When Diplomacy Fails . . . (16 page)

“Of course,” she agreed. That’s what he always wanted. She’d do so if she deemed it advisable, but this was a riot, and riots generally deserved to be put down.

Alex continued, “Dump guns can be used for distraction. Elke, be ready with nonlethal smoke and bangs, please. Reserve hands-on force for Ms. Highland’s safety only. Ms. Highland, we are attempting to drive into the conference. We may need to debark and walk a short distance, probably not over one hundred meters. You may need your protective mask.”

“I understand,” she said, and smirked. She actually liked the idea of getting into a fight. Elke decided she wasn’t all bad after all. Though of course, Highland’s goal was PR. Elke’s goal was hurting people who needed hurt.

She watched her principal peripherally, and gave most of her attention out the window. The windows were high-quality one-way transparencies, so the crowd had no idea how their antics were perceived. On Celadon, they’d escalated to urination and very disgusting gestures. Here, they settled for childish faces, hand signs, and waving placards. It was so sweet that they thought anyone cared.

Still, they increased in number and density. Elke revised her estimates on everything from smoke to concussion charges, and waited.

Lionel called back, “They’re swarming in close. If I continue, I’ll be pushing people aside, and some may fall. If I stop, we won’t be able to proceed. They’ll probably lie down in front of us.”

Jason said, “Given the cultures, I expect some of them are quite willing to be martyrs for visibility.”

Alex said, “Move until you have to stop. We’ll repeat the gas then. I don’t want to overuse it.”

That was why he was in charge, Elke reflected. Her reality did not match the illusion created by governments and media. She’d simply escalate violence until everyone left or was dead. Few people, and no governments, had the moral strength to do so. Still, she’d hope for her small part to play.

Jessie shivered, and Highland twitched now and then, seeming quite nervous. Façade aside, she obviously saw the real world threat here.

Lionel said, “I’m blocked. Solidly penned by bodies.”

“Pop gas,” Alex ordered.

Once again the crowd shrieked and ran. However, thumping noises indicated people collapsed against the vehicle.

Lionel said, “Front wheels are blocked. The subjects are persistent and seem to have restrained themselves.”

That was a very calm report for an incident that was about to get exciting.

Alex said, “We’re proceeding on foot. Nonlethal force only. Elke, note that.”

“Nonlethal,” she repeated. That was frustrating, but she had nonlethal toys she wanted to bring into play.

“Ma’am, Elke will lead you. Hold onto her jacket. Jessie, hold onto Shaman’s. Bart and Aramis lead. Jason right wing. Lionel, proceed when you can. If they refuse to yield, call me and the military.”

Everyone shuffled around, bracing, clutching and ready. They all held stun batons and Elke had her fingers on a fun gadget she hoped to use.

Alex said, “Report if not ready . . . go.”

Aramis raised the door and sprang out to the rear. Bart shoved his way out and around forward. Elke followed, feeling Highland’s hands on the tail of her coat.
I bet the bitch is glad of the suit now, rather than some stupid robe
, she thought.

Behind her, Alex went out the other door.

The crowd was well-distant, and the humid air still bore a whiff of . . . ugly. There was no way to describe that manufactured smell, but even parts per billion were awful. They moved forward as Aramis zapped one of the bodies at the front of the car. Yes, the
blázen
had wedged himself in tight, so he couldn’t disperse when the gas hit.

Elke zapped him again, just to make sure, then joined the formation as they jogged forward. It should take only a half minute to reach the gate. The security guards there were locals, and made no effort to extend a safe corridor. Elke had expected them to be useless.

The crowd started to collapse back in, shouting angrily. It was probable some of Highland’s fans had taken badly to being stink-gassed.

Alex had said nonlethal, and Elke complied. She tossed one disk left and behind, the other right and behind.

“Watch eyes,” she said, a half second before they ignited.

They lit, and behind her, Alex swore. They were visible even in daylight, thought granted it was overcast.

The hundred bulbs in each ignited over the span of two seconds in a chain of reports. They sounded a lot like automatic weapon fire. However, they were mere noisemakers, plus zirconium dust with some enhancements. Anyone looking at that should be flash-blind for several minutes, because the output was close to 5000 lumens. There was also a strong chance of epileptic response.

In fact, as they passed the leading Grumbly, one of the troops swayed and collapsed. They were certainly taking a beating on this simple convoy trip.

Still, the team reached the gate unharmed, which was the point.

“Open, please,” Alex said. Yes, they’d actually kept the gate locked and closed. Elke turned to keep herself between principal and crowd, and they huddled around their two charges. The mob seemed well-cowed at this point, refusing to approach, but settling for hurling gestures, epithets and the occasional chunk of garbage.

Eventually, the simpering monkeys rolled the gate just enough to allow the party to back through individually. Elke squeezed her shoulders past the polymer columns, and they were in, surrounded by media. While she appreciated their ability to ablate explosive threats, she had no other use for them.

The gate slid shut again as Alex came in last.

Highland, of course, was immediately in front of the cameras.

“. . . it is a privilege to be here today, despite certain elements harassing my loyal supporters and attempting to deter me. This just confirms my support and determination to see all these processes—the environmental summit, the cultural divide, and my own service to humanity—through to what some would call the end, but what I like to think of as a new beginning.”

Very pretty, Elke thought. Now can we get inside? Some of the protesters were trying to push closer, and some looked to have a giant slingshot ready. Yes, they did, with paint.

Fortunately, a transparent shield moved into place behind the gate. Highland had been last to arrive.

Elke heard someone ask, “Why was your motorcade singled out for harassment?”

“We were last to arrive, due to some scheduling matters, so we were easy to place. Please note I have many more supporters than detractors, and I appreciate their peaceful presence in the face of rudeness.”

“Is that ‘rudeness’ why your security detail used dispersal gas?”

“I always prefer a peaceful response. In this case, there were elements presenting a risk to my supporters, and the military women and men escorting me. Gunfire was involved. My security contractors took unpleasant but necessary steps, the minimum necessary, to ensure the safety of all. Even after this response, my vehicle was blocked by extremists, so we left the vehicle despite the threat and proceeded on foot. I of course am sorry the incident happened.”

She hadn’t actually blamed them, but she’d certainly deflected all focus to them. The bitch.

With that, Highland gave a regal nod and started walking. They fell in around her, as contract and professionalism required, though Elke wished to be elsewhere.

No luck. As the female present she was required, for visibility. Gender didn’t matter, so Highland made as much of it as possible. On the other hand, both Christian and Muslim extremists disliked that, so Elke decided going along with it wasn’t entirely bad. She could sit, stay awake and watch for threats while ignoring diplophrasing if that’s what was called for.

They made their way directly into the main hall, which had been dressed up to make it look less like a gymnasium and more like a dressed up gymnasium. Highland’s box was the only one left, with seats for three. That was because no one had mentioned the Ripple Creek detail, which was a good thing, but it meant one of them standing.

Elke decided she’d stand. Even the glee of her new device working as planned might not keep her awake through hours of speeches. Besides, she’d be more visible for Highland that way.

Aramis hurt after twenty minutes of sitting in a chair. The seats were stiff, hard and apparently designed for appearance only. He made a gesture and swapped out with Elke. That would let him stretch and shift. It would be imperceptible to most people, but would be more comfortable. His shoulders hated him for those armrests. They were half numb, but only half, the other half a burning ache.

Standing, though, made him wonder if any of his kidnappers and antagonists recognized him. That caused enough fear, anger and introspection to completely wipe out any attention to Highland’s speeches, or that of others. That was the good part. The bad part was that after a half hour, he ached again, this time his heels and ankles.

Shaman apparently read it in his posture or tremors, and stepped in to replace him, letting him take a turn outside. The steady rotation also helped with alertness, made them less predictable, and let them do a partial patrol of the hall, though everyone else’s escorts tensed in professional paranoia as they passed.

Nothing substantive was done that day, and Aramis expected one of BuState’s staff experts would take over. Highland had been present to pretend Earth cared what any other planet thought, and to get face time for election.

As the forum closed, Alex had his phone out, and looked concerned. Aramis interrogated him by look.

Alex said, “We’re flying out. It’s not safe. The protests are now riots and turning into brawls. Battles will be next.”

Highland refused to hear it. “I must travel in dignity,” she said. “If I drove in, I must drive out. I won’t acknowledge a few protesters by diverting.”

“Ma’am, militarily I agree with you. Diplomatically I agree with you. As your security operations chief, I must insist on aircraft. We can blame a mechanical problem, or you can blame me.”

“Of course I would. But we’re driving.”

She probably saw Alex say, “Yes, ma’am,” nod and turn to comply. Aramis saw the unsaid,
you egotistical bitch
, and the twitch in his boss’s jaw.

So they trooped down to the vehicle apron, led fore and aft by local security, furnished by Emir Mudassir. They kept their distance. It was all a juggling act. Everyone here, of course, was trusted not to try to assassinate their peers, except that some few of them might, so everyone had guards in case of collateral casualties, and then the guards became a necessary status symbol.

The emir’s detail seemed quite happy to depart as they reached the broad vehicle park, which was ringed by wall, umbrella’d by transparent shield, and patrolled by three agencies, plus the Army. Lionel rolled up in the limo, and Aramis knew the man had not stepped foot out, unless he’d had a company relief. They’d learned not to trust anyone in this game—family, assistant, doctor, even bureau chief.

Aramis got the door, Highland and Jessie slid in, as Jessie tagged a churp about leaving the conference. He’d enjoy using that device for target practice, but she probably had a spare and possibly an implanted backup. They just had to deal with it.

Highland would have to deal with not taking the car.

The rioting had reached what they called Level Two. It was a plateau of random shouting, hurling, speechmakers and sheer mass of bodies that made progress impossible. Three vehicles ahead were stopped and not proceeding.

Alex dutifully and professionally had his phone out, but Aramis knew it was largely for Highland’s benefit.

“. . . That’s the assessment? Yes, I concur. Any response is likely to become violent. Letting them play themselves out is best . . . No, I expect any advance will result in casualties, both accidental, and planned by activists. It’s best not to play the game . . . Yes, I will so inform Ms. Highland. Stand by.” He turned from the phone and said, “Ma’am, they are scheduling or recommending aircraft travel for all participants. The Aerospace Force detachment has a Hummingbird transport lifter waiting. It can be here in ten minutes and will get priority.”

Aramis could see her teeth grind.

“I abhor this turn of events.”

“I would drive if we could, ma’am, but if the vehicles ahead of us won’t, then we’d be leading the way into a riot. It’s almost certain someone would get hurt, and you get blamed. I’m not willing to take a fall against my advice. I’m perfectly willing to take it for diverting. I’ll issue a statement accordingly.”

She spoke with icy clarity. “That won’t be necessary. Proceed.”

“By air?”

“Yes, as you advise.”

Aramis suspected it didn’t matter what Alex would take the blame for. She’d do as she pleased. Of course, that would lead to a grudge match. That could escalate . . .

Yeah, he wanted to be done with this mission, fast.

Highland did not like Ripple Creek. She’d been wary from the beginning, with good reason. When that incompetent but scheming snake in New York had assigned them—and she had no doubt it was the SecGen’s office that assigned them—she’d known it was to embarrass her, either by saddling her with their disregard for bystanders, or the bad press that followed them, or the way they’d choke down on her movements. So far, the smarmy fucker was three for three.

They were certainly competent at keeping threats away, even when they lost a man. Still, the Army had gotten him back for them. It hadn’t softened their attitude. Minor protesters were not a threat. She half expected the goons to follow her to the bathroom. In the meantime, they used stink gas, gunfire, explosives and vehicles, and had killed a newsworthy number of nobodies who’d follow Highland’s career like zombies. She was quite sure that had been the reason they’d been sent. The Special Service knew to intercept bullets and keep quiet. These trigger-happy clowns seemed to enjoy shooting people, and she was fairly sure their weapons did not have biometric locks. Not working ones, at least.

She would be in need of a new biosculp when this was over, and that before taking office. They even saw Jessie as a potential threat, not to mention Huble.