Joseph Lewis - Halcyon

And then all was silence and stillness. They glided effortlessly over the rooftops, and gradually the dull drone of the propellers reasserted itself in Taziri’s ears. Behind them, the airfield had already been reduced to a small green patch amidst the gray roads and pale stone buildings.

“We’re safe.” Taziri released her death grip on the controls and cradled her left hand in her lap. She massaged the feeling back into her palm, though her little finger remained numb and her ring finger was tingling slightly. “No one can touch us now.”

“Lovely.” Evander slumped down on his seat. “Except we’re up here with this bastard and all your friends are down there somewhere.”

Taziri sighed and nodded. “One disaster at a time, please.”

Hamuy snorted, then winced and shuddered, and lay back down flat on the floor.

The major crouched in a dark corner of the warehouse. Leaning against a wooden crate, he felt a splinter pricking him in the back. Around the corner some twenty yards away, Barika Chaou was speaking in a voice too low to hear. There were at least three other people in the building, two men and a woman. Chaou was doing most of the talking. Syfax crept forward and picked out a few words.

Telegraph. Shifrah. Arafez.

The ambassador’s stolen horse whickered softly from some unseen corner. Syfax wondered absently what would happen to his own horse, which he left tied in front of a dingy excuse for a cafe at the edge of the district. Chaou had proven remarkably capable in the saddle, leaving the marshal clattering noisily up and down the empty pre-dawn streets of Port Chellah all alone. A quiet hour’s search on foot had proven more productive.

Syfax held his revolver lightly as he tried to gauge the nature of the conversation that he couldn’t hear. Short sentences with no real discussion, like a commander giving orders. Maybe they’ll break up in a few minutes and leave the ambassador alone. Vulnerable. We can always pick up the small fry later when I’m not outnumbered.

The soft murmuring ended. Footsteps echoed faintly throughout the warehouse, though none approached the marshal’s hiding place. Syfax peeked out and saw no one. He stood cautiously, then crept forward down the narrow space between the stacks of crates and surveyed the area. Nothing. The horse whickered again and the major dashed toward the sound. He rounded a corner, stepping out into the street, and leveled his gun at the small woman about to mount the horse. “Ambassador. Long time no see.”

The older woman froze, and then slowly turned around with hands raised. “Major Zidane.”

“Sorry I’m late, had a little horse trouble on the way over. Why don’t you step back and lie down on the ground for me? Right over there, in that mud.”

Chaou stepped back from the horse. “I really wish you weren’t quite so persistent. You might force me to do something unfortunate. I don’t like hurting people, but I am capable of it, as poor Captain Aknin learned a short while ago.”

“Don’t forget the captain of the Crake. You put a bullet in her, too.”

“I’m not forgetting.” Chaou shook her head sharply. “Just not counting. If it hadn’t been for that stupid girl trying to be a hero, no one would have been hurt and the Crake would still be in one piece. And I wouldn’t have had to spend half the night walking through the woods.”

Syfax scowled. “Seriously? You’re blaming the pilot girl?”

“Please, major. Let’s not get caught up in details. Besides, that’s all in the past now. And as long as you’re pointing a gun at me, I’d like to talk to you about the future. Your future and the future of Marrakesh.” The ambassador leaned back against a crate, but quickly pushed away from it with a frown. “Dirt everywhere, you know. Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve heard your name quite a few times while staying with Lady Damya in Tingis. Everyone seems very impressed with you. So many arrests. But an unusual number of kills. Frankly, the brass seem a little concerned about what would happen if they promote you, but even more concerned about what would happen if they leave you on the street. Does that sound right?”

“It sounds like you really like to hear yourself talk, lady. Now turn around and put your hands at the small of your back, slowly.” He fished around in his pockets for a set of cuffs.

“I’d rather not.” Chaou didn’t move. “Does it seem right to you that your career has stalled because you are, essentially, too good at your job?”

“I don’t question my superiors. They do their job, I do mine. Quick question for you. Who or what is a shifrah? I couldn’t help overhearing you a minute ago.”

Chaou shook her head. “I don’t recognize the word. You must have misheard.”

“Sure I did. Turn around or I might shoot you. Accidentally, of course.” He thumbed the hammer back.

The ambassador gazed steadily up at him. “There is a problem with this country. We have the most powerful machines in the world, nearly limitless natural resources, and the most talented work force in history, and yet we bow to Darius in Persia and curry the favor of the Songhai lords. We go to endless lengths to placate the Bafours, the Kanemi, the Kel Ahaggar, Rome, Carthage, and even the slobbering Silver Prince in Espana. We pay them, we feed them, and we even arm them. Why?”

“I don’t follow international politics. I’m more of a boxing fan.” Syfax rested his finger gently on the trigger. Is she actually trying to talk her way out of this? Or is she just stalling, hoping one of her little friends comes back? “And right now, I’m more concerned with local affairs. Speaking of which, where is your gun?”

“I gave it to one of my friends, someone who can make better use of it than I can. I’m not very comfortable with firearms.”

“Heh. Me neither.” Syfax grinned as he roughly searched the ambassador’s pockets, her belt, her boots, even her hair. “So you really did handoff your gun? Well, I’ll just add weapons trafficking to the list of charges.” He holstered his gun, pulled a set of handcuffs free of his pocket, and closed one of the rings around the woman’s wrist.

Chaou smiled thinly. “Regarding your career, major, I’ll come to the point. I’m prepared to offer you a colonel’s bars on that uniform of yours, a substantial increase in salary, and a position on the Marshal General’s personal staff.”

Syfax grinned in spite of himself. “That is, without question, the single best bribe I have ever been offered. The last scumbag was only willing to spread her legs for me. But I don’t think an ambassador can give me a promotion.”

“No, but the Marshal General can, and I can assure you that she’ll be prepared to deliver whatever I promise.” Chaou tilted her head to one side, bird-like. “Does the offer interest you?”

“I’m still waiting to hear what all this generosity will cost me.” Syfax held the open cuff in his fist, wondering if it made more sense to cuff her hands together or to cuff her to himself.

“Well, it involves you walking out of this place, alive and well, and leaving me and my associates to conduct our business in peace. And of course, I may expect some small favors from you, in your official capacity, from time to time. Naturally.”

“Naturally.” Syfax listened for any sign of a returning associate. They seemed to be alone. “But you recently shot one of your buddies in the back of the head, so I’m not really enthusiastic about being your friend right now.” She’s really doing this. She’s really trying to recruit me. Idiot.

“A fair criticism.” Chaou nodded slowly. “But in my defense, you scared me back at the tomb, and frankly I’m not one for unexpected situations. It’s against my nature. I prefer plans, and alternate plans, and backup plans, and contingency plans. Improvisation is not my strong suit. Successful negotiations with foreign governments are not about tact or grace, they are about planning. Anticipating. Preparing. Which is my way of saying that it is highly unlikely that I would ever shoot you in the back of the head. Although admittedly, not impossible.”