Rogue-ARC (26 page)

“Sorry, sir. It’s not. That technician wasn’t able to come in today.”

At that moment, the police showed up. I’d even beat the investigators in, with the aid of my lovely assistant. To be fair, though, they had to arrange warrants and brought a lot more gear than I did.

There were three cars and a scene van. One suited detective got out of his car, as a young female patroller came around the other side, and two others.

I said, “I guess I may have to reschedule.” She wasn’t paying attention to me, though. She was watching the approaching interference.

The lead man came up, displayed ID quietly, and laid down a sheet. The supervisor nodded, the manager came through, and in a few moments the staff from senior tech to tire wiper were all paraded into the office area. Three other waiting customers, or at least the drivers of the actual customers, sat back and watched in fascination. I blended in perfectly.

I overheard, “Is anyone missing?”

“Technician Rognan is new, but did not come in this morning.”

“Who worked on this vehicle?” he held a print with information that was obviously of Janich’s car.

“That would be Rognan.”

There was a momentary tableau as everyone figured out the implications.

Inside my pocket, I flipped on my phone. They had some good sensors, though, as someone turned and said, “No phones inside at this time, please. You’ll need to go outside.”

I flipped it back off. Well done. They might actually track him. That presented some issues.

I stood, stepped forward just enough to be noticed, recognized and for a break.

“You’re obviously busy with something important. I can wait and will bring my car in tomorrow.”

With some relief and sadness, the manager said, “Yes, sir. I do apologize.”

“Not at all. I’ll see you early.”

I planned to. I wanted my own hands on this.

I did a little evading on the highway, just to make sure. It wouldn’t stop anyone following me, but it would delay them, and I’d recognize a tail. Of course, they might have me painted from high overhead, or by drone. The most effective solution to that was a pass through a parking elevator. I took a spur into the city, found a nice new one between blocks of office and shops, and let it raise the car into a bay. I found a vendor, bought a cup of pirogies and ate them on my way back. I signaled for recovery, and the forks pulled the car back down.

I took a leisurely pass around the downtown on the elevated highway, then headed back out to the hotel, alert for tails. I called Silver for an update, and she didn’t know of anything obvious on the nodes or the police net.

Once there, I filled her in on the day’s intel.

“Sounds productive,” she said. “I have some intel, too.”

“Go ahead,” I prompted.

“The main purpose of KnoledgeKnode is data sharing. Proprietary industrial processes, vids, presentation transcriptions, the works. He’s gotten periodic threats for years. Someone finally followed through.”

“Very interesting,” I said. “No government stuff?”

“No, just private industry and commercial material.”

“Very interesting,” I repeated. “No one came after him before, because of the risk of it being tracked. So Randall’s marketable enough to expand. Very bad news. At the same time, those outfits are not going to be interested in paying extreme amounts of money. It’s just not worth their time. This means his rates are palatable. I’m not sure where to price it, but I’m going to start with an estimate range of fifty K bottom and a mil top. I doubt this project was over two hundred K.”

She wrinkled her brow and thought while I spoke, and replied, “I can try to find who’s made recent reportable threats. They may not have been public. This also suggests he’s trying to keep the jobs going and as you say, expand them. He wants or needs more money.”

“Yes, we’re closing in. I know I keep saying that, but we have to expect a point where things will start to move very fast, and we may not have time to plan for it.”

“Understood,” she said. “And the visit on the shop was productive, too?”

“Somewhat. I need to get back there and do more, but not while their crew is on site.”

“Yeah, that’s impressive.” She grinned. “I’m proud of myself. We beat the local cops on scene.”

“You should be,” I said. “Dinner when this is all done.”

“You’re gracious,” she said.

“I appreciate my troops.”

The mutual cheering came to an end when the room comm chimed. That was unexpected.

I gave Silver a nod, and I ducked for cover in the bathroom. I nodded, and she clicked the intercom. “Yes?”

“I need to speak to Mister Jelling, please.”

That got my attention. I nodded. Silver pressed for entry.

She turned to me and said, “I’m nervous.”

“As am I. Let’s see what this is.” I indicated the door, and I stayed back, weapons handy. If they wanted me, a pro shouldn’t kill Silver. It would slow them down and alert me. If they wanted me, she’d be behind them.

CHAPTER 16

Shortly there was a chime
at the door. Silver looked to me, I nodded, she opened it.

A young woman stepped in. Average size. Pretty brunette. Business typical with ringneck shirt, and jacket. She held ID.

“I’m glad to have caught you,” she said. “I’m Courtney Petersen with the embassy.”

I stepped out, took the ID, examined it, handed it to Silver, who scrutinized it in detail. She nodded and handed it back.

“How can I help you?” I asked. I was not happy with any contact. It could only serve to mark me.

“Your target has been apprehended. We’re trying to lower the recognition footprint, and want you to come in. We’ll do another ID change and get you home.”

“Really. Someone else brought him in. Who?”

“Sir, I don’t know. I was simply told to locate you and relay the information. I don’t even know your real names, or that of the target.”

It was possible, I suppose. Though I couldn’t imagine Naumann doing so. He’d tell me . . . how?

That was a problem. He hadn’t said there was another team out, but of course, he wouldn’t, and multiples did offer some advantages. I could also easily see a diplomat wanting to do something like this, to reduce “tensions.” They tend to hate secret ops. Reasonable, from their point of view.

“Who is the ambassador at the moment?”

“Citizen Cambara.”

“I know him slightly. How does he handle repeat or obnoxious calls?”

“He tells his assistant to ‘tell them I’m dead.’”

That sounded like him.

“Who’s head of security?”

“Lieutenant Riggs.”

I’d never heard of him or her. No reason I should have. She was comfortable offering answers, though.

“What’s your official position?”

“Military Liaison Office. I’m the junior coffee girl.”

That didn’t sound right. Coffee isn’t all that popular with us. We prefer chocolate. Her accent was very good, but that can be learned, and I’m not in a position to study them.

“What unit did you do Basic in?”

“Second Recruit Training Regiment.”

That didn’t sound right either. When you ask someone that, they rattle off their platoon and company. Recruits are only barely aware that Regiment exists, except as a fact to be memorized.

“Who was your instructor?”

“Sergeant Instructor Abernathy. Look, sir, I’m happy to answer questions all day, but can we do so on the way to the embassy? Our schedule is somewhat tight.”

“We have fresh ID,” I said. “With that noted, we can make our own way out. It’ll be less apparent than the embassy, which is certainly observed by multiple parties.”

“I don’t know, sir. I was directed to deliver the message.”

There was nothing concrete here, but I was suspicious. “I’m only the messenger” is an evasion I’ve used myself. She had a pretty good knowledge of some cursory details, and seemed confident enough. It did fit in with the fact that I only knew my part, and didn’t have any current codes or other info to use to verify things. However, going to the embassy was not a necessary part of the equation. I was perfectly trained and experienced in the art of changing identity and E&Eing an area.

I could see an ambassador with limited military experience wanting to ensure discretion. I could see them wanting to meet me. I could also believe there was something larger and more critical—intel I needed or such—at the embassy, and this was a misdirection to cover that.

It was also quite possibly a setup to funnel us to a kill zone.

“Can I see your ID again, please?” I asked.

She handed it over at once. She presented as very comfortable with it being examined. So, it was either real, or a good fake, or she at least thought it was.

“Where’s your sidearm?”

“I’m not carrying one.”

That was three discrepancies and prompted me to try a test. I lobbed a punch, fast enough to cause someone to trigger, slow enough for interception. She ducked back and cringed but did nothing practical.

I grabbed her, shoved her down into the chair. That clinched it. She had no knowledge of any combat martial art, certainly no Freehold Forces form, and I levered her down. Silver moved fast, handed me a cable tie, and I bound her to the back of it.

“Okay, so where is he?”

“Who?”

“The man who hired you. Dark skin. Slightly Afroid features, eighty kilos. Sound familiar?”

She said nothing. She knew she couldn’t bluff on it, so she just stared sullenly.

I pointed for Silver to watch her, grabbed a couple of items around the suite, and came back. I carefully and neatly laid out a knife, a pair of pliers, a bowl of water and a friction buckled belt. I looped the belt over her throat and snugged it just enough to get her attention, grabbed the pliers in one hand, then used that hand to shove her face down into the bowl.

She was smart. She held still, saved oxygen, and lasted twenty seconds before she started thrashing in panic, surging against the restraints. My arm was stronger than her neck. I gave her another fifteen seconds, watching to see if she actually aspirated any, then let her up.

I put the pliers about a millimeter from her right eyelid and asked, “Where?”

She shook in fear and spewed intel in a hurry, nerves broken. She spluttered through the water.

“GenSuites Room one oh five, north side of town, I don’t know the address. Yes, that’s what he looked like, close enough, he paid me a thousand and you can have it if you let me go unhurt, please. He said it was a scam and it sounded a bit intense and this is some high end spy shit and I really don’t know a fucking thing more and don’t want to, just please let me go, I never saw anyone, I’ll even scene with you if you like but I want out of it, okay?” Her eyes remained locked on those pliers throughout. She was afraid to pull away in case I took it as a hint, but clearly didn’t want to face them. A moment later she started shivering. I could sense her pulse and blood pressure rip off the scale, and smell fear. She trembled all over and her lips quivered.

“Tell us everything and you can walk out of here. Lie and they find you in the river.”

She nodded vigorously as her lips trembled and eyes watered even through the rivulets of water from her hair.

Silver asked, “Where did you get the ID?”

“He made it,” she said. “Capped an image and took ten minutes.”

“How did you find out about the embassy?”

“He had a map and some names.”

That was interesting. Good thing we were avoiding it. Either there was a leak or he had probes.

“What did he tell you to do?”

“Drive you to the embassy, park a couple of blocks away. He named a garage. Walk the rest of the way and we’d meet at the front gate.”

“He’d kill us, and you. I just saved your life.”

She didn’t seem to doubt me at this point.

I said, “Okay, Courtney. This
is
some high level spy shit, and you don’t want to be involved. You’re going to lie face down in that pillow and count slowly to a thousand. Then you’re going to sit here thirty minutes and do nothing. Then you can go. We still have bugs on everything, which will deactivate at that time. Don’t beat the clock, don’t try to call, don’t get smart. You do that, you walk out unhurt and keep the money.”

She nodded vigorously, and I spun the chair and cut the tie. She moved quickly but made sure I was aware of her movements, sprawled on the bed and stuffed her face into the pillow.

We grabbed bags and walked out the door. We moved briskly, because we didn’t have bugs on everything and I don’t ever trust a criminal. For all I knew, she really was a high end spy herself, and had conned me.

We were in a rental vehicle soon enough, and rolling. The one I’d bought I abandoned, with contents. We needed to relocate a good distance and clear DNA traces. That would take a bit of work.

Silver was silent for several segs. When she spoke, she asked, “Would you really have forced it out of her with the pliers and knife?”

“Yes,” I said.

I looked at her and noticed her expression.

Goddammit.

We said nothing very loudly for a while. I realized I had to offer something.

I was surprised how soft my voice was.

“Silver, I’ve interrogated people in the field before. I’ve killed before. I’ve personally killed several hundred people, directly caused the deaths of fifteen million or so, indirectly killed a couple of billion. I’m an asocial, self-centered thug with egotistical tendencies. That’s why I got where I am. I don’t like hurting people, but I’m able to compartmentalize ‘enemies’ as not-people, and do whatever needs done at the time. Then I realize afterward that they were actually people, and hate myself for it.”

There was silence again for a while. When she broke it, she said, “I feel very sorry for you.”

She meant it. That hurt.

“Thank you. I’m glad someone does.”

Yeah, I’d never been very sociable. After I enlisted, I cared about Deni and a few friends, and less about anyone else as time went on, partly because I’d had to treat everyone as an intel threat, had nothing in common with most, and spent a lot of time among enemies. Then I’d infiltrated a society I hated, become part of it, wound up hating my own because of it. These days, I cared about my daughter, Andre, and now Silver. Not much else in the universe mattered to me.