were half numb, but only half, the other half a burning ache.
Standing, though, made him wonder if any of his kidnappers and antagonists recognized him. That caused enough fear, anger and introspection to completely wipe out any attention to Highland’s speeches, or that of others. That was the good part. The bad part was that after a half hour, he ached again, this time his heels and ankles.
Shaman apparently read it in his posture or tremors, and stepped in to replace him, letting him take a turn outside. The steady rotation also helped with alertness, made them less predictable, and let them do a partial patrol of the hall, though everyone else’s escorts tensed in professional paranoia as they passed.
Nothing substantive was done that day, and Aramis expected one of BuState’s staff experts would take over. Highland had been present to pretend Earth cared what any other planet thought, and to get face time for election.
As the forum closed, Alex had his phone out, and looked concerned. Aramis interrogated him by look.
Alex said, “We’re flying out. It’s not safe. The protests are now riots and turning into brawls. Battles will be next.”
Highland refused to hear it. “I must travel in dignity,” she said. “If I drove in, I must drive out. I won’t acknowledge a few protesters by diverting.”
“Ma’am, militarily I agree with you. Diplomatically I agree with you. As your security operations chief, I must insist on aircraft. We can blame a mechanical problem, or you can blame me.”
“Of course I would. But we’re driving.”
She probably saw Alex say, “Yes, ma’am,” nod and turn to comply. Aramis saw the unsaid, you egotistical bitch, and the twitch in his boss’s jaw.
So they trooped down to the vehicle apron, led fore and aft by local security, furnished by Emir Mudassir. They kept their distance. It was all a juggling act. Everyone here, of course, was trusted not to try to assassinate their peers, except that some few of them might, so everyone had guards in case of collateral casualties, and then the guards became a necessary status symbol.
The emir’s detail seemed quite happy to depart as they reached the broad vehicle park, which was ringed by wall, umbrella’d by transparent shield, and patrolled by three agencies, plus the Army. Lionel rolled up in the limo, and Aramis knew the man had not stepped foot out, unless he’d had a company relief. They’d learned not to trust anyone in this game-family, assistant, doctor, even bureau chief.
Aramis got the door, Highland and Jessie slid in, as Jessie tagged a churp about leaving the conference. He’d enjoy using that device for target practice, but she probably had a spare and possibly an implanted backup. They just had to deal with it.
Highland would have to deal with not taking the car.
The rioting had reached what they called Level Two. It was a plateau of random shouting, hurling, speechmakers and sheer mass of bodies that made progress impossible. Three vehicles ahead were stopped and not proceeding.
Alex dutifully and professionally had his phone out, but Aramis knew it was largely for Highland’s benefit.
“… That’s the assessment? Yes, I concur. Any response is likely to become violent. Letting them play themselves out is best.. No, I expect any advance will result in casualties, both accidental, and planned by activists. It’s best not to play the game… Yes, I will so inform Ms. Highland. Stand by.” He turned from the phone and said, “Ma’am, they are scheduling or recommending aircraft travel for all participants. The Aerospace Force detachment has a Hummingbird transport lifter waiting. It can be here in ten minutes and will get priority.”
Aramis could see her teeth grind.
“I abhor this turn of events.”
“I would drive if we could, ma’am, but if the vehicles ahead of us won’t, then we’d be leading the way into a riot. It’s almost certain someone would get hurt, and you get blamed. I’m not willing to take a fall against my advice. I’m perfectly willing to take it for diverting. I’ll issue a statement accordingly.”
She spoke with icy clarity. “That won’t be necessary. Proceed.”
“By air?”
“Yes, as you advise.”
Aramis suspected it didn’t matter what Alex would take the blame for. She’d do as she pleased. Of course, that would lead to a grudge match. That could escalate…
Yeah, he wanted to be done with this mission, fast.
Highland did not like Ripple Creek. She’d been wary from the beginning, with good reason. When that incompetent but scheming snake in New York had assigned them-and she had no doubt it was the SecGen’s office that assigned them-she’d known it was to embarrass her, either by saddling her with their disregard for bystanders, or the bad press that followed them, or the way they’d choke down on her movements. So far, the smarmy fucker was three for three.
They were certainly competent at keeping threats away, even when they lost a man. Still, the Army had gotten him back for them. It hadn’t softened their attitude. Minor protesters were not a threat. She half expected the goons to follow her to the bathroom. In the meantime, they used stink gas, gunfire, explosives and vehicles, and had killed a newsworthy number of nobodies who’d follow Highland’s career like zombies. She was quite sure that had been the reason they’d been sent. The Special Service knew to intercept bullets and keep quiet. These trigger- happy clowns seemed to enjoy shooting people, and she was fairly sure their weapons did not have biometric locks. Not working ones, at least.
She would be in need of a new biosculp when this was over, and that before taking office. They even saw Jessie as a potential threat, not to mention Huble.
So it was time to pull in some favors, have the mercenary bastards marked as what they were. She could then separate herself, be magnanimous and fair, and regret it as they went down.
She just had to keep Cruk’s publicity people from covering them against her. So perhaps a call to Blanding was in order, to find some non-profit group who could sue on behalf of the low-class rabble they’d blithely shot.
The next load that flashed made her grit her teeth and growl. She wanted something to bite, to chew, to rip with her jaw.
People wondered why she hated the common morons the Equality Party attracted. It was because they were morons. Enthusiasm didn’t equate to competence or even usefulness.
The slogan was, “Let’s position Joy on top!”
It was on flash buttons, on shirts, on hats and pennants.
Even worse, at a rally in Bangladesh, a crowd was chanting. The reporter waxed eloquent about the turnout numbers, but behind her it was easy to hear, “Joy on top! Assume the position!”
It might be enthusiasm and lack of familiarity with English idiom. It might be unintentional idiocy. Or, it might be the work of some shill from Cruk’s camp or even Hunter’s. And yes, his name was most certainly part of why she wouldn’t team with him. “Joy/Hunter” would have made this even worse.
It had to be stopped. Morons would ignore spelling errors, or even inadvertent insults. But a catchy phrase with innuendous potential would linger for years. She screened a quick message.
Huble: Cease and desist these moronic fuckers at once.
I want those signs gone within the hour.
Spend the money to makesure they are destroyed.
Then she moderated it slightly, because it just might get cracked in transit. Polite in all matters, she reminded herself.
She understood why so many of her… well, no, they weren’t peers, but competitors, took offers from the multinationals. The power was less visible, but that gave leeway to behave more casually.
But she would beat that classless buffoon. It would take a few phone calls… which she couldn’t make from here. That twelve hour delay was infuriating.
CHAPTER 15
