Crescendo Of Fire

by Marc Stiegler

  Darren was still speaking, reluctantly it seemed to the Chief Advisor. “They continued to insist up through our final interrogation that they’d been hired by the Premier of the Russian Union. Through intermediaries, of course.”

  The Advisor shook his head. “That's obviously ridiculous. The Premier’s a personal friend of mine.”

  Darren grimaced. “Of course, sir. I know that, sir. Which is why, even though I'm now convinced Kelly thought he was telling the truth, we knew it was just a lie. That’s why we continued to interrogate them to the end.”

  The Chief Advisor was puzzled. Darren was once again speaking as if he were done with the interrogation. Odd. “Well, I want you to continue to question them.”

  Darren's shoulders slumped. “I’m afraid that will not be possible, sir. They did not survive the last round of questioning.”

  Ah. Mystery solved. “Oh, my.”

  Darren’s embarrassment was palpable; he’d never lost a prisoner this way before. “I assure you it won’t happen again. I was so certain they knew something, I…got a little carried away.”

  This was, of course, the risk of hiring people well-suited to the job. A necessary risk. The Advisor waved for him to continue.

  “We hypothesize Kurt and Kelly were hired by someone with the ability to set up a false trail to the Premier. Everything about the false trail is, in fact, essentially perfect. My entire team investigated the diligent efforts Kelly made to track down his true employer. We all believe he should have been successful in uncovering the frame-up.”

  “Aha. So the employer is someone of exceptional wealth, power, and competence.”

  “Yes, sir. Someone with assets comparable to those of the Premier himself.”

  The Chief Advisor looked thoughtful. “Though of course, it couldn’t actually be him.”

  Darren looked abjectly glum. He paused as some sort of desire wrenched his face, but in the end he meekly answered, “Of course, sir. That is,” the pain on Darren’s face grew more acute as if he were being tortured, “exactly the conclusion we drew.”

  As Darren departed, the Chief Advisor found himself staring, unseeing, through the window into the Rose Garden. Who had that kind of power? Wheeler, of course. But Wheeler wouldn’t send someone to kidnap his own people.

  Who else? The technologically sophisticated democracies had too much oversight. What about the Chinese President for Life? This would require some thought.

  As Colin ordered a Coke for her, Dash found herself drawn to a painting on the wall done in an oriental style. Except, as she scrutinized it, it was not a painting, exactly. The caption told her this was the Great Wave off Kanagawa, but it had been done in a sort of pointillist style…with emeralds and sapphires to render the wave, and diamonds and opals representing the white foam.

  Colin handed her a drink. “Ostentatious enough, is it not?”

  Dash just shook her head. “Beautiful as well. Breathtaking, even.” She took a fortifying sip of her Coke and Colin led her back into the crowd, scanning the faces.

  Jam interrupted him. “Colin. Good to see you.”

  Colin looked down and smiled. “Jam. Ping. You both look utterly lovely. Why aren’t you surrounded by a dozen young men?”

  Jam looked away. “I think they may be intimidated.”

  Ping disagreed. “Not half intimidated enough.” She nudged Jam and flicked her eyes at two men watching them. “We may have to demonstrate our skills. I’ll bet everyone would enjoy watching.”

  Dash frowned. “No beating up the guests. Not without good reason.”

  Colin smiled. “I’m glad I caught up with you two. Dash, you should hear this as well.”

  All three watched Colin expectantly.

  “Ping, Jam, you’ve been promoted. Ping, you’ll be the Security Chief for the Prometheus archipelago. Jam, you’re the Expedition Commander for the Fuxing.”

  Everyone looked at him in astonishment. Ping spoke. “Are you crazy? What happens the next time someone comes for Dash?”

  Colin waved the objection away. “Don’t fret. I’ve got her covered. We’re going to try a more subtle approach this time.”

  Ping scrunched her face. “What if we don’t want to go?”

  Dash touched Ping’s arm lightly. “I’m sure I’ll be ok. You two need to go where you are most needed. Surely being the Security Chief for a whole archipelago is both important, and a huge opportunity.”

  Colin added, “Particularly for an archipelago headed to Africa, with all those pirates.”

  Ping’s eyes glowed. “Pirates. I’ve always wanted to fight pirates.”

  Jam interrupted this reverie. “What exactly is an Expedition Commander?”

  Colin explained, “You’ll be going dirtside to seek out new life amidst old civilizations.” His eyes glinted. “Specifically, you’ll look for bright lives that need new opportunities, the people we need to join the Fuxing and make it a success. Lenora Thornhill will brief you in detail when you depart.”

  Jam considered this. “So, I’d be going into China? Wouldn’t it make more sense to send Ping? She can at least speak the language, and blend in.” She reflected on her words. “Ok, she couldn’t really blend in, but she’d at least know the customs.”

  Ping answered, “Jam, suppose we were sending an expedition to Waziristan, your home. You’d know the language and customs. Would you go yourself, or send me?”

  Jam’s eyes bulged. “I guess I see your point. If anyone recognized me, I’d be in deep trouble.” She focused her attention more sharply on Ping as she drew the inevitable conclusion. “Which means if anyone recognized you —”

  Colin interrupted. “Anyway, Lenora thinks Jam here would make an excellent choice. The mission is more important than is immediately obvious.”

  Dash’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I miss you both already.” They all stood in quiet sorrow.

  Ping broke the spell. “Group hug.” She grabbed them both. The background music switched again, to play Ground Control to Major Tom.

  Colin harrumphed. “I see Toni. Time to go.”

  Clutching the drink, Dash smiled as Colin made the intro.

  Toni reached out to shake her hand as Colin continued, “This is Captain Shatzki of the Israeli Air Force. Toni, this is Dr. Dyah Ambarawati.”

  “Call me Dash.”

  Toni nodded, her eyes alight with amusement. “Dash it is, then.”

  Dash grinned as she looked levelly at Toni, who was her height. “At last, someone I can look at eye-to-eye.” She looked around the room. Though Colin had managed to vanish already, plenty of people towered over her. “I always feel like I am surrounded by trees here on the BrainTrust.”

  “I get that. Any time it frustrates me, I just rent a laser tag copter and go shoot some of them down.” She shrugged. “I’m delighted to meet you. As you may already suspect, you’re the talk of the party.”

  “I would have thought the SpaceR launch was the talk of the party.”

  Toni acknowledged this. “Well, that too.” A mischievous gleam lit her face. “But you’re now known, at least among the old guard in this crowd, as ‘Dr. Dash who is not working on the Fountain of Youth.’” She cocked her head to the left. “You see Dawn Rainer holding court over there, right?”

  Dash looked at the ring of enraptured listeners, most of whom were geriatric, listening as the new queen of the Rainer media empire talked. Dash heard the word “Anne” and had a sinking feeling that Dawn was waxing poetic about how Dash’s therapy had cured Dawn’s mother of dementia…for a couple of hours before the therapy killed her.

  Meanwhile, Dash could see across the room that yet another group had gathered around Randa, all spellbound by whatever story she was telling. Randa stroked her face as she concluded, her eyes moist with tears, and her audience clapped softly in appreciation. Dash was quite certain she knew what story Randa was telling. Dash groaned. “We must tighten the confidentiality clause in the contracts with our patients,” she muttered.


  Toni laughed lightly, a warm and sympathetic sound of joy. “You’re far too late for that.” Toni nodded in another direction. This time Dash could see Lucas Khan across the room, looking back at her, smiling softly, now waving at her since she’d noticed him. He turned away. “Kahn’s friends are actually more of a problem for you, you know. He actually looks younger. No one who knows him can help being astonished when they see him for the first time, after what you did for him.”

  Dash felt a desperate need to change the subject. “So you’re a Captain in the Israeli Air Force. What brings you to the BrainTrust?”

  “Well, technically I’m a reservist at the moment. I’m pursuing a degree in aerospace engineering at BTU.”

  “How delightful. Are you thinking of getting a job with SpaceR? Because Matt—the CEO—has become something of a friend of mine. I could introduce you.”

  Toni shook with laughter, setting her emerald solitaire pendant to dancing. “Well, I’d be delighted to be introduced, but honestly, it’ll be a while before I can look for a job. Commitments to my country, and my father, you know.”

  Dash nodded. “Of course.” She had an idea. “Perhaps I should introduce you to Ping, a friend of mine who I am sure would enjoy hearing stories of flying fighter planes.”

  Toni looked into the distance and touched her cheek, much the way Jam touched the scar on her cheek. “Fighting is not always fun, I’m afraid.” And Dash knew she should first introduce Toni to Jam.

  Another thought crossed Dash’s mind. She giggled. “So, you know everybody here is Somebody, right? Are you really an Air Force Captain? Or do you have a secret identity? What is the nature of your…somebodiness?”

  Toni just shook her head. “I suspect I owe my presence to my father. He couldn’t be here, but he is certainly Somebody.”

  “So who—”

  A brilliant flash of light interrupted the conversation. Dash blinked several times before she could see again. Finally, she saw a third person had joined the conversation. “Dr. ‘This can be improved upon’ Dash, I presume?” the new person said a little too loudly. “I’m Lindsey Postrel, editor of Cogent News. You know how they say the BrainTrust is ‘The Last Stand of the Creative Human Spirit?’” Before Dash could even acknowledge the question, Lindsey took half a step closer and drove on. “Well, the Cogent is the last news source of the thinking human mind.” She raised her glass in a toast, perhaps to her own publication. “Liberated not Regulated.”

  She turned toward Dawn Rainer. Lindsey switched hands to hold up three fingers at Dawn. “Ha! Read between the lines, Dawn, you bitch.” She cleared her throat and took another half step closer to Dash. “So, I hear you fixed her mother, however temporarily.”

  Dash demurred, “I hope to do better in the future.”

  Toni, who had been watching as Lindsey pushed into Dash’s personal space, squeezed in front of Lindsey. “Back it up, bitch,” she snarled.

  Dash was shocked, but Lindsey took a step back, laughing. “So the Doc has yet another protector, I see. Captain Shatzki, nice to meet you too.” Lindsey’s whole posture relaxed as she slid her weight sideways onto her left hip. “Stay cool. Fact is, I’m one of the Doc’s protectors too. As is the entire Rainer clan, for that matter.” She surveyed the room, nodding periodically as she assessed faces. “Actually, her protectors may outnumber everyone else in the whole party.”

  Toni still had her hands balled into fists. “Who do you think you can protect her from?”

  Lindsey blinked in surprise. “Are you kidding? BreitTart News, and all the fake news generators of their ilk.”

  Dash gave her a puzzled expression. “Why would I care what they say about me? Why would they say anything at all about me in the first place?”

  Lindsey stared at her open-mouthed, speechless.

  Before Lindsey could articulate an answer, Ben wheeled his walker up to them. “Lindsey, delighted you could make it.” He looked around at Toni’s expression and guessed the reason. “Dash, sorry Lindsey’s harassing you.”

  Lindsey put a hand on her hip and pouted and Ben laughed. “Since you’re here and Dash is here, I think it’s photo time.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “As you wish.” She looked at Dash. “In addition to doing serious journalism with the Cogent, I write the occasional puff piece for Ben here. Actual news is currently out of style, so it’s hard to make a living with it. But that’ll change, I feel confident. Reality has a way of making itself felt, in the long run,” she finished dryly.

  Ben proceeded to have Toni drag people over for photos in no order Dash understood. Matt and Pak Colin and Bu Amanda were among the first, but others followed. Soon Dawn sent her photographer to join Lindsey and came herself, then Randa and Lucas, and eventually strangers were snapping pics of each other with Dash and Ping and Jam and telling her how interested they were in her research, though they didn’t seem at all interested in her explanations of it. She accepted seven digital business cards from people interested in becoming test subjects, eleven cards from people interested in investing, and four cards from people who wanted both, plus a card from the son of the man who had invented the kickswitch used in most apps. The son insisted on swapping contact info because he wanted to take her to dinner some time.

  Ping urged her to take him up on the offer. “Find a restaurant you couldn’t possibly afford, and let him pay for it,” she said, laughing.

  Dash’s head swirled. She had thought she was reasonably good with names, but the crowd threatened to swamp her mind.

  At one point Lindsey sidled up to her and said, as if reading her mind, “Don’t worry about it. Ben keeps a photo catalog of everyone who attends these things. You can look up anyone you need after the party.” Lindsey whirled away before Dash could thank her.

  Dash suspected she looked like a deer in headlights when an enormous bear of a man with thick eyebrows stepped up beside her. An oversized diamond adorned his tie clasp, and a matching one adorned the ring on his finger. “Dr. Dash! I know, I know, I should just call you Dash. Allow me to pretend that you and I are old friends so I can impress the crowd. My name is Dmitri Mikhailov.”

  He nodded toward the door from Ben’s cabin— Dash realized Bu Amanda had been right, this wasn’t a cabin, it was a mansion— out to the hallway.

  Dmitri continued, “I’m Ben’s neighbor, just across the hallway. If you’d like to escape from this madness, would you care to take a stroll, see my place? I assure you it is much quieter. And much nicer than Ben’s little place here, of course.”

  Dash hesitated, wondering if she should let her friends know she was leaving. But Jam sat on the second-floor balcony in deep conversation with Lucas Kahn’s youngest son. Judging by the handwaving, they were comparing Jam’s time parachute jumping in the commandos with David’s time skydiving. Dash thought that would be an interesting comparison. She knew Jam hated jumping from airplanes, while David, according to Lucas, loved soaring over the BrainTrust.

  Meanwhile, Ping was leaning back against the grand piano, one foot propped up on the bench. She held her long diamond necklace in the middle, and spun the bottom half in circles while regaling three young men with tall tales. Tales, judging from the way she twisted her body, of her time pretending to be a hooker.

  Dash couldn’t think of a single reason to interrupt them. She turned to Dmitri and nodded to the door herself. “I would be delighted to find someplace a little quieter for a little while.”

  The noise level dropped dramatically as they entered the hallway. It dropped to a hushed silence as they entered Dmitri’s lair.

  Dmitri exhaled heavily. “Much better. I can hear myself think again.”

  Dash agreed, “Me, too.” She paused as two hulking men appeared and bowed to her, and two others hung back.

  Dmitri explained, “Pay no attention to my assistants here,” he started pointing, “Alexei and Vasily here, and Gleb and Yefim in the back.”

  Alexei continued to stare at Dash with an inten
sity that made her uncomfortable.

  Dmitri glared at him as he spoke to Dash. “Let me refresh your drink here and show you around.” He leaned over and whispered something in Russia to Alexei. Dash didn’t know the language, but the tone sounded for all the world like a man telling his attack dog to “Stay.”

  The main salon was, Dash had to admit, quite sumptuous. As Dmitri refilled her glass of Coke, a work of art close to the balcony windows caught her attention. The caption stated it was a view of Mt. Vesuvius from Portici. But it was not a painting. Like the Great Wave in Ben’s dwelling, it was a pointillist rendition done in rare gems. Whereas Ben’s wave had water rendered in emeralds and sapphires, here the flames of the eruption were done in rubies and a yellow gem she did not recognize.

  Dmitri handed her the drink. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He pointed at the gems she didn’t know. “Yellow imperial topaz, once reserved exclusively for the Russian tsars. Quite rare.”

  “It’s beautiful.” One other thing Dash noticed: this picture was twice as large as the one in Ben’s place. Dash began to sense a theme, which Dmitri confirmed with his next words.

  “Ben Wilson’s pad is four thousand square feet. Mine is five thousand,” he noted with grand pride.

  Dash didn’t know what to say, so she moved to look out the window. Dmitri opened the sliding doors onto the balcony. “Let’s get a little fresh air in here.”

  Dash stepped out into the crisp air. “So Dmitri, what do you do for a living? Or is that not a proper question at a party like this?”

  Dmitri waved his hand majestically at the sea. “What party? The party’s back there. Here there are just the two of us. Ask anything.” He took a sip of his drink; some form of scotch or bourbon, Dash guessed. “I’m an industrialist, like half the people on the Haven. I specialize in munitions.” He guffawed. “You know, a baby killer. At least that’s what the American press says about me.”

  Dash felt a little sick. “And… are you?”