Do Unto Others-ARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  "I trust your expertise, mister Marlow. I do find de-escalating a situation with the presence of firearms and explosives to be an ironic statement."

  "I know it sounds that way, sir. It is proven, though. Jason Vaughn is probably one of the ten best combat shooters alive, and even at target shooting is Olympic quality. More importantly, he's very unlikely to shoot unless the situation is beyond salvageable by any other means. Likewise, Bart Weil has a decade more experience up close in civilian quarters than the rest of us. I trust them both completely."

  "If it's that unlikely they'll use them, I'd rather just suggest that they are armed and let that serve as the threat. What do you think?"

  Alex hesitated. He'd almost talked himself into a corner.

  "Sir, the problem with a threat is that if you do have to carry it out, you have to carry it out. At that point, things get bad. They're worse if you've only provoked it."

  "When all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail."

  Hah, got him, Alex thought.

  "Conversely, sir, when you have a nail, you can bang at it all day with a screwdriver, a shoe or your hand and get nothing except hurt. Whereas one good blow with the hammer makes the problem go away for good." Well, until the next time, but we won't say that.

  Prescot nodded slowly.

  "I see your point," he said. "Very well, I'll authorize firearms and police stunners at my end. We'll have the lawyers and your people argue with the government. But I must reiterate that their use be absolute last resort, and I'd much prefer any attackers be left alive. I can more readily absorb the cost of legal action than the bad PR of shooting someone."

  And that, Alex thought, was the real age old justification for weapon control.

  He moved on.

  "Has Ewan offered anything else?"

  "He says it was all private blackmail and threats, and I believe him. They went after his daughter, and forced him into doing it. She was recovered, unhurt. I've never seen him so remorseful. The only lead he offers is that they were true to their word. Neither girl was hurt. Someone who tried to hurt Caron was shot by their own people. He was promised a cut of the ransom, which was apparently only to be a few million. I might even have paid it."

  "While that's not a good idea, sir, we at least don't have to discuss that option now. I am going to have to suggest all the security be ours. Your brother can stick with Ex Ek outside this house and in his own matters. We must lock this place down."

  "I agree, and I already told him so. He concurred and didn't object."

  "Good."

  "Agent Marlow, I apologize for holding back, and I'll try to do less of it. I do have long term PR concerns for our development, and personal issues with violence, but I will give you much greater credence. I wish I'd done so before this."

  "Thank you, sir. We're quite happy to continue the contract and we'll give it our best."

  He hoped the man took that very diplomatic hint that they could pack up and leave. He wasn't the only man with stupid amounts of wealth who would pay them.

  "The last item is we need more followup. The kidnapping was very professional, but several holes were left. When it failed and Caron escaped, they knew we were nearby and just ran on foot in several directions. We have no leads. Nothing in the building was traceable. Very, very professional, except that they couldn't hang onto her."

  "I understand. You think it was intended to be a scare."

  "Not necessarily. It could be meant as a scare or acquisition of funds, a probe of our abilities, or all three. Very tactical, which again, is professional. Not big enough or long enough to bring the entire government down, just a major nuisance that might yield them assets and di yield them intel. We'll need to watch that."

  Alex would. That was twice now something had gone that way. That was a pattern.

  Caron stormed into her father's office, brushing off that African doctor turned bodyguard. He followed her, but stopped at the door. She pushed on in. His own guard sat in the corner, looked her over, and stood carefully. Truly, the bastards didn't trust anyone. She pointedly ignored him and turned to her father.

  "Tad, what's going on with Ewan and his family?"

  He looked up from his three screens.

  "Are you asking what or why?"

  "Why! Dammit! It's cruel!"

  "Yes it is. I discussed it with the lawyers and with our security agents, and—"

  "Fuck the security agents!" she shouted. "Those mercenary arseholes act as if everyone on the planet has a personal vendetta against me!"

  "Apparently enough do that Ewan was persuaded to violate three generations of trust, help kidnap you, and he mentioned something about attempted rape." Her father looked rather angry, which said something.

  She flushed in scorching anger and violation. Dammit, no one needed to know about that.

  "He was not part of that," she said.

  "No, and he was very apologetic. At the same time, enough leverage made him break. I'm truly sorry to have done what I did, but there must be a lesson that hurting us carries a penalty."

  "But they'll starve. Tad, our retainers are better paid than most barristers. They had their house, salaries, use of the facilities and lands . . . "

  "Yes, and now they have nothing, are blacklisted, and can only get menial jobs. I realize that Leslie and the children are going to be hurt. But, Merch, he helped people who wanted to hurt you, badly. If we don't respond, it will happen again."

  "So have him imprisoned. Don't hurt the family."

  "Enough money will make prison an acceptable exchange for quite a few people on this planet. The only viable response was completely economic. They've gone from very upper middle class with upper class perks, to poverty-stricken wretches."

  He put his hands carefully on the desk and breathed a slow, deep breath. "Caron, I played with Ewan and his father when growing up. He was my friend for forty-eight years, but he helped kidnap my daughter. If he'd come to me, I'd have readily thrown a billion marks at the problem to prevent it, but he didn't believe I would, or that I could be trusted, so he went along with a series of felonies and betrayed my trust. He can't be my friend. He can't be a trusted employee. The word is out that hurting us will get the instigator destroyed. I'm very sorry it came to that, but it means the rest of our employees are safer, and we."

  She wanted it not to be true. Most people thought money was a good thing. If they had it, they'd realize what a curse it really was.

  "I know that look, Caron," he said. "Don't even think of making a personal or anonymous donation. I generally don't track your finances, but I will if you even consider that. I want your word."

  She closed her eyes and sighed. It was as much punishment for her as for Ewan and Leslie and Connor and Adam and Wynn and Andra.

  "I promise. I'll let my friends starve in the gutter before I'll betray my family." She tried desperately not to tear up, but did anyway.

  He looked very sad. "I hate that it came to this, girl. I really, really hate it. If you get any workable ideas, I want to hear them."

  "You already know what I think," she said, turned, and stormed out.

  He wanted a hug. Her friends wanted a roof over their head. He could suffer. She turned and stormed out.

  Bart and Elke were at the bottom of the stairs as she swept down.

  "Take me to my apartment, please," she said in her best regal tone.

  They read her well enough not to offer any conversation.

  Chapter 10

  Alex sat back, stretched and tried to relax. The responsibility was crippling his mind.

  "Okay, I'll consult with the younger three when they get back. What I want to do now is discuss the known and potential threats."

  He looked at Shaman and Jason and waited for the discussion to start.

  Jason said, "Bryan is not a threat to the daughter. The daughter seems genuine in not wanting the hassle of the money. I think it's unlikely she's a threat to him."

  "I con
cur," Shaman said. "The staff are corruptible, as we have seen, but I don't think they are a direct threat. They've had lots of opportunity, and they are treated well. They also know the repercussions now."

  Alex said, "Her uncle Joe's a tightwad. The threat he poses is that he's more concerned with a few marks than with maximum safety. He wants every penny staying in the family. He even got second rate security for himself."

  Jason nodded. "Yeah. He's also been managing the mine the last year. He's apparently great with figures. He does the books, the father does the engineering and is the official face, because he's a much nicer person."

  Shaman said, "I expect he's going to push to get rid of us as soon as the threat level drops. In that regard, we should certainly not give him any information, and we need to express that concern, diplomatically, to the father."

  "Definitely," Alex agreed. "What about the mother?"

  Jason said, "I did a news search. She got a large chunk when they divorced. She's got decent investments, and salaries from several charities. She puts on a pretty face to raise awareness and money. No one here likes her, not even the staff. She's gotten a couple of presents from Bryan when the company struck big, graciously presented for her help in getting them started. It seems likely those were intended to avert lawsuits or such. She's got no legal claim on anything because of prenups and such, and even if she had ill will, she'd have a huge legal battle to get anything, after the fact. It would also be very suspicious if all three died and she then filed suit. It wouldn't be rational, but she's not entirely rational herself. A bit narcissistic. Lots of people suspect the charity is as much about keeping her name out there as giving."

  "But she hasn't angled for more?"

  "She cashed the transfers from Bryan but never asked for anything, and has legitimate salaries from the charities. Her books look honest from all reports and the overhead is moderate according to the groups that watch charities. So she doesn't seem to have any motives."

  "So, threats are external, and might involve duplicity of staff."

  "That," Jason said, "and schoolmates who might see a few potential marks. Hangers on, not real threats, but there could be a lot of them."

  Shaman had a look of concentration around his coffee.

  "They'll distract us from actual threats. I suspect that's how they'll be used, rather than directly. We'll have to maintain a cordon against any random contact."

  "She'll hate that."

  "We'll hate it as much."

  Bart sat in the house office, watching everyone. Joe had his man from Ex Ek, Maur Junet, who had a good reputation as a professional. Bryan had Helas and Nick Haugen from Cady's team. Caron had Bart.

  He remained a stone in the corner. He wasn't really needed here, so of course, he was alert. Threats could come from anywhere. Still, Bryon's office, with his daughter and his brother, with all the physical security, and Elke and Jason outside, should be secure.

  This was the very typical and boring aspect of bodyguarding. They were talking, he was standing. He'd note anything Alex might need to address, or anything he might find useful for protecting Miss Prescot. Otherwise, he was the goon against the wall. His opinion was not wanted, so he didn't listen too closely, even though he heard everything.

  Joe Prescot had an interesting concept.

  "We have plenty of room for charity. We can give a few billions where it's needed, and generate a lot of goodwill."

  "We already do," Bryan said. "I'm concerned that too much will engender further demands until we start losing capital, or that when we do peak out, which inevitably will happen, we'll have to cut charity to retain financial soundness. That will create ill will. You know charity is something to be cautious with. We can't have entire nations dependent upon us. It's bad for them and us."

  Caron said, "Not any one place, of course. I think Uncle Joe is right, though. If we spread it out, small amounts in wide dispersal can accomplish a lot, do create a lot of positive feeling, and if we can even knock a naught off our ridiculous total, we'll look a lot better. I hate to say we're trying to appease the socialists—"

  "But that's what you are proposing," Bryon said. "Look, I'll consider it. We have billions going out anyway, and I'm gratified my family is charitable, even given the odd circumstances. Possibly I can send more, and we agree we don't mind. Remember, though, that the ore won't last forever, we won't be without competition forever, and time spent doing that is time not managing the income side."

  Joe said, "I know people we can hire or contract. They are reliable too, because I know that is a concern."

  "That helps. I'll look at that too."

  "Tad," Caron said, I know how much we give, and I don't care about how it's perceived. I'd just like to have a normal life, or something close to one."

  "I know, Merch," he sighed. "Whatever we can do, I'm willing to try, but I don't think you can ever be less than a billionairess."

  "Even that would be an improvement," she said.

  She rose.

  "I've made my case. I'll help however I can between classes. I need to go study some more."

  "I love you, daughter," he reminded her.

  "And you, Father. And you, Uncle."

  She nodded coolly at Bart and headed for the door. He joined her.

  That was a problem he couldn't begin to address. He just wished her well with it.

  Once back in her rooms, Caron looked at Alex.

  "I'm going to a concert," she announced. She needed to get away and do something.

  "Yes, Miss. When?"

  "Right now. You said impromptu was fine?"

  "It is. Bart, Jason, please get cars. Where are we taking you?"

  "Berit is performing at Hedgwick. My family owns a box there."

  "Excellent. We'll just show up then? No one else will be using it as a favor?"

  "No, I checked the schedule. It will be vacant."

  "What are you planning to wear?"

  "A basic dress and one of the bodices, why?" She was mostly used to personal questions, but they still took her off guard now and then.

  "So we'll wear slacks and casual shirts with blazers."

  "Ah, so. I'd like to arrive early. I may be able to talk my way into backstage. I was considering calling ahead, but I presume that's out?"

  "Yes. We'll work on it when we arrive. We can leave in a few minutes."

  Even an "impromptu" trip involved a lot of planning, albeit done very fast. One of Cady's people would drive and stay with the limo. Alex would remain to coordinate as needed. The rest would go along. Gear, commo, armor, water, supplies, vehicles and guards all moved in a ballet. It took Caron twenty minutes to change into a dress and wrap, by which time everyone was formed up to escort her.

  Downstairs, into the carriage house, into three vehicles, and off in three directions.

  En route, Caron busied herself with the office, shuffling messages and invitations and mail. That was part of the passive measures used to keep her safe—all the communication funneled back through the house, and gave no indication she was on the road. An expert could probably determine lags and digital coding differences, but Agent Cady had people to take care of that, too. Anyway, she hated being bored and tried to use her time wisely.

  The drive was uneventful, though the team kept eyes out the windows in all directions while moving, and constant coded contact with Alex. They were paid to do so and always did. She appreciated it, it just emphasized threats as much as it reassured her.

  The limo pulled up to the entrance, the driver braked smoothly but fast, and Aramis hit the door. Bart and Jason were half a step back.

  Caron was used to the idea now, and stepped out a moment behind them. Shaman and Elke filled in the sides and Aramis brought up the rear.

  Other people used this aerial walkway, but most of them didn't recognize her, only that it was someone surrounded by a block of guards.

  They flowed down a walkway, into the atrium, and into an elevator for the restricted area.r />
  They had the elevator alone, and nothing happened. The door opened, Aramis led the way to a courtesy cart, and they rolled down a tiled and muralled hallway, around two turns. Caron flushed in embarrassment. It was like being royalty. She was a country girl who did some mining. It still felt wrong.

  "Right here," she said, indicating the door to the box. They already knew from maps and earlier reconnaissance trips, of course.

  Jason and Elke went in first, scanners out. Their inspection took seconds, Jason nodded, and the rest came in.

  From the polarized window, Caron could see scaffolding and equipment running up. It was two hours until showtime, but stage setup was still in progress.

  She used her current throwaway phone rather than the courtesy phone in the box. It seemed so paranoid, but she'd play by their rules. That was why they'd been hired.

  A generic female voice answered, "Hello?"

  "Would you tell Miss Berit that Caron Prescot of the Prescot mining family would like to meet her, when and if it's convenient."

  "I can relay the message. Stand by, please."

  While she waited, she watched her escorts check the box over again, scan for mics and cameras, move furniture and decorations around, and generally inspect down to the paint. Everything they displaced went exactly back where it came from, though anything that could be turned was, and some furniture was relocated. Planned randomness.

  The voice came back on the phone, "Miss Prescot, Berit says she can welcome you in about fifteen minutes, but not for long."

  "That's wonderful. Thank you very much."

  Elke asked, "She said yes?"

  "Fifteen minutes."

  "Very good. Bart and Aramis will go with you. I'll secure here and come along if time permits. Jason's managing. Jason?" she asked as she turned to him.

  Without looking up from his terminal he said, "Sounds good."

  Another few minutes carting down tunnels brought them to a well-lit corridor of dressing rooms. Some were open and vacant, others closed. A roped and screened barrier led to the stage, and handlers moved around that way, finishing the set.