When Diplomacy Fails . . . (24 page)

Jessie asked, “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, we’re heading through an area controlled by the Pure Shia. They’re looking at our lone vehicle rather angrily.”

Alex said, “I think it’s more hungrily. They have quite a few veterans who know how to operate one.”

“Good point. In either case, there’s no way around and I expect some trouble.”

“How’s the traffic?”

“Starting to get very tight. I can plow or crush light scooters. Actual cars will stop me.”

“Detour as needed, keep moving. We’ll need to swap out and abandon this. Elke, we don’t want them to get hold of it.”

“Fireworks it is,” she said, clearly cheerful.

Jason said, “It’s going to be soon. I’m on a secondary now, if I have to turn again we’re going to be hosed.”

“Roads aren’t wide enough?”

“No, they seem not to have taken advantage of the modern grid layout other than the main thoroughfares. They balkanized their neighborhoods on arrival and made a mess.”

Alex called, “Everyone ready for transfer?”

There were nods and rattles.

“Ms. Highland, Jessie, we are about to abandon this vehicle and commandeer another. It will be noisy. It may be a bit rough. Grab onto Elke’s pack, and Jessie, you onto Aramis’s. Keep hold as much as possible. There could be some bruising. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“What do you have, Jason?”

He took in the surroundings and reported. “I think we have a half a block. I see several good Mercedes we can use. I have a coder that should work on most of them. They’re common enough to get us farther out before another swap.”

“Sounds good. Do it.”

“They’re in front of a hotel. Elke, you’ll need to distract people.”

Elke stood swaying and took broad steps to the rear. “I have smoke, squibs and mild irritant.” It was about time she got to do her job. She gestured to Highland, who nodded a bit vacantly but did grab Elke’s harness.

He braked hard and she clutched a rail to avoid sliding forward.

“In five, four, three, two, one. Drop the ramp.”

Aramis hit the ramp release; it clanged to the ground. Shaman went first. Elke followed, skipping down the angle with Highland hanging on through a near stumble. Once in sunlight, she took station still half on the ramp, her body and the side armor protecting the principal.

Bart was right behind her, and went past at a brisk walk.

Shaman knew his stuff. He casually opened the car’s gullwing door, reached in before the driver could respond coherently, and dragged the man out by his collar. Bart slid into the driver’s seat and dropped the door. Elke shoved Highland loose, next to the passenger door.

The driver’s expression went from confused to irritated to angry, and he started jabbering in Arabic or Turkish or something, as Shaman zapped him with a stun baton. It was all still relatively quiet, but some bystanders had passed the surprise stage and were in the alarm stage. That was Elke’s cue. She thumbed a code, slid a package tab into it, then tossed it on the sidewalk. It whuffed into a cloud of smoke that obscured them from anyone on that side. She followed with a second thrown behind the car and in the middle of traffic.

Aramis came through with Jessie clinging to his back, bent over and making
meep
ing noises. Aramis dove in the back easily, Shaman helped shove Jessie in. Jason made a quick check, assumed the package in the ARPAC was Elke’s parting gift, and rolled in himself.

Alex grunted, “Elke, go.”

“Moving,” she announced for Highland’s benefit. At least the woman was trained well at this aspect. She moved well enough.

The crowd was starting to panic and point, though. Elke tossed squibs in two directions as Shaman steered Highland into the rear. She waited a moment for the squibs to start cracking in loud, echoey reports, and slid in, using her arse to shove Highland further back.

Alex came last. He rolled rather nimbly for a man of his age, over the quarter panel, and slid into the shotgun seat. He hadn’t finished closing the door before Bart had them in traffic with the throttle nailed.

“Your coder works,” he said to Jason.

“I thought the engine was already running.”

“The driver had a disconnect. He pressed it and looked smug. Then he looked concerned. Then he ceased looking anything when Shaman dropped him.”

Alex said, “Well done. Get us lost first.”

“Moving,” Bart agreed and took a turn.

Elke scrolled through her feeds, didn’t see something, and said, “Alex, we have a problem.”

“Talk to me.”

“Jessie’s update is not showing on the churp feed. I am seeing other feeds that look like her style. Did you say something about a trip to the Eastern Forest Reserve?”

Jessie looked confused. “No?”

Alex shouted, “The receivers. Jessie, give your phone to Elke right now!”

Jessie stuttered and said, “Uh, okay. Hacked?” She handed her phone over reluctantly.

Elke flipped it, popped the back, pulled the power cell, pulled the card and fumbled for a case. She had one in a thigh pocket she used to isolate circuits, but she was squashed next to the door and Jessie. It took considerable wiggling and arching, but she got it and placed the card inside.

“Yes, hacked,” she said. “None of this is going on local or system feed. Someone has control of the service, which is run by the Lezt family. They are either corrupted or conspirators. And oh, yes.” She clicked her detonator. There should be two warning pops to reduce casualties, a shame that, and then . . .

BANG, flash, thump.

She did love overpressure.

Highland seemed to come around to something at the mention of Lezt. She didn’t notice the explosion.

“It would take someone in UN Security Agency or Intelligence to order the nodes locked, even that minimal amount. It must be Lezt doing it for some third party.”

Jason said, “And that third party is UNSA or UNBI, working under orders from someone in your party.”

She shook her head. “I’m not convinced of that at all. You’re being dangerously paranoid.”

Alex said, “That’s my job. I’m paranoid so you don’t have to be. Regardless of who it is, they’ve set it up so they can get signals and you can’t communicate. We have spare phones, but we can’t waste them for Miss Jessie to churp notes. If they accomplish nothing else, they’ve cut your communications, and are masquerading as you.”

“I agree with that. How do we stop them and get control back?”

Jason said, “That depends on how they approach it. This just became an intel fight.”

Aramis said, “As I see it, and I’ve done publicity, they can play this at least three ways.” He ticked off on his fingers. “They can simply post reports, and compile B roll video, to show you having meaningless PR meetings with small groups. The locations will be vague, so you can’t be positively pinned down. That gets you out of the campaign eye. Or, they could have you say some odd, malicious or incriminating things to wreck your campaign. At the far end, they’ll try to locate and kill you.”

Alex said, “It depends on if they think slowing you will do the job, sabotaging you, or if they need you as a martyr.”

“We don’t martyr people in the Egalitarian Party,” Highland snapped.

Elke said, “Except for trigger-happy mercenary bodyguards, and potentially silly but useful hangers on.”

Color drained from Highland’s face, then flushed back. That had hit her hard.

Elke did enjoy being able to love her work.

Bart said, “Cruk’s ratings are low and sinking. He needs a substantial boost, and less competition. The Party specifically said they were ‘looking at all options for candidates,’ when I saw the German feed. They are not confident of his popularity even in your own party.”

Highland snorted. “It’s not that I think he wouldn’t do it. He’d readily do it. He’s just too fucking stupid. He’s a pretty face and a soothing voice, and never ran even a Third World constituency. He wins elections by handing out largesse and manipulating people.”

“This would manipulate you, yes?”

“He couldn’t do it, though.”

“So who got him in?”

She was silent. Bart drove, maneuvering constantly.

Eventually she spoke. “I have to trust you with my life. That’s much easier than trusting you with party dirt.”

“Ma’am, unless you want to be a martyr, I’d suggest you relay us information. Have you heard anything ugly about our previous principals, from us?”

“No. But it’s not that simple.” She sighed. “I suppose I must. You’re seen as a threat.”

She left it hanging as if it were a revelation.

Elke said, “We deduced that before we left Earth.”

Jason said, “We’ll continue this inside. We’re here. Alex, how do you want to do it?”

Alex never hesitated. Elke appreciated that.

“Jason, you’ll lead Elke in with Ms. Highland. Bart will get out with Aramis. Shaman will take over driving. Around the block, I’ll get out with Jessie. Shaman ditches it and comes last.”

Bart pulled over and they started debarking, onto a sidewalk lightly traveled by only a few matrons with wheeled baskets if poor, or humming floaters if a little less so.

After two stops, Horace slid over to drive. JessieM was still stunned silent, and debarked with Alex. That left him alone to park a stolen vehicle, and of course, that’s when he drove past a parked police vehicle.

He made no funny moves, just drove as a limo driver would. In the rear screen, he saw them frown slightly. The vehicle was out of place in this area. It wasn’t out of place enough for them to risk the wrath of whichever mucky-muck was aboard. He took a side street, then another, keeping direction and distance in mind. It was quiet and dusky, so he pulled over, raised his scarf to a hood, checked his pistol, parked and stepped out.

All his gear was already inside, or should be. He shouldered a small cross-pack that held emergency sundries, and kept a clear path between hand and pistol. No one molested him; indeed, he saw almost no one until he reached the thoroughfare, where he seemed to blend in well enough. Three minutes of steady but unhurried walking got him to the saferoom.

Horace hadn’t expected any particular apartment. Location and discretion were primary, then cost always played a role. Too pricey would raise inquiries. Too cheap affected reliability of the landlord and neighbors. He was surprised when he walked in the door.

Furnished, it would be a very nice place. Seven plastic chairs and seven basic cots filled a nicely laid out common room. This was probably considered a studio, but it was a large studio. The bathroom was back there, with a frosted one-way pane. The kitchenette was modern, and quite a few cans, instant packages and beverages sat waiting.

“New phone,” Jason said, and underhanded one. Horace caught it.

Elke stood in the middle observing. She said to Jason, “You already set the bathroom window with a line and a breaking charge.”

“Yes.”

“Not a bad job. Should I tune it?”

“I assume you can do better, so yes.”

Elke seemed happy and relaxed with explosive in hand. For most people, that would be insane. For her, it was comfortably normal. Good.

Alex said, “I hadn’t planned on Jessie, so we’re short a cot. However, we’ll need someone on watch.”

“I am on now,” Bart said. He had a tub of soup open, steaming, and sipped it like a drink.

“We won’t be here long,” Alex said. “We’ll be planning an offensive and moving. Ms. Highland, Jessie, while this location is probably safe, nothing is guaranteed. Remain dressed. Keep all property immediately at hand. We may move on a moment’s notice. Do not make any communications. That is an order.”

Horace examined Highland as she flared her eyebrows and said nothing. She at least understood the practicalities of the situation. Jessie just nodded.

Highland said, “I’ll try to rest then.”

“Good idea. I want half down, half up for now. Eat, rest, rearm. How’s our stock?”

Jason said, “We’ve hardly shot anything. I have spare ammo here so we can take full loadouts, but that’s mass.”

“Juggle it on a personal basis. Ammo first, then water, then food, then sundries.”

Jason said, “I’d like to see about finding a deeper hole, cruder and more remote. We can spend a little money and do things discreetly.”

“How fast can you get a vehicle?”

“Fast isn’t the problem. If I stick down a wad of cash and shiny metal, someone is going to know it’s questionable and word will get out. I have no way to justify financing. So I need to find a private party and make it worth their while, but we still don’t know we can trust them.”

Aramis asked, “Would they rat us out, knowing they might lose their payoff?”

“They might be that stupid, or they might just lie about how much it was.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So I can get transport, but we must then move at once.”

“At the risk of sounding prejudiced, we want to stick to Christian groups.”

“Or the Turks, or one of the rare Bahá’i.”

“Possibly.”

“I really hate trying to sound as if I give a damn about religion. It’s dishonest of me, and I feel worse because it matters to them.”

Highland said, “But you’re fine with shooting people.”

He faced her and said, “Mercenaries have morals, too.”

“I can do it,” Elke said. “I’m not particularly religious, but I can accept a blessing and offer friendliness in return.”

“You and Aramis. Go.” As they left, he dimmed the lights to ten percent.

Since they’d picked up JessieM much like a stray dog, Horace considered her one of his patients and charges. She looked very wrung out at the moment, and her breathing indicated a borderline panic reaction.

“Jessie, let me check you for injuries quickly.”

“Oh, if you need to,” she said, snapping alert and looking worried, growing a shade paler.

“It’s just a precaution,” he said. “Have a seat here.” He indicated the corner away from the plotting and scheming, and kept his voice low. Highland took no notice. Though to be fair, the stress was affecting her, too.

“You seem a little out of sorts, so I want to make sure it’s not trauma.” There were no marks on her.