“You will find, I’m afraid, that under the authority we are granted in that circumstance, our actions are entirely within our remit.”
Some of the glare faded, but the man did a good job of concealing his surprise.
“You have no grounds to decide that this warehouse is a source for bioweapons,” he argued.
“That’s a discussion for the courts,” Roslyn noted. “But believe me, we have more than sufficient grounds to investigate any unregistered covert facility in Nueva Portugal with whatever level of force is necessary.”
She gestured around.
“Even the most basic scans of the contents of this warehouse suggest a long list of felonies we can level against everyone involved,” she told him. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but I do believe you lose.”
The pale man chuckled and spread his hands.
“I own this casino, officer,” he admitted. “I have no desire to flee Sorprendidas as a penniless vagabond, so I must defend my property one way or another.
“I see that our final battle shall be in the courts, but I think you still overstate your position. This illegal incursion could easily render all of your evidence against me invalid.”
“You’re stretching,” Roslyn warned. “And it won’t save you. If you have nothing of value to offer, I suggest you begin planning your discussion with your lawyer.”
“Wait.” He held up a hand as she turned to leave. “While I am a…casino owner, let us say, I am also a citizen of Nueva Portugal and Sorprendidas. I was once a citizen of the Republic and am now, as I understand, once again a citizen of the Protectorate.”
“Your point?” she asked. That was as close as he was going to get to saying he was neck-deep in organized crime.
“I voted for reintegration, officer,” he told her. “I believe in a unified humanity and that I have civic responsibilities. I will assure you, with absolute certainty, that no bioweapon of any kind has ever been transported through this facility.
“I have no idea what kind of weapon was used in my city, but I have no desire to see the people I rely on as customers injured in this way. If there is a way I can be of assistance, before you throw away the key, I would be delighted to help.”
Roslyn glared at the mob boss. He wouldn’t be able to see her glare through the hazmat helmet, but she suspected he got the idea.
“Someone used Republic resources to build a secret laboratory in this city roughly around the time of the Secession,” she told him. “They’ve been kidnapping human test subjects from Nueva Portugal—and probably the rest of the planet. Any ideas, Mr. ‘Casino Owner’?”
He looked at her in silence, his hand still languidly raised as he considered.
“I assume you have access to the Guardia prison population?” he asked slowly. “There is a woman—I will neither grace her with the title of lady nor say I ever worked with her—who is serving a prison term for trafficking.
“While I cannot be certain of anything, it is possible that the organization she was working with cut her off and provided evidence to the Guardia of her activities because she was causing trouble close to home,” the man said. “It is possible that she was engaging in more aggressive personnel acquisition than that organization would tolerate, and it is possible that she wasn’t kicking enough cash upstairs to justify her actions.”
“Possible, huh?” Roslyn said grimly. She’d hand the recording over to the Guardia. The lack of trafficking victims currently in the warehouse didn’t mean that no one had been trafficked by the man she was facing.
“Her name is Josephine Jackson,” the mob boss told her with a flick of his hand. “You may make of the possibilities what you wish, officer. I will say nothing further until I have seen my lawyer.”
“Given everything the Guardia is dealing with, that may take a while,” Roslyn warned. “I hope you like cells.”
25
Captain Victoriano Bolivar was not quite what Roslyn had expected from his voice. He was surprisingly young, maybe thirty, and wore a perfectly tailored uniform that showed off the results of a lifetime of working out. Dark-skinned, dark-eyed and dark-haired, Bolivar was eye-catching even without the muscles and the gorgeous black uniform.
Roslyn had more important things to be doing when they met at the Guardia headquarters than eat the eye candy, but she still had to appreciate the man’s effort.
“Lieutenant Commander Chambers,” he greeted her in the plainly decorated lobby of the building, bowing over her hand as they shook. “I appreciate your efforts in the quarantine zone and the assistance of your Captain Daalman.
“It’s been a hellish few days.”
“I didn’t expect any of this when we arrived for a glorified show-the-flag tour,” Roslyn admitted. She gestured to her companions. “This is my escort, Marine Staff Sergeant Borislava Mooren, and my aide, Ensign Rodrigo Borst.”
“Borst” was actually Killough, but the MISS agent had insisted on pretending to be a junior Navy officer. His uniform had been quickly fabricated to fit him, and he’d fiddled around with some kind of disguise kit to give his cheeks a youthful chubbiness and smooth complexion that left Roslyn thinking he was maybe twenty.
“Sergeant, Ensign.” Bolivar nodded to both of them. “This way, please, all of you.”
Roslyn fell into step beside the attractive Guardia officer.
“The Planetary Army has set up a full blockade around the Nueva Portugal region,” Bolivar told them. “We have had additional incidents over the last twenty-four hours, but those have thankfully been isolated.
“Our analysts think we’re still seeing concentrations of the toxin from the explosion drifting around the city and occasionally reaching critical mass.” He shook his head. “That results in an individual or several becoming incoherent and violent. The pattern is consistent with the quarantine zone problem though, gracias a Dios, much more contained.”
“Do you have
