Michael Williamson - When Diplomacy Fails…

Aramis said, “We have a choice of nice hotel, flophouse, apartment or rental. There’s a poor working neighborhood I’ve identified where no one will question us. We can pretend to be three married couples and three singles, though Bart’s size is a bit distinctive. Local garb will help.”

“Demographic?”

“Primitive Christian. Hats, scarves, coats. Women don’t normally wear pants, but jobs can require it.”

Highland said, “Agent Sykora refuses to wear a scarf.”

“I will not wear one for political purposes. I have no objection to wearing camouflage.”

Highland’s jaw clenched. Alex figured Elke was really enjoying herself, now that she had explosive, someone to taunt, and the rule book sailing through the air.

He said, “That sounds like our neighborhood. Do we have a reservation?”

“No. We’ll need to sneak, peek and drop.”

“Is anyone good with the appropriate scripture for this subculture?”

“I am,” Shaman said, “though I may stand out. The African emigres were few.”

Elke said, “I can do it. My family was nominally Lutheran. I’ll just stick to basic references and invoke Christ.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I feel no animosity to their faith. What some of the more insane have chosen to do with it is a separate issue.”

“True. The majority of them are still nice people. The whackos just make up for it in volume and violence.”

“I will go ahead, and take Aramis with me. We can pass as a couple.”

“They’ll probably expect me to talk,” he said.

“Yes, and you can be gruff, I’ll be pleasant.”

“We need to record that. No one will believe it.”

Elke said, “We must hope they do.”

They slipped out.

Quiet could be aggravating. No one was shooting at them, there were no rioters, things were quite calm. That left all kinds of time to fret over being found, or Elke and Aramis being traced, a sudden missile, anything.

Alex needed to discuss issues with Highland, but he wanted to wait until he had the whole team regrouped and they were ready to roll. In the meantime…

“Bart, keep an eye out to the east. Jason, you have south.” He kept his voice soft. Highland was actually dozing. Not only did that make her easier to deal with, she did need rest, and her health was their concern.

Eventually his phone beeped. It showed as Elke, and he opened voice.

“Coming in,” she said, and was gone. He pointed at the door while pulling capacitor and circuit again. They would need more backups for future use.

Aramis and Elke arrived moments later. Jason glanced down the hall, Bart closed the door behind them.

“We have space,” Aramis said. “A small strip condo.”

Alex asked, “How long do we plan to do this? We’re just relocating as we go.” At one level it made sense, at another, they’d be spinning wheels, wasting assets and risk being seen.

Aramis said, “Long enough for the news to settle down and see how it’s spun. Whoever gets blamed will indicate potential sources.”

Bart said, “We’ll get blamed.”

Alex grinned. “Of course, but on whose behalf?”

“Good point.”

“So let’s share coordinates, address, the works.” He docked his phone to Aramis’s and snagged the data.

After sharing the info around, Alex turned to Highland to try again.

“Ma’am, I… we need to discuss the threat status and be sure we’re in agreement on the best course of action. We are temporarily, and I stress temporarily, safe here, but we are at risk if we are identified, and need to work around that.”

“I actually get a choice?” she asked. “I rather thought I was a prisoner of my own security.”

“It was necessary to vacate the area fast against potential threats. If you so order, we will go where you wish, but it will be recorded and noted so as to cover us. It’s one of the ironies of this business that we’ll catch bullets for you, but we will not enable you to get shot yourself.”

“Very well. What leads you to believe there’s an immediate threat?”

“Other than a grenade and someone trying to crush you under an armored vehicle?” he asked. He didn’t think she was that clueless, but she might be that convinced of her own credibility.

“Look, the SecGen has been so completely clueless even his own party, your party, doesn’t want him. How often do they allow a caucus before a sitting SecGen steps down? But, if he can orchestrate your death, he’ll eliminate the main contender in his own party, and play the other four for sympathy. He only needs a plurality to pull a runoff and eliminate the Randites. They’re certainly not going to vote for the Neo-Stalinists in the next round. The Neo-Stalinists are not going to vote Islamic Conservative. They’re not going to vote Liberal-Labour. The tertiary parties don’t count at all. That means the Equality Party wins, meaning him.”

Jason stepped in to help.

“If she runs, what happens?”

He looked back at her as he said, “Polls are split on you winning, bad for him, or you losing to Liberal-Labour, worse for him. Also worse for the party as a whole. They could play this the other way, too, and have him iced. Except that he’s much harder to hit with the Special Service around him, and that would look suspicious. You being here lets them blame some faction or other, like Celadon only moreso, then come in and stomp as they wish. They then have territory they can parcel out to supporters as concessions.”

Bart said, “They can also give us as a company bad press.”

“That, and I wouldn’t put it past any of several of them to want us personally dead after saving President Bishwanath. They put together a scam on that, and we gutshot it.”

Highland said, “That fits. We’re a hundred and eighty-three days out.”

“Yes?”

“I’m over thirty percent. At thirty-two and one eighty, I can call for Special Service protection details.”

“Oh, shit. How the fuck did we miss that?” Really, that was…

Jason said, “That was it! I heard the conversation and it didn’t click.”

Aramis said, “Hell, that’s easy. We stay hidden for three days, then call ahead and hand her off.”

“As long as she has the percentage.”

“We can fix that,” he said confidently. Son of a bitch, they were about to help with narcissistic cunt win the election.

“How?” she asked.

“First, escape, evade and hide.”

“But where? We can’t get off planet.”

“We have before.”

Jason said, “Ms. Highland has an emergency transponder chip. They’ll only find it here with a tight directional scan, but any port will show it.”

“It’s deep, too,” she said. “When I had my gall bladder worked on, it was set then.”

And at that moment, her expression changed, to that of a person who knew she was being hunted to death, regarded as a trophy and convenience, and who’d been completely betrayed.

Elke felt the tickle run up her spine, and kept her smirk hidden behind sleeve and glasses. That was the intangible she wanted out of this, and it was very sweet.

Shaman said, “I would be reluctant to go digging, without a modern clinic.”

Jason said, “Which we’re not going to have access to.”

“How long can we lie low?” Bart asked?

Alex said, “If we can’t pull this off, it would have to be until after the election. At that point, they’ll shrug and look embarrassed, accuse us of paranoia and kidnapping, and wait for it to fade in the loads.”

Highland said, “I am not missing the election!”

Jason looked at her. “Nor are we going to be accused of kidnapping, again.”

She didn’t even look sheepish. The woman was an uncaring sociopath. Elke might be herself, but at least her suggestions were practical.