either pass or escort from you, or to show ID and be on file.”
“That’s surprisingly easy. There are stories that Ripple Creek are very tough to deal with.”
“It’s our job to be tough with threats and potential threats. Anyone cleared through the Minister and yourself will be deemed a nonthreat, though we’ll be ready to respond if that changes. You can always ask for them to have a courtesy escort, which means we’ll smile and shake hands and make them feel we’re at their service. We won’t shoot them in the back unless they make a clear, definite, health- or life-threatening move toward the Minister.”
“I do appreciate your dry sense of humor.”
I appreciate that you think I’m joking.
“Well, that’s the personal interaction issue. We all have maps of the facility and the relevant areas marked. Just keep any guests, junior staff, housekeepers or others out of those areas, and we’ll do the rest. We try to be polite to everyone, just let us know of any specific titles or addresses.”
“I will do so.”
Really, it shouldn’t be too bad. They had a military perimeter, a BuState perimeter, the building entrance, controlled elevators. By the time anyone got to this level of the building, it would be a nonissue. Likewise, the Colonial Liaison Office, the stand in for an embassy, wasn’t their problem.
The military remained a problem. Even the Intel office had passed the buck until he hinted at going over them. Then they’d assigned a captain. Captain Das seemed competent and helpful, but was hamstrung by other duties and limited authority. At the same time, he was earnest, and going over him wouldn’t create any friends, might hurt the man’s reviews, and wasn’t likely to yield anyone more helpful or able.
He tabled that as Cady came in.
“Afternoon, Jace,” he acknowledged.
“Hi, Jason. Do you have anything on the perimeter fence request? I still need to know what software they use to monitor those lines.”
That issue. He said, “Yeah, I put in a third request to Colonel Goran. They’re still ignoring it. I’m sure they’ll respond when it’s too late for us.”
“I know you’re working it. It’s just very aggravating.”
“I have said exactly the same. What’s our status?”
Cady shrugged. “I can’t approve the fence. I do have our barriers in place inside. They won’t allow explosive.”
“Elke may have something to say about that.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard.” She giggled. “We wouldn’t keep getting in trouble if they’d just let us do our job.”
He grinned. “Unfortunately, we can’t use that as a marketing blurb.”
“Well, not officially. Though in the right circles, it would work.”
“Heck, we don’t need advertising. ‘Ask President Bishwanath or Ms Prescot.’ It’s hard to argue with results.”
“Indeed. Perhaps we should unionize for better bargaining potential.” Her face was serious.
“I can never tell when you’re joking.”
“Good. I do appreciate our small arms arriving. Any word on the body armor?”
Sigh. That issue. “Somehow, the weapons were ‘diplomatic’ but the armor got tagged as ‘military materiel.’ Held up in Aerospace Force storage until local and BuMil ‘inspect’ it. I sent another request to Colonel Goran on that, too.”
“An operations officer who doesn’t bother with operations.”
“Yeah, though he has plenty of time to smoke, play cards at the O club and organize cookouts.”
“I have my updates here,” she said, handing over a ramstick. They never sent anything through a network they didn’t own, if they didn’t have to.
“Great. I’ll beat on them as best I can. The good part is that the more falls in place, the less targets for my irritation still exist, so I can apply more loving attention.”
“I’d almost say you enjoy the fight.”
Right then a klaxon sounded, the emergency light on the wall flashed, and Jason’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it to see, “REAL. ATTACK IN PROGRESS, SEEK SHELTER.”
He and Cady swapped looks, then jogged for the door. He heard an explosion high overhead. It cracked and boomed.
From the second floor, they bounded down the stairs and out, passing two men and two women coming in. Landscapers. The two mercenaries headed toward the compound entrance. It was secured, the two guards on duty nestled into their reinforced gatehouse. There weren’t many people about outside, but those few were trying to get inside.
Jason checked his watch. Almost a minute. Granted, there were fewer BuState people than military, but they were mostly accounted for, while the base still swarmed, and much of it wasn’t mission critical. Those people should have been sheltered in seconds.
High overhead, another rocket sought to fall, only to be splattered into fine debris. A brilliant flash and crack of artificial lightning shook the sky in its wake. He couldn’t tell the incoming airframe, though it was on the larger end of short range stuff. The counterfire was definitely a combination of laser and particles. The laser marked the target for any physical followup, applied energy to it, and opened a plasma sheath. The particles ripped along that sheath and punched holes in the weakened missile.
Interesting. The military had refused to comment on air defense, even though it applied directly to Highland’s safety. He’d seen a Cobra antiaircraft battery. The core buildings were around an improvised courtyard, and the missiles were hidden within, camo mesh and glittery distortion shields around them, that didn’t hide them from engineers with experience building landing fields. Apparently though, the Cobras were backup to the Sentinel Dual Array. He was glad to see it.
Cady said, “It seems they have a lot of trust in their air defense, or a contempt for the local artillery.”
“Any kind of counterbattery going out?”
“Not that my sensors can detect. Though if it’s distant enough, they may have something more local to it.”
“Or they may just be too snobbish and decadent to actually return fire.”
“Earth culture? Snobbish and decadent?”
“Yeah. A stretch, I know.”
“In other observations, I see that the perimeter fence became live, the gate is locked, but there’s no supplemental forces, we remain unquestioned even though our presence and observations could theoretically be intel or terminal guidance.”
She paused and he picked up. “The building has not been locked down. I bet our ID won’t be checked on entry.”
“Well, that makes my job easier,” she said. “The local contractors aren’t present and the State weenies are useless. Why don’t we have Marine guards anymore?”
“It was deemed ‘Amerocentric.’ Everyone should have a chance. These are Egyptian.”
“Even by Egyptian standards, they are sub par.”
“So it’s all up to you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said, and giggled again. “I’d like Elke to consult with me once she’s here.”
“I’ll relay that.”
The flight was comfortable enough, Alex thought. From the shuttle they’d embarked on a cruise liner that was privately owned by BuState, operated by contract and civil service crew, almost all of them veterans. That didn’t negate the possibility of attempts on their principal, but it did reduce the probability and change the factors.
Still, it was nice to be comfortable while assessing threats. They each had a stateroom with frills and real wood paneling, which was ridiculous, and felt really odd during maneuvers, but the privacy and minimal but real space was something he appreciated. They’d once traveled all six in a bunkroom, on constant watch. This was nice.
However, he didn’t trust the security protocols, nor the risk of anyone snooping, so they rotated between
