“Then would one of those consulates happen to be the Garland consulate, I hope?” Honda asked, almost snarling.
“Why, how did you ever guess?” Holliday wondered with a smirk.
Within an hour of departing the apartment, Ashton found himself in a safehouse. There, one of the Carolina IPD officers, introduced to him as Anna Gann and herself a disguise and undercover expert, proceeded to change his hair color and ‘age’ him by a good decade.
“There,” she said when she was finished. “You are now Nicholas Carter. Director Carter insisted.”
“Ah,” Ashton said with a grin. “He calls me ‘son’ a lot anyway. Where to now?”
“To the spaceport. You’re going home. He wangled a space for you on a direct flight.”
“Thank the Maker,” Ashton sighed.
In a third safehouse, Abelson Niebecker, former consul from Annalia, was stripped to his shorts and dressed as a construction worker. His hair color was changed, and his face made up to appear weather-beaten. He glanced in a mirror, then chuckled ruefully.
“If I were in fatigues, I’d look not unlike my military days,” he decided. “But certainly no one here will recognize me.”
“Good,” said Peter Wilson, the makeup artist. “That’s the intent. You’re now Abraham Kennedy.”
“All right. Where are we going next?”
“To the spaceport. Director Carter has arranged a direct flight to meet him.”
“Oh!”
“We do recommend you stay in your cabin for the duration of the flight, however,” Wilson said. “We have someone aboard who will bring your food at mealtimes. The code word is ‘Bebop.’”
“Bebop?”
“Correct. Only allow someone in if they push the codeword to you in VR. Okay, Mr. Kennedy, let’s head for the spaceport. We have a travel kit and duffel with changes of clothing waiting for you.”
It proved not to be quite that simple. Beaudelaire had informants out, and they had seen Niebecker go into the safehouse, and ‘Kennedy’ come out, escorted by the same people. Likewise had they seen ‘Lindberg’ aka Ashton enter another, and ‘Carter’ leave.
As Niebecker and his two guards exited an arcade to cut through an alley to an exit, six strapping, muscular men in dark suits emerged from the shadows of the alley.
“Hello, Your Excellency,” one of them smirked. “The Baron has a beef with you.”
All six drew pistols from beneath their suit jackets.
Just then, two dozen uniformed IPD officers stepped from nearby doorways and alleys, weapons drawn.
“Put your weapons down,” the IPD leader demanded. “Put your hands on your head. You’re under arrest.”
“I don’t think–” the enforcer began, swinging his weapon up and starting to aim at Niebecker.
The IPD officer shot him in the head. He dropped to the sidewalk without another sound.
“You’re right. You don’t think,” the IPD officer said. “I’ll say it one more time, gentlemen: Put your weapons down, and put your hands on your head. You are surrounded, and under arrest. I will not say it again.”
The remaining five goons laid their pistols on the pavement, gingerly nudging them away with their toes, then put their hands on their heads. The officer gestured to several others with her free hand, and as handcuffs were placed on the would-be assassins, she turned to Niebecker’s party.
“Get along there,” she murmured. “He has a schedule to meet.”
They moved out.
On the other side of Franklin, Ashton and his two bodyguards strolled casually down a street at ground level, headed for the nearest train station to catch a ride to the spaceport. As they rounded a corner, they encountered six more strongmen in dark suits.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere, Lindberg, you traitor scum,” one of them snarled, as they all drew pistols from shoulder holsters. “You’re a dead man.”
And they drew down and fired.
Suddenly everyone was scrambling for cover, as at least two dozen Carolina IPD officers appeared, firing their own weapons. Ashton staggered as he ducked behind the corner of a building, then fell to the pavement.
“Oh no!” Gann exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. “Are you all right? Please don’t be dead! Director Carter will kill us!”
“No,” Ashton panted, rolling over and sitting up. “I’m okay. I learned that lesson a long, long time ago.” He patted his chest, where there was a bullet hole in his coat. “I wore the shock plates under the vest this time.”
“GOOD!” Julia Ing threw over her shoulder. “STAY DOWN! We have this!”
She ran around the corner of the building and opened fire.
Moments later it was over. There were several injured officers, but nothing was too serious. All six of the assailants, whose identification indicated they were from Garland, were dead. Officer Level Three Ing came by and grabbed Ashton’s arm.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Come on. Let’s get you on that train, or you’ll miss your flight.”
They ran for the train station.
Two hours later, ‘Abe Kennedy’ boarded the ISS Star of Sintar, bound directly for Sintar. He was escorted by the IPD until they boarded, and handed over to the already-vetted ship’s security, who escorted him to a comfortable stateroom near the officers’ cabins.
“Here you are, Mr. Kennedy,” the security officer murmured. “Remember, stay in your cabin, and only admit someone if they have the codeword in VR.”
“I understand,” Kennedy said.
“If you get bored, there is plenty of reading material available via VR in the ship’s library, as well as videos – documentaries, dramas, and comedies. Feel free to make use of anything in the library that interests you. We
