The Game Players of Meridien

by Robert I. Katz

  “But you’ve arrested him,” I said.

  “We have,” the Mayor said.

  The Captain shook his head. “Aside from his resemblance to a deceased individual, Charles Berlin has committed no crime of which we are aware.”

  The Mayor frowned. “There is a reasonable suspicion that crimes—many crimes—have been committed.” The Mayor turned to me. “We have been waiting to question him. Since you have direct knowledge of at least some of these crimes, I have decided that you will be given the opportunity to participate.”

  I thought about that for a long moment. Justin Gerhard would recognize my face. I could stay out of it and let somebody else interrogate him but I could tell when he was lying, which nobody else here could. I could try to keep my identity secret: I could wear a mask, but Captain Pendergast was not exactly my friend and there were already a good number of people in both Lake April and Wittburg who would be able to identify my face. So far as Gerhard and his employers knew, their action against Oliver Enterprises had been successful and they had left me—and Meridien—alone since then. This would change things. Unless the Avalon authorities were willing to permanently dispose of Justin Gerhard, which seemed unlikely, he and his employers would soon know that so far as I was concerned, this game was not over.

  I sighed. “Let’s do it,” I said.

  Chapter 17

  There are fifty-three nations on the Western Continent. As children, we learn at least a bit about all of them. Most were similar and not too interesting, but Gath was different. Gath was a large nation in the Southwest. They controlled their borders, outlawed both foreign and most private ownership of property and subscribed to a philosophy that resembled the Bushido of ancient Japan. They believed in personal honor, martial virtues and racial superiority. All of their young served in the military, both men and women, not too different from Meridien and most others but Gath took it to an extreme. The military raised them. They were taken from their parents at the age of six and put in barracks, twenty beds to a room. Everything was rationed. Promotion was the only way to get a place of their own and ultimately, the right to reproduce. Except for the Generals’ kids, of course. They got a free pass. Gath had been slowly expanding for over two centuries.

  “Mr. Berlin,” I said.

  He looked at me. He wasn’t a very good actor. I could see that he did recognize me. “You’re far from home. Why would a citizen of Gath be staying with a woman in Avalon?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but then the police have enough evidence to charge you with numerous crimes. It might go better for you if you cooperate.”

  His lips twitched at that. “I’ve committed no crimes in Avalon.” His aura pulsed and roiled around his head. He was lying.

  “The crimes that you may or may not have committed in Avalon are not actually my concern. Tell me about the crimes that you’ve committed in Aphelion.”

  I don’t know why that startled him but clearly it did. He looked down at the table in front of him and said nothing. I shook my head. “Mr. Berlin, or Mr. Gerhard rather, clearly you don’t recognize the gravity of your situation. You’re AWOL from the Avalon Commandos; you’re a member of a paramilitary hit team, which may not actually be a crime in itself but which adds to the fact that you’re not where you’re supposed to be. You participated in arson at my warehouse, you are at least an accessory after the fact to an attempted assault on my person and you conspired with Eric Strauss to break into my rooms, presumably to kill me.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble, Mr. Gerhard. Now, tell me, are your papers from Gath real, or are they fake?”

  He raised his head. “They’re real.” True, I thought. That was unfortunate. I would rather they be fake. Gath was not a nation that anybody wished to confront.

  “Is your team still in Gath?”

  “Most of them. I’m on leave.”

  Also, true. Good to know.

  “And what is your next assignment?”

  “I don’t know yet. I go where they tell me.”

  “Ah, so you’re just a soldier, carrying out the orders of your commanding officers?”

  He nodded. “Yes. That’s what soldiers do.”

  “Who is Winston Smith?”

  “No idea,” he said. This was not exactly true but neither was it exactly false.

  “You must have some idea.”

  He shrugged. “A civilian. We were instructed to work with him.” He hesitated. “I don’t think he’s from Gath.”

  “Why not?”

  “Some things he said, about ‘violence being against his nature.’ That’s not something they would say in Gath. And there was a comment once about ‘having to rough it in a cultural backwater’. He’s arrogant.”

  I understood arrogance and it didn’t impress me. Most of my colleagues and friends were arrogant. It goes along with success at playing the game. I wondered briefly how I had managed to stay so humble. “Gath is not the most cosmopolitan nation. Quite the opposite,” I said.

  “They pay well.”

  I leaned forward. “Why do they pay well?”

  Gerhard barely smiled. “They respect men who are good with weapons. They recruit from all over.”

  Gath could be a real problem, I thought. The nation of Gath seemed determined to play above its weight class. “Why me?” I asked.

  “Huh?” He didn’t seem to understand the question.

  “I’m the owner of a growing corporation but there are hundreds of others just like me, all over the world. Why was I targeted?”

  A sly smile crept over Gerhard’s face. “That’s exactly who they target. You’re not the only one. Not at all.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Dozens.” Gerhard shrugged.

  Guild Master Anderson had mentioned six in Meridien and thirty-five in all. Apparently, his information was out of date. “Tell me, how does it work?”

  “Usually, they get themselves a front man, give him the resources that he needs and just take over. It’s not complicated.”

  “Graham Reid,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “How many men from Avalon have been recruited by Gath?”

  “I know of a dozen or so.”

  “How many from Meridien?”

  “I don’t know any from Meridien.”

  “What about Reid?”

  “Reid hasn’t been recruited. Reid has been bought.”

  Reid might not regard it in quite the same way, I thought. From the Meridien point of view, Graham Reid had done nothing illegal. He had taken advantage of his opportunities and was playing the game, like all the rest of us. Though, I couldn’t help thinking, with a bit less subtlety than most.

  I sat back, considering what I had been told. “Thank you, Mr. Gerhard, “I said. “I have no more questions for you at this time.”

  He shrugged. The Mayor and Captain Pendergast were both watching and listening to this interview. The Mayor would have more questions, and so would Captain Pendergast, and once Justin Gerhard was turned over to the military authorities, he would vanish into a black hole of military bureaucracy. Or so I hoped. In any case, Justin Gerhard was no longer my problem.

  Jennifer arrived back the next day. Her visit home had been pleasant but after a couple of days, she had grown bored. “No girlfriends to gossip with?” I teased. “No old boyfriends to torture with the thought that they lost you?”

  She gave a small, ironic laugh. “My girlfriends are mostly gone. The only one who stayed in Octavia is married with two little kids. I was glad to see her but we don’t have much in common anymore.”

  “How about the old boyfriends?”

  She shrugged, smiled and ignored the question. “So, what did you do while I was gone?”

  “Nothing much. I stayed out of trouble.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Good to know.”

  We were scheduled to leave the next morning but that night, a m
an named Carl Richardson gave me a call, introduced himself as a liaison from the Avalon Secretary of State, and asked to drop by. He arrived an hour later, elderly but still fit, grey haired and dignified, the perfect stereotype of a diplomat. We sat down and I offered him something to drink, which he declined.

  “First of all,” he said, “my government is very much disturbed by what appears to be the actions of the government of Gath. They have infiltrated our military in an unacceptable fashion and would seem to be implicated in numerous crimes. We thank you for helping to bring this conspiracy to light.” He sat back, drew a deep sigh and frowned. “We’re a democracy. Democracies are constrained by the will of the people. A government that does not have public support will not survive for very long. Your Guild council has fewer limitations.” He handed me a sealed envelope. “We’ve already been in touch with your Guild Master. This letter is a formal acknowledgement of our talks.

  “The Avalon Commandos are a small organization. Our military is adequate to its tasks but is not among the strongest. We’ve had no need for a strong military in over a century. We are, however, a prosperous nation. Gath would seem to have ambitions that extend far beyond its own borders. We will resist those ambitions as best we can.”

  “Are you offering a military alliance?” Not much to offer, I thought, if their military was as weak as it appeared.

  “Not exactly, though if things go badly, such an arrangement may become necessary in the future. No, at the moment we are offering promises of allegiance, an offer to share intelligence and conditional monetary support for whatever group action is decided upon.” He leaned forward and suddenly looked grim. “We need information most of all. How far has Gath gone in carrying out their ambitions? How much of the world do they already own?” He shrugged. “We need to know. We need to find out. Please deliver this letter to your government.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He rose to his feet, shook my hand and left. I placed the letter in my pocket and continued to pack.

  Chapter 18

  Below the airship, Avalon blended seamlessly into the nation of Bretagne, which blended into the Duchy of Severine and then into the Cuomo Protectorate, all of them rolling hills, neatly laid out fields and small, prosperous towns. The eastern portion of the continent between Avalon and Meridien was mostly rich farmland, temperate and fertile, settled for thousands of years. Our airship stopped every few hours, discharging passengers and picking up new ones, loading and unloading freight.

  Jennifer and I had an outside suite with a small, railed balcony. The ship was in Lodi, the capital city of Cuomo and we were sitting on deck chairs, sharing a bottle of wine and watching as travelers formed an orderly queue on the ramp, checking in with the purser before boarding the ship. Three men caught my eye. They were all young and well-built. They carried duffel bags that looked like they might have been military issue. What’s more, they were not obviously together, but I could see, even from here, that they were aware of each other.

  Jennifer sighed. I sipped my drink. “And this trip was going so well,” she said.

  “What can you do?” I said, and cracked a cube of ice between my teeth. “Life is unfair.”

  “Only three,” she said. “I’m insulted. Aren’t you insulted?”

  I shrugged. “Just a little.” I grinned. “You shouldn’t feel insulted. I doubt they even know about you. I’m sure they think that three will be enough to take care of me.”

  She shook her head, looking pensive, then she sighed, peered into her glass and put it down on the small table sitting between our two chairs. “No more wine,” she said. “Until this is over.”

  The ship had a decent galley, nothing fancy but good food and an excellent bar. There were two seatings for dinner. We went for the early seating and two of the three were there, sitting by themselves at separate tables. They ignored us. Our food arrived. We ate half of it, then I got up and wandered over to the bar, ordered a brandy and brought it back to the table, taking a meandering course around the room, sampling the air.

  I sat down and gave Jennifer a smile. “Eric Strauss,” I said.

  She looked puzzled. “Isn’t he in jail?”

  “I certainly hope so, though I wouldn’t bet that he’ll stay there. No, I didn’t mean that one of them is Strauss. I meant that Strauss sent them.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Strauss has a collection of antique pipes in his office, and leather chairs. The scents are rather distinctive. They’ve both been there.”

  “Ah,” she smiled. “Good to know.”

  We finished dinner and walked back to our suite, holding hands. As soon as the door opened, I could tell: the faint scent of leather and pipe tobacco. I stopped, surveying the room. I sniffed. Nothing appeared disturbed. I held a finger up to my lips. Jennifer nodded. He had gone through each drawer in the dresser, the night tables, even the shelves in the bathroom. He had felt under the couch and the chair cushions. He was good. Everything had been replaced, exactly where it had been. He had looked at the letter from the Avalon authorities to the Guild Council and put it back in its envelope. If not for my enhanced senses, we would have had no idea he had been there.

  Finally, under the edge of the desk, I found it, a small listening device taped to the wood. I sighed. “Ready for bed?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I want to finish my book. The heroine has just escaped from the King’s evil advisor and she’s about to rescue the Prince. He’s trapped in a dungeon that’s slowly filling with water.”

  “Sounds exciting. Let’s hope the Prince lives through his ordeal. Meanwhile, I’m still a little restless. I think I’ll go for a stroll around the upper deck.”

  She smiled at me, her eyes gleeful. “Have fun,” she said. “I’ll stay right here.”

  I opened the door and we both stepped through it, out into the hallway.

  The airship was about one hundred meters long by thirty meters wide, with five decks. It was a standard design. The bottom deck contained the engine rooms, cargo bay, storage pods and crew quarters. The next two were passenger decks, divided into twenty-five moderate sized staterooms and two larger suites on each side of the ship. The fourth deck contained ten even larger suites toward the ship’s bow, with the aft portion separated into dining room, gymnasium, library and computer room with multiple work stations for those passengers who needed to plug into the web with something larger and more functional than their own interface. The fifth deck contained a swimming pool, running track, observation platform and central garden divided into a maze, for those who liked to wander around, look at growing things and feel grass under their feet.

  It was a pleasant and convenient way to travel. Not fast, of course, not compared to a hyperloop, but certainly pleasant, even luxurious.

  I went first. The stars were bright tonight. Two families clustered against the rail on the observation platform. One father pointed out the nearest stars to a small boy, who looked bored. I took a brief trot around the track and when I looked behind, Jennifer was no longer there. I smiled.

  One tall, young man dressed in a warm-up suit came up the stairs and began to jog. A few minutes later, a second appeared. I kept my pace slow and both of them almost imperceptibly began to catch up. One old lady, carrying small weights, walked around the outside of the track. One middle-aged man, slightly paunchy but with broad shoulders, probably a former athlete trying to fight against the ravages of time, grimly ran.

  Too public, I thought, for me, if not for my erstwhile attackers.

  I exited the track and took a left turn into the gardens, then went around a corner into the maze, sped up, turned again, backtracked about twenty yards, then crouched behind a high hedge.

  They weren’t far behind me, and they were no longer pretending to be out for a quiet jog. They thought we were alone. No doubt, they liked the odds and considered me easy prey. I wondered where the third one might be but th
e breeze shifted then and I could tell by the scent in the air that he was somewhere in the gardens to my right, presumably lying in wait. Well, two could play that game, I thought, as I crouched behind my hedge, waiting.

  The two came around the corner. They wore night vision goggles and each held a knife in their right fist.

  I didn’t need goggles. I could see just fine in the dim light cast by Illyria’s one small moon. I grinned. They both had knives but I had something better.

  “Where did he go?” one of them whispered.

  The other presumably had some experience tracking. He knelt and examined the grass. “That way,” he said, and pointed down the trail where I had run before tracing my steps back. He rose to his feet and I stepped out from behind my hedge, lifted both hands and thumbed the triggers on two small, air-powered devices. With tiny puffs, two metal flechettes flew through the air and embedded themselves in my attackers sides. Each flechette contained a neurotoxin that would render their victims almost completely helpless, but the neurotoxin took at least a minute to work, still time enough to cause me some damage, if they worked fast. No matter. Each flechette trailed a thin, almost invisible wire behind it. I sent twelve-hundred joules of current down each wire and my attackers cried out and dropped to the grass, convulsing.

  I straightened. Where was the third one? If he was listening, then he must have heard the cries. He should be here, but no…he hadn’t moved. I could tell. I heard a rustle through the bushes, then Jennifer glided along the path. She stopped when she saw me. She also held a knife, with a black, matte blade. There was blood on it. I wrinkled my nose at the scent. “Having fun?” she asked.

  “Apparently, not as much as you.”

  “Yeah,” she said, “brings back memories.” She grinned. “I haven’t had this much fun in years.”