The Last Paladin

by Ward Wagher

  “They did not come out of nowhere, Arlen,” RWB chided, “we just did not detect them.”

  “It amounts to the same thing, RWB,” Lewis commented. “It is not Arlen’s fault. We all share the blame.”

  “That is why the three of you are sitting here this morning,” the Paladin said, punching the top of his desk with his index finger. “I know that the three of you are among the most competent people in the business. Why can you not get your arms around this?”

  RWB’s three guests said nothing at that moment and just stared at him. He continued tapping his finger on the desk.

  “And one other thing. So far, we have largely managed to keep these attacks compartmentalized, other than Portland, of course. Last night’s action is pretty hard to hide when half the west side of the building is gone. The Fourth Estate is going berserk. When something like this happens in a very public manner, I have no intention of trying to shut down the media. Besides, the Arabians are singing the praises of the martyrs.”

  He glared at the other three men for a few moments. “Do you have anything further to say?”

  “There is no way to explain this away,” Lewis said. “We suffered a major failure.”

  “And not only did we lose a guard, but eleven people were killed in the apartments on the one-hundred-fortieth,” RWB stated. “When this happened in Pacifica the people here assumed it was the fault of the President of Pacifica, even though we know it really wasn’t. I cannot hide behind that sort of thing. This is my job, People. I am supposed to protect the citizens of the Palatinate and I did not do so. This makes it my failure. Do you understand?” The Paladin had worked himself up to a shout again.

  “Perhaps it is time for some reprisals,” Lewis spoke. “We all know where it is coming from.”

  “Pardon me, Chaim, but we do not know that for sure,” RWB responded. “Oh, I think we are all convinced that is the source. But, can you tell me for sure that it is not Warren O’Bleck engineering these attacks? The O’Blecks have always hated us.”

  Jones snorted. RWB turned to glare at him.

  “Something funny, Singman?”

  “Warren O’Bleck needs directions to use the fresher, Boss. He is an idiot.”

  “What if he isn’t? What if we are dealing with a smart O’Bleck for a change?”

  Jones slowly swung his head back and forth. “I understand what you are saying, Boss, but the people Chaim has placed in the CFS government are consistent in reporting that Thomas O’Bleck has all but given up on grooming his son to take his place. The old man is 125 years old. The movers and shakers in Columbia are all maneuvering to take his place.”

  “Okay, Jones, I hear you,” RWB said. “But the point I was trying to make still stands. What if we are all looking in the wrong place?”

  Lewis began rubbing his chin. “Point taken, Paladin. Perhaps we have become slightly myopic.”

  “I do not think it is myopia,” RWB replied. “Something more like tunnel vision would be my thought.”

  Senter nodded. “Casting our nets wider is not a bad idea. Closer to home I will work on some ideas for tightening security here in the city. With your permission, Paladin, I will post a security detachment on the one-hundred-fiftieth. I think it is wise to keep the main group towards the lower floors. I believe intruder events at the base of the building to be a greater risk.”

  “Is it possible to take the entire building down that way?” RWB asked.

  Senter shrugged. “Given enough time and explosive, anything is possible. I have had the engineers studying it since the basement intrusion. These buildings are pretty stout, though. Sometime during the late twentieth, I think, some terrorists managed to take down a building on Manhattan Island. So, it is theoretically possible. I do not think it could be done with the explosives these people were carrying.”

  “I am glad you are thinking about it, Arlen.”

  The clock in the corner of the three-dimensional display on the Paladin’s desk began flashing.

  “With that, I must leave,” RWB said, standing up. “Holden has scheduled a media conference and they are out for blood.”

  His three guests quickly stood up. They walked to the door, which slid open. Standing in the outer office, Holden Palmer waited anxiously.

  “I have some talking points, Ward, if you would like to scan them in the elevator.”

  “Fine, Holden. I guess I am going to have to wing it, this morning.”

  “And that makes us all very nervous.”

  “It is what it is,” the Paladin murmured as he walked into the hallway.

  § § §

  The Guyland Resort on Luna maintained a level of service and polish that reflected its multi-century ownership by TimeOut Enterprises of Chicago. While RWB would have preferred a meeting of the representatives of the League to meet on Asimov Station, the resort was more capable of accommodating the representatives, their entourages, and the miscellaneous hangers-on that infested such a conference.

  Since he had to attend anyway, RWB decided to use it as an opportunity to inspect the resort. It was not widely known that TimeOut Enterprises owned the resort, and fewer still knew that TimeOut was the business arm of the Baughman family. The firm acquired the resort around the time of the first Baughman Paladin. In the generations since, the family and the firm managed the resort to high standards, and it was therefore considered one of the crown jewels of the lunar colony.

  The resort manager was nervous about an inspector from the home office, and he was doubly nervous when he discovered it was the Paladin, himself. RWB had long since concluded it was useless to attempt to get people to relax around him. People saw him as the most powerful ruler on Earth and arguably in the Sphere of Man. As such there was always a certain amount of bowing and scraping. Despite the tension around the place over his visit, the resort was in excellent condition. The manager obviously knew what he was doing, and RWB congratulated him.

  Happy to have completed the inspection, the Paladin walked through the lobby of the resort hotel and past the incongruously named Blue Aardvark. No one knew the history of the name of the hotel restaurant, yet its fame was such that there was no desire to change things. On Luna, it was simply known as the ‘Vark, and it was the place to visit when one wanted to drop too many Solarans for an exceptional meal.

  Glancing into the restaurant, RWB thought he spotted a familiar face among the diners. He swung around and walked over to the entrance. The maître ‘d stiffened when he saw the Paladin approaching.

  “Do you wish a table, Sir?” the obsequious employee asked.

  “No. There is a guest at one of the tables I wish to speak with.”

  “I would be happy to take you there.”

  RWB shook his head. “No. But, thank you. I believe I shall be able to manage.”

  The uniformed man at the table with a lady spotted RWB as he walked across the room and jumped to his feet.

  “RWB,” Tracey Riggs exclaimed, “what a surprise to see you here.”

  They shook hands and the Paladin replied. “I had a meeting scheduled here. I just happened to be walking by and saw you.”

  “I am glad you came over to our table. You remember Antonia, of course.”

  RWB leaned over to clasp her hand in both of his. “I am enchanted. So good to see you again.”

  She laughed modestly. “I told Trace, I said, Trace, honey, that is the man we met at Hilton Head. What a surprise.”

  “It is my surprise, too,” RWB replied. “Have you ordered yet?”

  “I believe that is the waiter over there,” Tracey said. “Would you care to dine with us?”

  “I would be delighted, but only if you allow me to buy.”

  “I have no scruples over allowing you to buy dinner,” Riggs said with his tongue rolling around his cheek.

  “Hush, Trace,” Antonia said as she laughed. “Your friend will think we are a couple of beggars.”

  “He already knows that.”

  RWB pulle
d out a chair and sat down at the same time he raised a hand to attract the waiter.

  “I am glad to have run into you again,” the Paladin began. “I have thought much about our previous conversation and have some questions.”

  “Yes, Sir?” the waiter asked.

  “Please bring me a menu. And add my guests to the check,” he smiled at the Riggs’s. “You really deserve something better than bread and water.”

  Riggs colored slightly. “I will have you know that we ordered peanut butter with the bread.”

  The Paladin laughed. “If you really want a peanut butter sandwich, I am sure they could arrange that. Perhaps something more bracing might be preferred.”

  “I would not gainsay someone of your stature, Sir,” Riggs said slyly.

  “I would not hear of it.”

  The waiter returned quickly and slid a menu in front of RWB. “Here you go, Sir. Might I interest you in a drink?”

  RWB looked up at Riggs. “What are you two drinking?”

  “Oh, we are having the iced tea,” Antonia said.

  “Then I will have iced tea as well,” the Paladin replied to the waiter.

  “Very well, Sir.”

  The waiter left the table.

  “So, what are you doing on Luna?” RWB asked.

  “I am actually stationed here for the moment,” Tracy replied.

  “For the moment?” RWB raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, we have been invited to take over the ministry of a church out on Hepplewhite.” Antonia’s words came out in a rush. “It looks like a grand opportunity.”

  The Paladin grinned at Tracy’s discomfiture. The man’s wife was… voluble.

  He glanced at the menu and made his selection. “I believe I will have the filet mignon today. I would recommend it if you would like some.”

  Riggs nodded. Antonia chose to reply. “Is this Lunar grown beef? Is there any difference? I think I would like to try it, though.”

  The waiter delivered RWB’s iced tea and they placed their orders. The Paladin turned to Riggs.

  “Now, can you explain to me what the Word is? Or, maybe Who it is? I find that a bit confusing.

  “You must be talking about John’s gospel,” Tracy replied. “The author of the book explains the nature of God. Jesus was called the Word. And where you might find it confusing is that God consists of three persons and three separate personalities who are one God.”

  “What?”

  “We speak of the Triune God. God is three persons, yet one. It is not something we can truly comprehend, but it is still very true.”

  “And Jesus is called the Word? Why?” RWB leaned forward as he questioned Riggs.

  “Jesus communicates God’s requirements to mankind. And Jesus also is the Redeemer who rescued sinful men by his work on the cross.”

  Riggs continued explaining this to RWB, who seemed to grow more confused. Finally, the food arrived, and the Paladin changed the subject.

  “According to your wife, you are planning to leave the Navy?”

  “The Bishop of Caledon, who has oversight of a small church on Hepplewhite, asked me to step into the role of Pastor for that church. We have pretty much decided to accept the offer. I believe it to be a wonderful opportunity.”

  As they shared their meal, Riggs described what he would be doing on Hepplewhite. The man was enthusiastic about it. RWB considered what he had been told.

  “Are you planning to take a vacation before traveling out to Hepplewhite?” the Paladin asked.

  “I think the trip will be vacation enough. We really do not have money for an extended vacation.”

  “Let me make you an offer, then,” RWB said. “I have a house on Lake Michigan near Kenosha. I will let you use it for two weeks and cover the cost of your travel from Luna and to wherever you will embark for Hepplewhite. The staff has little to do most of the time, so they will enjoy cooking for you.”

  “That is wonderful,” Antonia cried. RWB noticed tears in her eyes.

  “What is the other part of the bargain?” Riggs asked curiously.

  “Just this, Tracy. I would like to spend a couple of half-days with you to explore the Bible. I think it is just fascinating. I probably cannot give you a single full day. Things have a habit of stealing my time.”

  “That is very generous of you,” Riggs said. “I think we would really enjoy something like that.”

  “Good.”

  The lunch conversation continued as the trio enjoyed the beef. Finally, the Paladin glanced around the hotel lobby. “If you will excuse me, I need to attend some business. I have your contact card in my comm unit. Someone will get in touch.”

  He stood up and shook both Rigg’s hands, and walked out into the hotel lobby. They watched as he moved over near a statuesque redhead where he appeared to introduce himself. They conversed for several minutes and then walked together to the elevator.

  “Are they getting ready to do what I think they are?” Antonia asked.

  Riggs shook his head. “Unfortunately, yes. The Paladin is noted for his indiscrete lifestyle.”

  “Then we need to pray for him.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I have been, but we need to make it a specific matter with the Lord.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Lesa Carper and Singman Jones sat in Arlen Senter’s conference room and sipped their morning coffee. Senter bustled into the room a few minutes late for the meeting and plopped into the chair at the head of the table. Senter was plump and middle-aged and seemed the perfect bureaucrat – in spite of a nation and government that loathed bureaucracy.

  “I apologize for being late. The dog got off the leash and I had the Devil’s own time chasing down the beast. The fool thing nearly got run over by a ground car. What do you have for me this morning?”

  “Uh, you called the meeting, Sir,” Jones said diffidently.

  Senter looked a bit nonplussed. “Eh, so I did. Give me just a minute here. My staff sets up these meetings and then does not tell me about them.”

  Jones decided not to remind him that the director himself had requested the meeting in a conversation with Jones.

  He woke up his comp term and paged through the screen. “Oh, yes. The Paladin has invited some friends of his to stay at the Kenosha house. We have been tasked to provide adequate security.”

  “Are they a target?” Carper asked.

  “I do not think so, personally,” Senter replied. “But, with recent events, the Paladin has developed a bit of paranoia.”

  “I would say it is well-founded,” Jones commented.

  “Precisely. I would see this as the shared responsibility of both the government security people and the Paladin’s personal team.”

  Senter scrolled through the listings on his screen. The three-dimensional display was visible to Carper and Jones as a slight flickering in the air above the comp-term. He, of course, could see it clearly.

  “Mr. Jones, I would like you to select a small group from the Paladin’s personal team to cover the interior of the house. I plan to have the government team on the outside. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Who will we liaise with?” Jones asked.

  “Kath O’Bryan will have the outside team,” Senter responded.

  “Fine,” Jones said. “We have worked with Kath before. She knows what she is doing.”

  “I thought perhaps that would be sufficient,” Senter sniffed. “I view the risks as minimal. The Paladin himself is the prime target, unfortunately. However, the guests will be staying in his house. He was insistent.”

  “We will get it done, Sir,” Jones stated.

  “Thank you. I know things like this are a challenge when the principal is so… difficult.”

  “I have never considered RWB as difficult, Sir,” Jones commented. “When he gives a directive or states something for the record, I have learned to listen. His track record is better than mine.”

  Senter started to sneer and then pulled his face into a nonexpressive mas
k. “Ahem, yes. Well. He is the Paladin, after all.”

  Jones stood up. “If there is nothing else, Sir.”

  Senter waved a hand. “Of course. You may leave. Thank you for attending my concerns.”

  Jones nodded as Carper stood up. They walked out of the office together.

  “What was that all about, Boss?” Lesa asked as they left the fortieth-floor security suite.

  “Wait a bit, Lesa,” he said, as they walked down the hall. “I think we should have a follow-up meeting in my office.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  They took the elevator to the one-hundred-fiftieth floor where Jones kept his office. The relationship between the Paladin’s personal security team and Senter’s overall control of security for the Palatinate was complex and often fraught with political difficulty. While the two groups shared duties and interacted extensively, there was frequent tension among the leaders. While Jones nominally reported to Senter, the Paladin was, in fact, the one who drove security policy, particularly for his own personal security.

  “Okay, Lesa, talk to me.”

  They had made their way to Jones’s office and sat down.

  “Chief, Mr. Senter was not being complimentary of the Paladin.”

  “Do you expect everyone to like the Boss, Lesa?”

  “Well, no. But what Mr. Senter was suggesting seems to me to verge upon insubordination. And he was getting ready to criticize the Paladin in front of us. He caught himself at the last moment.”

  “And so we do not really know what he was getting ready to say,” Jones stated.”

  “What? Of course, we do.”

  “No, Lesa,” Jones shook his head, “we do not. It seemed to me that he remembered at the last moment to consider what he was getting ready to say. Since he did not say it, there is nothing actionable on the part of the Paladin. The fact that he held his tongue also indicates that he does not entirely trust us. There may be other subordinates who he has taken into his confidence and have heard unguarded comments. But, I do not know that and neither do you.”

  “I think I am out of my depth,” she commented.