Sidespace (24 page)

Miriam gave the question due consideration. It had in fact been such a very, very long time. Tragic that it felt as if it were yesterday in all the ways which mattered. “I believe they can, given sufficient cause. We’ve given them no cause to change their inclinations.”

“We fought and won a war alongside them.”

She nodded. “Then immediately went back to our old ways. Individuals might be able to change, but I’m beginning to doubt institutions’ ability to do so.”

“Yes, speaking of that. I hope you recognize my position is the epitome of ‘weak executive’ in the best of circumstances, of which these are not.”

“You’re telling me you can’t stop Winslow from invading EASC territory on her whim.”

“Regrettably, I am.”

“You realize she is after your job.”

“I do. All the more reason why I am unable to prevent such incursions.”

She was silent for several seconds, genuinely at a loss for words. “I see.”

He faced her with surprising vehemence. “I’m not sure you do. If you want me in this office after the next election instead of Pamela Winslow—and I promise you, you do—then you must understand: I cannot run around imposing executive authority from above on her committee. Politics is not governance, Admiral. One wins elections while the other wins us wars and secures our freedoms. I don’t like it and neither should you, but it is the way of the world.”

“With respect, Prime Minister, that is bullshit.” There she was, cursing again. “We need to—”

“It is not ‘bullshit,’ Admiral. Here is the reality we face. Your daughter may be the savior of us all, but she is also a rebel and possibly an insurgent, certainly a loose cannon and now beyond our control. Your close friend and one of our highest-ranking intelligence officers is a cuckold to a Senecan spy—it’s not an insult, for I am assuredly a cuckold and then some to my wife, but she is not a spy for a rival government.

“My strongest political adversary has unlimited funds and the ear of both powerful anti-Artificial interests and a sizable minority of the voting public. Our supposed allies in the Federation are former revolutionaries with Alliance blood permanently staining their hands.”

He now wore a dark frown. “Suffice it to say neither one of us is in an advantaged position right now. See to your Prevo—or former Prevo, such as it is—and feel free to spar with Mrs. Winslow and the Military Oversight Committee using whatever tools you’re able to wield, but I cannot and will not help you. Not this time.”

Miriam watched the security cam footage, then returned to the beginning and studied it a second time. Two men wearing hooded tunics could be seen making physical contact with Dr. Canivon in a crowded passage at ORS, followed by an almost imperceptible stumble by the woman. The three of them took the corridor to the charter hangars. At this point the crowd thinned out enough to see the men were supporting Canivon and guiding her steps. They boarded a private transport without fanfare, and it departed minutes later.

She glanced at Major Lange’s holo. “How long ago?”

“Two hours, forty minutes. Medical staff alerted Security when she didn’t arrive for a scheduled meeting to review Mr. Reynolds’ tests. The vessel is registered to a legitimate shipping company on Romane, but the ownership chain ends at a shell corporation out of Pandora. We’re investigating, but it’s likely a dead end.”

“What about the assailants?”

Lange shook his head. “Even with the hoods partially obscuring their faces we were able to pull sixty-eight and seventy-four percent facial scans, but as is so often the case with non-citizen mercenaries, they don’t match any individuals in our databases. I filed a request for Federation authorities to run the scans through their databases. I haven’t heard back yet, but I’m not optimistic they’ll find anything.”

Satisfied she could glean no further information from the footage, she closed the aural and paced deliberately around the room. She’d still been at EA Headquarters when she received the Level V alert from Lange and had commandeered an empty meeting room on the third floor.

Careening from one crisis to the next…she needed to consider the larger implications of Brennon’s declarations, but instead she had to focus on the here and now. Triage. “Why didn’t she have a security escort?”

In a rare departure from his consummately professional demeanor, Lange’s pale blue eyes twinkled in passing amusement. “You
have
met the doctor? What she wants, she tends to get—and what she wanted was a private, off-the-record trip.”

“Point conceded, Major. What’s the status of the investigation?”

“Every port in settled space that recognizes EA authority has been provided the vessel’s serial number designation and description, in addition to visuals of Dr. Canivon and the two assailants. Sol sensors are sweeping for the vessel, but it’s probable they violated the Main Asteroid Belt superluminal travel ban and are well out of range. Forensics is scraping the docking bay for any trace evidence which might give us IDs on the perpetrators. As for who’s behind it? The suspect list isn’t long but it is problematic.”

“I’ve no doubt.” She briefly debated whether to ask, but if there was any possibility…. “Is there a chance this was the work of the same group who assaulted Mr. Reynolds?”

His voice lowered. “The Oversight Committee? I haven’t seen anything to suggest so as of yet.”

“If you do, inform me before pursuing it. Has anyone told Mr. Reynolds?”

“No ma’am, though he is starting to inquire as to her whereabouts.”

“Brush him off. I’ll tell him.” She wouldn’t wish that conversation on even her worst enemy. “I’ll be back on the Island in an hour.”

20

SENECA

C
AVARE

I
NFORMANTS LIKED TO MEET
on the riverfront promenade because it was always busy and often crowded, and because loitering was an acceptable pastime there. Graham was nevertheless surprised Laure Ferre was familiar enough with Cavare to request it as a meeting location, seeing as he’d resided on Krysk for the last twenty years. The man must have done his homework.

Ferre had been paranoid and edgy for several months, as he became increasingly convinced Olivia Montegreu intended to kill him for setting her up—so paranoid he refused to talk over even the most secure of comms. Graham had pointed out if Ms. Montegreu wanted the man dead he would already be so, but the observation fell on deaf ears.

As leader of the Zelones cartel, Montegreu had claimed the majority of Ferre’s ‘business’ interests for herself in the wake of the victory over the Metigens. Ferre had spent the time since then scraping what was left into the beginnings of a new enterprise. And serving as an informant. Only on matters affecting Federation security—Graham wasn’t interested in petty crime or low-level smuggling. Krysk law enforcement would be livid if they knew Division was allowing Ferre to operate unimpeded in exchange for occasional tips, but they didn’t know.

He found Ferre leaning against one of the multiple standing tables surrounding a popular eatery kiosk and overlooking the Fuori River. The darkening sky left the man in shadow just outside the nearest lights, and music wafting in from farther down the promenade ensured their conversation wasn’t overheard.

Graham walked up and casually propped his elbows on the table. “You should try the Korean barbeque at the kiosk before you leave. It’s practically authentic.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Tension radiated off Ferre like heat waves off paving; his eyes surreptitiously darted around, scanning for waiting assassins. The behavior was subtle—the man did present an outwardly calm demeanor—but unmistakable if you paid attention.

Graham chuckled under his breath. “You keep on like this and you’re going to die of a stroke long before one of Montegreu’s people gets you.”

“I’ll worry about my own health, thank you. I’ll also be brief—my sources inform me Montegreu is behind the kidnapping of Dr. Abigail Canivon on Earth. Something to do with this rumored new breed of Artificial.”

The odds of Ferre telling the truth were high, if only because Canivon’s kidnapping hadn’t yet hit the news feeds. It hadn’t hit anything, in point of fact—Graham wouldn’t know about it if it weren’t for a directive straight from Chairman Vranas to scrupulously watch everything related to Noetica, on Earth and elsewhere.

As for the ‘new breed of Artificial,’ the fact that the truth—the new breed was
humans
—hadn’t leaked out was nothing short of a miracle. A miracle whose time appeared to be coming to an end, as it appeared Olivia Montegreu knew the truth. Why kidnap the doctor behind Noetica, if not to become a Prevo herself?

The notion chilled Graham to the bone. Montegreu was extremely dangerous and powerful on her own; couple her with an Artificial, even a tiny private one, and she became a far more formidable threat.

“How certain are your sources? I assume you’re referring to people on the inside, but how high? She and her organization are quite secretive.”

“High enough. She couldn’t be so secretive this time—snatching the woman off the streets of Seattle took extensive resources.”

“Where did they take the doctor?”

“Back to New Babel. That’s all I know.”

“I sincerely hope this information isn’t six hours old.” If Ferre’s paranoia had led him to waste critical time traveling to Seneca solely so he could share the news in person, it may be too late.

“No more than two hours. I was in the area.”

Time to end the meeting, then. “If it checks out, you’re good.”

Ferre scoffed. “And if it doesn’t check out?”

“You’d be wise not to send me on any additional fool’s errands, lest I decide to reconsider our arrangement.”

“As if I don’t have enough problems.” Ferre turned and vanished into the crowd.

Graham gave it five seconds, then pushed off the table and walked fifteen meters to where Richard sat at a proper table and eased into the chair across from him. “Ferre says Montegreu took Dr. Canivon. You and I both realize that doesn’t mean anything good, so you’d better tell Admiral Solovy. Offer our services if there’s any way we can assist, though I expect she’ll decline. I’ll see what I can do for corroboration.”

Richard stared at him, the muscles in his jaw flexing, almost as if he was about to pretend he didn’t know Graham knew he was sharing information with the Alliance Fleet Admiral.

Finally he nodded. “Right.” He pushed the beer sitting in front of him toward Graham. “In that case, feel free to finish my drink for me.”

Richard slipped inside his skycar—he was forcing himself to use it instead of the levtrams when possible in order to familiarize himself with the city—and sent Miriam an encrypted pulse the instant the door closed.

We’ve received information indicating it was agents of Olivia Montegreu who kidnapped Dr. Canivon.

The response was a dozen or so seconds in coming; given recent events he imagined she was rather busy.

That is…less than ideal. Confidence level?

Reasonable to high. The intel came from the guy who gave us Montegreu for the Aguirre Conspiracy, but second-hand. Delavasi has a few people inside Zelones, and he’s going to try to get some corroboration. Talk to Vera Yanez down at HQ in San Francisco—she also has a plant or two in the cartel.

I will. Did this source have any information on the doctor’s whereabouts?

Only New Babel, but it should mean the main Zelones compound. Montegreu keeps her core resources close at hand.

True. We need to be as confident as possible, since mounting an incursion onto New Babel is a high-risk endeavor. But we also need to move quickly if we want to prevent….

Miriam trailed off, and it wasn’t difficult to guess why. One reason the true nature of the Prevos had successfully been kept secret thus far was they never discussed it over comms, no matter the circumstances. But she obviously jumped to the same conclusion he and Graham had regarding Montegreu’s intentions.