by Dan Moren
The only sound in the car was M’basa’s fingers on her knee. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I’d hoped that in the spirit of cooperation you would have been willing to demonstrate a little give-and-take. As it is, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that a member of my staff escort you at all times while you’re on Bayern – for security’s sake, of course.”
“You’re putting a minder on us?” said Taylor, incredulous. She shook her head. “That’s a mistake, ma’am.”
M’basa shrugged. “I don’t know who the hell you are, and I don’t know what the hell your goal is here.” She smiled pleasantly. “Should that situation change, I’d be more than happy to reevaluate my security arrangements.”
Eli looked around the car: Tapper’s face was grim, his arms crossed; Taylor looked mildly disconcerted, but also like she hadn’t finished playing her cards yet; M’basa looked impressively calm and comfortable – then again, she had the rest of them by the short hairs.
Goddamnit, I’m not going to just sit around and be deadweight. Taylor had more or less ordered him to keep his mouth shut but, well, he’d never been very good at either taking orders or keeping his mouth shut.
“Deputy consul,” he said, smiling and leaning forward. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Oh, do you?” said M’basa. Her voice was arid.
“My colleagues here mean well, but they can be a little… by the book.”
“What Mr Adler means is–” Taylor started through gritted teeth.
Eli plowed forward before she could stop him. I’m going to get hell for this later. “You’re still establishing yourself here, and, naturally, we have no wish to step on your toes. But the truth is we’re here to look into some odd transactions between the Bayern Corporation and certain Commonwealth nationals we’ve had an interest in. We’re worried there might be some financial… impropriety.” He fancied he could feel Taylor’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. It made his brain tickle.
“So you’re saying you’re what, the Commonwealth Revenue Service?”
Eli smiled. “You could call us auditors, sure.”
“Why wasn’t I informed?”
Taylor had picked up his cue, and though Eli doubted she was any happier about it, she knew an opening when she saw one. “I’m sure you’re still familiarizing yourself with your predecessor’s files,” she jumped in. “It’s possible you just haven’t come across it yet. It certainly isn’t high priority for a station chief.”
M’basa gave her a wary eye. “Uh huh. You realize I’ll have to confirm this, right?”
“I’d expect nothing less,” said Taylor.
“Until you do,” Eli added, “I’m sure we would be happy to comply with your requirement for an escort.”
Now he was pretty sure both Taylor and Tapper were giving him looks of death, but he carefully avoided meeting either of their gazes.
Taylor cleared her throat. “But we’ll also need to maintain our cover.” Eli almost bit his tongue over that, but if M’basa noticed, it didn’t register. “So we’ll continue with all of Mr Adler’s appointments and other engagements.”
The car, which had been winding through Bergfestung’s city streets began to slow as, Eli assumed, they approached the embassy.
“You should say now whether or not this arrangement is going to be amenable, Ms M’basa,” said Taylor, glancing out the window. “Otherwise, you might as well take us back to our ship. Although I don’t think our boss will be exceptionally pleased by that development. And you know how bosses have a way of talking to bosses. All well above our pay grades, of course.”
A nonplussed expression crossed M’basa’s face. Eli wagered she hadn’t been in her new position nearly long enough to risk bringing down the wrath of her superiors; plus, going on Tapper’s information, the station chief gig would have been a solid promotion for her – one that she wouldn’t want to jeopardize.
“Fine,” she said. “We can forego the minder for now, as long as you stick to your cover identities and don’t get into any trouble.”
Taylor tilted her head. “Thank you, deputy consul. I’ll be more than happy to note your amenability in our report.”
M’basa raised a finger in warning. “But don’t jerk me around. This is still my patch and you’re guests here. I expect you to comport yourselves accordingly.”
Eli put up his hands, palm out. “You’ll never even notice we were here. Promise.”
In the space of fifteen minutes, the car dropped them at the embassy and M’basa showed them to their rooms. Eli was just poking around the fancy suite he’d been assigned – two bathrooms! He couldn’t imagine what he’d ever need two bathrooms for – when the knock came at his door. On the other side he found, unsurprisingly, Taylor. She didn’t look happy.
Stalking to the middle of the room, she put down a black plastic ovoid and pressed a button on top. It glowed red briefly, and Eli felt a sudden sensation, as if waiting for his ears to pop.
“Baffle,” Taylor explained. “Black market. CID’s is fine, but when they’re the ones you don’t want listening in, well…” She shrugged.
“I’m guessing you’re not here to discuss the finer points of–”
“What the hell part of ‘let me do the talking’ were you finding it difficult to interpret?” Taylor snapped, her blue eyes taking on a shade of the electric. “Or do you really just love the sound of your voice that much?”
“Hey, she made Tapper,” Eli shot back. “She poked a hole through our cover like it was a wet paper towel; there was no way we were going to convince her we were legit after that. For chrissakes, commander, she’s on our side. And it sure seems like we could use someone in our corner.”
Taylor was gritting her teeth, but Eli could tell that at least part of his argument was hitting home. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure himself where all that crap he had spewed earlier had come from, but he guessed he must have picked up at least some of it from watching Kovalic operate. Either way, his instincts had paid off.
Arms crossed, Taylor tapped her fingers, then let out a pent-up sigh. “Just try and let me know next time you decide you’re going to start throwing curveballs. We’re a team, and we have to work like one.”
“I’m sorry,” said Eli, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes. I saw an opportunity and went for it.”
Running a hand through her hair, Taylor unraveled the braid, letting it drape to her neck. “Sounds like Simon’s been rubbing off on you.” When she spoke again, it was in a grudging tone. “It was a good play. This thing could have been over before it started. So, well… nice job.”
Wow. That must have stung.
“Hey,” he said with a grin. “That was all Elias Adler in there.”
“Glad to hear it. Because the next time Elias Adler talks over me while I’m working, he’s going to have to figure out how to pilot a ship with three broken fingers.” She smiled sweetly. “Got it?”
Eli swallowed. “Got it.” Something told him three broken fingers would be getting off easy.
“Good,” said Taylor. “Anyway, don’t let your success go to your head. Our foot may be in the door but we’ve still got a lot of work to do.”
“Speaking of which,” Eli said, crossing to a chair and sitting down. “What’s our next move? This meeting is supposed to be happening–” his eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to keep track of the time change, “–tomorrow?” That seemed right. “I’m still not sure how we’re supposed to get in on a powwow between a highly-ranked Corporation official and an Imperium envoy.”
Taylor crossed to the armchair opposite him and took a seat of her own. “Well, a private meeting might raise flags, especially if the envoy is high profile. So, if the Illyricans are smart they’ll make contact at some public event, where the two just happen to cross paths.”
“Such as?”
“A party or other social function, if I had to guess.”
&nbs
p; Eli mouthed an ah. “So that’s where Elias Adler comes in.”
Taylor smiled, her teeth gleaming. “Mr Adler attends only the most exclusive soirées, of course.”
“So all we have to do is find out where the social event of the season is?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. The deputy consul may already have a bead on some of them.”
“The who?” said Eli, cupping a hand around his ear. “I must have misheard; I could have sworn you said the deputy consul.”
“Don’t push it, Brody,” Taylor growled.
“OK, OK!”
Standing, Taylor smoothed her skirt. “Now, if there’s nothing further, Mr Adler, I’ll just be on my way. It’s been a long trip, and I’m sure you’d care to refresh yourself.”
Come to think of it, a nap did sound pretty good. Despite dozing during the trip, he was feeling pretty beat – besides, a cockpit was no place to take a comfortable snooze. The extravagant estate-sized mattress they’d provided him with certainly looked far more alluring.
“Yeah,” said Eli. “Wake me when it’s time for breakfast – they do breakfast here, right?”
Taylor shook her head. “Shut up and go to sleep, Brody.” The door closed behind her.
Eli collapsed onto the bed, which, as it turned out, was just as soft and yielding as he’d imagined. In fact, he was pretty sure it was the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept on in his entire life. Enjoy it while you can, he thought, because tomorrow shit gets real.
Wormhole time-lag played funny tricks on your head, so by the time Eli headed downstairs it was just past seven in the morning, local time. At home, he preferred to sleep in, but when he woke to the insistent whirring of the climate control, something told him that Elias Adler would be an early riser. So he roused himself from bed, hit the shower, picked out one of the suits that had been packed for him – after futzing with the cufflinks; cufflinks! – and stepped into the hall, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
From what he’d read in the pre-mission briefing, the Commonwealth embassy wasn’t particularly large: just three stories tall, it housed around seventy-five people, including the ambassador’s personal staff, a dozen diplomatic functionaries, a team of security officers, and the attendant administrative personnel.
It was one of the latter that met him, smiling, as he came down the stairs into the embassy’s lobby. The young man – younger than Eli himself, unless he missed his guess –gestured towards a pair of double doors to his left.
“Good morning, Mr Adler. The ambassador is breakfasting in the ballroom and has requested the pleasure of your company at his table.”
Crap. By instinct, he’d frozen, but since Elias Adler would never freeze in such a situation, he forced a smile onto his face and pushed his foot leadenly forward. “Thank you,” someone else said through his mouth, “it’d be my pleasure.” With a nod to the attendant, he turned and pushed open the doors, stepping into the ballroom.
It was a big room, clearly built to accommodate crowds of several hundred or more, all in relevant extravagance. A dozen or so round tables with immaculate white tablecloths stood carefully arranged, the center of each adorned with a centerpiece of flowers that Eli was fairly certain weren’t fake. At the front of the room was a long, rectangular table – the kind that might be used at a banquet or speech – and at one side of it were arrayed the room’s only inhabitants.
There were only a half dozen of them, but if there had been twenty Eli would have had no problem picking out the Commonwealth’s ambassador to Bayern. Theodore Khan was a big man, built like a player for the kind of sport that involved hitting people. Full contact diplomacy. His hair had gone shock white, contrasting with skin the color of coffee with milk stirred in. He laughed at something one of his breakfast partners said, a deep full-throated sound, and replied in an equally deep basso profundo.
Straightening his collar, Eli pressed ahead. The ambassador, catching sight of him out of the corner of one eye, put his napkin on the table and rose, extending a hand.
“Mr Adler,” he said, his voice booming in the large space. “Welcome. Please, join us.” Eli blinked as he motioned to his companions, and they slid down, making a space at the ambassador’s left hand. “We don’t stand on ceremony here,” said the ambassador at his expression. “And I like to get a chance to talk to everybody who comes through my shop.”
Eli nodded smoothly. “Thank you, Mr Ambassador.” He’d been carefully coached on exactly how one addresses an ambassador, a place where his former military training served him well to some degree. This, at least, he’d get right.
“Please,” said the ambassador, with a wide gleaming smile, “call me Theo.”
He narrowly avoided biting his tongue as he slid into the seat. So much for protocol.
“So, Mr Adler – Elias?”
“Eli, sir.”
He waved at the sir, as if batting away a pesky insect. “Theo.”
“Theo.”
He smiled broadly at that. “Eli. You’ve had quite a bit of success for a man of your age.”
Eli laughed. The man’s frank – you have to admire that. “Moderately successful,” he said, making a so-so gesture with his hand.
“Come, come. You’re too modest. I looked you up when I saw you’d be joining us. A tycoon before thirty? Cornering the market on hypodynamic reflux assemblies?”
Oh god, he may actually know what that means, thought Eli, stricken. He’d spent a while during their trip reading up on the very real products of the very fictional Adler Industries, but had found himself drifting off to sleep and drooling all over the ship’s console. Hypodynamic reflux assemblies were a key component of repulsor coils, the anti-gravity systems that kept afloat everything from cargo containers to ships. The hope had been it would be sufficiently obscure to escape notice. Of course if the ambassador were a closet engineering groupie – Eli couldn’t believe they existed, but logically speaking, he supposed they must – then all bets were off.
“Right place, right time, I guess,” he said.
The ambassador opened his mouth to press on, but Eli was saved from further exposition by another attendant materializing at his side.
“We have a fully stocked kitchen,” said the ambassador. “Order whatever you like.”
Eli looked up at the server. “Two eggs, over easy. Side of toast, bacon – well-done?”
With a silent nod, they shimmered off, to the kitchen, Eli supposed.
“I trust your trip was smooth?” said Khan.
“Everything except the landing,” said Eli, as a waiter put a fresh glass of water on the table in front of him.
“Ah, yes,” said the ambassador, leaning back in his chair and scrutinizing Eli. “I understand that you piloted yourself?”
“It’s a hobby,” said Eli, taking a sip of water. “So few chances to really get your hands dirty these days.”
“Too true,” Khan sighed. “I like to engage in a little rock-climbing myself, when I can get away. To the immense displeasure of my staff.” He raised his eyebrows significantly. “Perhaps you’d care to join me while you’re here? I’m sure arrangements could be made in the name of my duties as a host – though, strictly speaking, Consul Gennaro would be your actual host.” The ambassador waved a meaty hand. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing you.”
High-level political wrangling. I don’t remember this being in the job description. Wait… was there a job description?
“That’s a very generous offer, sir,” said Eli. “I’ll have to have a word with my director of public relations and see if we can fit it into the schedule.”
“Of course, of course,” said Khan, with a smile that looked plenty genuine by politicians’ standards. He took a muffin from his plate and split it open; steam rose from its interior. “We are all beholden to our responsibilities, are we not?”
Eli was saved from answering by the arrival of his breakfast. One area the embassy had clearly not skimped on was its kitchen bu
dget; no doubt that was a necessity when hosting foreign dignitaries. The eggs were perfectly cooked, still hot, and the bacon was just as crispy as he’d hoped. I could get used to this.
A discreet clearing of the throat came from behind him as a forkful of eggs was en route to his mouth. He slowly craned his neck and saw the disapproving face of deputy consul M’basa staring down at him. She looks grumpy. Maybe she hasn’t eaten yet. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.
“Mr Adler,” she said, with a tight nod. “Mr Ambassador.”
“Sarah!” he said. “Pull up a chair and join us. Mr Adler and I were just talking about hobbies. I believe you fence, if I recall.”
“In school,” she said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.
“And highly ranked, too, if my memory serves. You should have a word with my older daughter; she’s starting college next year, and expressed some interest in taking it up.”
“I’d be happy to, Mr Ambassador. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with Mr Adler.”
“But I just got my breakfast,” Eli protested.
“It’ll only take a moment,” said M’basa, rolling her eyes.
Eli gave a forlorn look at the remaining egg. Snatching the second strip of bacon, he bit off a piece as he rose and followed M’basa to one of the other tables in the ballroom.
“I assume everything is to your liking,” she said.
“Quite,” said Eli, the bacon melting in his mouth. “What’s up?”
“I thought you might be interested to know that the Illyrican embassy is having an intimate reception this evening.”
“Good for them,” Eli said, glancing over his shoulder at his rapidly cooling breakfast.
“Ms Mulroney sent me a message that you might be interested in the premiere events on the social calendar. To maintain your cover.” She eyed him.
“What?” he said, snapping back to her. “Oh, right.”
M’basa sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “Jesus, Adler. You fresh off the ranch?”
