Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

To Das he said, “Thanks, sir. I’ll follow up on that.”

“You’re welcome. By the way, I forwarded your generous donation to several officers. It was well-received, and the derision seems to have lessened slightly.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” Though he didn’t think it would please Jason much.

He shook hands and he turned to leave.

On the way back he considered their position. Their own contractee was potentially the enemy. That could lead to all kinds of fun.

They’d need to have two levels of prep at this point.

Aramis crossed the line from sleeping to awake with a snap. He felt rested, but there was that confusion from the medication, and dread of the pending pain, though it was substantially lessened.

Elke was next to him.

“Morning,” he said.

“I am not allowed to tell you you’ll be on your feet in a week.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t hear that.” Good. He wanted out of here. Doing nothing sucked.

“You did well,” she said. “I am very impressed.”

“Thanks,” he said. If Elke said that, she meant it.

“You’ve been here a week. Probably another week. You are bored?”

“You wouldn’t believe. The pain I can handle… yeah, let’s say so. I hate vid and can’t move to do anything.”

“I will bring more books.”

His eyes suddenly felt tired. “I appreciate it, but I’m burned out staring at the screen for books or vid. I’ve had enough music. I just need to get on my feet.”

“You can’t move now, though,” she said, while looking him over.

He flexed against the bonds. They were to prevent injury. He could undo them if he chose, he just couldn’t thrash and tear anything.

“No, I’m pretty much restrained between shifts.”

“Well, good. You can’t strain anything, or interfere with therapy.”

“I don’t get therapy here,” he said. “It’s all…”

Elke’s hand was under the covers from the side, snaking slowly toward him. He lit up with goose bumps all over.

“Elke,” he said, “I-”

“Last time you earned a kiss. This time, you’re unable to manage alone.”

Her position meant no one passing by the door would see anything untoward, as long as he didn’t trip any biometric alarms.

Those were the fingers she used to fabricate those incredible bombs, from firecracker to ground shaker. They were amazingly delicate, just feathery touches.

“So we just hold a conversation?” he said. It felt like that again. He wondered if he’d ever enjoy normal sex again, or if it would all have to be violent, edgy and extreme.

“If you like,” she said. That look of concentration. She was intent on this, and he could feel it.

“This isn’t going to take long.”

“Not if I know what I’m doing, no.” A long caress along his nerves threw his endorphins for a loop again.

He closed his eyes, tightened his breath and rode out the thudding waves in his brain.

When he looked, she was sitting in the chair, a calm expression on her face and a towel stuffed into her harness.

“Oh, damn. I really did need that,” he said, as waves of tension thudded through him and ebbed away.

“Only while incapacitated. That is not an offer,” she said, with a quirky smile.

He nodded slightly. “Understood, and thank you most sincerely. I’ll try to stay in one piece.”

“Bart will be along in ten minutes, and I will revert to bitch. You will respect that, of course.” Her face was professional, but behind her eyes, just a hint of something he recognized.

“Unquestionably,” he said. Yup, never mention it again. And no, it wasn’t worth getting chewed up, as much as he did appreciate it.

He hoped Bart would smuggle in some liquor, though, because his brain wanted to match Elke and Caron.

Goddamit, not again.

Alex was glad to have Aramis back in one piece. That was his primary concern. Officially, not losing the principal was primary. In actuality, he cared more for his people than the job. Stopping bullets was their mission, but that was just it-the principal was a job. Aramis was a friend and valued subordinate.

So, whether Aramis was mentally fit for duty or not, he was alive, safe, healed. That was first.

Das was with them in their own conference room in the BuState compound. Aramis had been debriefed several times in various levels of consciousness. This was to confirm the intel and have him sign off on it, and decide if he would remain on mission.

“Before we call him in, I need to know if he’ll be fit for the trip next week.” It was a long trip, too, visiting two other cities and several smaller towns. The argument for her visit as minister was incredibly tenuous. It was obviously an election junket.

Shaman said, “Yes. He will be fit, if a bit weak, and he’s eager to resume operating.”

“Good, then. I’ll still keep Lionel on call as backup for anyone who might go down.”

Jason said, “That’s a reasonable precaution. We can also cycle Aramis back with Cady’s group as he spools back up, as an interim.”

“Yes, we discussed that. It’s possible.” He turned and asked, “Captain Das, are you ready?”

Das said, “Quite, and relaxed. Please don’t let me hinder you, and I appreciate your hospitality and cooperation.” He still had that faint smile. It was nice to deal with a professional.

“Well, we appreciate thirty kilos of Composition G. But you can bet Elke will want more.”

He grinned for just a moment. “I’ll allow it, if we can find it.”

Jason said, “Here he is.”

Shaman escorted Aramis in. His limp was mostly gone, and he seemed to be fatigued and battered at this point. That was a significant improvement over the sack of meat he’d resembled a few days before.

Alex offered, “Morning.”

“Yes it is,” he said, in mock disgust over the cheerfulness he couldn’t hide. “I should have been drinking to feel like this.”

“Well, you can do that in a few days, too. I’ll allow one evening of relaxation, if Shaman agrees, regardless of Army rules.”

“Thanks.”

He indicated the tablet and hard copy notes on the table. “Here’s the audio debriefs you had, though you’re not coherent in some. You’ll need to go through them again and see if you can decipher your mumbles. We don’t expect additional data, but have to check.”

“I’ll check. I don’t remember those at all, so it’s going to be a formality.”

“That’s what we expect. Then you’ll need to review the written notes and sign off. This here is just a release form,” he passed it over, “so Captain Das can officially use your intel. I took the liberty of extending him courtesy on that.”

“By all means,” Aramis said. He glanced over the page easily enough, printed the thumb block and signed over it in pen.

Das said, “Thanks. Before anything else, I’m very glad you’re alive and recovering. And I do appreciate the intel. Everything we can get is not enough. You know this and I’ll spare you the breakdown, but do know I’m grateful.”

“No problem, sir. Thanks for cutting the resources loose to recover me.”

Das nodded and moved on. “So, we’re still trying to narrow down who might have targeted you as a means of targeting her. They asked about one specific schedule. Anything else you remember at all?”

“No,” Aramis said and shook his head firmly. “They asked lots of questions, but I only remember that they wanted Highland’s itinerary, accused me of lying for not knowing, disputed that it would be changed if there was a problem. Then they made personal comments about my resistance.”

Alex pondered, “So the question remains, were they stupid enough to think the schedule couldn’t change, or connected enough to believe she wouldn’t let that affect her?”