Dean Geiger nodded, serious. “A little over a year ago I was forced to terminate Jayne’s enrollment at the Espionage Academy. She had displayed reckless behavior on several training missions that indicated her inability to separate objective decision making from her emotions. In addition to that, she compromised the security of the Academy itself by… how should I put this…” He gave a coy eye to Cromwell, “shtupping a double-agent that the Academy had been monitoring for several months.”
Cromwell wasn’t satisfied. “Geiger, based on the numbers, at least twenty-five percent of Academy students are suspended before they complete their first year. Jayne’s suspension itself is of less interest to me than the facts of the case at hand.”
Geiger held his hands out. “The Academy is not for everyone. What made my decision regarding Jayne so difficult was her otherwise excellent track record and immense promise. But, in the end, she was not Academy material. I must admit, she did not leave quietly.” He glanced over at the box where he kept the un-glueable shards of the ceramic poodle.
Cromwell nodded. The hologram glitched in that peculiar way only a hologram can glitch. Cromwell’s image froze in movement, and his head suddenly appeared to be in multiple places at once. It seemed to represent a man who didn’t know what to think, who didn’t know how to respond. “And you surmise this is why she stole the information?” The glitch suddenly corrected itself in a manic fizz of the image.
Geiger nodded. “That’s very likely part of why she did it, Commissioner Cromwell.”
Noora looked up from her tablet, on which she had pulled up several job listings for secretarial work. She had been there the day Dean Geiger “suspended” Jayne. Kicked out was a better term for it. She was curious to see how Dean Geiger would continue spinning the entire ordeal in his favor. She had always been a fly on the wall.
Dean Geiger clasped his hands together to drive his point home. “Based on Jayne’s activity after leaving the Academy, I can safely say that the young woman has gone rogue. She stole the files. Why? She could probably sell them. Why would she want to sell information about herself? I don’t know. Perhaps she’s just a good old-fashioned narcissist. Whatever her purpose was, it was ultimately nefarious. And I can assure you, Commissioner Cromwell, that it is only the beginning of more criminal activities.”
Commissioner Cromwell frowned, his tired wrinkles showing around his eyes. He said nothing.
Dean Geiger, however, was not done talking. “For quite some time, the Academy has ultimately relied on the system that allows our own information to be sharable among information gathered on behalf of the police force and the Federation. I think this might be what failed us.”
Geiger locked eyes with Cromwell through the hologram projection. Noora had known Dean Geiger long enough to detect when the wheels in his head were turning.
Geiger lit the fuse for the bomb he was about to drop. “And I have a solution to that failure.”
+++
Academy Chamber of the Board, Espionage Academy, Avalon Space Station
Geiger waited impatiently in the ante-chamber of the Court of the Board. He did not tap his foot nervously. His frustrations manifested themselves in his own stream-of-consciousness.
In Geiger’s eyes, the Board of the Espionage Academy was an archaic barrier to progress. A jury of octogenarian has-been spies stuck in their ways and with no knowledge of modern espionage had no business making decisions about an Academy on the vanguard of the field.
That’s what Geiger had been muttering to himself all morning.
It wasn’t that Geiger lacked confidence in his ability to get what he wanted. He just despised the bureaucracy and formality of getting things done. Sometimes he wondered if rising above pesky red tape was his modus operandi all along.
At least, as per the requirements of Appeals to the Board, all members would be physically present. Geiger had no problem with hologram meetings, but he always felt that he performed better in person.
The large, indestructible metal-alloy doors opened up. Despite how badly Geiger wanted to stand up, he followed procedure and remained on his ass until the Master of Process, a glorified bailiff, approached and permitted him to rise and approach the Board.
Really tired of this smogshit, Geiger thought.
The Master of Process walked through the open doors and stood before Dean Geiger. “Dean Ronald Geiger, your presence has been request—”
Geiger stood up and shoved past him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”
Indestructible doors. Moon-marble floors. Seven dying fools, essentially figureheads with a little too much power. A massive hologram of the Espionage Academy Crest hovering behind their elevated platform. Smoke and mirrors. Geiger wasn’t falling for any of it. He had a job to accomplish.
Geiger walked right up to the front and faced Jarner Boothe, former communications expert. Renata Jaxon, former hostage negotiator. Tristram Urgavsky, on the books as a diplomat but everyone knew he spent his glory days as an assassin.
On the other side sat Unilar Yazziq, the only non-human member of the board and, at the age of 391 years-old, the oldest member of the board by a good 300 years. Geiger didn’t mind Unilar as much. Unilar was always fun to drink with, and, having specialized in non-human star systems, had the best stories to tell.
Then there was Drea Smith, who still practiced governmental law, and Yasuzo Shirasaka next to her. Yasuzo had been involved in the first capture and imprisonment of Burrett. Geiger planned to use that in his favor.
And sitting in the middle of them all was Thurmond Brattix. Thurmond’s field duty was cut early in his career. On his second assignment he was captured by enemy agents, to this day the allegiance of which has not been revealed, and blinded by acid. An ocular implant seemed to add credence to the joke that he was all seeing. In his day, Thurmond was a good old-fashioned spy. Geiger respected Thurmond more than the others, but he hated him the most.
Thurmond finished reviewing Geiger’s proposal and shut down his tablet. “Dean Geiger.”
Geiger nodded respectfully. “Mister Brattix.”
“You have provided requests from both the… Department of Domestic Service, Commissioner Cromwell, the Chief of Police, and seven representatives of the Federation.” Brattix looked down on Geiger from his perch. His ocular implant focusing on him. “You’ve been very busy, Dean Geiger.”
Geiger shrugged. “Yeah, well, I don’t have many hobbies.”
Unilar chuckled, but the rest of the board remained stone faced. Thurmond cleared his throat and continued. “All these individuals and the bodies they represent request that all data be processed, stored in, and protected by our new information security wing.”
Geiger straightened up, his hands held together before him. “Yes sir.”
Thurmond ignored Geiger’s sudden attempt at humility. “Is this in continuation of the wing’s original purpose? Which pertained exclusively to the Academy’s information and data gathered exclusively through associated espionage activity. Or is it in jeopardy to it?”
Geiger shifted uncomfortably. “With all due respect, Mister Brattix, I see this as the ultimate purpose of an initiative like this. If a rogue like Jayne Austin was able to access these files, then how many countless more terrorists are attempting the same? Jayne is dangerous enough considering her association with Burrett.” He glanced at Yasuzo.
“It was your wing that failed to keep this information safe.”
Geiger nodded. He had prepared for everything, especially this. “With combined interests and dependability in our security wing, on the municipal and federation level, won’t there be a greater interest in continually improving security measures? And won’t that, in turn, require a massive increase in funding and economic incentives for this very institution?”
The entire Board perked up. Money talks, and Geiger was fluent. “This is not merely some reactionary initiative based on one unfortunate security breach. This is the first step to the future of our Federatio
n’s safety. And the Academy will be at the center of it all. Information is the most valuable commodity there is.”
Geiger could hear the wheels in the head of each board member turning. Their proverbial gears cranked to life, shaking off the rust. It was the machinations of a major decision.
Renata Jaxon leaned forward. “Who would be placed in charge of this expanded form of the new wing?”
Geiger didn’t miss a beat. “Me.”
Thurmond leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers in contemplation. “I put forth a motion to the board to take 48 hours before announcing a decision in this matter.”
Tristram raised a hand. “I second the motion.”
Dammit. Geiger thought. Let’s hope this works.
Thurmond reached for his gavel. “All in favor say ‘aye.’”
Geiger held up an ancient data drive. It was huge, the size of the palm of his hand. “I have on this drive the identity and allegiances of the operatives who blinded Thurmond Brattix.”
The board gasped.
Thurmond bypassed the formality of a gavel and slammed his fist down. “Ronald Geiger, what in the hell are you talking about?”
Geiger crossed the threshold and walked right up to the front. “I acquired this information by double-masking my digital trace. From there I gained remote access to the federation’s secure data bank. Once in their system I rewrote my trace as an authorized Z-level clearance federation representative. I located the file on you, Thurmond Brattix. It was essentially corrupted by way of a protective three-tier firewall. With masked Z-level security clearance I rebranded the classification of the file and was able to make a request to acquire a hardcopy of the information. I arrived at the House of Federation Archives this morning and picked it up. Thanks to my work, I relabeled these files as tax records for the past century, under the classification of public knowledge.”
Sweat poured down Thurmond’s face, staining the white collar of his robe.
Geiger shook the drive before him for emphasis. “This information initiative is not only about storing information. It is about protecting it, and…” don’t forget the dramatic pause, Geiger told himself. “And, if necessary, the destruction of it.”
Thurmond raised the gavel. “In the greatest interest of the Board of the Academy, this Institution, and the safety of the Federation, I am practicing an executive bypass of protocol.” Thurmond slammed the gavel.
“Mister Brattix!” Jarner Boothe stood up, incensed. “This is an abuse of power!”
Thurmond snarled. “Sit down, Mister Boothe!”
Drea Smith stood up next and directed outrage at Thurmond. “Personal interest cannot inform decisions made on behalf of this institution! I make a motion to overturn this executive action.”
Thurmond slammed the gavel down, splintering the mallet end. The entire thing was so entertaining that Geiger suddenly had a hankering for popcorn.
Thurmond pointed the broken gavel at both of them. “This is not a personal decision! There are reasons that information is secret. With all due respect, it goes far beyond your comprehension. I suggest you stand down, lest you be held in contempt of this institution. You do not want to fuck with me!”
Thurmond had never lost his cool before. Drea and Jarner sat back down in their seats. Their rage remained palpable, but impotent.
Thurmond returned his attention, his rage, at Geiger. “On behalf of the board and the institution, your request to engineer the Academy’s Security Wing toward the mutual cooperation of the Federation and the government of Amaros has been granted.”
With the gavel broken, procedure was unceremoniously cast aside. An icy nod from Thurmond substituted for the sharp thwack of wood on wood.
Geiger bowed. “Thank you, sir.”
Thurmond’s ocular implant focused, zeroing in on Geiger like the sight of a ballistic missile. “Destroy that drive.”
Geiger understood. “Of course.”
+++
The Master of Process escorted a beaming Dean Geiger through the antechamber and out into the simulated atmosphere of the Avalon Space Station.
Geiger laughed at the busted data drive and tossed it into a trash can. He couldn’t believe it worked. He bought it in a junk shop in Theron. It was empty. He had made up all the Z-level security whatever mumbo jumbo. It was a Hail Mary pass and it worked against all odds.
Damn, Geiger thought. I’m good. Maybe it’s a benefit that the board is out-of-touch old-timers.
Yet he wondered about Thurmond’s secret now. He knew the play would give him leverage. But he had no idea the information was so sensitive, and likely compromising, to Thurmond’s position. To his legacy.
“Oh well!” Geiger said out loud. He practically skipped away. Nothing was better than a good old-fashioned scheme.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thrill House Arcade, L26, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros
Jayne took a lot of pride in masking her emotions. Business first, pleasure second, and feeling bad never. That was a mantra she kept in mind. But she already had a gash down the side of her leg and an ankle the size of an asteroid. So, she might as well indulge in some emotions.
She missed her team. She’d been cut off from them all night and she hated it. She didn’t feel helpless without them. She felt alone. She missed Merry’s voice in her ear. She missed overhearing her playful banter with Vlad. She missed Fred, too.
And she missed Cameron. She laid down on a block of rubble from the collapsed wall of the abandoned arcade and did her best to pretend it was Cameron’s king size bed.
She wished she had held onto the briefcase a little longer. It would have made a great pillow in this moment. But it was wise to leave it behind. Without the most incriminating information, it lowered the profile of this supposed conspiratorial hand-off that would certainly be pinned on her. After escaping the rave, she spotted a portable garbage incinerator making its rounds. She tossed the more sensitive documents inside and watched it succumb to the flames as metal teeth tore it apart.
Jayne didn’t need the information, anyway. It was all in her head. It was, after all, the information that haunted her.
Now that Jayne had finally found a safe space to rest, she wanted to treat the massive cut down her leg.
With her trusty thermo-blade, she sheared off her form-fitting tactical pants at her shin, and tore them down the seam up to her thigh, where the cut was. The blood had dried and stuck her skin to the fabric as she peeled off the patch of fabric. The wound still hadn’t stopped bleeding, aggravated and opened further from constant running.
Jayne removed the bottle of tequila from her back pocket. She took a long pull on the bottle. She didn’t care how dehydrated she was, the burning liquor felt good on her throat. The warmth soothed her aches and relaxed her muscles. She took another swig and belched. She laughed at herself. “Excuse me,” she said to no one.
She poured the last half of the bottle on her wound. The alcohol stung, but that meant it was doing its job.
While the tequila did its work, Jayne unzipped her jacket and tore off the lower third of her t-shirt. Jayne was never one for the midriff look, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
She wrapped the scrap of t-shirt fabric around her leg to cover the wound on her thigh. She twisted it tight. She twisted the shirt until it passed the point of extreme discomfort, hoping the pressure was enough to stop the bleeding. She tied it off, gently hoisted her foot on top of some rubble to let blood drain from her swollen ankle, and laid her head back.
Who would want to set her up? Okay, bad question. Lots of people would love to set her up. So who is the primary detail here, Jayne mused to herself. Her thoughts eased out thanks to the booze.
Jayne had a knack for making enemies. Enemies in high places, for that matter. That was her fault for wanting top shelf clientele. The pay came with its downsides.
Jayne cast her arms out in a moment of resignation. “Eh!” She said out loud. “Plenty of people w
ant to pinch me.” She looked down at her midriff. “In more ways than one.” Uh oh, it had been a long time since she drank alone. Was she really talking to herself? “Yes.” She answered her own question.
Jayne could only think of one person who would hate her, and that was Burrett. Of course, that wasn’t possible. Burrett’s body had been frozen and his mind suspended in a hyper-secure virtual reality. His mental capacity was unreachable if active at all.
Right?
A jolt of fear pierced through Jayne’s drunken serenity and sobered her up. Did Burrett do this? Did he escape? Is he, somehow, pulling the strings from within his VR prison?
Jayne contemplated the likelihood of Burrett seeking revenge. Drunken calmness returned as logic won out. Burrett was too theatrical. He would never hatch a plan as deceptive and covert as this one. Burrett craved the spotlight.
With a sigh of relief, Jayne shut her eyes. Forget who. Forget what or how. Why, though? If the goal was to get her arrested, what would anyone gain from that?
An intrusive thought rose from Jayne’s subconscious. She saw two old men playing chess in the park. The old man on the right moved a pawn across from his opponent’s king. It was an absurd move. No chess player would ever allow it to happen. The old man smiled. “Checkmate.”
Then their heads exploded.
Jayne shook the thought out, unsure of where it came from.
The swelling in her ankle had gone down.
She scanned the remnants of the dilapidated arcade around her. Archaic VR sets hung from the ceiling. There was a cluster of raised platforms for hologram boxing games.
Behind the prize counter, Jayne found a solution to her predicament. A traditional marionette puppet hung from the display among other prizes no one ever wanted to claim. It was marked with a value of 500 tickets.
Exposed (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 2) Page 4
