by C. R. Daems
“And the Expansionists,” Maxine said. “By changing a Liberal vote on New Zheng or Oasis, or an Independent on Shadows Rest.”
“No wonder they want you dead,” Seth added while nodding.
“That’s the most logical based on the current data and either would be the fastest way in the shortest time. But it’s based on very thin data,” I said. “What complicates the problem is that all of the Conservative kills would work on Eastar as well as their home planet. But only one of the three Expansionists kills would also work on Eastar. That’s eight delegations and except for two they are as vulnerable on Eastar as at home.” I felt like screaming. I had hoped the information would lead to one group and one or two delegations—something manageable. We sat there in silence staring at the information.
I shot to my feet. “It has to be the Expansionists,” I said, knowing it was a gamble but time didn’t allow for the luxury of waiting for more information.
“Why?” Seth and Maxine said simultaneously.
“Eastar’s three murders reduced the Conservative votes from eight to six and increased the Expansionists from one to three. Then the system’s accidents further decreased the Conservatives from six to three. And although it didn’t increase the Expansionists’ vote it may have now set up New Zheng and or Shadows Rest for the next kill. Doesn’t appear logical that the Conservatives would make kills to reduce their votes when they already had a solid lead.”
“Boss, you’re scary,” Seth said. “What now?”
“We know the kill teams are here on Eastar. If that is correct, we keep them from leaving Eastar. If that works, then we have to figure out how to keep the Oasis’s three Liberal delegates safe. Martha, I think Bennett would like an update,” I said, feeling very tired and hating the assumptions I was being forced to make.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
UnCab: Emergency Meeting
Steve, Ryan, and Maria sat quietly, not sure why Harold had called an emergency meeting but knowing it wouldn’t be good news. Good news traveled by messenger on foot while bad news was delivered by skimmer. Except for Director Paulus, everything appeared to be proceeding on schedule. And Paulus was more of a potential problem than a real one since they were only three delegations away from a commanding position.
“We have a problem,” Harold said, the muscles on his face stiff with anger or maybe hate. “Director Paulus has gone from a potential problem to a LIVING, BREATHING NIGHTMARE!” He screamed the last three words, closing his eyes in an attempt to gain his composure. “She’s collected the current configuration of each system’s delegation, which unless she’s stupid will permit her to correctly deduce which party we are working to bring to power. Does anyone here doubt she won’t figure it out?” Silence followed which screamed their silent agreement. “I propose we accelerate our schedule and convert one more delegation immediately. Any objections?”
“One more will give us control of the Conservative group and we can retire Paulus,” Ryan said with a wry grin.
“I don’t think Bennett, Scherer, or Glaser would support that move and we wouldn’t have sufficient votes to force the issue. No, Paulus must die and now—immediately. Maria, I don’t care how you do it, but do it, even if you have to kill her yourself. Am I clear?”
“I have been trying to make it look like—”
“Kill her! I don’t care who they think assassinated her, so long as they can’t trace it directly back to us four. KILL HER!” Harold sat, his face red with rage.
“Harold’s right,” Ryan said. “If she can develop a strong case that some party is killing delegates, all the other parties will unite against us and will create a special commission to investigate the murders, accidents, and replacement delegates. Eventually, that would lead back to us, and I wouldn’t doubt they would ban our party from future participation.”
“I agree with Ryan,” Steve said. “In this kind of an engagement, rumors are equivalent to bullets and missiles. I know firsthand Paulus is up to something. She met with Guzman and has him providing troops to support whatever she has planned.”
“That’s the problem with Paulus as the Director of Committee Security. She has high-level connections in NIA and the Military, P1A authority, and the support of the senior Committee Security personnel. It should have taken her a year to get acclimated and gain their support. My mole tells me she did it in a few weeks,” Maria said. “And she’s deduced I have a mole in her organization and has been feeding him with false information, which caused me to waste time and money preparing to kill her in the wrong location and losing an opportunity at the location she visited.” Maria paused for a sip of water. “Now that I know collateral damage isn’t important and you don’t care if people deduce it was an assassination, there shouldn’t be a problem.”
Harold appeared with four glasses and filled each with an old Chateau Margaux worth at least an admiral’s monthly pay.
“To success,” he said.
The other three stood and raised their glasses. “To success.”
“And Paulus’s death,” Maria added.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The First Mistake Loses the Game
I entered Bennett’s office not sure what to say. No, that wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure of their reaction to my lack of a solution. As I expected, Scherer and Glaser were present.
“Good morning, Director Paulus. I assume this unscheduled update isn’t good news,” Bennett said. No one looked relaxed, so I suspected they all felt the same and were braced for the bad news.
“Good morning, Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Scherer, and Mr. Glaser. I felt you would want to know the current status of my investigation even though it’s based solely on assumptions I’ve made on very limited data. I don’t like to make assumptions, but in this case, I believe the UnCab has a couple of years’ head start and are close to realizing their goal.” I was interrupted before I could say more.
“How close?” Bennett asked.
“One kill,” I said and was bombarded with multiple questions. I chose to remain silent since the questions were diverse and disjointed—how, when, who, where… Eventually, Bennett banged on his desk and the room became quiet.
“Paulus, can you elaborate?”
“Yes, sir. As you are aware from my last update, the murders and accidents have shifted the balance of power in the Committee almost to parity—from ten-to-four to eight-to-six. But what isn’t so obvious is the party shift taking place. Before this year the Conservatives had eight votes and didn’t need an alliance to have the majority. Today they have only three votes. The Liberals on the other hand originally had three votes and now have five and are the largest voting party—”
“Is the UnCab supporting the liberals?” Bennett asked, which got a glare from Glaser.
“That’s part of the problem with the data. I’ve obtained the present configuration of each system’s delegation. With only two kills, the Liberals and the Independents could secure control of their current alliance and be the majority party—” I couldn’t continue for the pandemonium that erupted. Slowly the room became quiet and I continued. “With one kill, the Conservatives or the Expansionists could also secure control of their alliance and be the majority party.”
“One kill?” Scherer asked. “Where?”
“That’s part of the problem. Potentially at any one of eight systems and all but two would be equally effective on Eastar.”
This time the questions and comments among the three lasted for several minutes before they realized I wasn’t participating.
“Can you stop the killings?” Bennett asked.
“To stop the killing, I must be able to identify the UnCab. To stop their current attempt to secure the majority vote, I must be able to identify who the UnCab is supporting,” I said.
“Can you? According to what you said, it could be any party except the Socialists,” Scherer said, giving me a worried yet hopeful look.
“Based on the data I have today, I’ve come to th
e conclusion the UnCab is backing the Expansionist party.” I held up my hand to stop comments or questions. “If I’m right, their plan envisions three kills by next year’s elections, but they may see securing partial control as a way of enabling them to retire or hinder me while they try to kill me.” This time I had time to make my coffee drink before the room returned to quiet. “Again, if I’m right and it’s the Expansionists, then there are only three possible delegations—New Zheng, Oasis, and Shadows Rest—and two must be accomplished at their home system. Based on this assumption I’m taking action to protect the Liberals on the delegations.”
“What if you are wrong?” Glaser asked, surprising me.
“Then it’s the Liberals or the Independents. In that case we may be alerted before they can complete the coup as they need two kills.”
“What if it’s the Conservatives?” Glaser again.
“Then they will succeed, because they are much smarter than me,” I said. “Of course, if it were my decision, I’d try to kill the Director of Committee Security so I wouldn’t be rushed into a premature kill that may make the Committee suspicious.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you,” Scherer said more as a statement than a question.
“In my opinion, the coup was intended to occur over a couple of years and appear to be a collection of chance occurrences that happened to benefit the Expansionists. If it looked deliberate, the Committee could form an alliance to negate the Expansionist vote or choose to void their party membership. They know what I’m doing because of their high-level positions or connections and it’s forcing them to accelerate their schedule.”
“You should resign,” Scherer said. “Before they succeed.”
“I like this job and hate change, so you will have to fire me to get me to leave.” I shrugged, giving Scherer a wry smile.
* * *
“You look tired,” Alexa said as we sat down for dinner.
“The UnCab is forcing me to make too many assumptions and it’s driving me crazy. I’m more comfortable collecting all the available information before making a reasonable conjecture on how to proceed. In this case, the UnCab could be supporting any one of the parties except the Socialist. But to stop them, I’ll have to focus on one.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, the Expansionist party. Which unless I’m wrong will force them to act prematurely or give me more time to pursue them,” I said reluctantly as Alexa wasn’t stupid.
“Or to eliminate the threat,” Alexa whispered, her face losing some of its color.
“Mrs. Scherer said I should resign.”
“Which you refused.” Alexa gave a snort.
“I told them I liked being the Director and hated change, so they would have to fire me,” I said, feeling guilty for the stress I knew it would cause my mother. If I ever did resign, it would be for Alexa but not for me.
Alexa rose and came over to me, leaning down and wrapping me in her embrace. “As silly as it sounds, I trust Red to keep you safe and that you will destroy those trying to play God.”
* * *
My tablet chimed just as Maxine set down my coffee and Seth, Maxine, Martha, and I were about to begin the day. Before I could look it chimed again. When I looked, the software Carlson had installed on my tablet had two messages:
Facial recognition confirmed for the individual identified as Jensen and Chambers on level three scheduled to depart on the passenger ship Quick Silver. Destination: New Zheng.
Facial recognition confirmed for the individual identified as Reed and Pittman on level three scheduled to depart on the passenger ship Quick Silver. Destination: New Zheng.
“Anna, a call from a marine lieutenant at the space station,” Martha said and transferred the call to my tablet when I nodded.
“Director Paulus speaking,” I said.
“Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Norris monitoring the facial recognition software. We have two matches. I was told to contact you in the event of a match.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Norris. Identify the names they are using and send me their passport information. Take no further action. I don’t want them to know we have identified them.” I cut the connection. “We have two of our killers heading for New Zheng.” I laughed. “That rules out the Liberals and the Independents, as New Zheng isn’t on their kill list.”
“It could still be the Conservatives,” Seth said, playing devil’s advocate.
“Then I’d have to resign since it contradicts all my assumptions.” I laughed at the look on Seth’s face. “Martha, get me a late afternoon appointment with General Guzman.” Just then my tablet chimed again and two messages appeared:
Facial recognition confirmed for the individual identified as Bryant and Henry on level three scheduled to depart on the passenger ship, Silver Bullet. Destination: Shadows Rest.
Facial recognition confirmed for the individual identified as Guerrero and Sanchez on level three scheduled to depart on the passenger ship, Silver Bullet. Destination: Shadows Rest.
Attached were the two men’s passports which I displayed on the room’s monitor.
“Interesting,” Seth said. “They are using the same names they used to return from Black Water.”
“That means they believe those passports are still good.”
“Aren’t you going to arrest them?” Maxine asked the question on everyone’s mind.
“Not on Eastar. If we arrest them here, the UnCab will know we have identified their kill teams and have time to send replacements and get another team new passports. But if we arrest them in New Zheng and Shadows Rest, the UnCab won’t have time to send replacements as the Committee meets in a week. And the teams to New Zheng and Shadows Rest validate the assumption that it’s the Expansionists…which keeps your boss from having to retire.”
“General Guzman asked if dinner at eighteen hundred hours would be all right,” Martha said several minutes later.
“Confirm that would be good,” I said. “And Martha, let my mother know I won’t be home for dinner. Tell her I’m eating with Guzman.”
After a minute she nodded. “The general said it will be at his house, and your mother said no wild parties,” Martha said, frowning.
“Private joke, Martha. She calls the shootouts I get involved with wild parties.”
I hated having nothing to do. No meetings scheduled and all I could do about the UnCab was wait to see what they would do next. “I’m going to do a walkaround and maybe go scare the new hires. Oh, Maxine, let my security know I plan to go home to freshen up before I go to dinner with Guzman.”
“Around fifteen hundred?” she asked and I nodded. I walked down the hallway to the lobby, which was only moderately busy with people wanting to meet someone or here for a meeting with one of the system delegates. I stood watching as they and the items they were carrying were scanned and their identities verified. With c-agents at each of the five security lanes into the lobby and an additional five c-agents standing well inside the lobby watching the five lanes, the building looked secure.
I continued across the lobby and into the hallway which led to the system delegations’ areas and watched as visitors were verified before being permitted into a specific system’s area. I continued to the end of the hallway and into the c-agents area.
“Morning, ma’am,” said the two guards at the entrance.
“Morning, Smithy,” I said and looked to the name tag of the man I didn’t recognize. “Garson. See any bad guys or gals today?”
“No ma’am. Very quiet,” Smithy said, smiling.
“Maybe I can rent some to keep you from getting as bored as I am.” I grinned.
“Good idea, ma’am. I’d prefer bad gals.” Smithy grinned as he opened the door for me. The area was quiet since shift change wasn’t due for another several hours. The area was divided into lavatories and showers, locker room, and cafeteria. It also had a back entrance where the c-agents could enter with their ID card but the door had two guards as a double check. I
spent an hour talking with the small group eating or sipping a drink. Over half were new-hires waiting for their one-month basic c-agent class to begin.
“Ma’am,” a c-agent named Gregory said to get my attention. He was in his thirties and I knew he had been with the agency for several years.
“Yes, Gregory,” I said.
“I understand you have another course for us to take,” he said, barely able to keep the frustration out of his voice. I knew he wanted to say something to the effect of I know the job, I’ve been doing it for years.
“Do you know what the Coaca Virus is?” I asked.
“Sure, it’s a deadly virus. You have it but that krait of yours keeps it from killing you.”
“Could you recognize someone with the virus?”
“Maybe. He’d look sick,” he said, his voice sounding amused.
“What would you do if a sick-looking man approached someone you were guarding?’
“Shoot him,” he said and smiled.
“Then what?”
“Check to make sure he was dead, see if he has identification, call the police, and wait for them to arrive, et cetera.” He gave me a defiant look.
“Agent Gregory, who is your senior c-agent?”
“Justin Harris…ma’am,” he said cautiously.
“Tell him that Director Paulus said you are to be in the first c-agent update course.” I smiled and then turned to follow the new-hires to their class.
Downstairs, Craig Olson waited as the eight men and six women were assembling.
“Class, ten laps to warm up,” he said and then added when he heard the sighs and moans, “Cold or tight muscles are more likely to be injured, and that would cause you to miss all the fun we are going to have and an opportunity to become a c-agent.” With that they began to run the track that circled the area, estimated to be eight tenths of a kilometer—an eight-kilometer run. He smiled as saw me. “Come to participate?”
I laughed. “You would fail me the first week and how would that look?” I said, meaning every word.
