David Weber - Torch of Freedom

"But, Governor," Watanapongse put in diffidently, "we need to bear in mind where we'd be using them. If we intervene to defend Torch, there's no way the Torches would be telling anyone anything about how we intervened if we asked them not to. And assuming this really would be a Manpower operation, the other side wouldn't have any powerful motive that we can see to make Old Chicago privy to whatever information might get back to it with the survivors."

"So you're saying you think letting the cat out of the bag in Torch would constitute an acceptable risk, Commander?" Barregos said.

"What he's saying, and I happen to agree with him, is that risking letting the cat out of the bag in Torch is a more acceptable risk than depriving ourselves of the firepower we might need to win in Torch," Rozsak said, and Barregos nodded.

"Before we start reaching any firm decisions, though," the admiral continued, "I think you should go ahead and hear Edie and Jiri's full brief."

"I think you're right," Barregos agreed, and Rozsak leaned back and waved one hand at his subordinates.

"That's your cue, Edie," he said.

"He doesn't look like much," said Jurgen Dusek, after studying the holopics on his desk. But the man who was the acknowledged boss of the Neue Rostock seccy district of Mesa's capital city was simply making a comment, not a reproach. Triêu Chuanli was his top man. He wouldn't have brought this matter to Dusek's attention if he hadn't had good reason to do so. "What's the guy's name?"

"Daniel McRae. What he claims, anyway. He also claims to be another StateSec on the run. I couldn't tell you if that's true either, but he does have a Nouveau Paris accent. That's hard to fake."

"Did you send him to Cybille and her people?"

"Yeah. They spent hours with him. Cybille says his story checks out down the line and he's okay." Triêu made a face. "Well . . . 'okay' is not exactly the right word. She's says McRae's probably a psychopath. Most of those really hardcore StateSec guys were. But this one's pretty tightly wrapped, she figures. The fact that he was that close to Saint-Just means he can't just be a screwball. Whatever else he was, Saint-Just was thoroughly practical. He wouldn't have tolerated anyone around him who was so crazy he couldn't keep the lid on."

Jurgen Dusek nodded. Over the past few years, he'd become a lot more familiar with the history and inside practices of the former People's Republic of Haven's security forces than you'd expect anyone on Mesa would be. More familiar than he wanted to be, for that matter. But the business of brokering between StateSec mercenaries and the people who'd been hiring so many of them had turned out to be a more profitable line of business than anything else he was engaged in.

Damn risky, though. Not because he was dealing with ex-StateSec toughs and thugs—Jurgen had been handling people like that since he was fourteen—but because of the people on the other end. Those still-very-murky individuals or organizations whose exact identity Dusek didn't know and didn't want to know. "Still-very-murky" suited him just fine. If everything worked out well, they'd stay nice and murky.

But that was the problem. There was always the danger, dealing with "murky people" on Mesa, that you'd eventually discover you'd climbed into bed with Manpower. Or, even worse, the really murky people whom Dusek sensed were lurking somewhere within Manpower, or behind it.

It wasn't that he had any moral objection to the idea of being tied to Manpower. Either today or at some point in his life, Jurgen Dusek had been a knee-breaker, a contract killer, a pimp, a drug dealer, a counterfeiter (of welfare chits, not money; nobody in their right mind tried to pass fake money on Mesa), a brothel-keeper—several brothels, in fact—a gambling overlord, a smuggler—the list went on and on. His capacity for accepting and taking advantage of immoral business opportunities was well-nigh infinite.

No, it was the damn risk. Getting involved too closely with Manpower had a history of turning into a nightmare for the person foolish enough to do it. At the very least, you wound up losing your independence and becoming just another one of their flunkies.

Risk or no risk, though, the mercenary business really was profitable. And if this new guy . . .

"She's sure he was part of Saint-Just's inner circle?"

"Absolutely and positively certain. She says McRae knows far too many things—details, specifics, not generalities—than anybody possibly could without having been right in the middle of things. In fact, she figures he probably knows more than she ever did, when it comes to field work. Cybille stresses that McRae would have been a very junior member of that inner circle. He wasn't any sort of high level StateSec official, or even mid-level like she was. But she says she recognizes the type. Saint-Just had the habit of cultivating young protégées for field work. People whose dedication and ruthlessness were . . . well, 'extreme' is the word she used. Coming from Cybille . . ."

Dusek grinned humorlessly. Cybille DuChamps had her own reputation for, ah, extreme behavior. For her to call anyone else a "psychopath" was pretty rich. It was literally worth your life to become her boyfriend—and you didn't even get to enjoy the status for more than three or four months.

"All right, then. He's a lot more than just common muscle, in other words. We might be able to get quite a bit in the way of a commission from Luff, if he decides to take him on."

Triêu looked a bit skeptical. "I get the impression Luff's not all that keen on the really hardcore StateSec types."

"He's not. But that's just a matter of personal preference. Adrian Luff also has a very large military force he needs to keep in line. Somebody like Daniel McRae could prove very handy for him."

"Ah . . . you do know Luff's gone, boss?"

"Don't teach your grandmother how to suck eggs. Of course I know he's gone. And I don't know where he is, either, and while I could probably guess I'm nowhere near crazy enough to do so. But he left me with a contact person who stayed behind. Inez Cloutier. I'll get in touch with her and see if she's interested in pursuing the matter."

"Okay. I'll tell McRae to stick around for a while."

"Is he asking for anything right now? Money? Women? A place to stay?"

"He seems well enough set up." Chuanli smiled. "And unless he's got the sex drive of a rabbit, I doubt he needs a woman. He's got a big blonde with him who's better looking than most of the girls we could provide him with."

"What's her story?"

"Scrag, believe it or not."

Jurgen's eyes widened. For a StateSec man to be coupled with a Scrag girlfriend was highly unusual. Offhand, in fact, Dusek couldn't think of a single case he knew of.

"How'd he manage that ?"

"They were both on Terra during the Manpower Incident. Among the few who got out alive and intact. I guess they got hooked up there and they've stayed together ever since."

Not a casual girlfriend, if they'd been together that long. The Manpower Incident had happened years ago.

Dusek was silent for a minute or so, as he weighed the risks and benefits of providing the McRae fellow with a gun. On the pro side, the risk was minimal and selling McRae a gun would serve for a while to keep him on an informal payroll without actually having to pay him anything. On the con side, there was a risk, however small—and there was always the chance that McRae was just a nut case.

But, even if that were true, it just meant there'd be another killing in a district which already had the worst murder rate in the city. (The worst official murder rate. The actual murder rate was a lot worse.) Easy enough to handle.