In retrospect, the first symptom of the President’s geriatric trouble had been mental. He’d come up with increasingly outrageous conspiracy theories and invented ever more wildly ridiculous facts on the fly. No one realized it was a problem, however, since this was indistinguishable from his usual behavior.
But after his physical condition started deteriorating as well, his beliefs became so bizarre even BreitTart no longer defended them. That was when the guy carrying the nuclear football quietly took the gold card from the President and handed it to the Chief Advisor.
Misty’s six-inch heels clicked as she came around to confront him, still wearing her work clothes. The Chief Advisor carefully kept his eyes focused on her face. He’d learned long ago that if he let his eyes wander, he could no longer understand what she was saying.
She jutted out a hip and put her hand on it. “He’s up.” She looked past him and smiled mischievously. “In more ways than one.” A pause. “Ok, now he’s actually standing up. And going down.” Another wicked gleam entered her eyes. “Oh, wait, that’s what I’ll be doing later.”
The Chief Advisor put his hand up to rub his temples. In another ironic twist, he suspected Misty enjoyed her job more than the Chief Advisor enjoyed his. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
As the ladies got dressed, the President leaned over his walker and followed his guides out to the podium. They set up the framework that would invisibly hold him upright as he spoke. The Chief Advisor grabbed his teleprompter remote control and headed to his usual location, off to the side of the stage but still visible to the President from the corner of his eye.
Once they had the President positioned and locked in, they opened the doors to let in the reporters. They came to hear the speech, of course, but more importantly, they came to see that the President was still alive and going strong.
The President began speaking, with remarkable vitality for someone so deathly weakened by age and by the acute attention deficit disorder that had plagued him even before he became President.
The Chief Advisor listened to the speech with only half an ear. He had stopped paying attention to the main body of the speech years ago, just making sure there were enough superlatives: “Greatest in history,” “Most magnificent ever,” “absolutely wonderful,” and so on.
They came to the critical part of the speech, the part where the President would go off-script. The President’s followers always went wild for this part. The off-script section was the key to letting everyone know that the President was still their man, that he had not yet bowed to the forces of the deep state. Since the off-script part was so important, it was the most carefully scripted part of the whole presentation.
For a moment near the end of the off-script segment, the President hesitated. It looked for a moment like he would go off the off-script. The Chief Advisor raised his remote control and pressed the button.
The teleprompter had been customized just for the President. In addition to the words rolling by, the display showed an image of the people who would be entertaining the President after the speech concluded. Normally it showed the three ladies.
When the Chief Advisor pressed the button, the image changed. The new image that came into sharp focus reminded the President that if he behaved badly, he would not be entertained by the ladies, but rather by Darren.
The President’s eyes bulged. After another hesitation, he returned to the main script.
A short while later it was over. The Chief Advisor exhaled slowly. The ladies would now entertain the President till he was exhausted, nearly comatose. The doctor would take it from there.
Someday, the doctor would wind up declaring the President clinically deceased. The Chief Advisor planned to call in the ladies and give them a last shot. He would see if they could actually raise the dead. He figured they had one chance in three.
Another monthly speech had gone off without a hitch. But the whole process reminded the Advisor that such a smooth operation could not run forever. The President needed rejuvenation, dammit! If the bastard had the gracelessness to die, the country would explode, the same way that Kestrel rocket had exploded so recently.
Now the Kestrels were out on the damn BrainTrust with the damn doctor who held the damn secret to fixing the damn President. He had to grab the doctor. Just sending the Seals hadn’t been enough. To succeed, the next time the Seals would need a really good diversion. Something bigger and better than an idiotic eco-terrorist with a dinky backpack bomb.
And then he understood what to do, and how to do it. He almost melted into his chair with relief when he got back to his office. He’d have Trixie bring in some champagne so the two of them could celebrate. Maybe he’d even celebrate with his wife later as well. Of course, he couldn’t really tell either of the women what they were celebrating, namely—
The gigantic diversion he needed could be easily arranged.
Joshua watched in glum amazement as the participants in the latest fracas filed into his room. He started by examining the victims. As he had come to expect in these cases, the victims looked mostly unharmed. As he had also come to expect, the assailants looked thoroughly beaten and battered. He turned his attention to the young woman wearing a white lab coat. “Dash. It’s good to see you again. But perhaps we should arrange to meet under other circumstances in the future.”
Dash gave him a sunny smile. “It is my pleasure to see you, Mediator Joshua. I was so happy when I heard that you would once again take charge of the proceedings.”
Joshua kept a smile fixed on his face as he turned to the next woman facing him. “Amanda. Let me guess. The Chairman of the Board for the BrainTrust Consortium considers this case sufficiently important to the archipelago as a whole that she felt obligated to take time from her busy schedule to act once more as a friend of the mediation.”
Amanda smiled as warmly as Dash had a moment earlier. “There are…complications here. Colin thought I might help.”
Joshua struggled to maintain his fixed smile. “’Complications.’” If Amanda thought there were complications, he was in deep trouble. And if Colin thought there were complications… but then, he’d suspected that already. This can’t be real, he reminded himself. But he found himself unconvincing.
Next, he turned to the tall young woman standing next to Dash. “Ms. Dixon, I presume?”
Dash interrupted, “Doctor Dixon would be more appropriate.”
Ms./Dr. Dixon stared at Dash. “Well, not quite yet.”
Dash gave her a big grin. “I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to tell you. Today seems like a good day.”
Dr. Dixon looked dazed, then she too smiled brightly. “Dr. Dixon. It does sound good, doesn’t it?” She looked back at Joshua. “Regardless, please call me Chance. Dash has been telling me great stories about you. Nice to meet you, Your Honor.”
He was facing too many bright smiles not to feel warmed, so he smiled back. “I’m not a judge, Dr. Dixon. Chance. Call me Mediator Joshua during the proceedings, please.”
He turned to the next woman facing him. “And you must be Toni Shatzki, the Good Samaritan.”
Toni grimaced. “Well, I helped Dash out as best I could. Of course, Ted actually got her off the ship.”
Having read all the accounts of the kidnapping by all the participants, Joshua glanced over at the assailants, where one of them sported a thick pad where he had once had an eyeball. A result, he remembered, of Toni’s rather vigorous effort to help Dash as best she could. Joshua responded in a dry tone, “Dash always seems to have remarkably helpful friends. I confess I had a few qualms when Ping and Jam left. I guess I’m pleased to have my fears allayed. I guess.” He raised an eyebrow at Amanda.
Amanda nodded. “Colin.”
“Of course.” Next, he turned to the alleged assailants. He frowned. “Dmitri Mikhailov. I’m astonished to find you here. When I first arrived, I confess I expected to find you at the heart of an endless stream of vicious contract disputes. When
that didn’t happen, I was delighted. Yet now here you are, in the center of a dispute much more distasteful than anything in contract law. What do you have to say in your defense?”
“First, Your Honor, I wanted to make it clear that I undertook this kidnapping attempt on my own, and the Premier of the Russian Union had nothing to do with it.” Dmitri stared straight ahead, not even raising his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Once again Joshua had to freeze the expression on his face to avoid displaying his astonishment. He’d heard people confess before, but none so carefully articulated in protecting another person who wasn’t even a part of the dispute. He suspected he’d just heard the beginning of Amanda’s complications. “I, ah, will take that into account in my final determinations.” He wasn’t exactly sure how he would take it into account, but he’d burn that bridge when he came to it. One more question before moving on to the next assailant. “There’s no mention in any of the accounts of this incident of you getting physically harmed. You look fine. Do you have any injuries to declare?”
As usual, when a matter of medical status came up, Dash spoke first. “He is unharmed.” She pursed her lips. “Unjust as that may be.”
Ms. Dixon/Dr. Dixon/Chance chirped up, “As soon as Toni pointed the gun at him, he folded. After that, he was the perfect gentleman.”
Joshua looked at Toni. Toni shrugged. “I actually think he was driven as much by his own sense of guilt as he was by the gun.” She nodded slowly. “Though I think the gun would have been fully persuasive all on its own.”
Joshua looked at the other four assailants. They all looked a little like zombies to him. He looked at the sheet of names. “Gleb, Vasily, Alexei, Yefim, you all look barely able to stand. Should I send you all back to the med bay and hold this mediation later?”
Dash explained, “They all experienced significant head trauma. Concussions.” She paused. “It is best for them to stay awake at this time. Standing here is good for them.” Joshua wondered if he heard just a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
Yefim started to topple over, and a peacekeeper behind him lifted him back to his feet.
Joshua frowned at Dash, but then Chance jumped in. “I concur with the Doctor’s advice.” She beamed. “I’m qualified to offer a diagnosis as well, now.”
Vasily slumped, and another peacekeeper held him up.
Joshua looked over at the third doctor in the room, Amanda.
Amanda stood serenely, like a Madonna, radiating calm certainty. “I have not examined the patients myself, but the assessment seems reasonable. I have complete confidence in my doctors.”
Joshua scanned the three of them, all presenting a united front, not a hint of weakness or doubt. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw of the ghost of Hippocrates rise up behind them, shrug his shoulders, and mouth the words, “Just Go With It.” Joshua blinked the hallucination away. He had no choice but to take the advice, anyway.
Joshua focused on Vasily. And on his eye patch. “And the eye?”
Dash spoke with clear regret this time. “He’ll need a new electronic eye. It can never be as good. And it will be quite expensive.”
Amanda said heatedly, “An expense we are under no obligation to undertake.”
Dmitri looked at Joshua. “I will pay for the eye. It’s the least I can do.”
Joshua told Dmitri grimly, “It’s only the beginning of what you’re going to do. I presume none of your four accomplices have any money to compensate the victims? It’s all coming out of your pocket.”
Dmitri nodded in understanding. “Like I said, this is entirely my fault. The Premier had nothing to do with it. I was planning to sell Dash to the Russian mafia.”
Again with the forceful clarification of the Premier’s noninvolvement. Reflecting on the written accounts, Joshua noticed a particularly problematic issue with Dmitri’s claim. “And yet you happened to have the captain of a Russian Navy cruiser—“ Joshua bit off the rest of the sentence as he caught Amanda glaring at him. Complications, he reminded himself.
Something about his expression must have caught Dmitri’s attention. “Mediator Joshua? Could I, ah, speak to you in private for a moment?”
Joshua closed his eyes. Complications. He motioned to Dmitri to come into his private chamber. Dmitri hesitated, but then followed him in and Joshua closed the door.
Joshua raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?”
“I am hoping you will allow Dash to come in and speak with us as well. It’s a matter of life and death, actually.” He grimaced. “I doubt I’ll have another opportunity to speak to her after these proceedings are over. I doubt anyone will let me near her after this.”
Joshua manfully refrained from offering his own biting assessment. Even if he didn’t order it, he doubted anyone would let Dmitri on the same ship with her, much less within speaking distance. He’d be lucky to survive an attempt to talk to her with only a concussion.
Again Dmitri spoke sincerely. “But it really is a matter of life and death.”
Joshua allowed the request to hang in the air for a moment. When he realized he was savoring Dmitri’s anxiety—very unprofessional— he nudged himself back into action. He opened the door again and waved. “Dash, I need you for a moment.”
Dash looked at Dmitri with puzzled suspicion but came obediently into Joshua’s chambers. She took a position on the far side of the room from her prior assailant. At least it would be entertaining to watch the oligarch try to wrangle a favor from the good doctor.
Dmitri knelt on the carpet, bringing himself to eye level with Dash. He spoke beseechingly. “I was wondering if you knew anything about polonium poisoning.”
The carefully controlled anger on Dash’s face gave way to bafflement, then bemusement. “Polonium?”
With a blinding burst of insight, Joshua understood the situation. Against his better judgment, he found himself feeling sorry for Dmitri.
He realized in yet another painful flash of clarity that if he were a true professional, he would intervene on behalf of the poor billionaire. The poor billionaire! Once again the fickle gods of irony had snuck to Joshua’s side to become his boon companions. “Dash,” he said softly, “because Dmitri failed in his attempt to kidnap you, he expects the Premier to assassinate him.”
Dmitri enlarged on Joshua’s explanation. “His weapon of choice in cases like this is a touch of polonium.” He pulled the stylus from his tablet and poked himself on the back of the hand. “A quick jab, a sharp tip with the merest hint of polonium, barely noticeable under the best of circumstances, and all that’s left of your life is a slow painful death.”
Dash’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You lied.”
Befuddlement swept across Dmitri’s face. Joshua sympathized. Dmitri had lied about so many things, which one stood out so strongly that Dash would get incensed about it in particular?
Her finger still pointed sternly at the culprit. “You weren’t really going to sell me to the Russian mafia. I knew it.”
After a moment’s astonishment, Dmitri bellowed a good Russian laugh. “Certainly not.”
Dash turned to Joshua. “And you believe him? The Premier would really murder Dmitri like that?”
Joshua licked his lips. “It’s the Premier’s signature form of assassination. Using polonium, no one can prove he’s behind it, but everyone knows he’s responsible.”
Dash nodded. “There just are not that many people with access to a ready supply of polonium.” She stared back at Dmitri thoughtfully, her expression turning to anger once more as she thought about the Premier. And then her expression changed, ever so slightly, and Joshua saw a darkly terrifying glint in Dash’s eyes. He realized at that moment just how deadly a genius like her could be if she chose to be so.
Then her look of cold rage dissolved into one of horror. She put her hand over her mouth. Wide-eyed, she muttered, “Oh no. I just had a very bad thought.”
And she was back aga
in; the old comforting Dash. Turning to Dmitri, she offered her analysis. “There is, to my knowledge, no cure for polonium poisoning. However, I believe some experiments have been conducted with chelating agents—chemicals that capture metal atoms. Of course, chelating agents tend to be highly toxic.” She paused. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”
Dmitri bowed his head. “Thank you. Thank you.”
After waving them from his chambers, Joshua took a few moments to think about his verdict before going back to the cast of characters in the mediation room. He could not, he realized, send Dmitri back to Russia as he normally would. Dash would not permit it even if he were willing to do it himself. He tried to think of something novel for a proper punishment, above and beyond an extraordinary amount of victim compensation, but the necessary creative insight escaped him. With a sigh, he rejoined the others.
He’d thought that the final declaration of damages would be anti-climactic after the intensity of the sidebar, but in this, he was not quite as correct as he’d expected. “Mr. Mikhailov, assuming you pay the compensation I am about to specify, you may stay with the BrainTrust. However, your associates must return to Russia.” He looked at the one with only one eye. “As soon as they are fit to travel.”
Dmitri looked at him mournfully. “It’s fine to send Alexei and Vasily back to their master. But I beseech you to let me keep Gleb and Yefim. I promise you they won’t cause any trouble.”
Joshua suspected Dmitri was overconfident on this point. But with the Premier prepping polonium death for him, Joshua supposed Dmitri might reasonably want a couple of trusted bodyguards with him. “Very well. I put them under your supervision. If they so much as twitch a finger wrong, you’re the one who’ll be paying the damages.”
Dmitri nodded.
Joshua looked down at his tablet. “Let’s wrap up here with the compensation due to the victims, Dr. Dash and Dr. Dixon.”
Dash raised her hand as if she were in a classroom. “Mediator Joshua?”
Crescendo Of Fire Page 13
