They Said It Would Be Easy (April Book 7) Page 26

  "What are you going to request of me," Martha asked, pouring her tea. "If you think I'm going to drop from the heavens like an avenging angel with a battalion of Home troops at my back I have to disabuse you of the notion."

  "As the last bastion of legitimate government in exile we simply want your endorsement when we act," Aaron said. "I have documents with statements for you to issue, all composed by professional writers for maximum impact."

  "If I'm the last vestige of legitimate government, shouldn't you be telling me, 'We stand ready to support you, Madam President. What are your orders?' Not handing me scripts to shill your revolution. No, I'm sorry, but I am not available as a figurehead. I fled for my life and I'm a citizen of Home now. As far as I'm concerned Home won fair and square and I'm happy to not give the military government any reason to send assassins after me. In fact they have paid me my presidential retirement. That surprised me actually."

  "When there is a successful change of administration, it would be good to be regarded in a favorable light, and continue to have your retirement paid," Aaron suggested.

  "Wait...You mean your people don't intend to bring me back to finish out my interrupted term?" Wiggen contrived to look shocked.

  "I wasn't informed about that issue one way or another," Aaron dodged. "But speaking for myself, I doubt it will be practical. We hoped you'd feel compelled to act out of patriotism, but speaking plainly, we're going to remove the present regime with or without you. I have little beyond your pension with which to compel you, but it leaves you a liability rather than an asset to refuse us."

  "Ah, now we come to the threats," Ben said.

  "This isn't one of your cheap thrillers, Old Man!" Aaron said, suddenly angry, and pointing an accusing finger across the table. Both of them just looked disgusted with him.

  Ben lifted his hands above the edge of the table. It looked like a conciliatory gesture. Actually it positioned them for him to clap, but he paused watching the young man warily.

  Aaron opened his mouth a little, like he was going to speak, and then changed his mind visibly, and withdrew his extended hand decisively to reach in his pants pocket.

  Martha pointed at him emphatically, which neither man saw as they were fixated on each other.

  There was a soft thump, and Aaron looked astonished. He opened his mouth briefly, but nothing came out. He froze like that and slumped back in his seat just as Francois arrived with the small plates. He set them down and regarded the young soldier with a woeful expression.

  "Damn it, I told Mackay to use a laser," Ben said to his wife. "I wasn't sure he was hostile yet. He might have just been reaching for his com or something, not a weapon. I hadn't clapped yet."

  "I'm afraid it wasn't Mackay, dear. I had my friend Margaret watching over us and I gave her the high sign. I told her to take him out if I pointed at him. The way he was grabbing for something was reckless, if you move like that you are asking to be shot. By the time you were sure he was hostile you'd have been dead," his wife told him, sternly. "I'm rather fond of you, and intend to get years and years of good service out of you still."

  Francois was digging in his long serving apron, and came out with a long cork. He took their guest by the arm with his left hand and shoved the cork home in the small caliber hole near his arm pit, using a napkin to keep his hand clean. He gave a perfunctory wipe, covered the cork with the napkin and folded the man's arm across his waist, covering everything under the arm.

  "The first act is starting in a moment," Francois said, calmly. "If we walk the young gentleman out between us just as the lights go down we'll only walk across in front of one table between here and the kitchen entry. No need to upset our other guests with any unpleasantness."

  "You have an exit in the kitchen?" Ben asked.

  "Yes, further down the corridor from the public entry. Should I make some sort of arrangements?" Francois asked.

  "No, thank you, I'll call Jon Davis and have security waiting there," Ben promised.

  "Very good, sir. I'll be back shortly."

  "We owe him one hell of a generous tip tonight," Ben told Martha after Francois went away. Ben sent a text to Jon, not trusting his ability to vocalize softly. "Have inconvenient body. USNA involved. Will need pickup at Quiet Retreat kitchen entry in a few minutes. Details later. Ben Patsitsas."

  "Hussein has mentioned Francois was in French Special Operations," Martha informed Ben, watching Francois smoothly serve another table on the next tier down. "I imagine it would take a lot more than one dead agent to rattle him."

  "Thank God for that," Ben said. "Not like some fat old writers, who turns to jelly when faced with ugly reality." He pulled Aaron's plate of meatballs over and stabbed one. The young man was quite finished with them after all.

  * * *

  "I have a heads up from Jon, and he told me to tell you and Irwin and Chen," Jeff said. "He said he has it on very good authority that it is a virtual certainty there will be another coup or revolution in North America soon, and to assume that in our plans."

  "Does this have anything to do with the body Jon's people quietly took to the clinic late in the off shift last night?" April asked.

  "He didn't mention any bodies," Jeff said.

  "Hmmm," April said, looking thoughtful.

  "Hmmm, what?" Jeff demanded. "You know more than you're saying."

  "I don't know, that's the trouble, I suspect, but I don't believe in coincidences. If two weird things happen so close together they are usually connected somehow," April told him.

  "Probably," Jeff agreed. "What else happened?"

  "Somebody in a pressure suit left the clinic late last shift with a security escort carrying a biohazard container. They didn't go to a shuttle, they went to a maintenance airlock and the security guy waited while the suited guy worked in the lock for a few minutes. Then when he came out he had his faceplate open and walked back to the clinic with no escort," April said.

  "I don't...What is your analysis of a possible connection?" Jeff asked.

  "The body had something on it that scared them, and they opened it in hard vacuum. Probably got a sample if it was anything bad, because Dr. Lee or Jon either one aren't stupid," April pointed out.

  "Should I ask Jon?" Jeff asked. "Is it anything we need to know?"

  "Don't bother for me," April said. "If it targeted us he'd have already let us know. But I'd say somebody on Home was the target of an intelligence operation last night, and it failed."

  Jeff thought about it a little bit. "OK, I can see all that. Does it mean anything to us?"

  "It means Jon's source of information was probably an actual USNA agent of some sort. So I'd assign his warning a very high degree of probability. As if those poor people don't have enough troubles without somebody making more. Pretty soon it will be as big a mess as China," April predicted.

  "I'm going to warn Chen," Jeff decided. "He has agents in North America he may want to warn or protect. I'm sure he'll want to change what his people are following, and watch closely for signs a coup is launched. We also need to decide if there is anything we need from them while things are calm."

  "You just stopped holding USNA dollars. What does a war do to the value of money?" April asked.

  "It depends on who wins," Jeff said. "Internal wars, civil wars, can be a little different. The coup that deposed Wiggen didn't make a whole lot of difference because there was a change of leadership, but they didn't really alter the bulk of the government. The same agencies are running things by the same rules. The money didn't change at all. It's the same dollars. Congress may be working under duress, but they are still rubber stamping things.

  "You can't blame them for doing it that way. That's why the big revolution before last in China failed. They threatened the livelihood of millions of lower level officials and bureaucrats. Who in turn withheld their support at the regional and city level, and all their families and friends. Everything came to a screeching halt at the street level. You can replace a few doz
en cabinet level people pretty easily, but anger millions of local police, firefighters, garbage collectors, city clerks and public utility workers and you have a big problem. You have to either take care of them or ruthlessly eliminate them."

  "What?" Jeff asked. He knew April and knew that look when a thought hit her.

  "Oh, it's another thing I can't prove yet," April admitted, "but when you said 'Wiggen' something went ding! in my mind. I have to make a few calls and see who saw Ben and Martha last night. Did you bring in a sample of the whiskey you are processing?" April asked. "I have a professional I'd like to have assess its potential."

  "Yes, I had a liter brought from Central, but you do know it's nowhere near a finished product?"

  "No worries, I won't present it as such," April promised.

  Chapter 19

  "Last recreation break, next shift," Barak said.

  "Don't sound so wistful," Alice said. "In twenty years you will be telling this as a horror story."

  "The mission and the stupidity yeah, but not you, never," Barak assured her.

  "You think you can sweet talk me, don't you?"

  Barak just waggled his eyebrows at her and made her laugh.

  * * *

  Hussein was preparing for the day's opening at the Quiet Retreat. The lights were up bright and the young woman who was his assistant and trainee was doing a walk through and inspection of each table. He'd inspected the bar and kitchen before the staff arrived, and she would do likewise after him. He'd found a tray in the cooler uncovered. That was unsanitary by his standards. At a minimum it let things dry out and become less palatable. He hadn't corrected it yet, interested if she'd note it too.

  Phillip Detweiler came in and sat at the bar across from him. He was dressed for work also. In fact it was late enough for him to be at the Fox and Hare soon, getting ready for their work day. Detweiler produced a test tube with a cork. It was about a third full of a light yellow fluid. It was a disagreeable color. The man was patient, not demanding instant attention. Hussein liked that about him.

  Technically they were business rivals, but their clubs were very different and the clients from separate demographics. If one business had bought the other only a fool would clone the acquisition as a copy of their own business. One would probably fail if that was done at the present population level.

  The Quiet Retreat served older customers. That was difficult to tell now with life extension so common. But the few who were untreated and visibly older were easier to find here. The Fox and Hare had livelier entertainment and a younger audience. It was louder and had more jazz and rock, as well as more non-musical acts. It tended to brighter lighting and less formal food too. The two men had discussed their differences before, and both wondered if the younger clientele would still mature in tastes without the physical signs of aging. It was going to be interesting to find out.

  "Would you taste this and give me your opinion to pass on?" Detweiler asked.

  Hussein took the tube and swirled the contents to see how it beaded. Lifting it to the light, he lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Slivovitz?" he guessed from the color.

  Detweiler laughed. "I thought you might be cruder than that," he admitted. "It's young, but I don't want to compromise your impression. If it were wine I wouldn't even confirm it was of grapes before you tasted it. Tell me what you think."

  Hussein poured it in a shallow glass and took a good sniff over it. He looked alarmed and made a funny face. "For the science," he proclaimed, and took a sip.

  "I think...It is going to be whiskey, someday. But it has a considerable journey ahead."

  "Yes!" Detweiler agreed, delighted. "If you can even tell that at this stage we are heartened. I tried it too, but I was burdened with the knowledge of what it was supposed to become, thus prejudiced."

  "It is horrid and rough, without any body or mellowness at all. When can I buy a hundred liters?"

  "The young gentleman creating it is careful of his reputation, and wishes to wait until it isn't something to be ashamed of before releasing it," Detweiler said.

  "I can understand that," Hussein agreed. "It will sell at a much better price when properly aged too." He added some sours to the glass and tried it again. "Yes, it helps, but I still wouldn't use it for mix."

  "The aging should be accelerated compared to Earth methods. I may have some for you in a year."

  "You can enter my order then," Hussein agreed. "There is considerable pent up demand, and we don't have to present it as a premium spirit to sell it. Perhaps by then we'll have more Earth supply, and we can sell this as second tier."

  "I'm afraid my sources indicate Earth supply may get worse instead of better," Detweiler said. "Not because of transport, but because indicators are North America may soon be as bad off internally as we see in China right now. What supply we do get may shift strongly to Europe and Asia. Even if we have a shuttle, getting it to the shuttle may be difficult."

  "Ah, that's a shame. Be sure to put me down for a full hundred liters then," Hussein allowed.

  "I will make a note of it to my supplier," Detweiler promised.

  "You don't have a direct interest?" Hussein asked, surprised. "You play salesman for free?"

  "No, I'm a customer, like you. But if you could confirm something the supplier would very much appreciate the information and put it to your account," Detweiler said.

  "If I'm able," Hussein said with a shrug. "I'm afraid you are by far my best source of information, but what did you wonder?"

  "Yesterday evening were the Patsitsas at the Quiet Retreat?" Detweiler asked.

  "Yes, no harm in telling you that. There were any number of people who saw them, and it's a public place," Hussein said. He seemed to be waiting for another question that didn't come.

  "This is young Singh, inquiring?" Hussein finally asked.

  "Jeffery is making the whiskey, but it was his partner Miss Lewis that asked me to inquire. She seemed to know a great deal more she didn't share with me, but wanted that simple fact confirmed. My experience with her is that she doesn't trust one source of information until it has supporting evidence.

  "Huh! That one! She can tell you the change in your pocket when you haven't counted it! She should trust you with the whole story if she'd going to use you like this," Hussein said. "Here's what happened," he said, leaning across the bar closer to Detweiler...

  * * *

  Jon looked at the little spray pen. It wasn't very complicated. The cap was difficult to pull off and that was the only real safety. Once the cap was off the release valve was activated by squeezing the neck of the plastic closure. It had flat raised buttons on opposite sides.

  "What was in it?" Jon asked Doctor Lee.

  "A neurotoxin. One they discovered in an exotic coral a few years back, but this is probably the same thing synthesized. If a diver brings a piece of the living coral up to a boat it's OK until the coral starts to die. Then, as it decomposes it releases the toxin as a gas. The gas is actually much nastier than the contact with the living coral. They lost several boat crews and tourists to this before some bright person noticed all the boats full of dead people had shells and coral aboard. Then it was just a matter of figuring out which of them was responsible."

  "Wouldn't it have killed the agent too?" Jon asked.

  "Yes. Either he was lied to about how lethal it is, or he was willing to suicide. There was enough to kill at least the neighboring tables if not the whole room," Dr. Lee said.

  "What to do?" Jon said aloud. Lee didn't answer him because he took it for a rhetorical question. "If we just disappear the young man his group may send another. If we return him to the North Americans it may give them a heads up that they have rogue agents active in their military. There are no 'good guys' to warn. We have no idea if it serves us better to uncover their coup by revealing this or not. Or is one of the other factions less a threat to us than the present military government?"

  "Surely President Wiggen is a better judge of those factors than u
s," Lee said. "Did she express any preference what we should do with the remains?"

  "She clearly assumed we'd send him back to ISSII when I talked to her," Jon said. "If I'm going to do that I intend to send his little assassin's weapon back with him, taped to his hand. There isn't enough residue in it to harm anyone is there?"

  "It was open to hard vacuum," Lee assured him. "It would be remarkable if they can find sufficient residue of the gas to identify it. Of course the people who made it will know exactly what was in it."

  "Bag him up and send him to ISSII on the next shuttle then," Jon said. "Tell the USNA officials there he threatened the ex-President and tried to deploy the bio-weapon we sent back with him. I'm not going to tell them anything he said about his mission. If Wiggen decides anyone in North America deserves a further heads up, that's her concern to contact them. She doesn't owe me any explanations."

  * * *

  "Li had a proposal he put to me when he was here," Jeff told April.

  "You didn't even mention he went back," April said.

  "He only stayed three days because the Chariot was doing a quick turn-around. That was a plus as far as he was concerned. Tara is waiting to come up until we have another short lay-over scheduled."

  "What did he want you to do? Some joint business venture?" April guessed.

  "That was my first thought too," Jeff admitted. "He suggested buying a big ship while a lot of them are being scrapped out. I didn't realize some are big enough to use as a floating island. We could land and lift shuttles directly from the deck. I assumed he was wanting a job running it, but he said it was outside his skill set and showed no interest in that. If we do use the idea we owe him one, because it was simply a helpful suggestion."

  "How much money are you talking about?" April went to the heart of the matter.

  "At least forty million for the hull before we do anything to it for our needs. I...we, don't have that free right now," Jeff was quick to say.

  "How about all this money coming in to Home?" April asked. "It has to find some productive use doesn't it? If this is a good idea, why not propose it as a partnership?"