A notoriously effective snitch, he’d been more than useful to them throughout his stay. Although the disruption would normally be cause for punishment, the warden had left standing orders for him not to be touched. He was just too valuable to be trifled with.
The snitch was in an agitated state when the warden finally arrived. He bobbed his head this way and that, moaning to himself as he sat in the very same interrogation room the first administrator had been observing earlier in the day. The warden watched the snitch from behind the glass for a few minutes, gauging his fitness for questioning. When the man seemed to have calmed down a bit, the warden entered the room.
“Oh God, I’m so glad you’re here!”
An unusual beginning, even for a rat. Not only were they usually a good deal tougher, it was often difficult to get them to talk freely, even when they’d asked for the meeting themselves. Jailhouse negotiation was what they called it. But this man was in no mood to play games.
“Well, I’m here,” said the warden, “so what is it that was so damned important it couldn’t wait?”
Meetings such as this were generally conducted in more routine environs, so that other inmates, and guards for that matter, wouldn’t get suspicious. And the warden rarely had anything to do with them, making the demand to speak with him all the stranger. Malcontents demanded his attention, sure, but not genuine snitches.
“I’ve got something that’ll make your head spin. You won’t regret it, I swear. But first, I need a transfer out of here.”
You’ve got to be kidding.
“You know that’s not how it works.” The warden turned to leave.
“Wait! Please! You’ve got to listen to me. I’ll be dead in a day if you don’t. But it’s worth it. I’ll make it worth it for you. Please!”
His head fell forward again and he was back to bobbing it around, down, down, left, right, left, right, down. It was hypnotic. All the while mumbling, ‘please...’, ‘please...’
Normally the warden would have none of it, but this prisoner wasn’t known for outbursts, and his information had always been solid. He decided to roll the dice.
“Alright, I’ll transfer you. But it’ll take more than a day.”
“You gotta put me in AdSeg till I leave then. And human guards only. No cylons.”
Asking for protective custody was yet another indication that he was deadly serious. For an inmate to actually want to go in the hole? And no mechanical guards, either. What was he so afraid of?
This was too tempting to pass up. If the snitch was so fearful, he must have something truly damning to reveal.
“Okay, I can do that,” the warden finally answered. “Now talk.”
Fifteen minutes later, the inmate was taken to a protective custody cellblock by two handpicked, human guards. The warden remained where he was, stunned and motionless. He felt sick. He’d just spent the day with a genocidal monster. And doing his dirty work for him too, no less. The notion of a quick suicide crossed his mind. The idea wasn’t so bad, under the circumstances.
The warden was so distracted by this disturbing news, he didn’t even notice how different the room looked. In fact nobody had taken much notice, nor would they, until such time as fresh interrogations would need to be conducted.
AFTER THE INTERROGATIONS finished for the day, Cain had chosen a quiet moment to make his way into the room. There, he examined the impressive interrogation equipment with a practiced eye. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was portable. And it suited his aims perfectly. Though such equipment was naturally banned from Tera-Prime proper, Cain had ways of getting things through the gates. And it wouldn’t be particularly hard to remove it from the prison, either. Not with his knowledge and credentials. He set about dismantling the machinery.
49.
Back in the city, the chief of peace brought up the quantum leap once more.
“You’re right, you know,” Cain said.
Rois gave his chief a quizzical look.
“About the reservations you had, over the enhanced interrogations. You were right.”
“Was I?” The first administrator didn’t want to take the bait. But there was little he could do to avoid the conversation, given the fact that he’d willingly gone to the prison to observe.
Fair game, Rois thought. Now what do you want?
“Truth be told, I’m not entirely on board with them either. Messy things, interrogations. Always a danger they’ll go public.”
Rois didn’t answer right away. He sensed that Cain was lying. He also felt a strong inclination that this was some sort of blackmail, so he chose his next words carefully.
“You never know what the public will object to. Or who they’ll choose to blame.”
Cain nodded, understanding the counter-threat.
“Of course, if you were to keep it internal, within the administration and all...” He paused to let the idea sink in. “It’d be a lot safer. For all concerned.”
Within the administration, indeed. Cain had been wanting out of the peace force for a long time, but until now the first administrator hadn’t seen the need to move him up. Perhaps keeping his enemies closer was the way to go in this case.
“I’ve been considering the possibility of a new directorate, actually. Internal Security. Something to consider, assuming you’d be interested in joining my administration.”
“It’d be an honor,” Cain said. Not entirely sarcastic, but borderline.
“Wait an hour and then report to my residence. We need to discuss this further, and this isn’t the place to do it.”
Cain nodded. Given the late hour and the fact that the weekend was upon them, he was quite surprised the first administrator hadn’t dismissed the matter until Monday. Still, the sooner the better. He was happy to solidify his new position and get down to business.
UPON ARRIVAL AT THE first administrator’s residence, Cain the soon-to-be director was stunned to find all the staff had been dismissed for the night. And not just the day workers — the twenty-four hour crews were gone, and all the security forces, too. That reminded him of the fact that he’d be in charge of them soon, and this was a breach he’d never have allowed. Assuming he wanted the first administrator to be safe and sound, that is.
Rois himself escorted his guest into the study, an inner sanctum few had seen, though Cain hardly considered it a privilege. He could go wherever he pleased in his line of work anyway, so he was rarely impressed by access.
“You wanted to talk more about my promotion.” It wasn’t a question.
“Sit down, Cain.” Rois waited for him to comply, then he did something extraordinary. Stepping over to a liquor cabinet that looked as if it never got much use, he set up two tumblers and poured them each a drink.
Accepting the glass, the chief swirled the amber liquid and said, “Is there some point to this? Or are you just in the mood for ritual?”
The first administrator sighed, then swallowed his drink in one gulp. “It works, you know.”
“Getting drunk? I suppose so, but I’ve never seen the point in it. We’re not wired that way.”
“I know,” the administrator snapped. “Still, there are times...”
Cain set his glass aside. “Want to tell me what this is all about?”
Rois went back to the bottle and poured himself another, and finally he sat down as well.
“Did it ever occur to you that what you’re planning might not work?”
Cain laughed. “I’m sorry, Administrator, but you’re going to have to give me a little more than that. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The launch, your collusion with the Americans. Those patsies you kidnapped.”
Reacting with pleasure at Cain’s surprised look, Rois added, “You think you’re the only one with informants?”
Cain laughed again, less confidently this time. “It’s not exactly a secret. Washington knows.”
“And so does Tera-Prime,” warned the administrator.
“Apparently.”
“So you have the tacit approval of everyone. For now. But all that changes if it fails, as I’m sure you know.”
“I do.”
“And now you have your promotion,” Rois confirmed.
Cain set eyes on the whiskey, picked it up without ceremony, and drained the tumbler.
The first administrator nodded, and they touched glasses in an awkward imitation of the human custom. The fact that the ritual was precisely backwards wasn’t lost on either of them.
50.
With Leap Day just around the corner, the size of the Florida demonstration had swelled to almost double. It was expected to double once more before the event took place. This made it more difficult to capture enough images, let alone scan them all and compile dossiers. J.Z. and Alixs continued with their assignment undeterred, capturing images of known and suspected agents, and quietly assigning them xeno identities. Nearly half of the known agents had been removed from circulation, but the feds were on to them and replacements were moving in faster than Liam had anticipated. They needed to accelerate their efforts.
It was J.Z. who first proposed a ground-level strategy. Surprising, considering how attached he was to his little flying machine. By disguising Shooter as a media-cam, they would be able to get in much closer, capture images with far better resolution, and zero in on the elusive ‘head down’ targets that were so easy to miss from above. Liam was onboard, so long as they were careful never to be caught with the drone in their possession. The next morning, a new, completely unknown media outlet began working the crowds.
As their camera flitted around, it became increasingly easy for J.Z. and Alixs to figure out which faces belonged to the new operatives. Not only for the nervous expression a rookie would be hard-pressed to contain — but also for the simple fact that they tended to turn away from news cameras instinctually. This was unlike the majority of demonstrators, happy to display their signs and make spectacles of themselves. The only others who behaved like the agents, generally speaking, were xenos in hiding — and since most of them were associated with the freevos one way or the other, they were easy enough to filter out. Liam had even suggested keeping tabs on the ones they weren’t familiar with, for later recruitment, but for the time being, it was tag and release. There were time constraints to consider, after all.
THE EXCITEMENT OF FIELD operations soon dragged into monotony, the endless parade of faces beginning to blur. It was necessary to check and cross-check in order to confirm one enemy agent, followed by background checks and other research to try and determine where they came from and who they worked for.
Alixs began to lose focus as he processed what seemed like the hundredth batch of the day. Once Alixs had become comfortable piloting the drone, including the cool behind the back technique of J.Z.’s, they took to dividing the work into shifts. This helped ease the burden, but also left them more exposed. Both looked forward to days end, when they could get together and compare notes. They spent a good deal of time mocking the weird looking people they’d captured over the course of the long day, but there was legitimate work done, too.
Alixs was about to shut down for a minute, give his optical sensors a rest, when a face in the background jolted him into rapt attention. Enlarging it, he peered for several minutes, but couldn’t be sure. If his instinct was correct, he’d last seen that face in a basement, on the day he’d met J.Z. — it looked to be that very same. The xeno accomplice who’d attacked him!
“I CAN’T BE SURE,” J.Z. said, shrugging apologetically. “I only saw the top of his head for like two seconds. I remember the other guy, sure, but not his friend. You sure it’s him?”
Alixs felt less sure the longer he looked. But just when he was ready to dismiss it, instinct kicked in again, insisting that he pursue the matter further.
“We can run a check on him anyway, right?” Alixs asked, feeling a slight hint of desperation begin to creep in. He didn’t want to be wrong about this. “Find out if he’s really a xeno, at least?”
“Sure, I guess. You really think it was cops that grabbed you though?”
“Cops? Why does he have to be a cop?”
“Well, why else would he be on protest duty?”
Alixs must have looked confused, because J.Z. called up several more images, and he could see then what his friend was driving at. The person in the pictures fit the profile of an agent. Scanning the crowd in a consistent pattern, avoiding cameras, and one or two of the images seemed to indicate the use of an earpiece. But that didn’t make sense.
“It wasn’t the feds who were out kidnapping freevos,” Alixs said, his words ringing hollow. Could it have been?
“Either way, we’ve got ourselves a new agent here,” J.Z. said kindly. “Good catch. Xeno or not, it’s time to get back with Liam and let him know what we’ve got. Maybe he’ll have some ideas about this guy.”
Alixs nodded, a cold sensation creeping down his spine. If it was the cops doing the kidnapping, with xeno help, that was a whole different ballgame. What could they be up to?
“SO CLOSE TO LEAP DAY, the abductions do make sense,” Liam said. “That way we can’t threaten the launch.”
“Except we’re no threat to the launch,” Alixs insisted, “they have to know that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Liam answered, “they’ve got to give the appearance of concern. They want their own higher-ups to think they’re doing their jobs, protecting everyone from the big bad freevos. It’s all part of the propaganda.”
Alixs felt his face warming, embarrassed that he’d been too naive to see it. It was stupid to assume this was the work of thugs and criminals. They were too well coordinated. It should have been obvious to Alixs from the start, as it was with Liam.
“What do you think will happen to them?”
Liam thought for a second. “I really don’t know. Hopefully they’ll turn up after the launch.”
“Right.”
“Still, they probably won’t bother us after the fact. I think it’s just about sweeping us under the rug for appearance’s sake.”
“It just seems such an elaborate way to go,” Alixs said, “couldn’t they have just sent uniformed cops out to the protests, grab us that way?”
Liam looked intrigued by that, though of course he’d already considered it.
“And what about the fact that he was a xeno?” Alixs continued, more thinking aloud than attempting to convince his friend. “It’s not like they’re in the habit of hiring xenos for that kind of work.”
“That part does seem weird. Especially since he’s still out there. You’d think Tera-Prime, if he came from there, wouldn’t compromise a field agent like that. They can’t afford to have us accusing them of illegal activities. Not after all we’ve done to expose them already. But then again, they didn’t expect you to get away, did they? And you were blindfolded. You weren’t ever supposed to see what you saw.”
“True enough.” Alixs was probably just overthinking things, as he was apt to do when he got going. He was glad he had Liam there to talk him down, at least. He knew he’d feel better once the launch was history and they could figure out how to get their people back.
51.
“Congratulations on your promotion!”
NSA liaison Jonathan Samuels sounded very much the bureaucrat. His delivery a slick affair, he showed Tera-Prime’s newly minted director of internal security into his spacious field office with the proper level of enthusiasm. Every word, every movement was carefully planned out ahead of time. A company man.
“Thanks,” Cain replied, unimpressed. “This is off the record, like we discussed?”
“Completely confidential, my friend,” the liaison replied, picking up a steaming cup from his desk, “can I tempt you?”
The director looked at the cup, which appeared to be tea.
“I’m fine,” Cain replied, “if we could just confirm—”
“It’s taken care of,” interrupted Samuels. “Every d
etail. I think you’re going to be pleased.”
“I hope so,” Director Cain said, “I’d hate to think I came all this way for nothing.”
He’d half expected the man to trot out some excuse for why they couldn’t do what was expected. To hear that it was ‘taken care of’ was a pleasant surprise, though he wasn’t ready to accept it at face value just yet.
“Can I ask just which details have already been taken care of?”
The agent reached back and pulled out a thick binder, which he set on the table with a dull thud, thumbing it to a marked page. The plan fell open before the chief’s eyes. Indeed, all the details were accounted for. The schematic of the launch site, the rocket, the interior mechanisms. Even access codes and security overrides. The director seemed to have thought of everything.
“I take it you’re happy with what we’ve done?”
Cain looked up, offering a rare, genuine smile. “Very. But I do have one concern.”
“Oh?”
“Originally the plan called for six, set up in two groups of three.”
“Yes, that is what we agreed to,” the agent said, a note of caution creeping in.
Cain looked away for a moment, and when he resumed the eye contact there was a flash of defiance. “We’re down by one now.”
“I see.” Samuels looked worried for the first time since the meeting began. “That is a concern...”
SAMUELS WAITED UNTIL Cain was out of the building, then placed a call to his bosses. The fact that their partners had failed was a grave issue, one that needed to be addressed.
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