The Black Guard: Book II: Evolution (Black Guard Series 2) (18 page)

"Do you pretend to command the army as well as Colonel
Naxal's security forces?" the general asked, appearing rather calm
considering I had stopped his exercise.

"No, sir. I command only the Black Guard. But while
I'm responsible for the king and his son, I will determine the potential risk I'm
willing to permit. If the king doesn't agree, we leave."

"You don't think Prince Kalom is safe surrounded by
forty of the king's soldiers?" He sounded amused, which I took for a good
sign.

"I concede, sir, that I'm overly suspicious. But we
are strangers in a foreign country and are still working on who can and cannot
be trusted. And guessing wrong could cost Prince Kalom his life. I'd rather
look foolish and be laughed at."

"Proceed. I'm interested."

"Senior Judt, take one Guard and monitor the white
group while Sergeant Click and I check out the red group," I said, and
Glick fell in behind me as I walked onto the field with the general and the
prince following.

"General Garrant, your orders?" a young
lieutenant asked as he stepped forward and saluted.

"Captain Sapir, this is Lieutenant Wallban and his
top sergeant, Silas," The general said, now appearing interested.

"Lieutenant Wallban, I assume you know each of the
soldiers here by sight?" I said just to be sure.

"Yes, Captain."

"Good. I want you to walk up to each, inspect him
with his helmet off, and give me his name, and Sergeant Silas can have him
eject one round from his weapon for inspection," I said.

He looked at me and then the general, who nodded, and
then walked up to the closest man.

"Corporal, remove your helmet," he ordered.

The young man snapped to attention and removed the
helmet to reveal curly blond hair.

"Manstel," he said as Silas held out his hand
for the weapon and then ejected one round. It was clearly a rubber bullet.

As we made our way from man to man across the field, Glick
continuously scanned the area while I watched the individual being inspected. When
they were nearly half finished, a man toward the rear of the formation, some
twenty meters to our left, suddenly shifted his position and raised his weapon to
a firing position in our direction.

I swept the legs of Kalom and the general.

Glick and the man fired.

As I finished my 360-degree sweep, I saw the man
staggering backward. Glick had hit him in the chest, but he was still standing.

He fired while staggering back from the impact, so he must
have been wearing protective gear.

With the prince safely on the ground, Glick and I fired
simultaneously. We missed as the man dove toward the ground, rolled, and came
up shooting as he ran. The lieutenant went down with a moan.

I aimed for the assassin's thigh, because he was making
random moves and the odds of a headshot were poor.

He stumbled when two shots hit his legs, one from me and
one from Glick, and after he landed face first on sandy soil, two bullets
ripped into his neck.

By now, most of the soldiers were on the ground or
frozen in place.

"No one move," I shouted.

A medic was running toward the Lieutenant, who was
grasping his side, still alive.

"Sergeant Silas, if you would continue, please. We
will get to the dead man in good time."

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the dead assassin.
When we did, Silas bent, removed his helmet, and shook his head. "I don't
know him." He picked up the man's rifle and ejected a live round, which he
handed to the general.

"Captain Sapir, I apologize for placing Prince
Kalom in danger. The Black Guard will have my full cooperation." The
general shook his head as if to clear it. "You think of the Angels of
Death sneaking up behind you and cutting your throat, not killing you in broad
daylight amid forty troops. And in the confusion, he would have faded away
without notice."

Kalom stood quietly looking down at the dead man.
"They're everywhere," he mumbled, a slight tremor in his voice.

Colonel Naxal and I left while Senior Sergeant Judt began
a search of the white group.

* * *

"I understand you visited the Angels' intermediary
yesterday … the one called the Marquis," Zeruf said after he had finished
his breakfast the next morning and settled back with his cup of kaffa.

 
"Yes,
she's an interesting lady. I'd imagine she was a very deadly Angel in her
youth."

The varied expressions were interesting: Zeruf looked
interested, Kalom frowned in what I took to be anger, and Dulice and Kathyn stared
in open-mouthed shock.

"Marquis are just people the Angels pay to arrange
contracts," Dulice said as if stating a fact everyone knew.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Kalom struck the
table in anger.

"No, Queen Dulice, the Marquis are retired Angels.
They are the perfect interfaces, since they are the best individuals to assess
the difficulty and value of contracts. And I didn't kill her because that would
be like declaring war on the Angels of Death. Right now it's only a contract that
involves the king and you. A war would mean open killing of anyone: ministers,
servants, military, and civilians in town."

"She's right, Kalom. As much as I would like every
Angel of Death executed, we don't need a war with them." The king gave
Kalom a wry smile. And then he looked at me. "Did you learn anything
useful?"

"Yes. She was very forthcoming, and I came away
with a much better understanding of the Angels. Nothing that will help solve
your immediate problem, but the more I know about them, the better I'm equipped
to counter their actions."

"What about long term?" Dulice asked, picking
up on my
immediate
problem
comment.

"On the surface, the contract is forever or until
King Zeruf and Prince Kalom are dead; however, if we can keep the king and
prince alive long enough, that could change. And no, I do not know how long
long enough
will be."
Too long
, I thought, keeping my expression
neutral.

* * *

The next several days were uneventful, although each day
felt like a week as I racked my brain trying to discover potential weaknesses
the Angels could exploit. They hadn't given up, they were just being more
cautious now that they were up against professionals like themselves. That
meant they were looking for potential weaknesses, and the attack would be
carefully planned. Unfortunately, I thought that meant they would attack the
Guard rather than try to get by him.

I had a constant headache until I forced myself to seek
the palace chapel and spend the night meditating. It didn't solve my dilemma,
but it cleared my mind. Members of my family would die—if not today, then
tomorrow—because we were in a dangerous profession. My job was to
minimize those deaths while carrying out my duty in the best Jax tradition.
Having reconciled that in my mind, I set about trying to determine which
who, when
,
and where
would be the most logical weak link. I decided the
meeting building was a likely choice.

* * *

"Lieutenant Elijah, if you aren't busy, would you
join me at the meeting building?" I had contacted her via my Mfi. She
nodded, and I clicked off. I stood in the empty chamber examining the room,
trying to find its weakness—every structure had one.

Elijah appeared several minutes later as I stood in the
lobby.

"This building has a potential weakness," I
said, "and we are going to find it before the Angels do, if they haven't
already. I've been told there is a stairway that provides access for periodic
maintenance on the dome and windows. Since the windows qualify as a weakness, I
thought you and I would have a look." I pointed to a small wooden door on
the far wall, which blended perfectly with the wooden paneling.

"It's certainly well hidden, which makes it easy to
overlook," Elijah said after a careful inspection of the wall.

She followed me as I opened the door with a key Naxal
had given me and entered. The narrow shoulder-wide stairs circled the inside of
the building. Until we reached the dome, the passage was dark and cold. Near
the top, the stairway became a narrow ledge that allowed access to the windows
but was unnoticeable from the room below. Elijah and I traversed the ledge,
checking each window, and we found that one of the window frames had been
loosened.

"I guess the Angels beat us to it," Elijah
said, grinning.

"And I'll bet they didn't need a key to get
in," I said. "Well, what do you think?"

"Come early, wait for the meeting to start, shoot
the king, and leave by the window. Kind of defeats the purpose of our two
guards watching the doors."

"They obviously know we also have two Guards
circling the building, so how does the shooter escape?" Part of my
function was to train my second-in-command, and part was to listen to my team,
since I would never have all the answers.

"Hope the commotion distracts them? … Probably not.
They have to assume we are professionals and will hold our positions. A backup
shooter to support the escaping assassin."

"That's a logical conclusion, certainly one we
can't ignore. However, what if there are two on the stairs? One shoots the
king; the other exits and mingles with the crowd, looking for an opportunity to
kill Kalom if he is scheduled to attend."

"Or three?" Elijah said.

"Yes. We need to prepare for either or both scenarios.
At the next scheduled meeting, two Guards will enter disguised as members of
the meeting. They will search the stairway. If it's clear, they will stay. That
way they can take turns resting. We will stop the outside guards, secure that loose
window, and set a motion detector on the ground floor to give them advance
notice if someone does enter."

"We are pushing the troops to the limit with these
four-hour shift changes and each person working two shifts each twelve
hours," Elijah said with reluctance and concern in her voice.

"You're right to remind me, Elijah. The current two
Guards per family member and at exits and extra patrols and randomness is
ideal, but over time the strain and lack of rest will affect performance, which
will negate the benefits and create a weakness the Angels can take advantage
of," I said, wishing I knew how close they were monitoring us. "Talk
to the troops. If you or they have any ideas, let's hear them."

* * *

Another week went by without incident, including two
meetings. I should have been delighted; however, I wasn't. If I were the
Angels, I would intentionally delay the next attack, since it would be reasonable
to expect the guards to relax and get careless. The Guard wouldn't, but the
long hours and tension of not knowing when they would strike would affect their
alertness. I had to do something, but what?

"You seem to have the situation under control, Captain
Sapir. Do you think you could relax your surveillance? It's invasive,"
Zeruf said one morning at breakfast. That appeared to be the time when
questions were posed and schedules discussed. Although Zeruf asked, I got the
feeling it was Dulice's concern.

"I would love to give my detail a well-deserved
rest. In another couple of weeks, the double shifts will begin to affect
alertness. I could accomplish that by reducing the number of patrols, guards at
exits, and personal guards. But I suspect the Angels have been waiting for one
or the other to happen, because they have not abandoned or terminated the
contract. Time favors them, not us." I said, still struggling with lousy
options.

"I cannot afford the Black Guard forever, certainly
not this many," Zeruf said, frowning with the realization we could be there
for a long time.

"Your Majesty, contracts with the Angels of Death
last until the contracted individual is killed. We apparently all misjudged the
situation. The Angels' client got a cheap contract, because no one realized the
Black Guard would be involved. He failed to stipulate a deadline, which the
Angels are using to their benefit, but had they known the Black Guard would be
involved, the cost of the contract would have been much higher. And had the
Black Guard realized the Angels were so patient and not time incentivized, the
contract would have included more troops. None of us like the contracts we
have, but we have no option except to continue—holding a tiger by the
tail situation. The client can't complain and has already paid the money. The
Angels cannot afford to terminate the contract without destroying their
reputation. They can, however, afford to wait indefinitely—but you cannot."

"You can renegotiate the contract, father,"
Kalom said, frowning.

"I'm afraid the current contract is the best you
are ever going to get, so that isn't an option." I held up my hand to stop
comments. "One option would be for the Black Guard to train Colonel
Naxal's troops to assume our function. That way, you could terminate our
contract and have reasonable security." I hoped the king would consider
that a possible alternative.

"Do you believe our security troops could provide
adequate protection for my family and me?"

I looked to Naxal, who looked to be at war with himself.
Pride wanted to shout
yes,
whereas
common sense after watching the Guard knew the answer was
no
.

"I believe that after some training, Colonel
Naxal's security forces could provide adequate protection; however, the Angels
would complete their contract eventually. They have experience and time on
their side. In fact, given our current numbers, the Angels have an advantage
over the Black Guard."

"You're saying you can't protect us!" Kalom
came half-way out of his seat.

"Prince Kalom, we will give our lives trying, but the
Angels have the advantage. It may take them a month or a year or five years,
but if they continue to honor the contract, which they must, they will
eventually prevail."