by Ward Wagher
He sighed and managed a sad smile. He had discovered he really enjoyed being the Paladin, but sometimes the workload was like baling the ocean. Or, Lake Michigan at least. And he had one other problem to deal with on this sunny morning. Scout was not speaking to him during the shuttle ride back from Denver. He supposed he would now have to face that dragon in its den. He had come to the conclusion that he did love the girl but was constantly reevaluating the relationship, wondering if it was really worth it.
§ § §
On his way to the Paladin’s Dining Room, RWB stopped in his apartment. He was curious about her silent treatment of that morning. He had planned to invite Scout to eat with him and found her packing her two pieces of luggage.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She glared at him. “Away.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“This is it, RWB. We are done.”
“I do not understand,” he protested. “I do not want you to leave. I love you.”
She hesitated. “You have never said that.”
“Well, I do.”
She hit the button to have the suitcase seal itself and stepped over to where she could put her hands on his arms.
“If it is not bad enough that every other night you are bedding some other girl. Who was it in Denver?”
He shook his head. “There was not another girl in Denver. I was talking to some friends and lost track of time.”
“You came in at five in the morning.”
“I told you I had lost track of time. We were talking about the Bible.”
She released her hands and walked over to the luggage. “And this religion thing is too much as well. I am not interested in the Bible and I do not want to hear about it.”
“Hey, Scout, it is just intellectual curiosity. There is an entire culture centered on that book. I am trying to learn more about it.”
“You can learn it without me,” she said as she activated counter-grav on the two suitcases. She walked towards the door and the luggage obediently followed.
“Wait. Please stay.”
“Why?” she asked. “You are not going to change. And I am weary of your antics.”
She palmed the door control and waited for the door to slide open. Without another word, she walked into the hall and the door slid shut behind her. RWB sank into a chair and pondered what had just happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Got a minute, Boss?” Jones stuck his head into RWB’s office.
“Sure, Sing. Come on in and plant yourself. I am getting weary of the message queue, anyway.”
The Paladin watched as the head of his personal security detail slipped into the office. He was always impressed at how quietly the big man could move. It was interesting that he was one of the few people who could simply walk past Holden’s desk and come for a visit. Holden Palmer normally guarded the door like a dragon with his treasure.
Jones slipped into one of the chairs across from RWB’s desk and looked expectantly at him.
“What can I help you with today?” RWB asked.
“Not sure how to approach this, RWB. There were some puzzling events during the incursion here the other night. Lesa saw some things that frightened her, and Arlen brushed it off. I thought this was something you need to know about.”
“As I understand it, Sing, you are not exactly going outside of your chain of command to speak to me.”
“That is true. But I am not happy about going around the Director of Security for the Palatinate, either.”
“You are here, though. What is bothering you?”
“Lesa was in the Security Operations Center during the incursion, as you may know.
RWB nodded in agreement.
“Lesa follows the book on security operations, and she was on the ball that night.”
“And she did very well, too,” RWB added.
“Yes, well, there is more to the story. The building cyber-int seemed to be anticipating her moves and was actually executing them moments before she would hit the key.”
“It is not supposed to do that.”
“Exactly,” Jones replied with a crooked grin. “The AI controlling the building systems is very good at recognizing threats. It will suggest actions in response, but ultimately it is subject to the operator.”
“And it was leading the operator?” RWB asked.
“That is one way of putting it, Chief. Some of the communications with the quick reaction team were actually the cyber-int using Lesa’s voice. I asked Twila to run diagnostics on the building systems and everything was nominal”
“And what was Twila’s reaction?” RWB asked, rolling his tongue around in his cheek.
“About what you might expect,” Jones chuckled.
Twila Bederson was the Cyber Controller for the Palatinate. She was very protective of her systems and resented anyone questioning their competence.
“Pop, one time, told me that she was more protective of the cyber systems than she was of her own children.”
“Probably true,” Jones agreed.
“But she did as you asked, right?”
“Yes. I cannot question her competence. The systems came back clean.”
RWB leaned forward and began tapping a stylus on the desktop as he thought. Finally, he looked up at Jones.
“There is another player out there.”
“That would be my conclusion.”
RWB grimaced. “I do not mind telling you that this frightens me just a little bit. Why did Arlen not want to run with this?”
“I believe he thought Lesa was imagining things.”
“Apparently he does not know Lesa.”
“Not well, at any rate,” Jones said.
“I think you and I need to talk to Chaim. He has had some similar experiences.”
“His anonymous tipster?”
RWB nodded. “Right. He has not said much about it, but he is deeply worried.”
“On the other hand, whoever this is seems to be on our side.”
“There is that. But as Paladin, I need to know who is with me and against me.”
“Oh, I agree. This was the first time I have seen Lesa Carper rattled.”
“Honestly, Sing, this has me rattled as well.” He looked at his desk display. “We are leaving this afternoon for Miami. I do not believe there is room in the schedule for a meeting. I will have Holden set something up for tomorrow.”
“Are you sure it is wise to travel, right now, Boss?” Jones asked. The concern was evident in his voice. “There are a couple of Arabian teams running around the continent that we have lost track of.”
“I cannot allow a group of terrorists to dictate my life, Sing. I hate to put the pressure on my security team, but you people will have to stay alert.”
“It is hard to stay alert against a bomb or something, Chief.”
“You will just have to do the best you can.” He pushed the simulacrum of a button in the air above his desk. “Holden, see if you can fit in a meeting with Singman and Chaim tomorrow.”
“Of course, Ward,” came the reply.
Jones looked bemused. “I do not know how you have Holden eating out of your hand like that.”
“Because Chaim and Clint Worley put the fear of God in him.”
“I heard something about that.”
“I would just bet you did. Word gets around.”
“Was he really crying?”
“What?” RWB shouted. “Where did you hear that?”
“As you just said, ‘word gets around.’”
“I was not in the meeting that Clint and Chaim had with Holden. As far as I know, they made him understand that while he was important, he was not irreplaceable.”
“You are not your father’s son,” Jones observed.
RWB shrugged. “Much as I miss Pop, I know he was probably too easy-going. He let Holden walk all over him because he did not want to shove him up against the wall. There were some things that needed cha
nging.”
“I understand.”
“If there is nothing else, Sing, I can see my queue piling up as we talk.”
Jones got to his feet. “I do appreciate the time, Boss.”
“And I am glad you came in to talk to me. Are you traveling with us this afternoon?”
“I am.”
“See you then.”
§ § §
Singman Jones walked into the Paladin’s Security Group Ready Room and nodded as the people in the room stood up.
“Listen up, People. The Paladin will be traveling to Miami this afternoon to attend the evening’s festivities there. We have two terrorist groups loose on the continent that we have lost track of. We will need to be on our toes.”
“Begging your pardon, Sir,” Lesa said, “Can we not keep the Paladin home until we run the terrorists to earth?”
“The Paladin refuses to allow them to limit his freedom of travel. I do not like that, but I understand why he wants it so.”
“And if somebody gets lucky?” Muddy Rivers asked.
“We will just have to make sure that does not happen.”
“And we have to stop them every single time,” another of the guard group spoke.
“That is correct, Hazel. And your problem is?”
“Not my problem, Sir. We will do our very best. That is why we are on the job. But we all understand the probabilities in this business.”
Jones shrugged. “You all know the old saying: You do not have to like it.”
“We just have to do it,” the group chorused.
“I am happy to have such willing people on my team,” Jones said with a grin.
Lesa scowled. “With all due respect, Sir, that does not make me feel much better.”
“If we were happy all the time, the Paladin would not need us. I have had these same arguments with the Paladin. But he is the boss. You just have to suck it up, soldier.”
“Very well, Sir. Since that is the case, perhaps we should review our security posture.”
Jones grinned again. “That is why I am here. So, gather round, boys and girls.”
§ § §
Muddy Rivers pushed his tray through the cafeteria line behind Lesa Carper. Lesa was selecting her meal from the buffet and slapping the serving spoon onto her tray with some force.
“Hey, Lese, I think they might charge you if you break a tray. There are better ways to express your anger.”
“Shut up, Muddy. I am not angry.”
“You are certainly putting a lot of effort into maintaining decorum, then.”
She had picked up her tray and now slapped it down again. She turned to him with her hands on her hips.
“Nobody asked you to follow me through the line. If you have a problem with my decorum, take it up with Jones.”
She spun around and slid her tray to the end of the buffet where she scanned her ID card. She found a table in the corner and slapped her tray down. She then walked over to the drink dispenser and filled her glass. When she returned to the table, Muddy sat across from her chair.
“What is this?”
“Hey, Lese, I am simply having lunch with a team-mate.”
She looked across at the stocky security guard. Since he had come on to the team, she concluded that he looked like one of his parents was a gorilla. It was not just his build, but his face seemed to have simian characteristics. She was careful not to say anything because she was sensitive about her looks. All of her friends insisted that she was above average attractiveness, but when she looked in the mirror she knew better.
“Okay,” she said, “but lay off the nagging.”
“Fine. What are you drinking?”
“HJJ.”
“They have Hyper-atomic Jungle Juice here?” he exclaimed. He jumped up and walked quickly to the drink dispenser.
“I am glad you found that,” he said when he returned to the table. “I developed a tasted for it while I was on Luna and you just cannot find it on-planet.”
Hyper-atomic Jungle Juice was a mixture of fruit juices, mild stimulants, and electrolytes. By a fairly large measure, it surpassed coffee as the favored drink of the league navy and marines.
“Were you Navy or Marines, Muddy?” she asked.
“Neither. I was civilian police on Luna. Spent five years on the force.”
“What brought you to Earth, then?” she asked. “I mean, that is considered a cushy job.”
“That was it. I got bored,” he admitted. “I had trained in hand-to-hand and practiced a lot. Never really had a chance to use it on the job. The Shore Patrol always took care of the League rowdies.”
“You wanted to break heads?” she asked in amazement.
“Oh, no. Believe me, that little affair in Portland used up a lifetime’s quota of excitement for me. No, it’s just that cops do not like to work out. And the fleet people stick to themselves. I had a chance to go full contact with Jones when he was vacationing on Luna. We got to know each other a bit. He called me when he formed the team for the new Paladin.”
“That is interesting,” Lesa commented. “You have good technique.”
“And you still knocked me on my behind. Where did you learn, anyway?”
“Robert Machi,” she replied. “Daddy started training me when I was six. By the time I was fourteen, he set me up with lessons with Robert.”
“The Robert Machi from Torino?” Muddy asked in disbelief. “The man is a legend.”
“I never managed to beat him,” she admitted.
“You can beat everybody on the team, excepting maybe Jones.”
She looked down and picked up her fork.
“What?” he continued. “Jones wipe the floor with you?”
“Uh… not exactly.”
He had opened his mouth to take a bite of his beef and cheese hoagie and stopped. “What do you mean, not exactly? Do not tell me you beat him.”
She looked down at her tray and took another bite. The food in the cafeterias at Wilton House was always first-rate.
“Come on, Lesa, give over. What happened?”
She looked at him sheepishly. “After a half-hour, we called it a draw.”
“Jones called a draw? That is really hard to believe,” Muddy exclaimed. “Jones never quits.”
“We were both getting pretty tired. And he had sprained his wrist.”
“Amazing,” he said, shaking his head.
“Do not tell anyone, please,” she said. “I hate it when people look at me like I am an Amazon.”
“Who called it?” Muddy demanded.
“He called the draw,” she replied. “He said there was no point in continuing when there was a risk of somebody getting crippled.”
“I cannot believe it. That means he gave up.”
“No, he called it a draw,” she argued.
He gave her an old-fashioned look. “Right.”
“Really,” she insisted.
“We have gotten to know Jones pretty well over the past couple of months, Lesa. Think about it. Would he call a draw?”
“He called one on Hazel.”
“Because she had a broken arm and still would not quit. Were you injured?”
“A lot of bruises.”
“Right.”
He then took a big bite of the hoagie and closed his eyes in bliss.
“Goof-food heah,” he said, spraying a mouthful of crumbs.
“Quit talking with food in your mouth!” she ordered. “That is just disgusting.”
He shook in laughter and went back to enjoying his lunch. She stared in the distance speculatively. She wondered if she really had forced Singman Jones to give up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Hey, RWB, glad you could make it tonight,” Senkii Besselman shouted over the din. “Great party, what?”
“Yeah,” he shouted back.
The little oriental girl seemed to effortlessly manage her dancing with the conversation, which RWB thought was an accomplishment. He was not a good dan
cer himself and normally was happy to stand along the sides of the party and mingle. Tonight, he was in a different mood and was glad to see Senkii.
“How are things in Chicago?” she shouted to him.
“As usual. How about if we go somewhere so we can talk in normal voices?”
She laughed. “This is not loud.”
Nevertheless, she followed him to the edge of the room, away from the audio drivers. The bartender held up a bottle of Champaign with a raised eyebrow. RWB pointed to the harder liquors. He held up a bottle of Old Louisville Bourbon and RWB nodded. A few moments later he had a tumble of the amber liquid and a few ice cubes. The Paladin was drinking more than usual this evening, but he really did not care.
Ten minutes later RWB disappeared into his hotel suite along with Senkii. After the door slid closed, the two guards looked at each other.
“That is three times tonight!”
“The Paladin is really outdoing himself. He is acting really drunk, too. He usually does not drink that much.”
“I heard his girlfriend had left him,” the first guard said. “I wonder if that has something to do with it.”
The other shrugged. “Could be. Wish I could get that kind of activity.”
“Your wife would beat you senseless.”
“Exactly.” The second guard shook his head sadly.
The first guard commented further. “I know I am not supposed to judge others, but do you not think this is a little extreme.”
The second guard snorted. “Even for RWB, this is extreme.”
It looked to Jones like the party was winding down. He walked over to where Lesa watched the throng.
“RWB has taken another friend to his suite.”
“Again?” she looked at him in surprise. “That is three times tonight.”
“And you probably noticed he was hitting the bar pretty hard, too.”
“Is this all because Scout left?” she asked.
“Who knows? What do you think?”
