Luck had been with her the day before when the same aircar she had seen at the ‘port pulled up outside the café where she had stopped for dinner. For a moment, panic filled her. Despite all her precautions, had the Midlothian found her and come to kill her? Her hand under her jacket and moved to the small of her back and the pistol secured there. Part of her wanted to get up and make her escape but she remained at her table. She kept her head down, canting her eyes to the side to watch as the man was shown to a table across the room.
Somehow, she managed to finish her dinner. After paying her bill, she left the café. Tempting as it had been to look back to see if he watched her departure, she had not. Instead, she walked through the café and out the door. There she paused and looked around, hoping she presented the image of a woman deciding between going home or going out on the town. A few moments later, she climbed into a cab and hoped anyone watching would think her gone for the evening.
Instead, she had gotten out of the cab a few blocks from the café and walked back, keeping to the shadows. Then, as now, she waited, looking for an opportunity to strike. It had not come, but it had given her a waiter to question once the man left and the driver of the aircar that had taken him away from the diner later. Neither would be missed until it was too late – for Martyn Baudin and Kael Paulus.
She stepped out of the shadows, watching as the men walked down the opposite side of the street. Late as it was, pedestrians filled the area as last call sounded in local bars and restaurants. To anyone glancing in her direction, she was merely another one of many who enjoyed one last drink before calling it a day. Even if Paulus looked directly at her, he would not recognize her. She had taken great care to alter her appearance. Gone was the businesswoman he knew. Gone was the tech from the spaceport. Tonight she was an off-worlder looking for a good time.
If everything went as planned, that was exactly what she would have.
Three block later, she crossed the street, keeping her eye on her prey and a group of people she guessed were university students between them. Laughing as one of the students told an off-colored joke, she moved closer to them, joining them. None of them seemed to notice the addition to their group. Instead, one of them passed her a flask and told her to help herself. As he did, Baudin glanced back. Whether he sensed something or simply wanted to check out the commotion, Moreau did not know. To keep from drawing attention to herself, she raised the flask to her lips, as if drinking. Then, she handed it back to the young man who had offered it and smiled provocatively at him.
“Let’s get away from here, baby.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and tried to pull her close.
“Sounds lovely but I have other plans.” She glanced at him, letting him see she meant it, and then she stepped away. When she looked back up the street, she bit back a curse. In just a few short moments, both Paulus and Baudin had disappeared.
Damn it!
She had to stay calm. There weren’t many places they could have gone, not at this hour of the night. Trying not to let her worry show, she stepped away from the students as they drifted across the street in the direction of an after-hours club. That left her exposed, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered beyond once again locating her targets. If she failed, she might as well sign her own death warrant.
“Sloppy, Ms. Moreau, very sloppy,” a voice said from behind her a few minutes later. “I expected better from you.”
For a moment, she considered denying her identity. Just as quickly she knew how foolish that would be. What little she knew of Martyn Baudin, he was just as thorough and just as merciless as was she. If she tried denying who she was, he might kill her out of hand. If she could keep him talking, she might have a chance, small though it might be, of surviving the night.
The fact he had not killed her already meant he wanted something from her. But what?
More importantly, could she turn that to her advantage?
Still behind her, he nudged her toward the alley to her right. Her heart beat a little faster as she complied with the silent order. The alley presented a much better venue to kill her and escape undetected than the street did. Could that be why he had not struck right away?
“I guess I have you to thank for this little set-up, Paulus.” Somehow, none of her nerves or anger showed in her voice as she greeted the man. “Did he tell you he warned me of your arrival?” He would pay for setting her up.
“No, but it doesn’t surprise me. We’ve known for a very long time that he was one of the weak links in the chain here,” the man said. He moved to the side, letting her see him and the gun he had aimed at her mid-section. “This won’t take long and I promise to make it painless if you answer my questions.”
“And if you me believe me.” She concluded for him.
“True.” He tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Consider it professional courtesy.”
Professional courtesy!
“What do you want?”
“We’ll start with something I’m sure you won’t mind telling me. Other than Paulus breaking protocol and telling you of my imminent arrival, has he jeopardized our interests here before?”
Moreau smiled, satisfaction filling her even as Paulus looked from Baudin to her and back again in growing concern. The fool! Had he really believed when Watchman decided it was time to clean house that he would not be included? Baudin was right about one thing. She had absolutely no problem answering his question.
“He has.” She wanted to laugh to see fear suffuse Paulus’ face. It wouldn’t surprise her if he pissed his pants before long. “As you have seen for yourself, he has a weakness for wine and, just in case he was on good behavior tonight, his tongue gets loose when he talks. Add in his weakness for young men and pillow talk and, well, I think you see the potential problem.”
“I see. Not unexpected.” Baudin seemed to think for a moment before continuing. “If you want a chance to survive this encounter, Moreau, you will do as I say without hesitation and without question.”
She nodded. She knew he was toying with her, much as she would if their positions were reversed. Still, if there was a chance . . . .
“While your disguise is quite effective, you need to rid yourself of it – now.”
Without a word, she reached up and removed her wig. A moment later, she ran her fingers through her hair. Then she took the cloth Baudin tossed to her. Using it, she wiped away the makeup that had darkened her skin. With that done, she removed the prosthetics that had altered the shape of her jaw and nose. In less than five minutes, she looked much as she did when in the privacy of her own home.
“Very good, but that’s not all.” He motioned at her hands.
Her mouth hardened into a line. When he continued to wait, she sighed and scrubbed her hands together. It did not take long to remove the micro-thin prosthetics that had given her new fingerprints. Once done, she waited, wondering what else he had in mind.
“Watchman told me you were smart.”
He shifted the gun to his left hand. He reached inside his jacket with his right hand and pulled a knife. With a deft flick of the wrist, he gently tossed the knife in her direction. She reached and caught the knife by the hilt, her eyes never leaving his.
“Good. You aren’t foolish enough to think you could get to me with that blade before I cut you down.”
“So why give it to me?”
“You are going to deal with a mutual problem for me, Ms. Moreau. Kill him.” He nodded to Paulus.
“No!”
His eyes wide, sweat beading on his upper lip, he stepped toward Baudin. One hand reached out, as if he was about to plead his case. Before he could, Moreau acted. She closed the distance between them and drove the blade deep into his chest. The blade slid between his ribs, into his heart. She twisted her wrist, doing her best to ensure the kill. As she stepped back, the knife still in Paulus’ chest, the man fell to the ground. A detached part of her mind approved of the kill. She had struck true and he would bleed out i
n seconds.
“Remove the knife,” Baudin ordered.
For a moment, she stared at him in disbelief. Then, seeing how his grip tightened on his gun, she bent and reached for the hilt. Paulus gave a soft sigh, his last breath leaving his body, as she pulled the blade free. Blood dripped from it as she turned to face Baudin.
“Now, Ms. Moreau, you need to cut yourself and make sure plenty of your blood gets on our poor friend there.”
She bared her teeth and hissed out a breath. Damn him! Even if he let her live, he had signed her death warrant. He was making her do the one thing no professional assassin ever wanted to do: leave DNA at the scene. Worse, it would be on the victim’s body. Once the authorities discovered Paulus, it would not take long for them to identify her.
But what choice did she have? Baudin stood too far away for her to make a try for him with the knife. His gun would cut her down before she could close the distance between them. At least if she did as he said, she had a chance of living out the day, even if it was a very small chance.
She winced slightly as she dragged the edge of the knife across her palm. Blood welled up along the cut, a steady flow she knew would bleed freely until she applied pressure. Knowing he watched her, she stood over the body. Then she knelt and let her blood mix with Paulus’. At Baudin’s order, she made sure some of her blood dripped to the ground nearby. Then she stood and turned, wondering what came next and knowing what she would do in Baudin’s place.
“Kick the blade over here,” he said. When she did as instructed, he bent to retrieve the knife. “It really is too bad you let her personal feelings get in way of doing the job, Ms. Moreau. Mr. Watchman was very disappointed to realize you had let him down.” The gun once more rested in his right hand.
“You are both wrong, not that I expect you to believe me.”
“No, and I respect the fact you aren’t trying to lie your way out of it.” He once again inclined his head slightly. “I will give you the choice of how you die. Knife or gun?”
She drew a deep breath. The moment she answered, she would be dead. She knew it just as she knew he would shoot her without a second thought if she tried to flee. The best she could do was try to lure him in close enough to strike out. If she was lucky and if she managed to land at least a stunning blow, she might get away. For how long didn’t matter. If she managed to give him the slip, she had a chance of living long enough to get off-planet. Then she could worry about what her next move should be.
That meant she had to choose the knife. She opened her mouth to tell him only to have her words drowned out as sirens suddenly filled the air. Startled, Baudin glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the street. Without hesitating, Moreau acted. She launched herself at him. Her right forearm connected with his jaw, driving his head back. She followed up with two quick punches to the solar plexus. As he staggered back, stunned and winded, she ran. She ran as fast as she could, sliding around the corner of the alley. A shot sounded and she staggered, pain radiating from her side as a dart tore through it. She took the next corner and, seeing a waiting taxi, offered up a prayer of thanks. Then she dove inside, ordering the driver to get her away from there.
She might even let him live. After all, he had helped her get away from Baudin.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“TALK TO ME, PEOPLE,” Miranda Tremayne said as she strode onto the flag bridge, Captain Monroe on her heels. As she did, she quickly motioned for the crew to remain where they were. This was no time for protocol.
“Ma’am, we were running a test of the long range scanners when we picked up a signal from the new recon platforms,” her flag captain, Lars Vilhjalmsson, replied. She looked at his image on the holo screen and nodded. With the fleet at alert status, Vilhjalmsson was on the main bridge. He had command of the ship while the welfare of the Fleet fell to her.
“Do we have an analysis of the signal yet, Lars?” She took her place in her command chair and made an automatic check of her those manning the flag bridge. Like their counterparts on the main bridge, they were busy checking all their readings and planning for possible contingencies.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m feeding it to your terminal now.”
Tremayne closely watched as the data rolled across her screen. She sensed more than saw Montgomery doing the same. Without a word, she input the command to bring the latest images from the recon platforms onto the holo screen. She looked from them to the data analysis and back.
“Has CIC run this against the data we have on the invasion of the Cassius System?”
“They are running it now, Admiral,” Vilhjalmsson said. He turned away from the pick-up for a moment and spoke to someone off-screen. “Preliminary guess is this is the same element that attacked the system.”
“Now ID squawks. Right?”
“That is correct, Admiral.”
“All right. My guess is they don’t want us to know they are there. That tells me two things. The most important, at least right now, is that they don’t know about the new platforms. If they did, they wouldn’t have crossed the system boundary. The second is more problematic. If the prelim analysis is correct, this is the same force that attacked Cassius Prime. We know they went in under the guise of a merchant fleet. Based on what we know so far, we have to assume that’s not their plan this time. So, are they here to invade or are they here to probe our defenses or are they doing their own recon of the system before the real attack?”
“All good questions, Ma’am, ones I wish we had the answer to.”
“I know, Lars.” She thought for a moment, weighing the options. “Lieutenant Avery, tight beam message back to back to FleetCom. Relay all the data retrieved so far along with my recommendation that they dispatch First Fleet immediately. We’ll hold position until we receive further orders, unless the current status changes,” she ordered, her eyes never leaving the display. “Then set up a conference with all ship’s commanders and their executive officers via link. I want it done within the next ten minutes. In the meantime, take the fleet to battle stations. This is not a drill.
“Captain Monroe, Captain Vilhjalmsson, until we confirm the identity of those ships, we are operating under the assumption they are what they appear to be – the Callusian taskforce that attacked the Cassius System. Captain Monroe, I want you in CIC,” she continued, thinking hard. “Captain Vilhjalmsson, get the backup command staff to the auxiliary bridge. We are going to do this by the book until we stand relieved or receive other orders.”
“Aye, Ma’am,” they answered in unison.
“Comms, send for Colonel Shaw and Major Laboe. I want them in the ready room before the briefing.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
“Lieutenant Gideon, the flag bridge is yours. I’ll be in the ready room.”
“Aye, Admiral. I have the flag bridge,” the man said and moved to take her place.
“Admiral, I am sending orders to Major Laboe to send a detail to both the flag bridge as well as the ship’s bridge,” Montgomery said softly.
“Agreed.” Tremayne knew better than to argue. Montgomery’s duty just then was to make sure security for her admiral was in place. “Link into the conference as soon as you’re set up in CIC, Justin.”
Monroe braced quickly to attention and then left the flag bridge. As he did, Tremayne paused and once again studied the tactical display. At least the ships did not appear to be in any hurry coming further in-system. She would take that as good news and hope it meant they had no intention of coming any closer. The cynic in her said she was being overly optimistic. It was more likely the ships were waiting for someone or something. Tremayne hoped she heard from FleetCom before that happened.
* * *
“Loco, report!” Ash said as she stepped into the staging area reserved for the Devil Dogs. Then, seeing the Marines of FirstDivSecBat Alpha Company dropping what they were doing to brace to attention, she waved them off.
“The alert has gone fleet-wide. Company commanders have reported in
and are awaiting orders,” Talbot replied as he pushed through a group of Marines.
Aren’t we all?
“All I can tell you is this is not a drill or sim. So we are going to play it safe until the Admiral tells us differently. Finish gearing up and get to your stations. I want the LACs ready to launch soonest. Check and double check comms and weapons.”
“You heard Angel!” Talbot lifted his voice to be heard throughout the staging area. “Gets your asses in gear, Devil Dogs.”
“Speaking of gear?” she prompted.
“Over here, Angel,” Tank said and motioned to the battered footlocker at his side.
She nodded and crossed to the footlocker. It had been with her during the last war. She would never forget the emotions that had washed over her when the Devil Dogs presented it back to her when she rejoined them after her conviction had been vacated. That, more than almost anything else, had reassured her she would not have to go back to the penal colony. Now it was a reminder to be sure she never considered, not for a moment, turning into the sort of officer Sorkowski and O’Brien had been.
The moment she had the footlocker open, Talbot was at her side. Already in the light armor most of the Devil Dogs wore for space battles, he helped lay out her gear, checking it as he did. Without a second thought, she kicked out of her boots and stripped down to tank and underwear. Modesty might dictate finding somewhere private to take care of getting ready to pull on the armor but that had been drummed out of all of them long ago. Battle conditions didn’t care if you were male or female.
She quickly pulled on the bodysuit with its built-in monitors and plumbing. As she did, she shook her head. Modesty might not have a place on the battlefield – or in battle prep – but Talbot and several others had formed a human wall around her, giving her privacy to take care of the more intimate parts of gearing up.
“Colonel, the Admiral requests your presence in her ready room ASAP,” Connery reported as Ash secured the last seal of her armor.
“Confirm receipt of the message and respond that I will be there in five.” She accepted the first of her weapons, a pulser, from Talbot and slid it into the holster at her right thigh. Then she slid matching knives into sheaths at her calves. Two more went into her boots. She slung her battle rifle across her back and nodded as Talbot took possession of her sniper rifle, the newest model available and a present from the company to her at her last birthday.
Honor from Ashes (Honor and Duty Book 3) Page 16
