In this Night We Own (The Commander Book 6) (19 page)

“If it’s our formal responsibility, and Master Occum’s already been paid, then we’re going to be doing this alone, without his help,” Sellers said.

The Duke nodded.  “Yes, this one’s on us.”

The three Nobles nervously shuffled their feet, and eyed the beaten-down late-season rye grass.  None of them said any more on the subject.

Tonya Biggioni: September 14, 1968 – September 22, 1968

“Crow Shadow,” Tonya said.  “It’s so good to hear from you again.”  They had only talked twice, the first time being Shadow’s correct warning to her during the Arm Flap, the second time an apology by her, admitting his warning had been correct.  Her second conversation had earned her the addresses needed to correspond in the Crow letter circuit.

“And you,” Shadow said.  “Alas, you may not consider my phone call so kindly when we’re done discussing the business at hand.  I’ve run into a problem requiring my cognizance of your affairs, for which I must apologize.”

As all Crows, Shadow talked in circles.  Whatever this piece of Crow insanity was, Tonya knew she wouldn’t end up happy.

“Business, then,” Tonya said.  “What sort of problem do we have?”

“A bit of explanation first,” Shadow said.  “I do not know if you’re aware, but the Crow community, loose as it is, greatly frowns upon the interference of Crows in the affairs of other Major Transforms.  This old policy was enacted to prevent conflicts arising between the Focuses and Crows, though, and recently the policy has become weakened by many positive interventions into the affairs of the Arms and Beast Men, both to help them survive and to nudge them toward less predatory behaviors.  The younger Crows are part of this change and don’t understand the reasons behind the non-interference policies with the Focuses.”

“Uh huh,” Tonya said.  Was there a point in this?  Somewhere?  “I’m familiar with those reasons.”  The first Focuses and the oldest Crows accused each other of betrayal; lives had been lost on both sides.

“I recently had to intervene in the activities of a younger Crow whose actions didn’t conform to this non-interference policy,” Shadow said.  “The target of the interference was you; the form of interference was a rather thorough examination of your business activities, legal and illegal.”

“I thank you, then, Shadow,” Tonya said.  “I, for one, would not like to resurrect the ridiculous anti-Crow tactics of the bad old days.”  The last thing she wanted was to get drafted into Crow hunting duty.  Given Polly’s annoyance at her, the assignment might even be inevitable.

“There’s a problem, though,” Shadow said.

“Yes?”

“That being the reason for why the information was being collected.”

Tonya winced at the conversational teeth-pulling exercise.  “The reason being what, exactly?”

“You must pardon my indirection; I feel the force of the weight of your associations even over the telephone.”  Shadow paused.  Tonya decided to wait out the Crow, and did not respond.  “The reason the information was being collected was your negative interference in the affairs of the Arms.  Although there are ample precedents for avoiding direct Crow interference in Focus affairs, there are none covering the activities of a Crow interfering in Focus affairs not for his own gain, or to help the Focus, or a different Focus, but at the behest of a third party who is a different Major Transform.”

Hancock.  Dammit, Hancock had one of her many Crow friends spying on her!  Tonya crumpled up a piece of paper she was doodling on and tossed it, in anger, across her office.  “Are you saying that since there are no precedents, you have the right to allow this to occur?”

“I am warning you I may be forced to allow this to occur, Focus Biggioni, despite my better desires,” Shadow said.  “I don’t know yet what may force my hand, but the two of us both know there are unseen forces guiding us in our meditations and dreams, and that the world of Major Transforms is not as mundane and logical as many may wish to believe.  I am willing to give you time to properly settle your conflict between yourself and Arm Hancock, Focus Biggioni, but we may not have this time.  Further escalation of this conflict could easily force my hand.”

“I understand,” Tonya said, icy.  She was being blackmailed by a Crow!  If anyone had any rightful complaints about the escalation of the conflict, it was her; involving the older Crows in this mess was the penultimate escalation possible, and a threat to use the ultimate escalation: involvement of the FBI and other law enforcement authorities.  “Let me lay it out to you in stark terms, then, and see if you have any more intelligent suggestions.”  Her voice dripped with condescension and ire.  “I am under orders from my superiors to establish direct lines of communication between the Focus Council and Arm Hancock.  She has refused, citing orders from her supposed superior, Arm Keaton.  The Focus Council isn’t ready to recognize the Arm organization, because in our view the Arms have none; nor can the Council recognize the fact that direct lines of communication exist between Arm Hancock and Focus Rizzari because Focus Rizzari is in open rebellion against the Focus Council.  We stand at an impasse, and yes, there is an easy resolution: Arm Hancock linking herself to a Network associated non-rebel Focus.  Which she refuses to do.”

Shadow sighed.  “I truly hesitate to say this, but from my perspective you are acting in a foolish manner.  I know far too much about Focus politics for my taste, something assigned to me by my superiors, if you wish to use a terminology not correct for Crows.”  Tonya’s eyebrows shot up.  Shadow, a Crow Guru, was not supposed to have superiors, at least as far as the secret Council knowledge on the subject was concerned.  “I cite the case of Focus Laswell of Houston, who after attempting to mediate this issue in late August was promptly labeled a ‘rebel Focus’, thus by fiat making her ineligible to be Arm Hancock’s Network contact.  Because of this and many other less than logical actions on the part of the Focus Council, and yourself, I am led to believe your stated goal is not your real goal.  I have reluctantly come to believe your real goal is to forbid the use of the Arm tag.”

Tonya didn’t respond.  Shadow’s analysis made sense, though if ‘forbidding the use of the Arm tag’ was the real goal, nobody had told her.  What she thought of as the real goal: ‘no Arm organization, ever’, was just as bad.  Perhaps, in truth, it was the same goal, if the use of Arm tags always resulted in an Arm organization.  “You’re saying this supposed goal, which is not part of my orders nor has been a part of any of the conversations I’ve had with my peers or superiors, is a large enough interference in Arm affairs to force you to side with the Arms and release the collected information?”

“Yes.”

“Then neither of us need to worry.  The reason Focus Laswell isn’t trusted is because she participated in a takedown of a true rebel Focus without prior Council approval; she thought prior approval of her Region President would suffice.  This may strike you as silly and niggling, but this is just part of the normal functioning of high-end Focus politics.  We don’t consider her part of the Rizzari rebellion.  If Arm Hancock could be talked into a different Network contact, this conflict would go away.”

“There is another side to this affair,” Shadow said.  “Arm Hancock rightfully blames you for what happened to her while she was in captivity.  She desires a public apology from you over what happened.  I believe that after said apology, you and the Arms and whoever else you wish involved would be able to sit down and negotiate an end to this conflict that satisfies all sides.”

“As to that: no comment,” Tonya said.  “As a precondition to negotiations this will not work.  Beyond that?  Use your imagination.”

“Your stubbornness has picked the wrong target, then, alas,” Shadow said.  “Arm Hancock should not be your enemy.  She is the Commander.  You will lose.”

That old myth?  “Surely not.  I’m not sure I even believe in such nonsense.”  She had thought that when Crow Sky referred to Hancock as ‘The Commander’, he had done so as one of his many supposedly humorous veiled insults.

“Our mutual Montreal friend does,” Shadow said.  “Isn’t that enough?”  Tonya didn’t respond.  Of all the things she expected to hear in a conversation with a Crow, anything about ‘the Commander’ or the Madonna of Montreal were not on the list.  “I will let you think about this conundrum, then.  I pray you make the right decision.  The lives of your friends and companions may depend on your wisdom.”

Shadow hung up the phone.  Tonya did as well.  She closed her eyes and thought.  No, Shadow was wrong.  The only way to conclude this conflict without disaster was if she forced Hancock and Keaton to acknowledge the error of their ways.

Tonya was sure she could provide the educational moments necessary.  She estimated she needed only six more weeks to complete her work.

---

“Mrs. Richards,” the man said.

Tonya, disguised and using every charisma trick she knew to reinforce the disguise, nodded.  “Have a seat,” she said.

The Allentown Hilton was perfect for Tonya’s aims.  For one thing, no Focuses lived in Allentown, nor were there any Transform Clinics.  This meant no Crows, which meant Tonya’s precautions involving juice patterns, disguises, multiple vehicles and Delia as ‘Fake Tonya’, visiting Focus Caruthers, should keep this meeting out of Shadow’s view or the view of any other Crows.

In the ten days since Shadow’s phone call Tonya had been arranging many things, all outside the view of Crows.  She had even purchased some distressed property in Allentown, under an alias only she knew, a place large enough to hold her entire household if she needed an emergency move.  The commutes would be horrible, as would the gasoline bills, but both would be possible in an emergency.

“What do you have for me today?” she said.  They sat in a remote corner of the not particularly lushly appointed lobby and Tonya attempted to tune out the sound of the syrupy Muzak playing over the speakers.

The man, whose name she didn’t know or care to know, represented the Michaels Detective Agency of New York City, an expensive firm willing and able to work across all of North America.  Tonya was paying them in kind, doing detective work for them in Philly (which also gave her a good excuse to scatter any fool Crow trying to live within the supposedly secret five mile metasense range of her, damn them).

“We managed to find and break into Dr. Frank Madison’s personal safe, copying on film all we found inside.”

Tonya allowed herself to smile.  “Great news,” she said.  Madison was Zielinski, and he appeared to be running a clandestine research facility in Houston, under Arm control.

“Don’t get your hopes too high,” the man said. “I’ve seen the overview report as part of my supervisory requirements, and the information wasn’t as voluminous as you’d expected.  Nor was it even close to understandable, and much of what we obtained was written in code.”

“Let me take a look at this report,” she said.  She used her Transform advantages to the full when dealing with hard and shady types like private detectives, of course.  They couldn’t betray her to her face, nor could they threaten her in any way.  The man handed over a thick stack of photographs of Zielinski’s documents.

There was no code, merely Zielinski’s hurried handwriting, which she had learned to decipher years ago.  He could write legibly enough when he needed to, but when hurried he skipped letters and words, and half the alphabet came out looking identical.  The rest was technical, as she expected.

She had hoped to get years of Zielinski’s personal journal and his many photographs, but instead she got only about six weeks of journal and no photographs at all.  Just by quickly skimming through the report she identified several obvious wedge targets: Zielinski was unhappy about the fact Hancock was keeping a top recruit secret from Keaton.  That was one.  She suspected she would find many others.

Now it was her turn.  “I interviewed the three bank employees, as you requested.”  She handed over a box with five reels of audio tape inside.  “Target number three is the one you want, in my opinion.”  More than her opinion; she had forced the man to admit to embezzling over two million dollars.  This time she made sure to work with the good guys; the Michaels Detective Agency was high profile, their primary targets white collar criminals, and they kept their operation highly polished because they often had to hand over what they collected to the police and the Feds, to aid in prosecution.

“Very well,” the man said.  “It’s so nice to do business with you, Mrs. Richards.”  He stood and left.

Tonya let a large smile cross her face after the man left.  Zielinski’s records were exactly what she needed to end this mess quickly and successfully, and bring Hancock to heel.

Everything from here on out was just implementation.

Carol Hancock: September 24, 1968

On the 24
th
of September of 1968, after a month of my efforts, Tom Delacort knelt at my feet, surrounded by my men.  He swore fealty to me, the ceremony cribbed straight out of an old medieval history book.  A knight swearing loyalty to his lord, and he meant every word.  He formally committed himself to me, and took my tag.  The juice moved.  As with Zielinski, Tom was mine down to the uttermost depths of his soul.  I took his oath and as I stared down at him, just as with Zielinski, I realized I loved him.

Finally, though it seemed like years, we came to my house and I brought him to my bedroom in this night I owned.