Big Damn Hero

18

The room was large, with an artificial rock waterfall that towered at least fifteen feet high. The water spilled into a tiled pond. Golden koi fish swam lazily beneath lily pads, now and then mouthing the surface.

Opposite lay a big, rectangular picture window bordered by gleaming swords and battleaxes. The view was of a particularly beautiful section of Persephone, where large swathes of cultivated gardens hung between the silvery sky-rises. A wealthy district. If the docks were hell, this was heaven.

Mika Wong, having ushered Book into the room and allowed him a moment or two to admire his surroundings, gestured for him to take a seat in an ornate overstuffed chair. He picked up a remote off a small table and clicked on a holographic fireplace next to the chair. Then he instructed a servant, a man dressed in a butler’s brass-buttoned livery, to fetch drinks. The butler filled two gold-hued cups from a matching decanter and handed one to Book and the other to Wong before gliding back over to a corner and stationing himself there, fixing his gaze in a dispassionate middle-distance stare.

Book lowered himself into the chair and sniffed the liquid. He had anticipated wine, which he would have had to decline, but to his delight found that he was drinking clean, fresh water. Cooled to a perfect chilliness, it was nectar on his tongue and went a long way to dispelling the ache in his head from the blows he had received at the hands of Charlie Dunwoody and company.

Wong sat opposite. The years had been kind to the former commander of the Alliance Anti-Terrorism Division. Taller than Book, his spine was ramrod straight. He was tanned and fit, his once-black hair now a sleek silvery gray instead of plain white like Book’s. He was wearing black trousers and a slate-colored shirt, appearing almost militaristic.

“So,” he said, “Derrial Book got rolled. Who would have thought? You, of all people.”

Book smiled sheepishly. “Maybe I’m losing my edge.”

“I doubt it. What happened?”

“I offered charity to a man who decided I was being too stingy.” Book shrugged. “As they say, no good deed goes unpunished.”

“Well, you were certainly punished.”

“I’d like to say I had the situation under control…”

“But clearly you did not.”

“And you, equally clearly, have not lost your edge,” Book said. “That was some fancy footwork, for an old man.”

“I keep in shape,” Wong said. “I have a dojo on the premises and spar practically every day with my trainer. Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I have to atrophy. Also, I had the element of surprise. Those fellows didn’t see me coming until it was too late to do them any good.”

“A dojo. A room like this. A house this size. Staff.” Book motioned at the butler, who acted oblivious, as though he was not even present in the room. “You’re doing pretty well for yourself, Mika.” Especially, he didn’t say, for a man living on a military pension. For sure, the commander of an entire department would receive a decent annuity and plenty of perks, but enough to afford this kind of lifestyle? Not likely.

“I get by,” Wong said. “How about you? Still sequestered away at Southdown?”

“I left the abbey a few months back. Thought I’d walk in the world a while.”

“Why?” Wong crossed his legs and sipped from his glass. “I avoid it as much as possible.”

“I find I still have things to do. A life of contemplation and prayer provides one with a peace that passeth all understanding, but our universe is far from peaceful. It seems self-indulgent to live apart, when so many are in need of help.”

“You always were a bit of a radical.”

“Or a pragmatist. We raise ourselves up by lifting others.”

“You’re full of pithy quotes.” Wong smiled, but his gaze was sharp, brittle. Assessing. “It’s been a long time,” he added. “You’ll have to catch me up.”

“Quid pro quo,” Book returned. “I never dreamed you’d retire.”

“Forced out.” Wong’s tone was rueful and not a little resentful. “New guidelines for mandatory retirement. They thought I was past it.”

“That’s a shame,” Book said. “Shepherds don’t retire. We just… redefine our vocations.”

As Book took another swallow of water, he studied Wong. When he had known him before, the commander had been all spit-and-polish, a minimalist who traveled light. The Mika Wong of the past would have scoffed at the luxury in which the two of them now sat, and would have questioned the method by which such obvious wealth had been acquired if he were investigating someone else. He might well have accused a retired Alliance officer who lived like this of illegal practices. And Book recalled the waitress in the Sea Wolf saying as much about him. Forcing businesses to pay for protection? Could such a thing be true?

“At any rate,” he said, “I’m glad you happened along when you did. Otherwise I’d be a whole lot poorer than I already am, and a whole lot more damaged, too.”

“Yes, how are you feeling? Recovering from your ordeal?”

“More or less. I’m going to have a few lumps and bumps to show for it, but that’s nothing new. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but was it sheer chance you showed up?”

“You ask the question in a manner which suggests you don’t think it was.”

“Let’s just say I’m wary of sudden turns of good fortune.”

“Even when they might all be part of God’s divine plan?” Wong laughed teasingly. “It was sheer happenstance, Derrial, genuinely. I was in the area, just passing through. Although, that being said, I was keeping half an eye out for a preacher, because I’d lately got word that one such had been asking around about Hunter Covington and Elmira Atadema.”

The remark was a probing stiletto. Book parried. “Was it by any chance a waitress at the Sea Wolf told you that?”

“Saskia?”

“If that’s her name. A bountiful woman in every regard.”

Wong shook his head. “No, not her, although she has been known to send the odd piece of useful information my way now and then.”

“No, come to think of it, I was set upon almost as soon as I left the Sea Wolf. You must have heard about me earlier than that. I know. The clerk at the quartermaster’s office. Smotrich.”

Now Wong nodded. “Smotrich earns a very modest salary. If he spies an opportunity to supplement it with a little extra cash, he seizes it with both hands. He’s aware that I have an interest in Covington and Elmira. The funny thing is, as soon as he mentioned a Shepherd, you were the person I immediately thought of. What does that say about me, I wonder?”

“Says to me you don’t know that many Shepherds.”

“You know, in some ways it came as a surprise when I learned that Derrial Book had gone into the church. Back in the day, when you and I were both in uniform, I’d never have pegged you as a candidate for the clergy.”

“At the risk of you accusing me again of being full of pithy quotes, the Bible has something to say about there being more joy in heaven over one sinner that repents than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance.”

“You were a sinner?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“I suppose you might consider yourself that, in light of what you did — or rather what you were accused of doing. Me, I always considered you a just person. There was a fundamental integrity about you which, I can see now in retrospect, makes you well fitted for the religious life. Tell me, was it hard making the switch?”

“Exchanging one institution for another? The Alliance for the Order? Not really. It’s all just structure and hierarchy, at least on the surface.” Book was choosing his words with care. His past— before Southdown Abbey — was a minefield. He didn’t much enjoy revisiting it, and he always trod warily when he did. There were so many things that could explode in his face, and Wong knew more than a few of them. “Listen, Mika, much as it’s pleasant to catch up, and much as I appreciate you interceding when I needed it, I’m currently conducting some business that’s, to put it mildly, urgent. I have some associates I’d like to check in with.”

Wong made a be-my-guest gesture.

Book pulled out his comm link. “In private, if I may.”

“As you wish.” Wong turned to dismiss the butler.

“I mean complete privacy. Some other room, perhaps? Where I can be on my ownsome?”

“How about I show you to my office?

“Well, I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs,” Book said amiably, “and to be honest, I’d like to see the rest of your home.”

“Not what you expected, eh?” Wong said with some pride. “I came into an inheritance shortly after I retired.”

“What luck,” Book said. He didn’t believe a word of it.

Wong stood and Book followed him out of the room, moving a little stiffly from his injuries. They walked together down a corridor sided by rainbow-hued glass behind which exotic ferns and flowers bloomed. Insects fluttered and crawled among the brilliant foliage. Book had never seen anything so opulent in a private home. Members of domestic staff trotted silently by. It was gone midnight, but still they were on duty, ready to respond to Wong’s every beck and call.

Withholding comment, Book followed Wong into an austere office consisting of a metal desk, several metal upright chairs, and dozens of framed commendations, medals, and pictures with various departments and divisions. This was more like the Mika Wong he had known before.

“Here you go,” Wong said. “I’ll leave you to it. I imagine you might be hungry; I’ll have the cook prepare something to eat.”

“Thank you,” Book said, waiting until Wong left.

That, he thought, could not have gone much better. If Wong hadn’t himself suggested going to his office, Book would have dropped hints to that effect; or else, as soon as he was alone, he would have snuck through the house looking for just such a room.

The truth was, he had very little that was new to report to Zoë and the others. What he did have was the near certainty that Mika Wong was dirty — running some sort of protection racket in Eavesdown, a gamekeeper turned poacher — and that Wong was connected with Elmira Atadema and therefore, by inference, Covington. It was strange that Wong had not inquired why Book was so interested in those two people, at least not yet. His lack of curiosity was in itself curious. Perhaps, over a meal, he might broach the topic. Well, Book would deal with that eventuality as and when it arose. Until then, he was going to make the most of the window of opportunity he had wangled for himself.

Wong must have information about Elmira and Covington, most likely in this very office. Book scanned the room for security cameras, to see if his search would be detected. Just because he saw none did not mean there were none, but it seemed unlikely that Wong would monitor his own workspace in the heart of his own home. Acting as fast as possible, Book opened and closed drawers and folders both in the man’s actual desk and onscreen. Strange codes and addresses of businesses on Persephone — Wong’s protection racket? He kept looking, freezing when he came upon a hard-copy folder in the lower desk drawer labeled ATADEMA, ELMIRA.

He opened the folder and began to skim an official-looking document.

SUBJECT: Missing; unable to locate.

So Wong had been keeping tabs on Elmira Atadema at the very least. The date the subject had gone missing was marked as the day before Alliance Day. Clearly “missing” meant something different to Wong than it did on her wanted poster. She had escaped from her bondholder months before and been recaptured, but Wong had lost track of her within the last twenty-four hours.

Book was so engrossed in the document that he lost situational awareness. He should have heard the footfalls in the corridor outside sooner, but by the time he did they had stopped at the door and the door itself was opening.

He froze, the document in his hands. If it was a member of Wong’s staff, he would bluff his way out of trouble, playing the role of hapless, innocent Shepherd.

But it was Wong himself standing in the doorway.

“Derrial,” he said, scowling unhappily. “What the hell?”

Book decided he had nothing to lose.

“You know that I’m looking for Elmira Atadema, Mika,” he said. “I’ve been asking around on Persephone for information on her, and everything points to you having some kind of professional interest in her.” He raised the folder. “I’ve just confirmed that for myself.”

“Then why not just ask me outright what I know about the woman?” Wong said, grabbing the folder from him. “Why all the cloak and dagger?”

“We haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Book said. “I’ve only recently started looking for her and I’m learning the lay of the land.” And you’re living rich, and a certain waitress accused you of some very nefarious dealings.

Wong frowned. “But Book, it’s me. We go back a ways. We were both officers. We served on the Cortez together. I was there when you got shafted over the Alexander disaster and took the fall.”

Book bowed his head, acknowledging perhaps the darkest, most ignominious episode from his former life.

“I thought… I thought you were someone I could always trust,” Wong went on. “I respected you. I was your superior officer but still I looked up to you. Why in hell else would I have helped you out with those muggers? Soon as I saw who it was they were beating up— Derrial Book! — I weighed in. Didn’t think twice about it. And this is how you reward me?” He sounded genuinely upset. “So I suppose the only reason you agreed to accompany me back to my place was so that you could snoop around?”

“In part, yes.”

“Huh. Guess you’re not the ‘just person’ I thought you were after all.”

“I don’t pretend to be perfect, Mika,” said Book. “I try my best to be virtuous, but oftentimes the circumstances demand a touch of deceit. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Wong seemed in two minds whether to accept the apology.

“You have every right to throw me out on my ear,” Book continued. “Wouldn’t blame you at all if you did. But I beg you, in the name of the respect you once had for me and indeed I once had for you, help me out here. I’m floundering, and there’s a great deal riding on anything you can tell me about Elmira and Covington.”

Wong deliberated, conflicting emotions chasing one another across his face.

Finally, with an audible sigh, he relented.

“What do you need to know?” he said, lowering his defenses but not putting the folder down.

Book used much the same story he had told Saskia the waitress. “One of my erstwhile brethren at the abbey is a cousin of Elmira’s. He contacted me, worried about her. I came to Eavesdown, and what do I find but a missing person poster for her? The more I’ve learned, the more it seems she’s gotten herself into a dire situation and may well be dead. As a matter of fact”—he nerved himself to deliver a deeper lie—“I was considering approaching you if I drew a blank everywhere else. You used to head up the Anti-Terrorism Division, and your remit included dealing with vigilantes.” He paused, but Wong remained poker-faced. “And one of my respondents connected Elmira to a group of vigilantes.”

“Who was it?” Wong pressed.

Book could have admitted that it was Saskia, but she had only verified what Jayne had discovered earlier. He didn’t want Wong to think the waitress had given away too much. It might scupper any further dealings she had with him, and might even earn her a reprisal. “Somebody who prefers to remain anonymous.”

“Okay, so what kind of connection did your anonymous source tell you there is between Elmira and these vigilantes?”

Book sat back in the chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “It seems to me that it’s your turn to share some information, Mika. I’ve been forthcoming, but I’ve gotten nothing in return.”

“This isn’t a trade,” Wong said.

Book remained patient. “Most things are. Don’t see why this should be any different.”

Finally Wong said, “You’re still a Shepherd, yes?”

Book nodded. “I am. I’ve left the abbey for the time being, but I haven’t left the Order.”

Wong tapped the folder again. “Then here’s how we do this. What I’m about to tell you falls within the purview of benefit of clergy. In other words, if you tell anyone what I’m about to discuss, in my opinion you will be violating the holy orders you took.”

Confession didn’t exactly work that way, but Book wasn’t about to raise any objections. “Yes. Provided, of course, that withholding such information wouldn’t make me complicit in the commission of a crime. If that’s the case, then I’m under an obligation to reveal it.”

Wong thought a moment, as if mentally reviewing what he planned to say and checking it twice. Book refrained from adding that there was nothing in his vows that would prevent him from acting on the information, as long as he didn’t disclose who had shared it with him.

“This goes against the grain,” Wong said. “I’ve been conducting this operation on a strictly need-to-know, and so far I’ve been the only one who needed to know.”

Book remained placid. Then Wong said, “But your inferences are on the money. There are vigilantes active on Persephone— Browncoat vigilantes — and they have been committing atrocities on this planet and others. The Alliance is unhappy about it. They want all citizens to be safe. So I’ve been reactivated by my old division to stop them.”

“I see,” Book said.

“A few days ago the vigilantes here stepped up their operations. They’ve some sort of new objective that’s gotten them all very excited, and Elmira told me she had found out what it was. We had a rendezvous scheduled for the day before Alliance Day so that she could lay it out to me in person, but she didn’t make it. I haven’t heard from her since.”

Could this “objective” have something to do with Mal’s disappearance? “How is she in a position to know what they’re doing? Is she an Alliance plant? A spy?”

“A spy, in a sense. She was my CI — my confidential informant.”

Gradually the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. “How did you find her in the first place?” Book asked.

“During the war, a battalion of Browncoats burned down the Atadema family homestead and razed the surrounding land. Elmira’s parents starved to death. She herself was in dire straits, close to dying the same way, so she made a choice. She sold herself as a bondswoman. It was her only way out.”

“Dear Lord. That’s shocking.”

Wong frowned. “Well, you know how the Browncoats were. Declared themselves the champions of the people and then stole or destroyed everything they could. Damn barbarians.”

There was no sense arguing with him, and Book was not there to change his mind. As far as Wong knew, Book had no truck with the Independent cause. He maintained a neutral expression and waited for Wong to continue.

“Life as a bondswoman can be very unpleasant,” he prompted.

Wong’s lip curled. “Yes, not least when your bondholder is Hunter Covington. He is, his suave demeanor to the contrary, not what you would call a nice man. At any rate, I’d got wind that Covington was in league with the vigilantes. Maybe not a sympathizer, as such, but associating with them on a commercial basis. Covington’s a mover and shaker round these parts — when it comes to shady dealings, that is. He trades in information, people, data, whatever. Makes a tidy living out of it, too. On Persephone, and in Eavesdown in particular, knowing who’s coming and who’s going and what business they’re about can set you high on the totem pole.”

“Covington tipped the vigilantes off to something. Something big.”

“More than that. He helped facilitate it, from what I hear.”

The something big being… Mal?

“This I got from Elmira,” Wong said. “Not the specifics, which she didn’t know, but an overall picture that the vigilantes had major plans.”

“You still haven’t told me how you recruited her to be your woman on the inside with Covington.”

“It was when she ran away from him. It came to my attention that there was a bondswoman, a fugitive on the run from Hunter Covington. By then I’d already established Covington’s links to the vigilantes, and I realized here was my chance. I had someone who was ripe for cultivating. Elmira was hiding out in one of the slums not far from the docks. I approached her and promised her I’d set her up in a new life if she became my CI for a while. I sweetened it by promising to pay the full amount of her bond, when the time came.”

“But in order to do that, she had to go back to Covington first.” In effect, Elmira had exchanged one kind of servitude for another. Book, however, refrained from voicing this observation aloud.

“Which she did, voluntarily, albeit reluctantly,” Wong said. “That’s why Covington didn’t kill her, when he almost certainly would have if he had simply caught her himself. You don’t cross a man like that, not if you know what’s good for you. Elmira went crawling back to him on hands and knees, making out as though she was sorry, she bitterly regretted what she had done, she wouldn’t run away again. She begged him to take her back, and you know from that poster that she’s a fine-looking woman. Face like hers, gazing up at you full of pleading and contrition — well, you just couldn’t say no to it, could you? Even if you’re a cruel-hearted piece of lè sè like Hunter Covington.”

“Still, it chills me to think how he might have dealt with her. You took a huge gamble with her life, Mika.”

“Elmira knew what she was getting herself into, and she thought the risk worth the reward.”

“It may yet be that the risk has proved too great. Elmira has disappeared. Rumor is she may be dead.”

Wong’s shoulders sagged. “You heard that too, huh?”

“What if Covington has discovered she’s your informant?”

“I reckon she’ll be okay. She’s had a tough life, and it’s made her crafty and strong. But I always told her, if she ever felt she’s getting in over her head, she can contact me and I’ll pull her out. I’m trusting that because I haven’t heard from her yet, nothing untoward has happened.”

“Or it has and she was unable to get word to you in time.”

“There is that,” Wong admitted.

“So you’re just crossing your fingers and hoping Covington hasn’t murdered Elmira, most likely in some dreadful way?”

“No. Well, yes, maybe a little. But I have a contingency plan.”

“Namely?”

“In case of emergency, I can locate her. Before Elmira returned to Covington, I had her fitted with a subdermal tracking implant, networked via the Cortex with heavy encryption and shielded internally so that it can’t be detected by any electronic scan. It registers her bio-signs as well, so if she’s alive, or otherwise, I’ll know. All I need to do is activate it and I can pinpoint where she is, anywhere in the ’verse, to within a half-mile radius.”

“Then why haven’t you done so?”

“Why do you think I was downtown earlier?” Wong said. “I was trying to gather some solid intel on her disappearance. There’s a great deal of tittle-tattle goes around Eavesdown and it can be an effort sorting the wheat from the chaff. I didn’t want to go after Elmira to pull her out without good reason.”

“Wouldn’t want to blow her cover unnecessarily,” Book said with undisguised sarcasm. “Waste of a good asset.”

“Don’t take that high moral tone with me, Derrial. I’m not an inhuman monster. I’m concerned about Elmira and I’ll do all I can to get her back safe and sound, on the proviso that it doesn’t happen unless there’s absolutely no alternative.”

“I’d say you’ve reached that point, based on current evidence. You need to fire up that tracking implant, find out where the hell she is, and go fetch her. Whether she’s alive or dead doesn’t matter. You owe it to her to try.”

Wong studied him, flinty-eyed. “Ever the man of principle, huh?”

“If you won’t do it, I will.”

“I don’t doubt you would.” He looked down at the folder, which he was still holding. His fingers had dug into the card cover hard enough to make dents. “And I might let you and all. I require a level of deniability here. If I go in to get Elmira myself, or even using any of my known associates, people are going to draw the conclusion that I’ve been reactivated by the Alliance.”

“And that might compromise the sweet little protection racket you’ve got going here.”

Wong blinked. “How did you—? Never mind. I guess people will tell a Shepherd anything and everything, feeling confident it’ll go no further. Much like I’ve been doing.”

“It’s a gift,” Book said, “and sometimes something of a curse. Besides, I only need to look around me at this extravagant lifestyle of yours to know you’re doing far better for yourself than an ex-military officer has any right to. You must be working some sort of angle, and protection seems as likely an explanation as any.” Again, he had the waitress Saskia to thank for this apparent deduction, and again, he wasn’t going to credit her in Wong’s presence.

“So, if I give you Elmira’s whereabouts, you guarantee that you could rescue her?”

“I can be very resourceful, and I have some no less resourceful friends who, given the right motivation, will back me up. We’ll get her.” Book knew that Wong could probably steer him direct to Hunter Covington, cutting Elmira out of the equation. But Elmira seemed to know as much about Mal’s situation as Covington did, and it was information Covington was unlikely to supply willingly, whereas she might be a different story. And then there was the secondary consideration — the woman was clearly in serious jeopardy, assuming she wasn’t already dead. If the crew could pull her fat out of the fire as part of the process of doing the same for Mal, so much the better.

For a long time Wong said nothing, deep in thought.

“I wouldn’t do this for just anyone,” he said, and turned and went over to a framed oil painting, a genuine Earth-That-Was artifact that must have set him back a small fortune. The picture was on a hinge, and he swung it out to reveal a wall safe beneath. A quick but thorough biometric scan — fingerprints, retinas, breath, voice recognition — unlocked the safe. The door eased smoothly outward and Wong rummaged inside for a few moments, producing a handheld unit equipped with a tiny screen and a digital readout.

“Well, here goes,” he said, and pressed a button on the unit.

The screen lit up. A map of the ’verse and its plethora of suns, moons and planets appeared, all these elements linked by lines representing channels of communication, like a complex web. Bit by bit the image zeroed in on a single quadrant, a single solar system, a single planet, a single zone of that planet, a single subdivision within that zone, narrowing down the search for the tracking implant. As soon as it made contact, it gave a ping. The tracking implant responded to its prompting, offering as accurate a set of global positioning coordinates as it could manage.

“She’s alive,” he said. “That’s something. And even better, she’s still planetside.”

“Where?”

“Not far. Looks like some kind of spread out in the boondocks, couple dozen miles from town. Covington has a place out yonder, kind of a country retreat. Pretty sure it’s that.”

He passed the tracker device to Book.

“This is a marker of my implicit faith in you, Derrial,” Wong said. “I pray it’s merited.”

“Faith,” Shepherd Book replied, “is sometimes all we have and all we need.”