Night and Day (Book 2): Bleeding Sky (15 page)

“It’s
open,” I said.

Takeda
stepped into the room. She wore the ankle-length black leather duster I’d
seen her wear in the past. It did a nice job of concealing the Japanese
short sword hanging under her left arm and the big automatic pistol on her
right hip. What surprised me was what she wore under the duster.

I’d
never seen her in a Security Force uniform. But she was wearing one now.
Dark blue shirt and pants, the pants bloused into high-topped combat boots.
There was a silver Security Force falcon on her left collar.

She
bowed her head. “Mr. Welles.”

I
returned the bow. “Miss Takeda,” I said. “I see we’re both dressed up for
the ball.”

She
nodded. “General Bain likes his people to look sharp on important
occasions.” She paused. “The suit fits well?”

“Yes,
very nice. Thank you.”

She
bowed her head again. “Shall we go?”

Apparently
the thirty-seconds she’d allocated for small talk was over.

“Captain
Bristow forwarded a copy of your revised security plan to me,” she said as
we drove south to Jackson Square. We were in the same black Hummer she’d
used to bring me back from the operations center, or it’s twin.

“And?”

Takeda
said nothing for a moment, and I steeled myself for a complaint. Instead,
she said, “The changes were logical, based on your evaluation of the
operational security needs.”

She
paused, then said, “In my opinion, a more realistic evaluation than that of
the existing plan.”

“It
was a group effort,” I said.

“I’m
sure it was,” she said with a small smile. “I have already made changes to
my own plan. It is unlikely that Ambassador Heymann will receive large
numbers of visitors after dark, or travel into the square or to other parts
of the city while my company is operational. But it is a possibility. Your
principles are sound, and I will follow them if the situation
warrants.”

I
didn’t see a need to say anything. Takeda was stingy with her praise, so why
spoil the moment.

“And
Trooper Martinez? She reported to you?”

“Yeah,
that’s all squared away. She should be there when we arrive.”

“No
issues concerning her assignment with Lt. Stein?”

“He
brought it up,” I said. “I’m sure I explained it adequately and he accepts
my decision.” Even if he didn’t like it.

“As
he should,” she said flatly. “The ambassador will be delayed approximately
fifteen minutes. Due to the size of his trailer, they chose to come into the
city from the west, using the Parker Bridge.”

I
knew the Parker Bridge well. It was where I’d been scooped with the other
guys in the 83
^rd
Street Robbery-Homicide unit as the Vees took
over the city. We’d tried to run, but we hadn’t gotten far. The next stop
for us was the Delta-5 internment camp.

Takeda
had driven down Second Street and as we neared Antietam, the street that
bordered the north end of the square, it was clear that the security plan
was fully operational. There was a roadblock about two hundred feet north of
the square, where Security Force troopers and city cops were stopping cars
and turning them around.

As
the cars passed us going back the way they’d come, I saw from their
expressions that most of the drivers weren’t happy about the
detour.

Troopers
were already moving the roadblock barricade to the side as we approached,
and the sergeant commanding the roadblock had his hand to his beret in a
salute.

Takeda
slowed the Hummer and stopped next to him. “Why did you remove the barricade
and prepare to pass me through, sergeant?” she asked.

“I
recognized your vehicle, commander,” he said, lowering his hand. The name
tag on the right side of his blue shirt said Poshard.

She
nodded. “I see. And it’s impossible that someone else could be behind the
wheel.”

“No,
sir, that is possible.”

“Or
it’s impossible that the man beside me is threatening my life, forcing me to
transport him through the checkpoint. Or that there are half a dozen bandits
hiding in the back seat.”

His
eyes flickered to the back seat, then back to her. “No, sir, both of those
things are possible.”

Takeda
nodded again. “And it’s impossible that my vehicle is packed with enough
explosives to take out half of your company in a suicide attack.”

“No,
sir, that is also possible. However this post is not equipped to check for
explosives. That’s done at the second checkpoint.”

She
smiled thinly. “You are correct, sergeant. But I believe both the original
and revised security plans are very specific about operations at this
checkpoint, the first checkpoint. You are to stop all vehicles, confirm the
identification documents of everyone in the vehicle, turn around those
vehicles not cleared to enter the square, and throughly search any cleared
vehicle before allowing it on to the second checkpoint.” She paused. “Up to
and including the Governor General if he decided to enter Jackson Square
through your post.”

“Yes,
sir,” Poshard said. “Your identification please, commander.”

Takeda
reached into the pocket of her duster, pulled out a black ID case like mine,
opened it, and held it up. He leaned in and studied it for a moment, then
said, “Thank you, commander.”

I
figured she had him pretty rattled. To keep him from compounding his mistake
by not checking me as well, I pulled out my own ID case, flipped it open,
and held up for him to see.

His
eyes went from the picture to my face back to the picture. Then he
straightened. “Thank you, Mr. Welles.”

He
waved an arm and three troopers approached the car. One carried a
flashlight, while the other two kept their automatic rifles pointed in our
general direction. The trooper with the flashlight shined it inside the
Hummer, checking the floor in front and in back. Then he dropped from sight.
Apparently looking under the vehicle as well.

A
moment later, he stood. “Clear, sergeant.” he said.

Sgt.
Poshard nodded. “You’re cleared to proceed, commander,” he said. He snapped
another salute. Takeda nodded and rolled forward through the opening in the
roadblock.

“You’re
not going to...” I drew my finger across my throat. “You know. Punish him.”
I paused. “It may take a little while to work out all the kinks in the
plan.”

She
shook her head. “No, it was a minor infraction. Though I will have a word
with his platoon commander and make sure that everyone in his command
understands that the plan is to be followed to the letter.”

Apparently
Sgt. Poshard had called ahead and let the second security post know that
Takeda wanted no special treatment. The troopers in the machine gun
emplacements tracked us as we maneuvered between the staggered concrete
barricades that jutted from either side of the road. And I saw a guy with a
LAW anti-tank weapon, similar to a bazooka, watching the Hummer.

The
sergeant at the second post saluted and said, “Please turn off your engine
and present your identification.”

As
we showed him our IDs, a trooper with a dog circled the car. Probably a
bomb-sniffing dog. I was kind of surprised to see it. Dogs in particular and
animals in general didn’t usually take to Vees. Behind the dog handler was
another trooper with a flashlight.

When
we’d gotten the all clear from the dog handler and the other trooper, the
sergeant saluted. “Thank you commander, Mr. Welles.”

He
nodded to the trooper behind the wheel of the Humvee blocking the road. She
started the engine and backed up on the sidewalk, leaving enough room for us
to pass.

Takeda
started the Hummer and drove through the gap into the square.

The
light poles at the corners of the square itself had been replaced with
stadium-like poles, each with four lights, that made the square, the streets
and the sidewalks on the other side as bright as they would be in daylight.
Also in the corners were the defensive positions, sandbag arcs, each with a
couple of machine guns and half a dozen troopers. They were slightly offset
from one another to avoid a crossfire and together created a seamless kill
zone in the streets and the edge of the square.

The
outer perimeter was on the outside curb of the streets bordering Jackson
Square. They’d stretched a three-foot high chicken wire fence along the
curb, with troopers stationed inside it every eight feet. There was a break
in the fence at the security posts on the east and west side. All foot
traffic across the street and into the square would come through those two
posts.

“Looks
pretty good,” I said as she eased the Hummer to the curb on the south side
of Antietam Street.

“It
is acceptable,” she said.

A
cluster of men stood on the west side of the square, next to the statue of
Stonewall Jackson. I recognized Daryl, Jimmy and Arnie Snyder, the night
shift watch commander in Downtown District, among them.

“Looks
like the city delegation is already here.”

She
followed my gaze and nodded. “Yes. And it is probably appropriate to pay our
respects to them before the ambassador arrives.”

We
got out of the car and crossed the street. As we walked, I saw the boom of a
large crane rising up above the lights on the other side of the square. The
crane blocked Fredericksburg Avenue. “That’s a big crane.”

“To
lift the ambassador’s trailer from the transporter and place it in the
square,” she said. “The transporter and the crane will remain in place on
the street until he departs.”

As
we stepped off the street and into the square, Brenner intercepted us. “Hi
Charlie, Miss Takeda.”

“Mr.
Brenner,” she said with a nod.

“I
see you found your way here, Johnny,” I said.

He
smiled. “Wasn’t hard. I could see the glow of the lights from my hotel.” He
paused. “You mind if I have a word with Miss Takeda?”

I
shook my head. “Meet you over there,” I said to Takeda.

Vee
talk. Maybe they’d share the conversation with me later. Or maybe not. Vees
like their little secrets.

I
approached the men by the statue and stopped. “Gentlemen,” I
said.

I
knew some of them. Jimmy Mutz, Daryl, Arnie Snyder, Dylan Muldoon, the
Downtown District chief. And I recognized Mayor William Cobb. Or Billy, as
he preferred to be known.

“This
is Charlie Welles,” Daryl said. “You know Jimmy and Arnie, of course. And
probably Chief Muldoon from Downtown District.”

Muldoon
nodded, but it wasn’t a friendly nod. More than a year ago, Joshua had
helped bust the previous Downtown night shift watch commander, who had
ordered some human cops bled to make a point. Muldoon had gone along with
the punishment, which involved nails, the roof of the police station and the
morning sun. But I’d heard he wasn’t happy about it.

“This
is Police Commissioner Joe Napier,” Daryl continued.

“Good
to meet you, Mr. Welles,” Napier said. He was a big guy, not as big as
Daryl, but more solid. Short blond hair, very deep-set eyes, a nose like a
hawk. I took the cold hand he extended and shook it, twice. He pulled it
back. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Probably
very little of it good. The investigation into Joshua’s death had led us to
more than a few corrupt cops, all of them now dead.

“And
of course, Mayor Cobb.”

“Call
me Billy,” he said, shoving his hand out. Where Napier’s handshake had been
short and perfunctory, I thought the mayor was going to take my arm off. His
hand was also warm. And a little bit sweaty. Cobb was human.

“Glad
to meet you, sir,” I said, slipping my hand free.

“This
is quite an operation you got going on here, son,” Cobb said. “I don’t think
we have to worry none about Mr. Heymann’s safety.”

Daryl
played at being a country boy. Cobb was the real deal. And from what I
heard, he wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box. But he had big white teeth
that he was always willing to flash in a grin, a big head of badly-dyed
black hair and sparkling blue eyes. And he knew how to charm people. It
might not have made him the best mayor, but he was certainly the best
candidate for mayor, and that’s what counted on election day.

“Here’s
hoping, sir,” I said.

I
looked over my shoulder at Takeda and Brenner. She had her phone to her ear
and was speaking into it as his lips moved.

“Who’s
that with Miss Takeda?” Daryl asked.

“His
name’s Brenner,” I said. “He’s an investigator with my office.”

Takeda
hung up the phone and stuck it in the pocket of her duster. She and Brenner
spoke for another moment. Then he nodded and headed for the command trailer.
Takeda came toward us.

“Nice
to see you again, Miss Takeda,” Daryl said with a crooked grin. As far as I
knew, the last time he’d seen her she’d been cold-cocking him with the butt
of her sword at the tail end of a fire fight. She takes orders seriously,
and she’d been ordered to keep him away from harm.