by C. R. Daems
If I were correct in my assumption that a political assassination scheme existed, then all four delegate deaths were murders. However, the assassinations on the delegates’ home planets were intended to look like accidents while the deaths of the delegates on Eastar were meant to look like murders. Did that mean the three deaths on Eastar weren’t linked to the four on the delegates’ systems? Of course, it was possible the three on Eastar were linked to the manifesto and the four on the individual systems isolated events, but I didn’t think that the case. However, if I were wrong, I could waste months chasing ghosts.
I laughed. I’d love to visit each of the four systems and poke my nose into each case. As the Chief of NIA Station, it was easy to justify a trip to the stations but not so easy as the Director of Committee Security. My responsibility was here on Eastar. I had to admit that I loved visiting the various systems and chasing criminals, which made me question my motives and conclusions. I went home with a splitting headache.
* * *
“You seem lost in thought, Anna,” Alexa said as we retired to the living room. “Even Red is subdued.”
“I have this picture puzzle. It’s a murder scene, and I have two jigsaw pieces remaining. One looks like it fits but doesn’t complete the puzzle I’m working on while the other doesn’t fit but it appears to complete the puzzle. And either Red isn’t interested in the puzzle or doesn’t understand the problem or is disgusted because it’s so obvious I should know the answer.” I put my head in my hands.
“I think I understand,” Alexa said, frowning. “You don’t want to insert the pieces that fit because it doesn’t complete the picture, and you don’t want to hammer the piece in that doesn’t fit although it appears to complete the picture. Perhaps you need a new picture.”
* * *
At work the next day, I pondered what my mother had said—that I needed a new picture—so I examined each of the seven delegates. Those murdered on Eastar did shift the balance of power—two were from the major party and one from the minority. But what did one vote out of fifteen matter unless it changed the existing balance of power? At the time, majority party had nine and the minority had five. The deaths made it eight and six but that could change as the impacted systems would be sending new delegates. And the murders at each system gave me a headache as each delegation comprised five members although they had only one vote in Committee. I needed help, so I walked down to the Core group area. I noticed that Bennett’s and Glaser’s areas had no guards, indicating that they were out. I shrugged and walked over to Scherer’s secretary, a good-looking middle-aged man. He smiled.
“Good morning, Director Paulus. Can I help you?”
“Good morning, Daron,” I said after glancing at the name plate at the edge of his rather large wooden desk, which was neat, two wooden trays, one empty and the other with only a few folders, a tablet, and in front of him an open folder which he closed. “I wonder if I could make an appointment with Mrs. Scherer?”
He picked up his tablet, typed for a minute, stopped and watched the screen, and then looked up. “Director, she’ll see you now. Go right in.”
“Thank you, Daron,” I said as I walked past him, knocked once on the door, and entered. For a moment I almost braced to attention for a salute, stopping halfway in. “Good morning, Majority Leader Scherer, thank you for seeing me.”
“Mrs. Scherer will do unless it’s a formal occasion. Actually, I’ve wanted to have a private chat with you. Normally, I would have done it while you were getting adjusted. But you seemed to have skipped the settling in stage and gone into the reorganizing stage and I didn’t want to interrupt your momentum.” She paused, waiting for my response while she studied me.
“Ma’am, I don’t think I’ve reorganized anything,” I said cautiously, while trying to think what she could be referring to.
She laughed. “That’s probably what most of your senior people would say, but they are all doing things differently. New directors generally spend months preening and strutting before they decide they need to put their stamp on the organization and start ordering cosmetic changes.” She shook her head. “Anna, get something to drink, then sit and relax. I’m not the wicked witch everyone says I am.” She snorted and pointed to a sidebar loaded with a wide variety of options from water to liquor. I walked over and poured coffee and milk in equal parts into a delicate mug decorated with brown branches and small red flowers. Then I sat in one of the two violet-colored padded armchairs in front of her desk. She rose and joined me, sitting in the second chair. “Well, Anna, what can I do for you?” She cocked her head slightly in a sign of interest.
“I’ve reviewed the three delegates murdered here on Eastar and gotten the NIA to investigate four delegate deaths on their respective planets—”
“I thought those were accidents,” she interrupted.
“They were listed as accidents. But I had NIA reexamine the incidents—”
“Why?” she interjected, and a slight grin flickered across her lips for a second.
“I felt they might be connected. The results were a bit ambiguous but the NIA found all suspicious and two very likely murders.” I paused for her comments, although she appeared to prefer to interrupt. I smiled mentally when she nodded to continue. “I decided I needed to understand how the delegates are selected and how the Committee works.”
“The number of political parties varies over time. Right now, there are five: Conservatives, Independents, Liberals, Socialists, and Expansionists. The Majority Leader, that’s me for now, is the leader of the largest group, which can be one party or two or more parties which have banded together. Today, the majority party is composed of Conservatives, Independents, and Expansionists. The minority party is comprised of the Liberals and Socialists.” She continued when I nodded. “Each system is allowed five delegates to represent them on the Committee but each system must vote as a unit. So, in a sense, the systems work like the Committee with the majority party having the vote. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. So, killing a delegate on Eastar and killing a delegate on his or her system is technically the same?” I asked.
“In the short run, the outcome could be different. If the system had as a group split three Independents and two Liberals and an Independent was killed, then the unit would be neutralized and would have to return home. That may just mean a replacement or an entirely new group depending upon the system. If a Liberal was killed, then the unit could still vote. On the home system, one member could make the difference in which is the majority group sent to the Committee.” She tapped her fingers on the exposed wooden part of the armrest for several moments, then smiled. “That’s why you will be director until Bennett and I retire. We see the box—a threat to the delegates—while you see the room the box is in—the threat to the Committee.”
* * *
Back in my office I sat pondering what Scherer had told me and realized I needed more information. I clicked on Martha’s icon. A minute later I heard a knock and Martha opened the door and entered.
“Yes, Anna?”
“Martha, get Seth. I need Seth’s and your advice,” I said and Martha exited as quickly as she had entered. Less than five minutes later, a knock, and Seth and Martha entered.
“What’s up, Anna?” Seth said as the he took the seat I waved at.
“You said I was authorized an aide-de-camp,” I said and when Seth nodded I continued. “I want you and Martha involved but I don’t want my queries to interfere with your workload or your duties. And although I’d like to be involved in the investigation, I think it’s important I continue to stay focused on my day-to-day duties.” I gave a wry smile. “Not that the organization won’t function without me but for those unexpected emergencies.”
“Before you came, I would have said the directors interfered more than they helped in running the organization. Their priorities were political more often than not. Consequently, we frequently had our hands tied because of some perceived political ramific
ation. And their changes were cosmetic at best or a waste of time or manpower.” His voice had turned angry toward the end. “Sorry, we’ve had too many in the position that thought they knew more than everyone under them. You’ve been a breath of fresh air. You’re the first director that probably does know more than everyone under you, yet you never give that impression. So, I’d prefer you stay close and involved and let others do the grunt work.”
“Thank you. How do I go about getting an aide-de-camp and where from?” I asked. Chief Stamm had arranged it last time.
“I’d prefer you hire an existing employee, Anna. I think you were very wise not to have brought anyone from NIA or your old security with you. That must have been hard but I think it would have made you and them outsiders. Something you may not have been able to overcome.”
“I’ll leave it to you,” I said, grateful for him to worry about the problem. I needed to worry about the Political Assassins for Hire—their organizational structure, methodology, and weaknesses. To do that I needed information. For the first time in weeks, I left work on time.
* * *
“Good morning, Anna,” Martha said with a twitch of her lip as she entered the office. “Seth has three people who would like to apply for your aide-de-camp position.”
“Good morning, Martha. Does that wait until she sees this amusement you’re barely able to contain mean I should finish my coffee before I see the list or I should have two cups before I see it?”
“I guess it depends on what you were expecting,” she said, making no attempt to hide her grin.
“I was expecting a short list of people…” I paused, not sure what I had expected. “It isn’t a position that most people would want. Technically, it’s a fetch and carry position that varies greatly on the hiring person.” When I shrugged, Martha handed me the list. It had three names, all women.
“I guess the men don’t like to fetch and carry.” Martha smiled. “I felt you were in a rush, so I’ve scheduled them starting as soon as you are ready. I’ve sent a brief synopsis of their experience and work history to your tablet.”
“Thank you, Martha. Send the first one in.”
Martha opened the door and waved for someone to enter. When a woman walked in, Martha exited, shutting the door behind her. The woman was a c-agent I had seen but never talked to. She was taller than the average woman, looked strong, and was dark skinned. Her black hair was curly and cut short, accenting her square face and giving her a dangerous vibe.
“Good morning, ma’am, I’m Corporal Howe. I’m here to apply for the aide-de-camp position you have open.”
“Good morning, Howe. If you’d like something to drink, help yourself and then have a seat,” I said, waving to the sidebar. She shook her head and sat, looking full of confidence.
“Why do you want to be my aide, Howe?” I asked. Last time during the interview for the position I got a lot of strange replies that had little to do with the position. One thought it an easy assignment to finish the last two years of his six-year commitment. The other thought he would meet high-level people who could help his career. I wondered what I’d get this time.
“I think it would be exciting to be your personal bodyguard,” she said, eyes bright with excitement. I wasn’t surprised as she was a c-agent and obviously craved action and excitement—not to mention glory.
“An aide-de-camp is a strange position in any organization in that it’s defined by the person you’re working for. For some you are a status symbol, there to fetch and carry but mostly a symbol of the person’s rank. In others there are tasks they want done that they don’t want to be bothered with. In my case, I need a personal secretary. Martha is excellent, but I can’t have her running here and there. It’s important she be at her desk when people want my location or time. Consequently, the chances of you seeing action with me are lower because most of the time you’ll be off doing things for me.”
“I’m not sure I’m suited for that type of work, ma’am,” she said, frowning at the idea.
“Most with your experience and background wouldn’t be. And that’s the reason I try to make sure each candidate understands what I need.” We talked for a while about her assignments as a c-agent and how it was ninety-nine percent boring and one percent heart-pounding excitement.
The next candidate was a Corporal Robin Oliver. She too had a sturdy build but stood only slightly above average height. She had brown hair cut just over the ears, and a round friendly face, but penetrating eyes. Like Howe, she had military experience and spent a few years as a mercenary before joining Committee Security. And like Howe, she thought the position personal security, which based on my recent assassination attempt sounded exciting. I repeated my explanation of what the position entailed. She too was disappointed but liked the idea of working for the director.
The third and last candidate I recognized as she entered the office.
“Ma’am, Sergeant Maxine Landon. I’m interested in applying for the aide-de-camp position,” she said, bracing to attention. Her eyes were bright, her angular face framed by dark brown curly hair that didn’t look like it had ever seen a comb it couldn’t defeat. Her lip twitched although her face remained neutral.
“Get yourself something to drink, then sit and tell me why you want to be my aide-de-camp,” I said. Maxine had been on my security detail frequently and I liked her. Serious on the job but friendly and easygoing when I met her in the training area.
“I’d like to be able to observe you up close. I’ve been here long enough to observe several directors. They huff and puff but in reality, the senior c-agents ignore them. You, on the other hand, are quiet and don’t ask them to do anything, yet you have them transforming Committee Security. Someday I hope to be in a position of senior management and think time with you will be beneficial,” she said, holding my gaze.
“You understand that you’ll be running errands for me, some fetching and carrying, and maybe travel,” I said to make sure she understood the job wasn’t as a bodyguard, with few to no glamorous duties.
“Yes, ma’am. I serve at your pleasure,” she snapped.
I laughed. “That was very smart, Maxine, talking to Master Chief Stamm.”
“We talked for over an hour. He misses you, ma’am.” She nodded to emphasize the statement.
“I miss him. He made my life much easier. I had no experience at being a senior-level officer and didn’t have a clue which end was up.” I paused for a minute and then smiled. “The first thing you need to know is that I like my coffee half coffee and half milk.”
“Thank you, ma’am. How long is the position?”
“It starts as soon as Colonel Ballard can release you and lasts until you grow tired of me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Few More Women Would Help
“Good morning, Anna,” Martha said as she entered with a smiling Maxine.
“That was quick, Maxine,” I said, having thought it would take Ballard several days to shift her duties sufficiently for her to be free.
“Good morning…”
“Anna in private,” I said when she hesitated.
“Anna. Colonel Ballard said you’re the priority. They like you and think you know what you’re doing, so they are eager to do whatever you ask.” She grinned.
“Good. I want you to research the three delegations that had a delegate murdered and tell me how it affected their vote if they voted on anything prior to leaving for their break,” I said as Maxine made a note on her tablet. “As I understand it, a delegation’s vote is based on the majority of the five delegates. So, if one is murdered, it could change the way they vote. Understand?” When she nodded, I continued. “Call me if you have any questions or run into a problem.” When she rose to leave, I waved for her to stay.
“Well, Martha, what good things do you have for me today?”
“Major Olson would like to go over the new refresher training with you. I’ve scheduled him for fifteen hundred hours so you will have t
ime afterward for the firing range. And I’ve scheduled you this morning with Major Schwartz to review personnel recruiting.”
* * *
“Good morning, Anna. Coffee?” Major Schwartz asked. I nodded and walked over to the sidebar he pointed to and mixed my coffee drink. “Martha said you wanted to talk about recruiting,” he said, sounding cautious.
“This is not an inspection, Glen. I just want to understand how we recruit our c-agents,” I said. He nodded.
“I receive all the applications for jobs we post or general queries, scan them, and forward the ones that look qualified to the appropriate department.”
“What’s appropriate for Security?” I asked, aware that personal and building security rotated their people.
“Combat military training and experience is best but sometimes police experience is sufficient,” he said.
“Doesn’t that severely limit the applicants and particularly women?” I asked.
“Yes. Is the object to hire more women?” he replied with a tone that suggested a quota would mean hiring less-qualified personnel.
“What’s our current percentage of women c-agents?” I asked. He frowned as if thinking but I suspected it was not at the question but at the issue.
“About three percent,” he said hesitantly.
“What is the percentage of female delegates?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said reluctantly.
“No reason you should, Glen. It’s approximately thirty percent, or eighty-four women. In my experience, a man guarding a woman leaves weaknesses in her security. A man can’t go everywhere a woman might and I doubt any c-agent is going to stop a delegate going where she wants.” I cocked my head slightly and smiled.
“That’s true, Director—”
“Anna, please.”
“That’s true, Anna, but finding qualified women…”
“It will be more challenging, but I think worth the extra effort. Do me a favor and talk to Ballard, Olson, Harris, and McKenzie about the issue. See what they think. That’s all I ask.”
