When Diplomacy Fails…

CHAPTER 12

“He should be conscious. Aramis, are you there?”

He croaked. His mouth was full of…splints? He was splinted all over. Tubes, wires, stents that would be painful if he didn’t feel as if he’d been rolled under a tank.

That voice. It was Shaman.

“I…” He couldn’t get “Am” out.

“You’re going to live. You are in a military hospital, so I’m using powders and potions to supplement their care.”

He could hear all around. Shaman. That was Elke shifting in a seat. Some troop in armor and weapon, the rubbing sound was clear, near the door. Just outside, someone said, “-Bed Nine, and fifty milligrams for, good God what happened to him? Um, fifty milligrams-“

So, I look dead, or worse. I’m alive, though, and not sedated on a transport off this rock.

“Ima sleep,” he muttered. He didn’t know if they could hear him. He was alive, though. If he hurt it meant he could be healed. He felt tears well up and run hotly from the corners of his eyes.

It meant what he and Caron had was complicated. He could never tell her about this. Or could he? He knew he felt fuzzy and was falling asleep.

Alex had a coded message waiting. He downloaded it to his connectionless module, ran it through three decryptions, and read it.

“I support you, but there’s a lot of press. Lawyer arriving tomorrow. Try not to frag any officers before then-Meyer.”

That was expected, but reassuring. Was the lawyer from Earth, or someone they’d tagged locally? Actually, for future reference that was something they should plan for. They really did need legal intervention regularly.

At least they had that. The military were simply hogtied by laws, regulations, instructions, policies, guidances… he felt sorry for them. That captain had trod a very delicate line in Aramis’ recovery.

He wiped the read message and sent back, “Need further leads on potential hostiles to principal. No significant leads, all speculation.”

In the meantime, they’d hold their own war council and discuss that issue.

But first, the next message said Highland wanted to talk again. He took several deep breaths, reminded himself how much money he made and that Aramis was alive, then walked through to her apartment.

Without preamble, she shouted, “Marlow, you will fucking explain what happened this morning. Why was I delayed, then stalled, then hindered from my transport? Why were you late?”

She really doesn’t know, he thought. That did mean they’d been discreet.

“Ma’am, Agent Anderson was kidnapped while on assignment. We took a few hours to locate and recover him, in a joint mission with the military. Our intelligence indicated he was likely to be murdered if we didn’t respond at once.”

She seemed taken aback, and at a loss for words. It was an entire ten seconds before she said, “Okay, then I will excuse you. However, I expect you will inform me before any of these missions take place.”

Not a chance in hell, but I’ll smile and nod, he thought, as he said, “I understand, ma’am.”

“Exactly what assignment was he working on?” she asked.

“He is tasked with mapping, which includes reviewing escape routes to determine their quality. In addition, he stockpiles gear where we can reach it in a hurry while traveling.”

“You mean ‘weapons’?” She looked suspicious and angry again.

“Not generally. Food, water, local cash and clothes. We are usually carrying weapons, but if a vehicle gets damaged or otherwise compromised and must be abandoned, we need to have support logistics.”

“Very well. You can go.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, turned and left.

At no point had she either asked how Aramis was doing or expressed concern about him. There was no point in being angry. She probably wasn’t aware of him as a human being. People were just numbers to her, or potential votes, or exploitable counters.

He didn’t have to like her, but it would help if she wasn’t actively antagonistic to them.

Once he got back to their quarters he said so.

Bart said, “Perhaps you should treat her as an obstacle. Assume she will hinder at every turn.”

He twitched his eyebrows and said, “You know, that’s very logical. I hadn’t thought of it, but it makes sense.”

Elke said, “You will have to juggle the diplomacy of not calling her a self-aggrandizing, hatchet-faced narcissist, while working around her, but I am sure you can do it.”

“Indeed. She really can’t hear in here, right?” he said, looking at Elke.

“She cannot, nor can anyone else. It is possible Intel has snuck something past me and Jason, but I can’t see them sharing with her.” She stretched, hands in her hair, then working her shoulders gently. She was a bit bruised and battered from the day’s events.

Jason said, “Unless there’s a profit in it for them.”

Alex cocked his head. “We can’t rule that out, though there’s no existing pattern of it, that I know of.”

“That, and you can see how the BuState rep reacts.”

He checked the time. “Yeah, he’s coming up now. Can we clear this room?”

Jason said, “I’ll go check on Aramis and relieve Shaman.” He grabbed a day pack and left the room.

Two minutes later, Mister Gillette, with BuState intel arrived. Bart let him in, and Alex decided against any searches for now. They wanted the man as comfortable and agreeable as possible. Alex would have Jason and Elke sweep it again later, just in case. The table had a well with water, sodas and snacks.

“Good to see you, sir,” he offered.

“And you.” Gillette took the offered seat and grabbed a water gratefully. “Thanks for this,” he said with a nod.

“Long day?”

“Yes, I forget to drink, or I drink too much coffee. Ice water is refreshing. So what can I do for you?”

“Before we start, let me say this is in person for confidentiality. We should be secure in here, and welcome any additional precautions you wish to take.”

Gillette nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m fine for now.”

“Very well. We’re trying to build a threat matrix for Ms Highland. Any hostile or potentially hostile groups or significant individuals.”

“Ah, ‘significant individuals.’ Well, that’s the complication.”

“Go ahead.”

Gillette leaned back and said, “Well, obviously, in her duties, she does things that help or hinder any number of companies, to the detriment or benefit of others. Their interests, though, are limited to financial. Some will donate to her campaign, some to her opponents, this will change as the platforms and odds stabilize closer to the election, and some will split their bets and contribute to more than one.”

“Of course. Do you think any of them would contribute to a physical response? Whether intended to harm, scare, or attract notice.”

He considered a moment, then shook his head. “It’s not impossible, but none have done so in previous elections.”

“Right. Though there was speculation about Mister Crindi’s death.”

“There’s always speculation. He died, his wife ran in his stead, and she was dumped by the electorate on the next cycle. She accomplished little. Hardly a worthwhile endeavor.”

Alex nodded. That was mostly how he took it. However, that had helped swing party numbers. He wasn’t sure how much benefit that had been, but if it suggested to him it was a potentially viable method, it might suggest it to others. And Gillette was readily aware of the incident.

“Then what about well-trained or financed kooks without economic interests?”

“It’s impossible to rule out, of course, but hundreds of anonymous threats come in weekly. A handful are deemed credible. Every few weeks one turns up someone violating the law. Twice they’d actually started overt action.”

“And groups here?”

“Yes, here is the interesting part,” Gillette said, running a hand through his hair. “The Amala don’t like her at all. She’s female, powerful, publicly called her husband out over that waste disposal vote last year. However, they’re generally not wealthy enough to do anything, and have poor access to communication, due to cultural factors.”

Alex heard that as, They’re backward savages who hate technology.

“Go on, please,” he said.

“There are certainly members and subfactions who’d like to harm her. We expect that to be more along the lines you’ve seen-rocks, sticks. They might consider an explosive device.”

“Okay. We can monitor that.”

“The Sunni like her, generally. The Shia perceive her as favoring the Sunni and don’t like that. Some have been very vocal about it. The Mowahidoon, the Baha’i and Sufis have nothing against her. They’re very modern and productive. The Coalition Christians run on a spectrum from disliking any woman in office, to disliking her policies. They aren’t friendly but are no more actively hostile than anyone else. A few outliers.”

“That leaves the Faithful group.”

“Yes, those people. Actively hostile, though they tend to seek to instigate incidents so they can sue.”

“Which has happened already over our response.”

“Expect more of that. They’ll do anything to get attention.”

“What about credible threats, though? Not them?”

“No. We’re at a loss. Obviously, there is at least one element. We don’t know who. You were brought in to offer protection while we devote resources to observation and deduction,” he said.

Interesting. That was pretty much an admission they were being spied on. They’d need to review their procedures and make ongoing checks for surveillance.

“So you’re pointing at the Amala as potential physical threats, and the Faithful as hostile distractions.”

“That’s how we interpret it, yes.”

“So who tracked, kidnapped and tortured my man?”

“We don’t know,” Gillette said. He seemed genuinely troubled and embarrassed.

“Allright,” Alex said. “We’ll coordinate with other agencies and share what we find.” Pursuant to massaging it ourselves first, and not sharing details we need. “Can you do the same?”

“We will,” Gillette agreed.

And no doubt with the same provisos, he thought.

Alex said, “And these harassment attacks. What are those about?”

“We presume those are to goad a response. It’s essential you not overreact to those.”

“We try not to, but it’s impossible to tell a paint balloon from a grenade in the time it takes someone to throw one.”

“I understand,” he said, though Alex got the impression he only understood as a mental exercise, not as the recipient of something potentially hot, fast and lethal. “But that’s the officially suggested response.”

“I concur. It’s just hard to implement in a fraction of a second, while guaranteeing Ms. Highland’s safety. Are you able to tell me if she’s planned more demonstrations to promote her stability under fire?” Damn, and I said that with a straight face, too.

Gillette shook his head. “Not that we can tell, and we officially advised her against doing so, as it opens up a potential window and leak.”

Okay, so the guy was a chair-warmer, but at least he was an astute and educated chair-warmer.

“Alright, then we’ll do what we can,” Alex said. “And swap what information comes our way.” After we use it first. Ripple Creek understood allies. It just didn’t have many, and fewer that were reliable.

Jason noted when Aramis shifted again. The rebuilding nanos had some effect. Swelling was down considerably. He now looked like a broken human rather than a bloated roadkill.

“Aramis, it’s Jason, I’m here.”

“Yes,” the man mumbled. Jason was surprised he could talk with his jaw in that shape. Sonofabitch. that had to redefine pain.

“No need to talk if you don’t want to. We’re taking turns watching.” He didn’t mention losing sleep or being worried. They all volunteered for this and stood shift as well.

Aramis managed actual speech. “I’ng conshus. Hurd like heww. Goan ngake ih, tho.”

“Good. I know you are.” Now, yes. Yesterday, thirty percent. Damned good medical work, and the man had a serious constitution.

“Had do figh through fain.”

“Yeah, you mentioned Caron a lot in that context,” he advised. In detail. Though it didn’t sound like a fair trade.

“Ah, shid.”

“Don’t worry. The docs don’t know who she is, and we won’t talk. If that got you through it, good. You’re unreal. Anyone else would be dead, but you’re just too brutal for it.” He wanted to keep the man’s morale up, and keep him tracking on anything real.

Aramis sounded a bit strained, but said, “Ih had this insane, flyne, crazy feeln. The indenzdy. Ih uz aww I could think of. I ngus ve a ferverd.”

It took Jason a moment to translate “I must be a pervert.”

He said, “You’re alive, it worked, no need to be ashamed at all. You probably shouldn’t tell her, though.”

“Yeah. I’ng goan ve quie for a whi. Ngusic? Case or cuve.”

“Probably not at the moment. I’ll call and ask. Alex and Shaman will hear my notes and recordings. They’ll be destroyed soonest, per policy.” Actually, policy said any communication related to a government operation should be kept, and he was fucked if his friend’s personal issues were going to be archived.

He was just glad, and amazed the man was alive.

On his glasses, Shaman’s image hand signed approval, and sent a text confirmation for record. “Shaman says okay. I’ll look for a music load,” he said. Also, a second blanket to cover the man’s groin.

It was possible his brain had completely rewired pain as arousal. Was it important enough to discuss with Shaman? Maybe.

Bart arrived, and he rose and stretched. They didn’t need to sit watch, but they wanted to, and Aramis should appreciate it.

Back at the billet, Alex met him at the door.

“Jason, I have a specific instruction for you, which is not an order.”

“Oh?”

“I have no authority to require this, but as your boss and your friend, I am telling you not to look at any news or comments regarding the attack on Aramis. Best case, you’ll want to smash things.”

Jason sighed deeply. “Yeah, I can imagine. That’s good advice, and I’ll give it a few days to age off the list. We’re all mercenary scum and deserve anything that happens to us, yes?”

“If that was all, I’d be happy. The depths that ‘tolerant’ people will sink to never cease to amaze me.”

“Okay, then I’m already pissed enough and will avoid it further. Thanks.”

There was an emotional toll to being an unemotional mercenary scum.

Alex was drained. Lionel and Corcoran were reliable, but they weren’t part of the regular team. Shaman was back most of the time, but still checked Aramis twice a day. They’d been painted and egged again, and now he had another brief with Captain Das.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said as he arrived. He wanted to be polite, but he didn’t want to call anyone in the military “sir.” It was too easy for them to take it as subordination.

“Good morning, Agent Marlow,” Das returned. He probably had the same guideline in mind. They were polite, courteous and supportive of each other, while recognizing that they might have to diverge on strategy at any moment.

He asked, “Were you able to get the packet from BuState intel?”

“No, I was not. They won’t release it.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I was briefed in person and there wasn’t even a recording or a release.”

“Therefore that briefing never took place.”

Alex took a moment to ponder that. Shit. He’d missed that.

“Okay, so why would they do us a favor and not the military?”

“It could be some territorial issue. It could also be unofficial, but sanctioned because you’re protecting their boss.”

“They generally stay well out of our way. But I appreciate the heads up they gave.”

“They didn’t ask for a classification statement?”

“No,” Alex said. “I’m not officially held, and he didn’t say not to share it with allies, but if I’m going to do that, I need your personal assurance you’ll be discreet on what gets released among your people.”

Das said, “I can do that. Will you have the room swept?”

“I don’t need to. I’ll accept your word.”

Das blinked and stared at him for a moment, and Alex realized it had been a request.

“However, if Agent Vaughn is handy, it might not be a bad idea, just in case of outside sources.”

Das nodded.

He called, and Jason came in, swept the place quickly, and set a small device on the table. It hummed something that wasn’t quite white noise, and shifted in modulation.

“Go ahead, that’s as clear as I can make it. There’s the captain’s official mics over there, and one in the corner behind the shelf.”

Das’ eyebrows flared. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware of that one.”

“I can try to track it later.”

“Delicately, please.”

“Absolutely.” Jason waited a half second for any potential invite or followup orders, then nodded and left.

Alex said, “That’s why I have these people. Okay, Gillette gave me a rundown on threats.” He rattled off as best he could, from memory at the time and his compiled notes, which were not here, being in a safe that was set to char all contents and churn them to powder if tampered with.

When he finished, Das looked quizzical.

Das leaned back and said, “There was a substantive threat with seizure and arrest two weeks ago.”

“Amala?”

“No, Coalition. The man seems to be a freelancer. He’s suspected in three bombings.”

That made Alex jolt alert. “Still in custody?”

“No, he was released on two million bond. He made the bond.”

And Gillette hadn’t considered that important enough to mention.

“How was the threat worded?”

“I’ll bring up a copy. It was directed at ‘enemies of the God of Heaven, and the idolaters and gamblers polluting even His chosen new world.’ That’s this place, and it refers to the stock market that opened up three months back, and any loan agency.”

“So, not directly at her, then.” Had Gillette not mentioned it because he didn’t think it was relevant?

Alex never trusted anyone without proof, but at this point, BuState itself moved onto the “not trusted with any significant information” list.

To Das he said, “Thanks, sir. I’ll follow up on that.”

“You’re welcome. By the way, I forwarded your generous donation to several officers. It was well-received, and the derision seems to have lessened slightly.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” Though he didn’t think it would please Jason much.

He shook hands and he turned to leave.

On the way back he considered their position. Their own contractee was potentially the enemy. That could lead to all kinds of fun.

They’d need to have two levels of prep at this point.

Aramis crossed the line from sleeping to awake with a snap. He felt rested, but there was that confusion from the medication, and dread of the pending pain, though it was substantially lessened.

Elke was next to him.

“Morning,” he said.

“I am not allowed to tell you you’ll be on your feet in a week.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t hear that.” Good. He wanted out of here. Doing nothing sucked.

“You did well,” she said. “I am very impressed.”

“Thanks,” he said. If Elke said that, she meant it.

“You’ve been here a week. Probably another week. You are bored?”

“You wouldn’t believe. The pain I can handle… yeah, let’s say so. I hate vid and can’t move to do anything.”

“I will bring more books.”

His eyes suddenly felt tired. “I appreciate it, but I’m burned out staring at the screen for books or vid. I’ve had enough music. I just need to get on my feet.”

“You can’t move now, though,” she said, while looking him over.

He flexed against the bonds. They were to prevent injury. He could undo them if he chose, he just couldn’t thrash and tear anything.

“No, I’m pretty much restrained between shifts.”

“Well, good. You can’t strain anything, or interfere with therapy.”

“I don’t get therapy here,” he said. “It’s all…”

Elke’s hand was under the covers from the side, snaking slowly toward him. He lit up with goose bumps all over.

“Elke,” he said, “I-”

“Last time you earned a kiss. This time, you’re unable to manage alone.”

Her position meant no one passing by the door would see anything untoward, as long as he didn’t trip any biometric alarms.

Those were the fingers she used to fabricate those incredible bombs, from firecracker to ground shaker. They were amazingly delicate, just feathery touches.

“So we just hold a conversation?” he said. It felt like that again. He wondered if he’d ever enjoy normal sex again, or if it would all have to be violent, edgy and extreme.

“If you like,” she said. That look of concentration. She was intent on this, and he could feel it.

“This isn’t going to take long.”

“Not if I know what I’m doing, no.” A long caress along his nerves threw his endorphins for a loop again.

He closed his eyes, tightened his breath and rode out the thudding waves in his brain.

When he looked, she was sitting in the chair, a calm expression on her face and a towel stuffed into her harness.

“Oh, damn. I really did need that,” he said, as waves of tension thudded through him and ebbed away.

“Only while incapacitated. That is not an offer,” she said, with a quirky smile.

He nodded slightly. “Understood, and thank you most sincerely. I’ll try to stay in one piece.”

“Bart will be along in ten minutes, and I will revert to bitch. You will respect that, of course.” Her face was professional, but behind her eyes, just a hint of something he recognized.

“Unquestionably,” he said. Yup, never mention it again. And no, it wasn’t worth getting chewed up, as much as he did appreciate it.

He hoped Bart would smuggle in some liquor, though, because his brain wanted to match Elke and Caron.

Goddamit, not again.