“Well, that’s something.”
“How the hell are you going to arrest her without a warrant, Nick? Everybody from Carter on up will have your hide on a wall, your head on a serving dish, and your ass made into a darts target.”
“No, just Emperor Trajan,” Ashton said, rueful, “but everybody else will be happy to acquire all that for him.”
“Explain.”
“Didn’t you read my message?”
“I didn’t get past ‘I’m having Urban picked up right away.’”
“Go read it. All of it. I’ll wait.”
Ashton, who had notified Browning of the imperative call, glanced at her avatar, and she gave him a wry grin and a shrug. She couldn’t hear the conversation, of course, but she could read Ashton’s expressions, knew it was likely about the Urban arrest, and knew it wasn’t going well.
A few minutes later, Mercer came back into the conversation, and his tone was more muted.
“Okay, yeah, that was a damn good catch,” he admitted. “And yeah, you’re right; we got a situation. I’ve just notified General Daggert, who is going forward with your message to the Emperor, but he says you probably pulled the fat out of the fire on this one, because you’re dead right. Granted, no news is good news, but given there was required comm going back and forth between Urban and Gerber, if nothing had come from Gerber in the requisite time, Urban really would have glommed onto something being wrong, especially if she tried to contact him and didn’t raise him. And if she caught onto that, then she’d have certainly sent a warning of some sort to the higher-ups.”
“Can you get me some Imperial Marines on site to assist?”
“We have an Imperial Guard on detached assignment there,” Mercer replied, “and we were going to have him, with a detachment of Marines, handle things next week. I doubt I can get ‘em there in time for the takedown, if you’re pushing to do that in the next little bit, but I might be able to get ‘em there by the time she’s been processed in. How soon?”
“Next half-hour, I hope. Within the next hour, for sure.”
“No, I can’t get anybody there. But I can have ‘em there for an interrogation this afternoon.”
“That’ll do. They can do the interrogation?”
“They can, yes. And I’ll ensure they have the authority to do so by the time they get there.”
“Good.” Ashton drew a deep breath, and his head spun a bit. “Please tell me the Emperor isn’t angry,” came out of his mouth then, and he flushed despite himself, glad no one could actually see. He managed to keep his VR avatar from reacting only with an effort.
“I have no idea,” Mercer said. “Daggert hadn’t talked to him yet, last I knew. If it comes to that, Daggert and I’ll try to intercede for you with the Emperor. For now, just go. Go get Urban before she begins to suspect anything, and screws up all our hard work.”
“Done,” Ashton said, and ended the call.
At noon, and with Ashton linked in via VR and QE radio, the Carolina Sector IPD made its move on the DP consulate.
He had worked intensely with the sector director to pull up the architectural layout of the circular consulate to determine strategy in advance of the raid.
He watched as the local Imperial Police surrounded the DP consulate, taking the guards into custody before entering and taking most of the rest of the staff into custody as well, moving concentrically inward until they had the consul’s suite of offices surrounded.
Now, about mid-afternoon, he watched as the sector director herself entered the consul’s office with a small squad of officers, to confront the consul.
“…But I don’t understand,” the DP consul on Carolina told Sector Director Annette Browning, moments later. “She’s just my personal secretary!”
“We’d like to ask her some questions about a recent event she might have, uh, witnessed, sir,” Director Browning said, calm and smooth. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Well… all right,” the reluctant consul agreed. “I guess it isn’t like we have diplomatic immunity any longer, anyway. And you already have everyone else in custody; for a few minutes there, it felt like a damn siege!” He thumbed a switch on the corner of his desk. “Carol, could you come in here a moment, please?”
Carol Urban entered moments later, through a side door into the consul’s office, not the front door through reception that Browning had used. She stopped dead at the sight of the half-dozen IPD uniforms in the consul’s office, then turned and bolted, headed for the outer entrance of her own office and potential freedom beyond.
“GET HER!” Browning shouted.
Three officers detached from her group, ducking around the startled consul’s desk toward the door into Urban’s office.
But Urban was already past her desk and had her hand on the door of her office. Jerking it open, she lunged through…
…Directly into the arms of three more big, burly IPD officers.
“Carol Urban,” Browning said from behind her, “you are under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy to murder.”
“Murder who?” the consul wondered, dumbfounded, as he watched.
“The Emperor Trajan,” Browning declared.
“I have no idea what you want with me,” Urban said some half an hour later at the IPD headquarters on Carolina, as those same big, burly officers strapped her into a chair that was bolted to the floor.
“Then why did you run?” another officer asked.
“You scared me, all of you standing there around the consul’s desk, threatening him!”
“Uh-huh,” the officer grunted, disbelieving. “I didn’t notice him being scared.”
“It’s a wonder, the way you blockaded the consulate! That’s illegal!”
“Not any longer, it isn’t,” the officer said. “For one thing, it
