Fatal Blade (Decker's War#3) (22 page)

They were alone in the room that housed all of the rebel leader’s worldly goods: a cot, a desk, two folding chairs and a small holo depicting a smiling family.

“I’ll be fine.”  She smiled reassuringly.  “The militia is so starved for recruits who know the business end of a gun that they’ll hire me on the spot.  Besides, the entry controls on Garonne are crappy enough that no one will question my credentials.  I just need to get to Iskellian without anyone seeing me leave the highlands.  After that, I lose myself among the deportees.”

Steiger had come up with the plan after the unplanned trip in
Phoenix
had left her at loose ends on Garonne.  She’d expressed little desire to join one of the combat companies that formed the rebellion’s backbone, preferring to work alone in a more meaningful way.

“We can send you back up the river on foot and have one of Tarri’s folks waiting with a skimmer; after that, a little detour south before heading to Iskellian, as if you’re a farmer coming to see the sights, and you should be good.”

She nodded.

“That ought to do it.”

He fished a small wafer from his tunic pocket and tossed it at her.

“That has instructions on how to get in touch with one of the cell leaders in Iskellian, should you ever need to get vital information back to us or you have to go in a hurry.  You won’t ever meet in person, for obvious security reasons.  Once you’ve initiated contact, break the chip in half and swallow it.  You’ll be given instructions on how to proceed.”

“Swallow the wafer?”  An amused smile creased Steiger’s scarred face.  “I hope it tastes like cherries.”

“It tastes like crap, but your stomach acid will dissolve it quickly.”

“Kinky.”  She picked the chip up and examined its surface carefully before tucking it inside her shirt.  “Anything else?”

“No.  I’ll have the duty tech call Tarri and get an ETA for the skimmer.”

Steiger stood to leave.

“I’d wish you good luck,” Verrill said, “if I didn’t know folks in your line of business consider it a jinx.  Take care of yourself, Miko.  Even though you’re a mercenary, you’ve shown the heart and soul of a true believer in Garonne’s freedom.”

She shrugged off the compliment.

“I prefer to take contracts with folks who are on the side of what’s right and not with those who only have might.”

“A freelancer with a conscience.”  Verrill’s smile took the sting out of his words.  He stuck out his hand.  “Good hunting.  The faster we can push the government into a corner, the sooner we’ll be able to end this.”

***

The irritating chime of an incoming call broke through Colonel Harend’s contemplation of a fine single malt whiskey, imported from halfway across the Commonwealth at significant cost.  Very few people would dare disturb him short of a major crisis, so he had a good idea who it might be.

He carefully put his glass down and reached over to touch the dark screen.  It immediately displayed the face of Captain Rika Kozlev, his intelligence officer and another member of the Celeste National Guard on loan to Garonne.  A pleased smile creased her sharp, narrow features beneath a shock of black hair trimmed in an incongruously girlish pixie cut.

“Apologies for troubling you at this hour, sir, but Mathias finally gave up what he knew.  We have the name of the rebel cell leader in the Tianjin district.”

“With that kind of news, you’re welcome to disturb me at any hour, Rika.  In fact, why don’t you join me in my quarters to celebrate?  I’ve opened my latest acquisition and would be interested in your opinion.”

“The Glen Arcturus?”  A look of surprised pleasure replaced the smile.  “How could I say no?  Give me time to clean up, say ten minutes or so.”

“Was it that messy?”

“By the time we were done, Mathias had permanently lost all of his higher brain functions, and it seemed unkind to leave him alive in that state.  I took the occasion to practice my killing stroke.”

“Always the practical one.”  Harend chuckled.  “I hope you impressed the troopers assisting you.”

“Actually, I hope I thoroughly cowed them.  The only thing psychopaths understand is someone more dangerous than they are.”

This time, he laughed out loud.

“I think there’s little doubt around here concerning you, my dear.  Go get cleaned up.  Then we can discuss how we’ll deal with our rebellious friend in the Tianjin district.”

“Will do.”

Kozlev signed off, and the screen went dark.

Harend rose to get another crystal tumbler from the sideboard and placed it on the table beside the bottle of amber liquid.  Taking Rika with him on the Garonne assignment had been one of the better decisions in a chequered career.

Command was glad to see her off Celeste, and he had someone he could trust at his side.  Kozlev didn’t give her loyalty easily, but after he’d saved her from a court-martial for an interrogation that had gone very wrong, she was his, completely and utterly.

TWENTY-THREE

“Beautiful countryside, very peaceful,” Decker said, scanning the green, rolling fields below them.

“On the surface,” Catlow replied.  “The further from Iskellian, the greater the support for independence and that means more attention from the authorities.  Besides, the number of deportees relocated to Tianjin is about to reach the point where they’ll see the same crap that’s been happening in the capital for the last two years.”

Dawn had crept over the fertile plain less than an hour earlier, not long after the patrol had settled into a well-hidden position on one of the spurs overhanging the Yangtze River where it broke free of the last ridge in a welter of foam and rushing water.

The town seemed almost near enough to touch, and Zack could see tiny specks moving about in the morning light, colonists getting an early start on the day.

“The militia garrison is on the far side,” Catlow said pointing roughly northwest of their position.  “If you can make out the gray block of buildings behind the trees…”

“Got it,” Zack replied moments later.  “Strength?”

“The permanent garrison is a little over a hundred, working in three shifts, so no more than thirty-five or so on duty at any time, though we figure that’ll be increased as they find more scum willing to do the government’s bidding.”

“I guess they’re not doing constant patrols through the countryside with that kind of manpower.”

“No.”  Catlow shook his head.  “They’ll show the flag a few times a week in their rural areas but most of their time is spent in town. Crime is on the rise and the governor knows that if the militia doesn’t sort it, the colonists will and with a lot less concern for the letter of the law.”

Decker grunted.

“Vigilantes become freedom fighters when the colonial government stops giving a damn?”

“Pretty much.  Mind you, if they need reinforcements, Iskellian is just a hop and a skip by shuttle, a couple of hours by rail, longer by road.  Lately, we’ve heard reports of a rapid reaction force, up to company size, coming from the capital to support local garrisons for specific operations.  It hasn’t happened here yet, but up north, where we have one of our units making trouble for the district magistrate.”

“Where’s our next destination?”  Decker lowered his scanner and glanced at Catlow.  “I’m assuming that we’re not spending all of our time here watching in shifts.  A good recon means getting a feel for the people as well as the ground.”

“You’re right.”  The rebel platoon leader nodded.  “We aren’t spending all of our time here.  We got word that one of our guys working things in town - you know, regular job during the day, dastardly rebel at night – vanished on Monday.”

“Militia?”

“Without a doubt.  They’ll have brought him to Iskellian for interrogation by the intelligence branch.  Nasty people, that, worse than the uniformed thugs patrolling the streets.  Anyways, we need to talk to the guy running things in this area.  He owns a farm down there.”

“Cell leader?”  It was Decker’s turn to grimace.  “If your vanished man reported to the farmer in question, it’s only a matter of time before a snatch team comes swooping in.  Nobody can resist interrogation unless they’ve been conditioned and then we simply die when the bastards try.”

“You’ve been conditioned?”  Catlow sounded surprised.

“Fact.  It’s a requirement in my former line of business.  When were you planning on having your little coffee klatch?”

“After dark.  The militia doesn’t go roaming at night, and most honest citizens are indoors.  Fewer eyes on the countryside then.”

“The snatch team will likely do the same when they figure everyone in the family is in one place, ready to be cuffed and dragged off to the dungeons.  Better hope that it didn’t go down while we were playing happy wanderers in the backwoods last night.”

A worried look crossed Catlow’s face.

“You think that might have happened?”

“He was taken three days ago.  Assuming it was the locals who made the arrest, figure on twenty-four hours to get him to Iskellian and in the custody of militia intelligence.  Few people last more than forty-eight hours, most not even that long, but some interrogators are sadists at heart and like to draw things out if there isn’t an immediate operational need.”

“So I heard.”

“The Fleet gets rid of those the moment they’re found out, but they tend to gravitate to national guards, private corporations or militias.  Chances are good you have that type here.  Counter-insurgencies are like catnip for psychopaths.  I think he’s spilled his guts by now.  The only question is whether or not the militia went for your cell leader immediately or they’re playing it out slowly.”

“What do you figure?”

“No idea.  It’s either over already, or it’ll happen before tomorrow morning.  Flip a coin.  The only way to find out is to go there.  Carefully.  If they’ve done the deed, they’ll leave a couple of troopers behind to see if anyone comes for a look.”

“Not to be too nosy, Zack, but you seem to know a lot about this kind of stuff.  A lot more than me in any case.”

“That’s because you and your buddies are new at the whole guerrilla war thing.  I was on the Marine end of it often enough that I’ve learned the score, and the folks who met my little buddy here,” he patted his blaster, “weren’t always the ones called ‘rebels.'  May I suggest that a pair of your guys take over the observation duties so we can plan our next move?”

Catlow stared down at the plain again, clearly troubled.  He raised his binoculars and aimed them at a particular cluster of buildings a few kilometers south of Tianjin proper.

“I can’t see anything abnormal,” he said after a long moment of silence, “but then I probably wouldn’t if the militia’s beaten us to the punch and are waiting for someone to show up.”

He made sure Zack was able to zero in on the farm and waited.

“I don’t know what it should normally look like,” the Marine finally said, “but I can’t see traces of a raid, which really means squat.  We’ll have to go down there.  The question is when.”

***

Rika Kozlev emerged from the bathroom suite and smiled at Harend, still in bed, head propped up by a muscular arm.  He openly admired her lean body, fascinated as ever by the tattoo wrapped around her torso like a serpent of ancient myth.

“One more for the road, Cen?”  She asked, sitting down beside him.

He ran his fingers along her jaw line and down her arm before briefly brushing her nipples.

“Still horny?”

He smiled lazily, recalling her intense craving a few hours earlier.

“You know what a good session with rebel trash does to my hormones.”  She let her hand stray under the bed sheet and grinned.  “Your mouth says maybe, but the rest of you is saying something very different.  We have plenty of time before briefing the snatch team.  Larn Takan and his family aren’t going anywhere.  I’ve put eyes on his farm, remember?  If we’re lucky, we might pick up a few more independence sympathizers.  Get enough of them under my care and I’ll find the guerrillas’ hideouts.  Then, you can have fun sweeping them up.”

The glow in her eyes when she spoke of taking prisoners into her care should have chilled Harend, but he’d gotten used to her particular tastes.  Provided she got results, he was content to let her do as she pleased.  Dealing with the Garonne situation was his last chance at promotion and the ability to indulge in his expensive tastes well into retirement.

Satisfying Rika Kozlev’s voracious sexual appetite to keep her happy was a small sacrifice to make.  After all, an indulgence like the Glen Arcturus was hard to come by on a colonel’s pay, especially out here in the back end of the Commonwealth.  And besides, she was fun in bed, something he couldn’t say about the wife he’d left behind on Celeste.

***

“Who is this?” Talyn asked, turning her screen towards Corde.

After a quick breakfast in the mess hall, the two women had set themselves the task of reviewing all of the intelligence files the rebels had amassed, not just the digests but the raw data, to see if fresh eyes could find something new in old reports.

She pointed at a woman in militia uniform with a captain’s rank insignia, smiling at whoever captured the image.  She was standing close enough to Colonel Harend, who was scowling at something or someone, to suggest a degree of intimacy.

“As far as we know, her name is Rika Kozlev.  We think she’s Harend’s adjutant or aide, though she keeps mostly out of sight.  There’s not much on her in our files, but she too is probably Celeste National Guard.”

Talyn zoomed in on the narrow face framed by a pixie haircut and studied it in silence for several minutes.

“I doubt she’s an administrative type.”  Her fingers briefly drummed against the table top.  “Do you have any more pictures or information on this Captain Kozlev?”

“Probably.”  Corde tapped her screen to launch a database search.  “Why the interest in an officer who seems to be barely there?”

“Because those are the ones who might be the most dangerous,” Talyn replied, staring at Kozlev image.

What she couldn’t tell Corde was that the dark eyes staring at her seemed chillingly familiar, that she recognized a kindred spirit in the shape of the militia officer.  A kindred spirit that had crossed the line Talyn had carefully avoided all her life.  She couldn’t even explain to herself why this one picture seemed to reveal so much, but she’d learned to trust her instincts.  They had rarely been wrong, particularly when fellow sociopaths were concerned.

If she was right about Kozlev, then anyone who fell into militia hands was doomed.  And since the rebels weren’t conditioned, one interrogation could unravel more than just a single rebel cell, no matter how well compartmentalized they were, dooming more of them to a bad end.

“Hera.”

“Hmm?”  Talyn snapped out of her trance and glanced at Corde, who was staring back with obvious concern.

“Are you alright?  You look like someone just walked over your grave, as my grandmother used to say.”

“Perhaps someone just did.  Have you found more information on this Rika Kozlev?  I have a hunch that she may be more dangerous to us than her boss.”

Corde’s expression betrayed both curiosity and disbelief, but she pushed the data over to Talyn’s terminal nonetheless.

“As you can see, we don’t have all that much.”

“Indeed,” the operative replied after scanning the files.  “Maybe we can approach this from a different angle.  Do you have records on independence supporters, whether they were involved in the rebellion or just politically vocal, who’ve disappeared since Kozlev came to Garonne?”

“Why is that important?”  Corde asked.

“I’d rather build a dossier before committing myself, but do I think there will be a time when direct action against key members of the colonial administration becomes imperative, and who is and isn’t key won’t always be readily apparent.”

Talyn’s words sounded so matter of fact, her tone so business-like that Corde felt a chill run down her spine.

Decker, by virtue of his size, apparent strength and calm aura of competence had seemed to be more dangerous than his partner.  But now she realized that the woman so serenely discussing politically motivated assassination was, in fact, far more deadly.

“I’ll pull up what we have.”

***

Decker patiently chewed on a ration bar while he waited for Catlow to confer with his squad leaders.  They were in the patrol hide, beneath the ridgeline, where those troopers not in the observation post or pulling sentry duty were sleeping soundly after the night’s forced march.

The rebels seemed to come to a decision, and Catlow rose from his crouch to join Zack on a fallen log.

“Nolan and I are going to change into civilian clothes and take a walk down to Larn’s place.  We all agree that waiting until dark isn’t going to cut it.”

Zack nodded slowly while he swallowed a mouthful of the sweet-salty bar.

“Probably a good idea to not wait,” he said.  “If they’ve been and gone, we need to hightail it out of here anyway.  If they haven’t, then you can exfiltrate your man and his people.”

He paused, eyes narrowing when a thought that had been nagging at his subconscious finally surfaced.

“Let me rephrase that.  If the militia hasn’t raided the farm yet but they’ve broken your vanished guy, I’d expect them to have eyes on the place, so we really need to make sure they get away without looking like they’re getting away.”

“You’re a real bucket of cheer this morning, my friend.”  Catlow gave him a pained smile.  “Would you care to go back to the OP and see if you can spot the surveillance?”

“Sure.”  Decker carefully rolled up the ration bar package and stuffed it in his pack, then wiped his hands before standing.  “Though I doubt I’ll see anything useful if whatever or whoever they have watching is properly deployed, and I never underestimate the opposition.  The folks running grab and snatch operations on independence sympathizers won’t be the average militia pukes you guys are used to.”

“There’s that cheer again.”  Catlow slapped him on the shoulder.  “Tell you what, come down with Nolan and me.  A pair of experienced pathfinder eyes will probably do us more good than having you sit around the hide scratching your balls.  You did bring a change of duds, right?”