Michael Williamson: When Diplomacy Fails…

“I’ll relay that.”

The flight was comfortable enough, Alex thought. From the shuttle they’d embarked on a cruise liner that was privately owned by BuState, operated by contract and civil service crew, almost all of them veterans. That didn’t negate the possibility of attempts on their principal, but it did reduce the probability and change the factors.

Still, it was nice to be comfortable while assessing threats. They each had a stateroom with frills and real wood paneling, which was ridiculous, and felt really odd during maneuvers, but the privacy and minimal but real space was something he appreciated. They’d once traveled all six in a bunkroom, on constant watch. This was nice.

However, he didn’t trust the security protocols, nor the risk of anyone snooping, so they rotated between staterooms to discuss business, and did so by hand-writing notes to pass around and then shred. The contrast between state of the art ship and pencil on paper was amusing.

Alex expected trouble at some point. They were hired for that reason. He didn’t expect an attack just yet, but political sniping would probably start early on.

Eight days later, they were in system and prepared to transition to protection taskings. He had four of five shooters behind him, with Jason doing recon on Mtali, groundside. They were in what passed as a boardroom for this ship, on sparse but adequate furniture, as unarmed as anyone else. It was a policy brought about because of the risk of damaging the ship and causing leaks, even though the vessel was rated for meteorite impacts at ungodly velocity. Policies were usually based on emotion, not facts, and impossible to argue with.

He stopped musing as the hatch swung. One of BuState’s guards was first, then the slight-looking redhead who was the assistant to Joy Herman Highland who came next, all 1.7 meters of her, projecting an attitude three meters tall, all of it bitch.

The BuState security detail looked all too happy to hand her over. One of them came over, presented a tablet to be signed, then nodded as he turned. The four of them left with barely a mumbled goodbye.

That left it all up to Alex, which, while it had downsides, also meant he didn’t have to argue with anyone except the principal. He expected that to be enough of a chore.

“Minister Highland, I’m Alex Marlow.”

She smiled cordially enough, though it was a politician’s smile. It was as real as her hair color and probably her breasts.

“Thank you, Mr. Marlow,” she said, as she extended a hand. He recalled that she insisted on the appearance of manners. He took it firmly but not too hard.

She continued, “Allow me to introduce Jessie Monroe, my personal assistant, publicist and factotum.”

The elfin redhead offered a hand. He took it and said, “Of course we’re familiar with JessieM’s reports. It’s good to meet you.” He reflected he was lying as much as they were. JessieM was the unofficial voice of Highland’s empire. She made an endless stream of location reports, cute little references, posted fake “questions” that Highland could easily answer.

She was also not part of the contracted protection.

Monroe said, “A pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Marlow. That’s without an ‘E’, yes?”

“Yes,” he said, then realized she was publicizing his name, company and location across the entire spectrum.

He wasn’t going to address that in public, and it was too late for that incident. However, that shit could not be allowed. Jason wasn’t here, so he looked over at Elke. She raised an eyebrow, raised and lowered her head, and turned to her own enhanced “phone.”

Then he turned to Highland and said, “Ma’am, I’d like to introduce the rest of the team and get up to speed, if that’s okay.” He didn’t clench his jaw or snarl.

“Of course,” she said brightly. He wasn’t sure if that was act or honest.

“Very well. Bart Weil is our most experienced VIP protection specialist, from Germany.”

Bart let her offer her hand first. He knew all the manners. He even sometimes used them. Highland’s expression didn’t betray anything.

“Mr. Weil.”

“Minister Highland,” he said with a nod.

“Aramis Anderson handles most of our navigation and is responsible for quite a bit of logistics.” Translation, the kid could plot and draw maps, and liked stashing guns and gear where it might be useful. He followed Bart’s lead and let her offer her hand, and she held his a fraction too long. Yes, he was quite handsome. Someone in her position should barely notice, though.

“Mr. Anderson.”

“Ma’am.”

“Eleonora Sykora is from the Czech Constituency and handles all our explosive and other hazardous material threats. She’ll also be your close escort in some areas.”

Highland said, “Very good. Pleased to meet you, Miss Sykora.”

“Elke is fine, if you wish.”

“Very well.”

“Jason Vaughn is from Grainne Colony, and is already on location, preparing and doing advance observation.” Her expression went from confused to understanding at his nonpresence, and she nodded. “He’s a technical specialist on mechanicals and electronics.” Mechanic, gunsmith, lockcracker, and occasional pilot.

“Horace Mbuto is a surgeon in addition to being an executive protection specialist.”

As she shook his hand, he said, “I have your medical files, ma’am, but if there’s anything else I should know, please do tell me. You have full privilege, and I like to be prepared for any eventuality, no matter how rare.”

“Thank you. I’ll try to get you a load.” She didn’t seem bothered by it, which was good. At her level of government, she had to be familiar with general security protocols. However, she was probably also rather secretive and wouldn’t share that info. People at her level were worried about any leaks of any kind, with good reason. Actually, to that end, Ripple Creek might be more reliable than her staff. They all cashed checks, but Ripple Creek’s loyalty was bought and paid for, at least for the duration.

They moved through into the docking compartment. It was already cleared of crew, but Elke made another sweep, and Aramis physically checked hatches.

JessieM tapped away at her screen.

“I’m not getting any signal in here,” she said.

There was the barest hint of a smile at the corner of Elke’s mouth. Alex decided he owed her a drink for picking up on that and acting on it. They couldn’t have many “problems” with reception, but hopefully they could talk about it and get JessieM to tone down the intel leak. Probably not, but he’d try.

Elke reported back, “It all seems clear.”

Without Jason, she was the go-to person, and their physical checks hadn’t shown anything. He preferred redundancy, but he trusted Elke.

“Then we’ll stand by to transfer at Ms. Highland’s pleasure,” he said.

She smiled a polished, professional smile and said, “We may as well do so now, then.”

He said, “Yes, ma’am. Elke, Aramis, lead.”

They took up position and preceded Highland, with Bart alongside her and Alex and Shaman at the rear. They locked through three hatches with chuff sounds and pressure shifts, into the deluxe landing shuttle, and took very comfortable couches.

And how the hell did this luxoboat get insystem? It had to be hauled externally, and the energy cost would be insane. Even Caron Prescot never did that. She rode very basic shuttles up and down, and even the resort customers didn’t have it this nice.

The UN government had the money, but there were better ways to spend it, he thought.

Highland and her assistant took seats far forward. Alex indicated a bit of space, and the team sat four rows back. These were deep rows, with very comfortable couches, enough leg room even for Bart, adjustable tables and screens, everything. There was just enough airflow and mechanical noise to make an effective privacy screen.