When Diplomacy Fails . . . (15 page)

She added, “While it would be good to know who is behind each MO, all we really need to know is what the MOs are. We defend against those. We are only six, and not investigators.”

“Correct, but as we’ve found out previously, it’s useful to know who the threats are. Mr. Prescot was the only principal the company has lost, and we lost four friends with him.”

Aramis said, “So, much as I hate to know, what is the agenda for tomorrow?”

Alex figured that related to his captivity. He really didn’t want more info than he critically needed. That was reasonable, but not necessarily compatible with their mission.

“Third round of the environmental summit.”

“Am I the only one who sees a dichotomy in traveling several light years to discuss energy expenditures?”

Elke said, “They are saving Earth’s environment. The sacrifices here are just necessary.”

“Back on subject, please,” Alex said. Yes, their principal was a politician and acted like one. That was only peripheral.

Elke said, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Okay, this is in Shia territory, but it’s on the edge of Amala territory. There’s no fighting there currently, because there are lots of troops and cops on patrol. There’s a protest planned, and a zone blocked off for it, and a counterprotest zone.”

“Two groups?”

“No, about six groups, which is what scares me. The government, meaning BuState, has decided to have pro- and anti- camps.”

“Can Highland change that?”

“I suppose I need to ask.”

Elke said, “Better you than me.”

“Thanks.” Still, it was his job.

Alex called Jessie first.

“I have a question about venue and transport. I’d like to cover it in person with Ms. Highland, to maintain privacy.”

After a moment’s mute, Jessie said, “Ms. Highland can see you.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right down.”

One of Cady’s women had the door, and after saying, “Hello, sir,” confirmed with Cady, and with Highland, before admitting him. He was glad that his own people didn’t take anything on face or assumption.

Highland had a professional mask of cheer on. Or was it a mask? She had no trouble telling him off generally.

“What do we need to discuss, Agent Marlow?”

“Thanks for seeing me on short notice, ma’am,” he said. “I have a concern about the venue, in that it’s near a faction boundary. Also, there’s a protest area, and a counterprotest area, but the multiple factions don’t fall into simple for and against you positions. Is there a way to diffuse the protests with other areas? Spread them out farther?”

She said, “That has to do with budget and scheduling. They coordinate with our contract security here.”

“Meaning Rosen Event Services.”

“Yes.”

“Can you issue instructions to them?”

She looked mildly irritated. “Only through Earth.”

“I’d recommend it.”

“I did,” she said, looking embarrassed. “BuState have a guidebook with policies. There’s an office for Mtali Cultural Affairs. They have to approve it.”

“Do you think they will?”

“Probably eventually.”

“Is this just normal process? Or do you think there’s hostile intent from someone along the chain?” This was a delicate, but necessary discussion.

She seemed to take it seriously. She paused a moment, and replied, “Certainly the former is a matter of consideration. The latter may be, too. Any agency has factions within, and then there are party affiliations, too.”

He said, “Then we’ll do what we can. Hopefully there won’t be any issues. But I’m not comfortable with pigeonholing groups badly, then consolidating them. I’ll suggest to Rosen that they should watch for internal violence. The press would love to attach that to you.”

He didn’t want to go very far in that direction. It wasn’t their concern, and he wasn’t supposed to help with her career, nor did he want to.

“I appreciate that,” she said.

He could tell she didn’t mean it.

“We would rather not have an incident, or see any incidents. And of course, they present a PR . . . complication.”

“Jessie will handle that,” she said with an encouraging smile. “I’m glad you’ve decided to avoid any incidents.” As if it was their doing.

“We’ll keep an eye out for brewing problems, and change profile as needed to minimize it,” he said.

“That will be fine.”

“Very well. I’ll take care of our end. Do please call if you hear of anything affecting it.”

“Thank you.” She turned back to her screens.

Yeah, that was a dismissal.

Twenty minutes later, though, Highland came through. “Let me in,” she demanded through the door screen.

She was within their contract to demand, but it would have been nice to phrase it as a request. Alex nodded and Bart buzzed her in.

“I wanted to catch you before you got too far on tomorrow’s preparations,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“We’re meeting with several contingents, and we’ve agreed to show respect to the host nation.”

“Of course. What do you need from us?”

“For this, women need to wear traditional garb.”

Elke asked, “What do you mean by ‘traditional’?”

“A basic hijab or long skirt with long tunic, and head scarf.”

Elke raised her eyebrows slightly and said, “I’m sorry, I will not be able to.”

Highland seemed flabbergasted that anyone would refuse her orders. “But you must! They’ll be insulted if they see a woman in Earth Western dress.”

“I am unable to perform my functions in such clothing. If you wish, I will style my hair back and present as male. If a swap can be arranged with Cady’s demolition technician, Adam Helas, I am agreeable if Alex is.”

“I am not,” Alex said. “I have a team that works and no need nor desire to break it.”

“This isn’t subject to debate,” Highland said haughtily. “It’s a polite order.”

Well, this was getting tense.

“Unfortunately, ma’am, our contract and policy states that I decide operations and have override if I feel our capabilities are hindered. That mode of dress will hinder Agent Sykora. That hinders the team, and our ability to protect you. Additionally, while you may identify the level of dress, you may not dictate specific outfits. You are describing an informal public event. Sykora’s garb will meet that standard, as will all of ours.”

The woman flushed deeper and deeper purple in rage as he spoke. Her voice was only snappish, but it seemed to rise as she replied.

“Listen, you, I am the minister. I am the candidate. This mission is about me. You’re paid well and we all know what for. So don’t give me that letter of contract bullshit.” She paused and heaved for a breath.

Alex said, “Elke, can you do the weekly inventory on our batteries and cells, please?” He pointed at the storeroom while doing so.

“Of course,” she said, and walked that way. There was no such inventory. He just figured she’d appreciate the escape. Jason was in the armory already. Aramis wandered off, looking ill. It was probably an act, but Shaman went with him. Bart waited silently at the door.

Highland continued, “You can expect I’ll have a call out at once. The response will be after this event, but you can expect it will support me. What you think as a contractor means little enough, and it’s about time you egotistical strokeoffs got that through your skulls.”

“I will await that reply, ma’am. In the meantime, I will need to review routes. You have my codes if you need to relay details.”

He nodded politely, letting it be an abbreviated bow by way of diplomacy, then turned and left the room himself.

Behind him, Highland kept talking, to the air. That was just a little bit creepy.

She tried to follow him, but he’d latched the security bar and it beeped and tingled as she approached. She apparently then turned her attention on Bart. He deserved some kind of bonus for that. It took five minutes before she ran out of steam and left.

CHAPTER 14

ARAMIS LEFT THE ROOM
faking a headache. Shaman followed him.

“Are you all right, Aramis?”

“Yes. Faking. It didn’t seem healthy to stick around.”

“Indeed. She is hard on my blood pressure. As long as you’re okay.”

“I am,” he lied. His head wasn’t going to explode, but it was aching at every impact site. That meant ongoing healing, he hoped.

Shaman nodded and checked out the door. Highland was facing Bart and berating him, and with a shift of feet, the surgeon danced between doorways. Aramis barely heard that door close.

Aramis didn’t sleep well, from a combination of pain, nightmares, worry and anxiety. That, and not taking his prescribed medication, but dammit, it made him groggy and hungover, and he had work to do. He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, though Shaman probably could read him, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t all know each other very well by now.

The escort mission started badly and decayed rapidly. Alex didn’t seem to have slept much, either. Elke seemed a bit more relaxed. She had explosives, because nothing else would make her jacket that lumpy. She had pockets sewn to her armor, full of a variety of nasties. He was glad to see that.

Bart seemed fit enough, and Shaman. Aramis was worried because Alex was ragged, and would probably take lead for most of the mission.

Sure enough, he did.

“Aramis, how’s your range of motion?”

“Good.”

“Pain?”

“Some, but it won’t slow me.”

“Good. The military finally relented, so we can test weapons as we leave.”

“Oh. Excellent.” Wow. What had accomplished that? Had enough shooting changed their moods?

He felt as if he was the new guy all over again. What had gone on in those two weeks? He’d seen the after action reviews, but they didn’t suggest any real problems. He’d have to read between the lines, or ask once they were back. But no one had said anything to him.

This was an indoor appearance in a “Safe” area, so they wore light armor under suits. Elke always looked a few kilos bulkier from her vest full of toys. He wished he could do that, only it would all be armor.

They carried carbines and Elke’s shotgun, which would stay stowed in the limo. They wore easy to access holsters for their pistols, which looked intact, even though Jason had very carefully disabled every safety circuit in them. Lionel, from Cady’s team, was designated driver. Aramis gladly took right wing position as they formed up, fired one test round into the clearing drum, then waited for Highland and Jessie.

They were prompt, dressed in long skirts and high collars, and made a point of not looking at Elke’s suit. Yes, it might piss off certain factions to be aware that she had legs. That wasn’t his concern, or hers. Doing their job right was their concern. He was also surprised that such a vocal proponent of female superiority would deign to dress to suit the locals, whose culture was diametrical to one another.

It might be one of those diplomacy things. Or it might just be true that politicians were whores.

It wasn’t his problem. All he had to do was keep her safe.

They boxed around her, Alex and Shaman first, Elke and he on the flanks, and Bart and Jason bringing up the rear. Alex got the door, and they climbed in. Jason closed it behind them and took shotgun seat.

They only had the one limo, which was disturbing, though they were supposed to have a military escort. That gray area Highland lived in was very annoying.

It wasn’t nearly as annoying as what happened next.

They rolled forward, around the compound, while they stowed their carbines. Aramis propped his behind him and left, in a thoughtfully provided clip added by the manufacturer. In moments they all looked like suited assistants, though that would only fool the lower half of society. Anyone with a brain knew they were muscle.

They made a final turn onto the exit road out the BuState gate, and grated to a stop.

Aramis clutched at his pistol, then realized they were still inside, and that it was a blockage. He looked at Alex, wondering if they were safer where they were, or needed to unass with the principal and sprint back to cover.

Lionel said, “We’re caught on the goddam speed bump. They built it up to meet the new standards, and it’s taller than ground clearance on this beast.”

“Didn’t we do this once already?”

“Yes. New standards, poor communication.”

“I’ll clear it,” Elke said.

Bart made a point of looking through the window before opening the door. Elke slipped through, bent down and did something. She walked around to the other side and repeated the motion. She stood up with a detonator.

Highland said, “Are you sure that’s saf—” and was drowned out as Elke hit the button and whatever charge she planted made a rumbling pop. She motioned for the door, and Bart reopened it.

Alex muttered. “I don’t care what the standards are, they will be made to fit Ms. Highland’s transport, at once, and they can install an extra triggered barrier instead. These things are outdated and simplistic.”

Aramis agreed. Simple was often better, but a barricade that defaulted to positive would work as well. If it failed to retract, they’d just detour, rather than being turtled.

Whatever Elke had done had crumbled the rise. Lionel eased forward, and after a scrape and rattle, they proceeded normally. She’d also apparently cut wipes for the tires.

Alex spoke into his phone. “I want that gone when we get back. That’s per me, Ms. Highland,” he glanced at her for assent, and she nodded, tight-lipped and flushed, “and Agent in Charge Cady . . . Well, right now, I’m speaking as District Agent in Charge. That’s the contract equivalent of Chief of Mission, Security.” There was a pause, then he said, “I appreciate it.”

To Alex, Highland said, “Thank you.” She said it smoothly and without rancor, and Aramis knew she was pissed.

As this was an official function, at least officially, the military escort pulled in front and behind. Two Grumblies, ten troops, two machine guns, except they were crowd control machine guns shooting rubber pellets and mild incapacitance agents. It was Aramis’s experience, on five planets so far, that nonlethal weapons didn’t deter threats, didn’t end threats, and often just irritated the threats or let them claim martyr status without the actual risk of being a real martyr. Still, it was better than nothing.

Lionel took a slightly convoluted route, but Aramis was easily able to follow it. He noted that.

“Alex, this route is too direct to suit me.”

“Understood. Got a suggestion?”

“Pull two blocks north and resume.”

“Sounds good. Lionel, did you get that?”

“Yes, sir, will do.” The man was strictly professional. He might not agree, but he’d accept the guidance without debate.

Of course, their terminus was known. There was only one gate in big enough to handle the limo. Alex said nothing, but Aramis noticed everyone shift slightly to make weapon access easier, so he stretched and did the same. Highland might disapprove, so they weren’t going to mention it.

The protest zones were a block shy of the forum, and weren’t supposed to be on the approach route. It was clear they were. Situated in vacant lots, they faced each other across the street. Whoever had set this up was an idiot.

Of course, there were several entourages in limos of different types. A convoy of three was just ahead of them, and one group pelted it with garbage.

Lionel said, “This traffic is too slow for safety. Should I divert?”

Alex said, “Yes,” as Highland said, “No!”

He diverted, pulling from between the escort vehicles, cutting obliquely across traffic, taking the left turn and accelerating. They went right past the protesters, who seemed to have brought all their kitchen trash with them.

Aramis observed. The crowd split in age between the very old and the quite young. It split between those in traditional Arab dress, and those in conservative younger dress. They would have religious or moral objections to some of Highland’s many policies, or those of the government.

Highland shouted, “This is my vehicle, my meeting and my mission, and you will do as I say!”

Alex was on the phone, hush hood up, talking to someone. Highland turned to Elke, who was carefully looking out the window and writing notes. She faced Shaman, who was checking his response bag for something. She faced Aramis.

He hadn’t moved fast enough, so he said, “Ma’am, this group knows who you are and doesn’t like you.”

She paused for a moment.

“Look at their makeup as we go,” he said. They were a block away by now. “They’re religious, mostly Amala, composed of quite young and quite old. That means they’re swinging back to the conservative side.”

Alex finished and said, “Lionel, go ahead and swing around. We should have an unobstructed approach. From now on, we’ll do our own staging.”

“Understood.”

Highland asked, “So what are you saying?”

“I’m merely observing that the two military vehicles marked us, they knew who you were, and we were unable to move.”

“I’m late, and it will show up as cowardice, with us pulling away.”

Alex said, “I can state we perceived your safety was improved by the diversion.”

“You’d better,” she said crossly.

“I’d rather do that than have to fight,” he said.

They were back around, as Aramis wondered at the insecurity or narcissism of someone who, with that much power, was concerned about being late. It seemed there was nothing to her but appearance.

Alex said, “The military escort will meet us as we turn back onto Amadi Street.”

The troops were waiting, and pulled in as they turned north again.

Which was just as the two groups of protesters started hurling debris at each other.

Lionel asked, “Alex, what do I do?”

“We’ve already been pelted. May as well go through.”

“Understood.”

Yeah, what was more garbage? Except it looked as if there might be rocks. Then fistfights broke out in both groups. The limo drew between them and took impacts, though it was doubtful even the larger rocks would damage the surface.

Then someone started shooting.

Alex said, “Get us out of here.” Everyone had hands under coats, resting on guns. Lionel threw them in reverse and sounded the horn for the follow vehicle to move.

Highland said, “I have to get to the forum. It is far more important than safety, and I thought this car was bulletproof?”

“Ma’am, it is, but they’ve escalated from protest to garbage to firearms. I’m not comfortable with the escalation. I’m diverting, we can reassess, and reapproach.”

“No. We’re continuing.”

Alex sighed. “It is your prerogative to continue at this point, ma’am. I will override you if we actually get engaged. I comply, under protest. Lionel, proceed.”

“Forward,” he said, and they accelerated.

Then stopped.

The crowd had broken through the barricades on one side, had swarmed the street toward the other group, but were now milling in the roadway, blocking movement.

Elke muttered, “How familiar.” She fumbled with something, which Aramis assumed was explosive.

He was amazed at how calm he felt. Apparently, enough firefights, a combat wound and a torture session had acclimated him to stuff like this.

The crowd realized the limo contained someone of note, then someone deduced that military escort implied a high-ranking Earth dignitary. In moments, people were shouting her name and rocking the massive vehicle on its suspension. Others were fighting them, pulling them away. They were presumably supporters of her.

The wrestling turned to punching, knifing, broken bottles and gunfire.

Alex said, “Lionel, disperse them.”

He nodded and hit a button. One of the new stench gases farted out from under the car. It was fascinating to see it work. It was so overpowering that everyone stopped their activity and ran aimlessly, smacking into vehicles, curbs, each other, crawling, stumbling to feet and running more. In twelve seconds the entire street was clear forty meters each way. Aramis smelled nothing. The same control had buttoned them up and they were now on canned oxygen.

The military, however, hadn’t had notice, and clutched for gas masks, shaking and retching, faces in gruesome masks. Aramis had had a bare whiff in training, for familiarization. He felt sorry for the poor bastards.

One debarked from the vehicle ahead and ran straight across the road into a building wall. After a few seconds, three of his buddies advanced to him, forced his mask on while he thrashed and panicked, then ferried him back. Even through their masks, Aramis could see the mean looks.

Elke kept the grin off her face. It was always delightful to see a weapon work to best effect, especially an invisible one. Half of those primitives had no idea what had happened.

She hoped the troop was well. The chaos of engagement led to such things, but the participants never found them funny at the time.

Alex was on phone. “Yes, I understand. Stand by, please.” He looked up at Highland, and said, “Ma’am, the road is completely blocked by rioters. I recommend we back out slowly, to avoid injuring anyone. We can speed up if our safety dictates. This is why I was hesitant earlier. I’m less worried about us than the outcome of dealing with civilians. Alternately, we can attempt to push forward.”

“It sounds as if you’ll be pushing either way, so forward.”

“Very good,” he said to her, then resumed on the radio. “We’re going forward. Slow and steady. Yes, stick with masks. I apologize for that. It came up suddenly.”

From the other side of Highland, Jessie said, “I can’t get any signal. Are you blocking me?”

Elke said, “I am not, but it would not surprise me if the locals have set up signal jamming and spoofing. Alex’s phone uses tough algorithms, but it isn’t impenetrable.”

Alex stiffened, said, “Thanks,” and called back to the forward vehicle. “This is Playwright. There’s a strong possibility our signals may be jammed. If so, proceed on last . . . hello? Lieutenant? I am unable to receive, but will continue with my instruction. Proceed as discussed, and look for hand signals from driver. Playwright out.” He looked up. “Well, this is going to be interesting. I want to get Ms. Highland and Jessie in unharmed. I want to minimize harm to the locals. Is that clear, Elke?”