Cassandra Kresnov 5: Operation Shield (41 page)

“Quietly,” said Ibrahim, with a very direct, dry stare.

Hando nodded. “I understand.”

“Now,” said Ibrahim, pushing off the table, “I must go and speak to Ambassador Ballan in person. I'd like some protection. Is Agent Trainee Togales still in medical? I heard she was in for final checks.”

Agent Trainee Amirah Togales was the only GI in FSA HQ not in an otherwise incapacitated state. As such, she had a pair of armed guards outside her ward,
and a second pair inside as well. Ibrahim gave the guards a long look as he passed them, learning nothing. All were armoured and helmed, with no identification marks and, he'd been informed, were silent when spoken to. All his people were certain of was that they weren't Callayans.

Unprejudiced as he fancied himself, even Ibrahim sometimes found female GIs a surprise. Cassandra often looked the part, strongly built and ice cool…when she wasn't laughing or otherwise ruining a perfectly good GI stereotype. Even Rhian Chu, lean and pretty, had that unworried calm of a synthetic mind raised on foundational tape, that sometimes-deadly focus. But Togales at first glance was mild and utterly unthreatening, slender with an incongruously large nose, pretty eyes, a self-effacing smile, and what was lately becoming a mop of long dark hair. She wore it tied now, sitting cross-legged on her bed with promising poise for one still recovering from enough gunshot wounds to have killed a regular human ten times over.

“Agent Togales,” said Ibrahim, as she regarded him with cautious astonishment. “You're aware of events?”

“Yes, sir.” Tapping behind her ear to indicate uplinks and pointing to the display screen in the ward.

“I find myself in need of personal protection. Do you think you're up to it?”

Togales blinked. “Yes, sir. The latest tests were just precautionary, I was in for observation overnight but nothing's been observed, so…” She shrugged.

“Director,” said one of the guards. Ibrahim turned to him. “Our orders from OID are that she is not to leave this ward.”

“We stand on FSA administrative territory,” said Ibrahim. “There is no institution in the Federation constitutionally empowered to exercise overriding authority here.”

“My orders are clear.”

“The FSA's founding charter is even clearer,” said Ibrahim. “Listen well, soldier. Outside of this compound, your authority stands. But defy me here, I will have you killed. Do you understand?” An uplinked pause, as the soldier called for advice. “Within the next thirty seconds,” Ibrahim added, with clear pronunciation.

Togales must have moved to stand behind him, because both soldiers raised weapons. She was thoughtfully standing to one side, taking him out of their line of fire. Ibrahim deliberately stepped across, placing himself in that line.

“Agent Togales,” he said, “I find myself personally threatened by these soldiers. “Will you require a firearm?”

“No sir,” she said. “Probably not even both hands.”

The other shoe dropped when Ibrahim was on his way to the Grand Council building by groundcar. A live announcement on all news channels, from Callayan President Singh. The gist of it, Ibrahim heard while perusing three active uplinks and two handheld display slates simultaneously, and listening to a field agent describe the last known whereabouts of Detective Sinta, was that FSA spec ops had been caught doing something very bad, that Singh had personally been shown incontrovertible intelligence proving the coup plot, and that CSA SWAT, given its operational links and sharing of personnel with FSA spec ops, was now stood down indefinitely pending further investigation.

“This means Callay is effectively defenceless against all foreign forces,” Agent Teo suggested from the driver's seat. Ibrahim was mildly surprised that he'd care. Teo was Earth Chinese like his boss Shin, a personal recruit of Shin's, to hear the reports. As rising star of FedInt, he was doing his stint as Director's Assistant—and, Ibrahim had no doubt, keeping an eye on him for his boss. As always with FedInt, Ibrahim had no illusions who the spies thought their
real
boss was. “That's ironic given Singh's anti-Federal stance. Surely it puts his public standing in danger.”

“Singh has no choice, he's nailed his colours to this particular mast,” said Ibrahim, still scrolling over fast-moving data. “CSA has always been more pro-Federal than him; this is his chance to purge the CSA, and so he cuts off Callay's nose to spite its face.”

In an odd way, the current situation proved Singh's political point—moving the Federation capitol to Callay hadn't strengthened Callay's autonomy, it had weakened it by creating Federal jurisdiction here. And now look at Callay, no CSA, no local firepower at all, foreign A-12s cruising the skylanes bristling with weapons and foreign troopers raiding private Tanushan homes, and all answerable to the Grand Council's Office of Intelligence Directorate, backed by the Council Chair. Cassandra had predicted something like this would happen, that Singh would leave Callay defenceless in the name of protecting Callay's rights. Ibrahim had always agreed with her assessment of Singh's
wisdom but was quite happy for others to take the credit for being proven right. Silence was his weapon, not Cassandra's.

He spared the briefest moment to hope she was well. Surely she was. Surely.

“Gosh, look at this checkpoint,” said Agent Togales from the rear seat. “Ludicrous deployment.” The checkpoint marked the separation between Grand Council grounds and FSA grounds, the two buildings in Federal secure land but still with a wall between.

“Why is it ludicrous?” Teo asked, slowing the car as the checkpoint flashed lights at them, bristling with heavily armed soldiers and built-in sensors.

“No spacing, no real cover, one good fire position would get all of them.” Togales wore standard light combat armour, quickly fitted in HQ's armoury, and carried a modest arsenal besides. Nothing too frightening for GC security but befitting the situation. “I wonder if the rest of the GC's security deployments are like that.”

“Cassandra thinks so,” said Ibrahim. They stopped at the checkpoint and were swarmed by sensor barriers, sniffers, scanners, lasers. Then biometrics, windows rolled down, verifying identifies.

“Very interesting,” said Togales, peering up at the GC building walls ahead and at the gardens and layout surrounding. Like an expert mountaineer contemplating a juicy slope. Or a combat GI wondering how she could peel the Federation's most important institution like an orange.

Ibrahim said nothing and wondered if that in itself was traitorous. No, he decided. He owed the Grand Council nothing. He owed the Federation everything. The two were not the same. He would do his job and let historians decide what to call his actions afterward.

Teo drove them to the downramp and into underground parking. A central drop-off manned by GC security brought them to elevators, where security once more intervened as they left the car.

“Sir, we cannot allow the GI to proceed inside.” With weapons pointed not directly at Togales but in her general direction.

“As I understand it,” Ibrahim replied, “FSA spec ops is suspended from operations, as is CSA SWAT. Agent Togales is neither, she is a CSA agent-in-training, and I have utilised my discretionary authority to appropriate her for the role of personal security in this emergency, according to the personnel sharing agreements between FSA and CSA.”

“Sir, our orders are specific, straight from OID.”

“They may be specific to you, soldier, but they are not specific to me. OID has no authority to give this order, and I am under no obligation to follow it.”

The security man straightened. “I'm sorry, sir. She cannot be allowed to enter the Grand Council. You are free to enter without her.”

“Unacceptable,” said Ibrahim. “Agent Teo, please communicate this impasse to Ambassador Ballan, and tell him I refuse to proceed without my security. I will be in the vehicle awaiting his reply.”

“Sir,” Teo acknowledged, and turned away to concentrate on his uplink. Togales stood at easy guard by the car as Ibrahim climbed back into the passenger seat and worked various data links, as new vehicles came in and their occupants entered the elevators, with concerned looks at the FSA Director sitting in his car with the door open.

After a few minutes, Teo leaned in. “Sir, we're clear.”

Ibrahim got out, and he, Teo, and Togales walked to the nearest elevator. Security said and did nothing. A short ride up, and they got out in a main hallway, heading for Ballan's office.

“Sir?” asked Togales as they walked. “Are you really that concerned for your safety?”

“Yes,” said Ibrahim, as activity hurried past them, aides running, others standing in conversation, the occasional ambassador or other VIP striding quickly amidst an entourage on their way somewhere important. “But that's not the main point. The main point is that OID is attempting to exceed its authority, as powerful institutions will do in crises. If surrounding institutions do not push back, they will be swamped. We must hold our ground at all costs, Ms Togales, the balance of Federal powers depends on it.”

“I understand.”

“And,” Ibrahim added, “I sense a potentially nasty anti-GI trend in OID's current actions. Naturally they fear GIs as their most capable potential opponents, but the politics lines up too neatly with the anti-emancipation people, who in turn attract the support of bigots and fearmongers. I do not wish this to become an anti-synthetics pogrom. A stand must be taken.”

“Yes, sir,” said Togales, striding perhaps a little taller. “Thank you, sir.”

“No thanks required. I stand on principle or not at all.”

Togales smiled. “Sure. But thank you anyway.” Ibrahim's lips twisted, just a little.

Ambassador Ballan's front office was crowded, people talking loudly, working uplinks and slates, watching screens. Several were clearly waiting their turn to enter the main office. Ibrahim walked straight past them all and opened the door to the main office, neither guards nor secretaries moving to stop him. Teo went with him, and Togales took up guard outside the door.

The several people in Ballan's office finished up quickly when they saw him and quietly retreated. Beyond the windows, a view of the GC building's central bowl, gardens about a glass roof at the base, offices arrayed in the surrounding walls, like an arena. Typically at night it would not look so impressive, but tonight all the lights were ablaze.

Ballan rose from behind his desk, harried but looking not at all tired despite the hour. Too much adrenaline, no doubt. “Shan, I'm so sorry for the circumstances. I'm as shocked by this as you are, I'm sure.”

Ibrahim shook the offered hand and sat, offering no comment. Crossed his legs, adjusted the suit jacket, meticulously, and settled his gaze upon the head of the Grand Council's Office of Intelligence Directorate. Ballan looked a little concerned at that, taking his own seat. Good.

“I'd like to see your evidence,” said Ibrahim.

Ballan sighed. “Shan, the FSA is under investigation. Its Callayan headquarters anyhow. That includes you. I'm afraid our operating procedures won't allow it.”

“Who
has
seen the evidence?”

“I have. President Singh has. The Council Chair has. That's all.” So Li Shifu, head of the Federation's central committee, had seen the evidence before signing off on it. Was Li just playing along, or was this in fact a conspiracy that went all the way to the very top?

“When did President Singh see this evidence?”

“I'm sorry, Shan, that's above your level.”

“Mr Ambassador, there's no such thing.”

Ballan's expression hardened. “Shan, he's the President of Callay. I'm head of OID. And your agency is under investigation.”

“And by what authority, and upon what evidence, my agency is under investigation shall remain firmly suspect in my mind until I have seen that
evidence. I am an Intelligence Director, Mr Ambassador. I believe nothing unless proven. If one does not understand that, one should not investigate my agency without being prepared to show me the evidence.”

“My rank and office are authority enough,” Ballan retorted.

Ibrahim barely blinked. “Not while I'm Director of the FSA they aren't.”

Ballan took a deep breath and readjusted his jacket. Looked unsettled. Ibrahim watched him, mercilessly curious. “Shan, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but you're not leaving me much choice. Either you cooperate with this operation, or I'll have you removed as Director. I can do that too, you know.”

“I'll be happy to cooperate fully with this operation,” Ibrahim replied. “Just as soon as I am presented with evidence of its legality.”

“Its
legality
?” Ballan looked incredulous. “For God's sake, Shan, you speak of legality? Just who do you think you are?”

“Failing such evidence,” Ibrahim continued, “I shall be forced to keep a very open mind on the matter. Furthermore, if you move to have me removed, I will file appeal to the High Court. That is my constitutional recourse. The High Court could take weeks to decide. Those weeks’ delay shall not serve the purposes of Federal security at this time.”

“Shan,” Ballan said firmly, recovering his balance somewhat. This was not an inconsiderable man to be pushed around even by the likes of Shan Ibrahim. “There is a reason beyond rank and procedure why you are not being presented with the evidence. Some of that evidence speaks to your own complicity. Now, there are wheels turning here. I don't need to explain to you.”

“No,” said Ibrahim with faint amusement. “You don't.”

“It would not be in your interest, or anyone's interest, for you to be furthering that impression now. We need your cooperation to find several of your agents, Commander Rice and Captain Chu in particular. They shall not be harmed, merely detained, for the duration of independent investigations.”

“Why was this arrangement not considered for Commander Kresnov?”

A faint evasion in Ballan's eyes. A sideways flick. “My latest reports are unclear on Commander Kresnov's status. I don't know what our operatives did when they tried to detain her.”

“They appear to have shot her down,” said Ibrahim. “With no attempt at detention. This appears rather the targeted assassination of one my most valuable people, on evidence that you refuse to share. In such circumstances,
I would be failing in any professional duty were I not intensely skeptical of this action.”