Ambassador 1: Seeing Red (Ambassador: Space Opera Thriller)

by Patty Jansen

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  Chapter 21

  * * *

  WHEN DARKNESS had fallen, we left the apartment through the kitchen door. A short walk brought us to the station, where a private train took us to the airport. No one bothered our group; in fact no one much seemed to be out at all. One could, of course, blame it on the gamra meeting, but I suspected that Ezhya’s status gave him perks which reached into places I couldn’t begin to contemplate.

  A casual observer would have seen a high-ranking gamra diplomat in all blue walking to the station with six bodyguards—two Indrahui and four Coldi. Within the group, I had no doubt whose mission this was.

  There was no crush getting into a crowded aircraft, no waiting. Ezhya goaded me into taking the front bench seat while he took the controls.

  Casual conversation continued.

  What? I had no skill in piloting? Didn’t I know all senior delegates were pilots?

  I almost laughed when I thought how, when coming here, transfer through the Exchange had been scary to me. How about being shot at, and having shot at someone else, who simply collected the charge and fired it back at me?

  Maybe one day, I could handle piloting.

  Just say the word and he’d send me an instructor, he said. I seemed to have progressed from object of suspicion to focus of amusement and curiosity.

  Stubborn puny human refusing to step back.

  A secretary with quaint habits and an unnatural desire for self-destruction, Eva’s father said.

  But at the same time, all the pronouns were informal today.

  When we left, two other aircraft took off from Barresh. They were sleek, silver shapes which I could mistake for nothing except Asto military. I tried to tell myself that it wouldn’t be in Nicha’s father’s line of work as general to be aboard and provide backup for an operation that was meant to return his son, but then again, a normal leader wouldn’t pilot his own transport either, and here I was, sitting next to Ezhya Palayi, who went through the motions as if he did this every day.

  So yeah, considering the Coldi hands-on approach, Nicha’s father was probably in one of the other craft, keen to blast the living daylights out of whoever held his son.

  * * *

  It was nighttime in Athens but the air space above the Exchange was totally empty of waiting aircraft. A couple of Nations of Earth hoverjets kept watch. I couldn’t see them, but they showed up on the sensor image. Ezhya Palayi told me that they had been informed that the approaching craft contained Mr Wilson returning from duty, accompanied by six gamra personnel.

  Indeed.

  I let out a deep sigh to dispel my nerves. Either this was going to work, or it would go horribly wrong.

  By the time we had shot into the maw of the Exchange building, walked through the eerily silent hall, and been led to some sort of executive apartment, the sky was starting to turn blue.

  I had lived at the Exchange for eight years, but I had never been in this part of the building: the floors directly underneath the canteen, with their luxurious rooms. The privileges one had as head of government.

  Exchange staff came in to serve breakfast, which I, Ezhya and Thayu took while seated at a glass-and-metal-frame table looking out over the city. The sky was not so hazy now, and patches of green had appeared on the lawn. It was winter. I had almost forgotten.

  There was a commotion amongst the guards at the door and Amarru came in, bowing, shuffling forward, her gaze on the floor. She reported in a demure voice that she had been in contact with Danziger, who was expecting me. She had arranged a private train carriage with sleeping cabins.

  “Good,” Ezhya Palayi said. “Do you have a contact for the president’s office?”

  “I do. I’ll send it.”

  “Have you contacted Dr Schumacher’s work place?”

  “I have.”

  “I want you to contact someone in the institute, and make an arrangement for us to visit if necessary.”

  “I will do that.”

  “Then I want full connectivity for all of us, for as long as we’re here. I want shadow security, and I want us to be cleared for carrying weapons, or be resupplied when we arrive, or have the weapons taken to our location separately.”

  “But weapons are—”

  “Illegal. I know. Get them cleared.”

  She took in a deep breath. “Yes.”

  I balled my fists under the table. Amarru was a confident woman who knew her job. It made me feel sick to see her bullied like this.

  “She is right. You can’t barge into the president’s office looking like . . .” I gestured. Hell, we all looked like we were dressed for combat. “My security can be armed, though not overly so, but no weaponry will be allowed in the president’s office.”

  Ezhya Palayi’s eyes were hard. “We will all go in.”

  I met his glare equally. “If the president is harmed, I will create such trouble that you won’t forget it in a hurry.”

  Ezhya Palayi stared back at me. “And who are you?”

  “I am the reason that you have any hope of retrieving your data at all. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t forget.” But there was nothing comforting about his voice.

  Thayu watched, mouth open. From near the door, Evi did the same.

  Then Ezhya Palayi laughed. “You have a lot more pluck than I give you credit for.”

  Amarru mumbled something about starting her work, and headed for the door. I rose from my chair and intercepted her before she could get out. “Any news from Nicha?”

  Amarru’s eyes met mine. Her cheeks were bright red.

  “How did you dare do that?” she whispered, in Isla.

  “You and I are the guardian of peace. We both know the sort of trouble we’ll be likely to meet if you let the arsenal of weaponry through.”

  “But argue with him!”

  “Yes.” Strangely enough, I enjoyed it. I’d use his curiosity for as long as it lasted.

  Amarru stared at me as if I was mad.

  “Nixie says Nicha will be released today. I guess he will probably catch up with you in Rotterdam somewhere.”

  “Thanks. That’s such a relief.” And it was. At least one less thing to worry about, with those two military craft in orbit somewhere, and all the backup that could be here very quickly.

  Amarru left, and I took Thayu aside in a corner of the sitting room. “I want you to contact Nicha’s father.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “No, don’t fool me. I know he’s in one of those craft that followed us. Contact him, and tell him that Nicha will meet us in Rotterdam.”

  “He will?” Her eyes shone.

  “Yes.” It sounded more like a question. As far as I knew, Thayu knew Nicha distantly, no reason to be so happy about his release.

  I wanted to ask, but she had already gone into the apartment’s communication room.

  I stood there in the corridor, under the questioning gazes of Evi and Telaris. And then I had a horrible thought. Both Nicha and Thayu were about to take up a partnership contract. What if they were contracted to each other?

  * * *

  There was no more time to ask, no more time to contemplate the possibility. Word came that the train was ready, a private wagon, and everyone could keep their weapons because there would be no checks.

  However Amarru did this I had no idea, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know. I could still hear her voice when she had spoken to me before I left Rotterdam. Our bugs are better than theirs. That was all very well, but why were they so surprised that people had trouble trusting the Coldi? And what would the fallout be for Amarru, and why had she submitted to his bullying that she kne
w would create no end of trouble for her?

  As soon as we were in the wagon, readers came out and projections of maps sprang in the air. Amarru had provided the guards with extra satellite tracking equipment.

  Thayu kneeled, surrounded by listening devices which Evi and Telaris were helping her adjust.

  I felt useless; I knew nothing about equipment. I went into one of the cabins and lay down in a bunk, but couldn’t sleep, not in the least because I left the door open, not wanting to miss any trouble. But the only thing that happened was that Evi kept walking backwards and forwards past the door, carrying some piece of equipment, speaking into it at the rear of the carriage and carrying it back to Thayu.

  In all the years I had lived at the Exchange, I had never seen the full extent of gamra spying devices.

  Then the train plunged into darkness. Someone swore, and a bout of laughter drifted from the front of the carriage. The Alps. Tunnel.

  Ezhya’s female guard called everyone into the cabin for a briefing session when the train emerged in daylight. We would all go into the foyer of Danziger’s office. She would seal the door and take care of the secretary, who would be stunned so he wouldn’t remember anything. Evi would stay outside, but only so he could warn us. I would talk to Danziger while Ezhya’s female guard and Thayu logged into his computers. Communication lines would be cut. She could guarantee a bother-free period of fifteen minutes. By that time, Thayu had to be finished with her electronic probing. I could speak to the president however long I needed. It was probably better if I kept Danziger occupied for longer. The rest of our group would sit down quietly, restore the secretary’s awareness and wait for me to come out.

  A simple plan, but totally crazy. I didn’t, couldn’t think of all that would happen if things went wrong.

  * * *

  At the station, Ezhya Palayi’s refusal to split up the party into two taxis caused some consternation. There was no bus, so we walked.

  A biting wind whistled between the buildings of Nations of Earth, carrying the last of the autumn leaves. Low clouds scooted over the city, hinting of snow, but if Ezhya felt any discomfort, he didn’t show it, neither did either of his Coldi guards. Tough military men and women. I froze in my official gamra clothing made for the tropical heat of Barresh.

  Thayu muttered, “What a dreadful place.”

  “It can be nice, in summer.”

  I told her how I had lived here, gone to school in the residential complex, and how I and my friends used to run up and down the steps until the guards became annoyed and shooed us on. It must have been hard for her to imagine how green those lawns could be, and how lush the trees.

  We came to the end of the lane where the building that held the president’s offices rose up like an absurd neo-classical sugar cake with columns and arches and wide stairs all in marble. The fountain had been turned off for winter.

  The appearance of six black-clad guards raised some eyebrows with the Nations of Earth servicemen. I assured them that the president expected me. They checked, and heard it was true and waved us up the stairs. All of us, with weapons.

  Amarru was really amazing.

  In the warmth of the hall, I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought Thayu did the same. For a fleeting moment, I remembered the feel of her cold skin pressed to mine. Never, never would I allow her to be in danger like that again.

  There were more guards on the stairs than there had been during my last visit. I hardly dared look at them for fear of being challenged. Stealth and speed were going to be of utmost importance. One mistake, and all these guards would come barging in. And I would be dead; we would all be dead. There would be war.

  The two Indrahui at the front parted and I proceeded onto the landing in front of Danziger’s office. My legs felt weak with nerves. There were four Nations of Earth guards at the door.

  One nodded. “Mr Wilson.”

  “My security will wait in the foyer.” I hoped my voice sounded more confident than I felt.

  The man stepped aside. The door slid open.

  I entered the foyer.

  A photo of Sirkonen hung at a prominent spot opposite the door. He looked at the camera with his usual mild expression, soft light gilding his face. His eyes, light blue and mild, seemed to look at me.

  What are you doing, Mr Wilson? Are you betraying our trust? Did you read the information I gave you?

  Damn, Sirkonen was dead. He could never answer any of my questions.

  “The president will see you shortly, sir,” a woman said. Danziger had kept his own secretary, a woman of about forty.

  Soft footsteps behind me indicated that the others had come in: Thayu, Ezhya, Telaris, Ezhya’s guards and the Nations of Earth guard. Evi stood in the doorway.

  Great. Now what?

  I cast a glance at Ezhya’s female guard, who returned a tiny nod.

  Evi slipped back outside and shut the door. Click. The lock turned.

  The secretary’s eyes widened. Her hand hovered over the comm unit. “I’ll call security.”

  “Not necessary,” said Telaris, who dragged the security guard with him, one hand over the man’s mouth, his belt—and comm unit—in the hand the guard couldn’t reach. “Security is already here.”

  He plonked the man on the couch and in one single movement, drew something from a pocket on his thigh and held it in the man’s face. Click—hiss. His eyes rolled back. Telaris eased him down on the couch.

  Ezhya’s male guard had done the same thing with the secretary.

  Shit. That wasn’t in the plan.

  Thayu’s reader was already on the secretary’s desk, turned on, next to the secretary’s computer. Ezhya’s female guard had another reader on top of a cabinet behind the desk.

  Then the door to Danziger’s office opened. “What is this noise, Miss—”

  Danziger’s hair looked thinner than when I had last seen him. His gaze went over my un-Earthly outfit and then from one black-clad guard to the next.

  “What is the meaning of this, Mr Wilson?” His face had gone pale. “I’ll call . . .” His gaze fixed on the unconscious guard on the couch.

  He drew himself up, even paler than before. “Mr Wilson, I demand—”

  “Listen, Mr President, this is a matter of utmost importance. I apologise for this—”

  “This is a hostile act. You are in the office of the acting president of Nations of Earth. Kindly take your personnel outside.”

  I said in a low voice, “Please, Mr President, this is a delicate situation. I’ve spoken to you about this before. It seems Nations of Earth has received a writ from Asto for the return of material I didn’t know existed.”

  He harrumphed. “We don’t succumb to bullying, Mr Wilson.” Damn, he was aware of the writ and its meaning. “Whatever you’re doing here, I will not give it to you.”

  “I am not asking that you give anything to me. I’m asking that you return this material to Asto officials, who have paid for it. I’m asking that you turn it over to the gamra community, so we can all determine what happened and what led to President Sirkonen’s assassination.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw that Ezhya was listening through a translator.

  Danziger licked his lips. “Let me just get this clear. What material are we talking about?”

  “A report by Elsi Schumacher of the Dawkins Institute. It’s extremely important that it be returned.” I glanced at Ezhya Palayi, wishing he weren’t here and weren’t listening. There was more I wanted to say, but I could only do so in vague terms. “I think Sirkonen knew something. It could provide proof of who his killers were.”

  “You know Dr Schumacher is dead?”

  “I do. I might be able to find out why.”r />
  Some of the lines on Danziger’s face smoothed out.

  “Mr Wilson, this information would interest me also. Special Services mentioned this datastick of yours.”

  “They should know what was on it. They took a copy. I want that copy.”

  “The copy was empty.”

  What?

  From the secretary’s desk, Thayu interjected, Not empty, copy-protected.

  Had she just established that by probing the office system for five minutes? How many things could this woman do?

  She added, without taking her eyes from her reader, There’s a sequence at the beginning of each document section that needs a sixteen-digit unlock code. There’s a file that matches up with it that zips the codes in. If you copy the document, only the main file transfers. You need a security key to copy the code file. If you don’t have that file, the document self-destructs when you try to read it. Oh, you can access it, but decoding is one hell of a job, especially since you never know what numerical and notation system the makers used. This one has all the marks of the Asto underground hackers; they use the Aghyrian notation; everything in multiples of five. It’s incredibly hard to crack.

  And Sirkonen had this? Material with the signature of Asto hackers?

  Only the file on the datastick we have.

  The original.

  The rest of this office system is mindnumbing in simplicity.

  Danziger glanced from me to Thayu, as if he was aware that some form of communication was taking place. “She says the data can’t be copied.”

  But hang on, back to Thayu, if it can’t be copied, then what’s the point of looking for other copies?

  We have the key file. We need an undamaged original that no one has tried to read.

  Ah. Stupid me. Back to Danziger. “We need to access Sirkonen’s personal workspace.”