to Chaput, was labeled urgent. It was also being sent outside of their normal communication schedule. Adler clearly had something that was too important to wait. Either something had gone wrong, or they had accomplished their mission ahead of schedule. Given his recent spate of luck, Emile suspected it was the former.
Stepping over the threshold, he waited for the doors to seal shut behind him before calling on Lovelock’s AI to assist him. “Ganesh, there’s a message from our field agent waiting for me. Cue it up now.”
“Immediately, Doctor Chandrasekhar.”
In the center of the room, a holographic image appeared. It was Adler’s face, hovering a few meters away and taking up the better part of the sitting area. Adler was speaking directly to Emile now, his face twisted into a severe expression. That was enough to let Emile know that the news was going to be less than ideal.
“Doctor. We have an urgent situation,” Alder said. “We picked up the trail of the Cytherean investigator and her bodyguard. The enemy team revealed themselves and engaged the Cythereans as anticipated.” He took a quick breath, flaring his nostrils. This was where the news began to turn bad. “However, the situation went sideways shortly after my team intervened. It seems the Cytherean woman and her bodyguard are craftier than anyone gave them credit for. I’ve lost one of my own, thanks to some crazed maneuver they pulled.”
Emile drew his head back. It didn’t take a genius to know whom Adler was referring to when he said “anyone”. However, there was little time to get angry at veiled accusations. Adler’s description of the Cytherean’s maneuver left him quite astounded.
“Two of the enemy team have been taken out as well, but the rest of them survived,
Adler continued. “We lost track of them shortly thereafter, but they’re still here in Selket. The Cytherean woman and her escort are also alive, and currently in the custody of the authorities. It’s not clear when they might be released, but we imagine they’ll attempt to book passage off the moon. We plan to pick up their trail and follow them wherever they go next.”
Adler paused for breath. The message had been sent immediately after the encounter, Emile surmised. Adler’s medimachines were still struggling to bring his various biofunctions under control. Even the most sophisticated nanoware needed time to restore a body to equilibrium after a life-threatening encounter.
“I’m telling you this because it seems likely the enemy agents will contact their handler. You wanted this to happen discreetly, but that’s not likely at this point. And considering what its cost my team so far, you can expect that the price we agreed on has now gone up. Rest assured, you’ll be held responsible for any more surprises on our end.”
The image faded. Ganesh notified him, needlessly, that the message was over.
Emile tightened his hands into fists. Just when he was beginning to feel like he was back in control, another complication reared its ugly head. Once again, he was feeling the familiar sting of recrimination and betrayal. Emile’s fists were becoming so tight, his fingernails were breaking the skin of his palms. His rage began bubbling over and the old tongue began pouring from his mouth.
“Veshya kee santaan! That bastard fails me again, and he thinks he can shake me down a second time?”
Desperate to avoid another outburst, Emile took a deep breath and ordered his medimachines to flood his system with endorphins. He ignored the warnings about exceeding standard production and kept going until he felt appropriately narcotized. It wasn’t long before relief began to flow through him as easily as the opioids through his system.
Walking to the wall, he opened a panel there and produced a tall bottle of single malt, a glass and some ice. A few drinks helped enhance his newfound sense of euphoria, though he was careful not to overdo it. Control was something he was trying to restore, not lose, and he had an idea of how that could be accomplished. As much as the situation was aggravating as hell to him, he and Chaput had taken certain precautions. Seen in the proper context, Adler’s latest failure could also be seen an opportunity to put one of them into action.
Activating his comlink, Emile reached out to Chaput. His chief of security promptly responded.
[Yes, doctor. How can I be of service?]
[It’s time,] replied Emile. [We need to execute Case Red.]
[Are you sure, sir? We would lose years of research. And there’s no guarantee the Council will ever try to force access to our archives.]
[I’m sure. Things aren’t unfolding as planned, and I want to be prepared in case Fionn and his associates come knocking.]
Within the small display window, Chaput reluctantly nodded. [Very well, sir. I’ll commence the upload. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.]
[Thank you.] Emile smiled broadly. Despite Augira and Adler proving themselves to be fair-weather comrades, it felt good to know that Chaput remained stalwart and loyal. It felt even better to know that soon, their plans for Callisto, Titan and Mars would be transported to secure server away from Mars. As Emile had informed his Dādā just prior to Pinter’s deletion, if it became necessary, the archives could easily be altered to implicate Pinter in any criminal wrongdoings.
Emile breathed another sigh of relief, though this time it wasn’t the result of altered body chemistry or alcohol. Emile’s newfound sense of calm came from knowing that when Fionn and the rest of the Council decided to raid the Formist archives - which they surely would at some point - they would find that all roads led back to the late and great Pinter Chandrasekhar.
Such was the worst-case scenario, which they were now prepared for. There was still a chance that things would work out and Auriga’s team would be eliminated. Once that was complete, perhaps Auriga would see reason. If not, there was always the option that he too could be eliminated. When it came right down to it, Emile had plenty of options at his disposal. There really was no reason to feel powerless.
Emile chuckled and placed his fingertips together, forming a steeple in front of his face. It felt pleasing to do it now. When the time came, Emile would be able to hammer the final nail into his great ancestor’s coffin. Having deleted his memory was one thing, but even that hadn’t removed his presence from Sarak Lovelock. But with his reputation effectively destroyed, the last traces of Pinter’s influence would finally be gone.
The Jovian Manifesto (The Formist Series Book 2) Page 22
