“Keep moving. Lionel, Bart, I need you two to flank front. As we pass, take our weapons. We want to look nonthreatening to the public, blend in, then meet these people. Cady, Jason, you’ll have overwatch, and be prepared to do something violent. Jessie, peel out and start recording as soon as you’re through the alley. In the meantime, everyone watch top.”
Elke’s smoke was still pouring out.
“About thirty seconds left,” she said. “Take it aside?”
Alex said, “Yes. Walk that way down the street. Everyone else into the alley. Move.”
Elke moved the flare gingerly and winced. Yeah, the stink of scorching fabric indicated how hot it was. He went left at a walk with Aramis. The rest moved into the alley, shifting from tactical movement to a nonthreatening walk.
It was long and dark. There seemed to be a couple of small lanes crossing ahead, and it looked to be about 200 meters to the bazaar itself. They kept weapons up, trained instincts leading them to create overlapping fields of fire.
Alex pulled his phone up. “Mister Machac, are you there?”
“Here,” the man replied. “Are you arriving?”
“It’ll still be about five minutes. We’ve been delayed,” he lied. “We’ll be coming in north of you. Stand by.”
He closed the connection and disconnected power again. The phone dropped back into its shield.
The group crossed one lane, which had everything from trucks to donkeys and a Mercedes, then back into the alley, narrower here and nasty. They were alone, though, and no one seemed to be aware of them.
Aramis said, “Shit, it’s widening out. Conceal fast.”
There was a clatter and shuffle as they all handed weapons off to Lionel and Bart. Rucks went too, into a pile. There was just enough room to squeeze by, and the two men stood over it all, shotguns ready. As he passed, Alex unslung his pack, passed over his carbine, drew his pistol and concealed it under his hands.
“Here we go,” he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
The alley widened because whatever had once stood here had collapsed. The pieces were gone, probably for reuse, but the remains of a foundation were irregular underfoot. There were booths here, selling very questionable items for any culture on this planet-tattoos, porn, mild drugs. Ahead was the bustle of the bazaar proper, stalls, trailers and shops, noise and shouts and haggling customers.
“Find them,” Alex ordered in a calm voice.
Aramis said, “Twelve people in suits, standing in a defensive circle around three limos, forty meters ahead, mostly facing north.”
Reactively, everyone started to surge forward.
“Steady,” he said. “Don’t surprise anyone. Jessie, start sending. Elke, slave your photos to her feed. Walk slowly.”
Elke said, “I’ve also got the photos of the bladers. That should prove interesting in a press release.”
Highland said, “Oh, my, yes, thank you.”
Yes, that would pretty well cinch the election for her. And how had they come around to actually caring and supporting that goal, at least on paper?
Because the administration was that corrupt and incompetent that even a bitch like Highland looked good in comparison.
He remembered the BuState security chief saying that Special Service were not that special. They got within ten meters before someone positively IDed them. Hands came up to indicate “halt,” and people shuffled around.
From there they did okay and it was anticlimactic. One man stepped forward. “I’m Machac.”
“Marlow. Glad to see you. Here’s Ms. Highland.”
“Ma’am.”
“You are officially accepting responsibility for her safety?”
“I am.”
“Then good luck to you. And to you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Chief,” she said, looking wrung out and worn. “I do appreciate it. I…” she seemed about to make a speech, then just said, “Thank you.”
“Glad we could be of service. We’ll just see you into the limo,” he said, with a glance at Machac.
The man didn’t smile, but it seemed to be professional mask, not personal. He opened the door, Highland sat in heavily, and another agent took a seat next to her.
JessieM stepped up, held her phone in front of Alex. It showed a load of Highland being transferred into the limo.
“Check with an outside feed,” he said.
She thumbed and gestured and said, “I have a feed from Georgie Ortiz. She’s known and reliable. There are ten copies and forwards.”
“Good. Then we’ll call you officially transferred. Thank you very much for your help. Ms. Highland should be proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she said with a tired smile. “I need to sit down now.” Then she sat heavily on the seat, and had to lift her legs in by hand, she was so wobbly.
Machac touched his earbud. “Yes? Stand by.” He spoke to Alex. “Relaying message that the lifter will not be able to meet you. BuState has a truck arriving in ten minutes. If Ms. Highland consents, we can remain to protect you until then.”
That was both generous and a bit insulting, though probably not intentionally.
“We’ll be fine. Thanks for the support.”
“Understood.” Machac nodded, climbed in, and three limos drove away slowly.
That left Ripple Creek on their own.
As usual.
As they preferred.
EPILOGUE
Alex sat in his boss’s office and relaxed. They had a good relationship at this point. As long as the principal was safe, the lawyers informed and the checks cashed, everything else could be dealt with.
Don Meyer looked at him and said, “Rough one?”
“No worse than others, just tiring, grinding, wearing, and becoming more political. Okay, yes, it was disgusting.”
“They paid well.”
“I figured. What else was involved, though? You never said.”
“What else would be involved?”
“Really? The third highest person in the UN, there’s got to be something involved.”
Meyer sprawled in his chair. “Yes, potential goodwill. And in the meantime, they couldn’t touch us because we had her, or they thought we did. We’ve piled up some contracts for future benefit.”
“How long do you think her goodwill will last?”
“If she wins? Quite a bit. We have some intel; she knows we can help her. If she loses, she won’t have as high a risk factor, and we still have some intel.”
“And the administration?”
“They haven’t liked us since Salin. We needed some kind of pull with someone. We were never going to get any with Cruk or his pack of idiots. Highland’s a brutal bitch, but at least competent.”
“I don’t know if I’d call her brutal, but vicious would apply.”
Meyer said, “Able to face facts, though.”
“Eventually, when they punch her in the face.”
“That’s more than Cruk.”
