Marine.
The math still bothered him.
Maybe it should.
For now, he’d assume tactical brilliance on Bart’s part, and quick thinking over callousness.
As they went out into ruddy overcast, Shaman seemed to pick up on the thought.
“There isn’t time to be more than practical, sometimes.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” he said.
As he entered their quarters, everyone came through and looked up, including Cady.
Shaman said, “He’s fine. They’ll release him tomorrow.”
Aramis asked, “And the Marine?”
“Yes, he’s a little worse for wear, but all superficial.”
Jason said, “Report on Highland: hearing loss, almost certainly temporary, minor disorientation, no gratitude.”
“Of course. And JessieM? The frag?”
Shaman said, “It was a thrown pebble. Easily extracted with ultrasound and vacuum. The bone was treated with Ossifix. Next time she should wear boots.”
“Good all around, then.”
Aramis said, “And we were correct on the lethal escalation.”
“Yes. But, we still don’t know either the local actor or the power behind it. I’d like at least one.”
Cady said, “They’re conducting an investigation to try to find the local. It was a hand grenade, but thrown from a rifle with a blank cartridge, so they have that to work with.”
“Archaic,” he frowned. “And someone who was good at ballistics. That does narrow it down, if they have any leads on who fits those criteria.”
Elke said, “Highland asked me personal questions about fitting armor to her figure. So she’ll be better protected after this.”
Jason said, “And she’ll blab that to the press to show how brave she is, so the next real threat knows they need a bigger bomb or a sniper.”
Elke said, “That’s my assessment also.”
Cady asked, “Did you get the news load?”
“No.”
“Stand by.” She cycled her phone and slid up the volume.
“… Ms. Highland’s popularity is reaching giddy proportions as she fearlessly tackles Mtali. What started as a summit meeting has become a classic battle of courage that hints of a great strength of character. Could this be a hint of executive power?”
She turned off the feed.
Jason shrugged. “Like it or not, we’re helping her career.”
Aramis said, “She’s helping her career. She could bow out any time. We’re just the muscle.”
“It seems like we do more than that.”
Alex shouldn’t be frustrated by now, but it happened with boring regularity. “Yes, we get blown up and abused, and blamed for it because we were asking for it, by protecting the target. But if we let her down, we’ll get blamed for that, too.”
Aramis said, “I do love the size of those checks, though.”
Jason said, “So do I, but there are easier taskings, and I can roll this experience into those, and my land is paid for. Nor am I young anymore.”
Aramis said, “Hell, I’m not young after that.”
Jason looked serious again as he said, “I’m glad we got you, brother.”
Alex said, “Are we concluding three threats?”
“I think so,” Jason said. “One seeking harassment. The MO was different on the ones she staged. One is seeking to kill her as efficiently as possible, and one is very sophisticated, still largely not identified.”
Alex sighed. “Well, we’re going to earn our pay from here out.”
CHAPTER 19
A limo was not Jason’s preferred vehicle, even for a trip to the Colonial Liaison Office. Anymore, he wanted the ARPAC every time, even if it was less comfortable.
Highland’s visit covered personal business relative to the election, making official interviews with several press outfits. They weren’t allowed in any military or BuState location, and Alex had refused to certify any private location. The CLO was acceptable to everyone, so all that remained was to track the mileage and time for charging back to her campaign. How many accountants did it take to do all this?
They were out in light but chill rain, on their way back. The trip out wasn’t eventful, but that wasn’t unexpected. The trip back was when everyone would have had time to learn her location, set up OPs and be in position for anything.
Highland and Jessie actually talked in front of them at this point. Though of course, the limo was quieter than the ARPAC.
“So, just about thirty percent, with Cruk down to forty-eight, Hunter at ten and I’m not even going to dignify the rest with recognition,” she said.
Jessie said, “One of the trends has you at thirty-two by week’s end.”
“I can call in at once then,” she said, “or give it time to stabilize and for the public to demand so.”
“I like that better,” Jessie said. “You respond to the electorate.”
“Yes. We’ll need to leak it. Can you do that,” she looked up at Jason, who kept looking out the window, “through one of your secondary feeds?”
“Of course! Angela DuMont is an ardent supporter.”
Jason wondered when Special Service took over. At some point, a candidate become “viable” and protection was extended to them. That should be soon.
Right then Bart braked hard and swerved slightly.
Jason looked forward in a hurry. Alex was shotgun, but he wanted eyes on target. There were three men blocking the street after apparently having jumped out in the rain. He watched as the leftmost one disappeared under the limo.
Bart swore, swerved and braked, though he was taught not to. He was also under orders to protect the stupid to some extent.
The man went under the front of the limo in a double thump, then a bump, and a rev of lost traction.
Highland asked, “What was that?”
Bart said, “The wheelspin? Probably his face. Brains are pretty slippery.”
In the rear inside screen, Highland gagged and Jason grinned. Bart kept his smile very tight.
Jason said, “I really don’t like limos and this is why. We’re obvious as a stripper in church, but not as armored as we should be. Firing angles are limited.”
The car accelerated quickly, and Bart wove between vehicles, first with wide margins, then with near misses, then close enough to catch on protruding edges. Brushing scrapes sounded every few seconds.
Highland screeched, “Slow down! Each of those hits is a vote lost and money that will have to be paid out!”
Bart ignored her totally. His job was to move and maneuver. He took a turn and kept going. He slowed a little, scanning the rear to see if there was pursuit. Alex caught his eye, but gave no indication of objection. He kept driving.
He felt the rumble, then heard it. He kept his eyes ahead, but let them draw images from the screens.
They were being chased by a tank.
More accurately, it appeared to be an old Mod 46 Assault Vehicle, with the articulated plate wheels, but as he was driving a car, that was effectively a tank.
