Personal Agendas #, Al Sarrantonio, page 8
But he had expected to find Delenn here where he had left her-and now she was gone.
What would James Bond do?
Go on, of course!
One thing he did have to admit, though, was that he felt pretty silly in this trench coat and dark glasses.
No matter-since he wore something even more appropriate underneath.
He removed the trench coat, rolled it up after stowing the dark glasses in one of the pockets, and stashed it between two large cartons.
“Now, this is more like James Bond!” he said smoothing the black turtleneck down over the black jeans he wore; on his feet were black boots, completing the outfit.
At that moment he heard a sound. He looked up, almost saying, “Delenn?” but held his tongue.
It was not Delenn, but a furtive, short figure wearing a blue hat, who began to rummage in a box about ten meters away.
Sheridan pulled back out of sight and watched.
The short man found a particular box, opened it, pulled something out, then closed the box and put it back where it had been.
Sheridan waited for the man to move off, then approached the box and pulled it out and opened it.
It was filled with dolls!
Toys!
Then the tip they’d had about this being the area where the smuggled toys were being stored had been correct.
Removing one of the dolls, Sheridan examined it. It looked ordinary enough. When he rolled the head back the eyes closed, and when he moved the head forward the eyes opened again.
Now we ‘re onto something! he said to himself.
He examined a few other boxes in the area. One of them held a consignment of wooden trains, another toy PPG pistols, a third the novelty of lightweight spheres that popped between the fingers when pressed, expelling air.
Someone was approaching.
Quickly, Sheridan put things back the way they had been, keeping one of each of the contraband toys. He retreated to his hiding spot, stowing the three toys with his trench coat and then turning to watch as a tall man approached the contraband toys. The man dug into one of the boxes and produced a train, then left.
Waiting a moment, Sheridan slipped out of his hiding spot and followed.
He kept to the shadows at first, moving from boxes to crates as the figure moved deeper into Down Below. At first there was no one around, and Sheridan was sure that if the man turned around he would be spotted. But the man did not turn around, and hesitated only once, when he seemed unsure of which direction to turn.
Soon there were people around, though, and before long they were surrounded by throngs.
The man headed for a lift, and Sheridan followed inconspicuously.
The captain waited for the man to board, then noted that it stopped at the Zocalo.
He followed, but when he arrived the man was nowhere to be seen.
On a hunch he headed left-and nearly bumped into the man, who had stopped to examine something in a stall before moving on.
Sheridan turned away, noting that the man still held the toy train.
The captain kept a discreet distance, pretending to examine a tray of dried foods when the man suddenly stopped, looking around as if expecting someone.
There was a blur of motion by the man, who then walked off.
Without the toy train, Sheridan noticed.
What—
Darting his eyes around, Sheridan looked for the source of the blur-and saw a small boy moving off, clutching the train.
In a few moments the boy had met up with two adults, dressed for travel, bags in tow. The woman took the boy by the hand and they sauntered off.
Sheridan followed them to their destination: Docking Bay 4, where they boarded a ship for Mars.
So that’s how they do it! Sheridan said to himself. As he retreated from the docking area he saw two more families with children board the flight. One child clutched a doll, another a toy PPG pistol.
The security guard checking passengers laughed when the child held the PPG up and said, “Bang!”
“Billy-don’t bother the man!” the boy’s mother scolded, taking the child’s toy and putting it in her bag.
Pleased with himself, Sheridan moved off, making his way back to the area in Down Below where the toys were hidden.
Feeling very much the spy, he scaled a sturdy pile of crates, settling himself on top with a view of the area, and watched as four more figures arrived to remove toys.
The key now was to discover how the other end of the operation worked. If Delenn didn’t show up in a couple of hours he’d follow one of the adult figures and see where that led him. Perhaps after delivering a toy to a child the messengers went back to a central location to meet up with their boss?
Heck-this was fun!
His stomach began to rumble, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since this morning. He thought about the dried foods he’d stopped to examine in the Zo-calo, and wished now that he had purchased something.
Even spies had to eat, didn’t they?
After enduring another twenty minutes of growing hunger, he suddenly remembered that there was a fruit bar in one of the pockets of his trench coat.
Unable to think of anything else, he made his way down the pile of crates and fished out the coat.
He was reaching into the pocket to remove the fruit bar when he felt something poke into his back and a harsh voice said, “Been spying on us, eh?”
When he turned around, something hard flashed across his face-and he met blackness.
CHAPTER 40
Suddenly things seemed very clear to Vir Cotto. Marrying Lyndisty at this time would be like death-so he might as well die beforehand!
The decision came almost as a relief to him. Since his life was worthless anyway, he might as well throw it away on a good cause.
He would free Londo, and save the Narn homeworld, and be dead, and not have to marry Lyndisty!
Perfect!
Of course, he would be dead, so it wasn’t quite perfect-but death was preferable to marriage, was it not?
Yes!
Singing to himself, he examined the ruins of what had been Lyndisty’s present: a delicate crystal sun suspended from a beautiful crystal tree. A present would have been expected, and this was a pretty one. Perhaps he would have it delivered to her after he was dead so that she could remember him by what he was at the moment: a shattered man.
A dead man.
He continued to sing, if only because everything was so clear to him now. Free Londo, then die.
That simple.
Free Londo tomorrow night: He had already made arrangements with two of the best trackers on the planet, strictly freelance and nonpolitical, who would quietly find the Narns’ hideout and report back to him tomorrow night. He would then go alone, either free Londo by force or guile (probably guile) or offer himself up as a hostage in Londo’s place.
Die: Once he had effected Londo’s release, the Narns would surely kill him. But he would be dead.
And: Avoid Lyndisty’s gala the following night.
Simple as one, two, three.
He continued to sing, because now that everything was clear to him there was nothing to worry about!
Behind him, his communications screen went on, and when he accepted the message he nearly jumped out of his skin to hear Lyndisty’s voice.
“Vir!”
He turned, still holding the bag of glass pieces. The bag sagged over, and the pieces trickled out onto the floor, making a tinkling sound.
“Vir-what is that?” Lyndisty coaxed sweetly.
Vir, still in shock, looked at the pile of glass shards. “Oh, nothing, just a-“
“Present for me?” She frowned. “But it’s broken!”
“I… yes, it is.”
“I’m sure they’ll replace it, if you bring it back. What was it?”
Vir was about to tell her when she halted him. “Don’t tell me! Give it to me when you see me tomorrow night!”
Something she said set off alarm bells in Vir’s head.
“Tomorrow night?”
“That’s why I’m calling you, Vir, dear-the gala’s been changed to tomorrow night!”
“But I couldn’t possibly-“
She sighed. “It was father’s fault, really. He had forgotten a business engagement that he just can’t get out of. So the entire thing has been moved to tomorrow night!”
“But-“
She formed a pout. “You’ll be here, won’t you? If anything, the guest list is even larger now!”
“La-larger?”
“Hundreds of guests! And all for you! For… us!”
“Lyndisty, I ca-” He stopped, looked at her, and nodded. “I’ll be there, Lyndisty.”
“Good! And I can’t wait to see what you’ve bought me!”
She signed off, leaving Vir to stare at the pile of glass shards that had been Lyndisty’s present.
Just like me, Vir thought. Broken into little pieces.
A dead man.
CHAPTER 41
Now what was she supposed to do?
Like a good spy, Delenn had followed John Sheridan and his captor until they reached what John-Agent Y-would no doubt call the captor’s “hideout.” This was deep in Down Below, in a section even more remote than that in which they had been searching for the toys.
It was only serendipity that had caused her to find John again. She had been about to give up and report her find to Zack in security when something told her to try their original spot one more time. She had arrived just in time to see John being carried away by two strangers.
So she had followed, and here she was, outside “SMALL” ‘s headquarters, or whatever—
But now what?
Rescue John herself?
That would be foolish-and besides, the game had gone much too far already. With her discovery that weapons parts were being hidden in toys and smuggled to Mars, this game had entered the realm of seriousness.
Now that she knew where John was being held, she had to get to security as soon as possible.
That was her only course of action.
She turned away-and walked right into the largest man she had ever seen in her life.
“Can I help you?” the giant snarled.
“No, I-“
But a moment later she was lifted into the air by the man’s huge hands, as if she herself were a doll, and carried toward the hideout’s entrance.
CHAPTER 42
Garibaldi couldn’t believe their continuing good luck.
Not only were they allowed to see G’Kar-but they were left alone with him in G’Kar’s tiny, bleak cell while the emperor and his cronies cooed over their new gem purchases. And, with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed by the emperor and everyone around him while they were making their sales, it was quite possible that they could walk G’Kar out right under Cartagia’s nose and he wouldn’t even know it.
The one problem seemed to be that G’Kar had been drugged.
Getting the cell door open had been easy enough-one thing Garibaldi had learned was that there really wasn’t such a thing as security. Just about any lock could be opened-with the right tool, which Michael now pocketed as he quietly opened the cell door and went in.
Franklin followed, after Ivanova, acting as lookout in the hallway, gave her the signal that everything was still clear.
“What’s wrong with him?” Garibaldi whispered, regarding the Narn, who lay prone on the floor, seemingly asleep.
“He’s been drugged, looks like,” Franklin determined, after failing to wake G’Kar. “Maybe something they gave him for the pain-though I doubt it.” He winced. “Look at the welts on his back. I bet they gave him something to make him feel even worse.”
Garibaldi shook his head, as G’Kar turned slightly, moaned, and muttered something in his stupor.
Franklin got a hand around the Narn’s shoulder and tried to get him to stand up.
“Come on, G’Kar-give me a little help, okay?”
G’Kar opened his sleepy eyes and stared into Garibaldi’s face.
“A dream…” he said. “A bad dream . .
“You said it,” Franklin agreed, as Garibaldi supported the Narn from the opposite side and they began to walk him out of the cell.
In the hallway, Ivanova whispered, “Quick! They’ve moved into another room-a vault or something. We can get him out now!”
“That’s the plan,” Garibaldi said, and now they quickly walked and dragged G’Kar down the hallway, across the audience chamber, and out the opposite doorway toward the front of the palace.
There was a single guard ahead. Ivanova rushed toward him, and before the guard turned to see G’Kar, Susan said something to him and he ran away from them.
“What did you tell him?” Garibaldi asked.
Ivanova, returning to help with G’Kar, said, “I told him the emperor was drunk and giving out emeralds in the back of the palace.”
“For all we know,” Garibaldi commented, “he might be doing that!”
They bore G’Kar, who seemed to rouse himself a little as night air hit him, down the steps of the palace and away.
*
In no time at all, they had the Narn in Garibaldi’s quarters, asleep on his bed.
Ivanova looked down at his fitful rest. “Poor G’Kar.”
“Well, he’s away from that madman now,” Garibaldi said. “And it’s a good thing we planned on these backup quarters beforehand. As soon as Cartagia finds that we’ve sprung G’Kar, there’ll be imperial guards swarming around our old place like ants on a mound of sugar.”
Ivanova nodded. “Time to call Captain Sheridan and get out of here, don’t you think?”
“It can’t be too soon for me,” Garibaldi answered.
*
But when Garibaldi contacted Babylon 5, he got a worried Zack on the line.
“What’s wrong?” Garibaldi asked.
“Just about everything,” Zack answered. “The captain went off with Ambassador Delenn. They were supposed to check in every half day, but he missed the last two checkins. He modified his link, and I’m afraid he may not be able to get in touch now.”
“What’s he up to?” Garibaldi asked.
Zack told him, and Garibaldi smiled. “Couldn’t resist a little action himself, eh?”
“Right,” Zack said, “but he could have picked a better time. When Captain Sheridan left things were quiet, but now they’re heating up again. It looked like everything was fine in the Euphrates sector, but now we’re getting reports that there may be big trouble there after all. And the rioting has started up again.”
“In short, you need the captain and he can’t be found, right?”
“Right. And there’s bad news for you, too. The ship Commander Ivanova wanted to pick you up near your jump gate in hyperspace had to leave its spot when a Centauri battle cruiser got a little too close.”
“Which means you can’t get us out of here tonight.”
“We can get the ship back into position tomorrow.”
“All right,” Garibaldi said, “here’s what you do. Take as many people as you can spare from riot control, and get them out looking for the captain. Have him call me as soon as he’s found. In the meantime, get that ship back into position as fast as you can, ready to pick us up on Centauri Prime at a moment’s notice. Got that?”
“Got it,” Zack replied. “I take it you’ve got G’Kar?”
Garibaldi looked at the prone Narn. “We’ve got him, and we’re ready to get him out of here.” After signing off, he said to himself, “If we can figure out a way.”
CHAPTER 43
“And who is this one?” the bald man questioned, in surprise.
The giant lowered Delenn to the floor. Trying to regain her dignity, she smoothed her garments and said, “I am Delenn. I am Minbari ambassador to Babylon 5, and I demand that I be freed at once.” She indicated Captain Sheridan, who was tied to a chair, seemingly unconscious. “And he is John Sheridan, captain of Babylon 5. I demand that he be freed, also.”
“Sure,” the bald man snickered, in a mocking tone. “And I’m Captain Kidd, and the tall guy there is Shazam.” He laughed. “Now, why don’t you tell me who the two of you really are?”
“I’ve told you who we are,” Delenn insisted. “And I know who you are.”
“Really?” the bald man retorted incredulously. “And who would that be?”
“You are smugglers. Captain Sheridan capriciously considers you members of SMALL.”
The bald man snorted. “What the hell is SMALL?”
“A spy organization. A mere fancy.” Delenn racked her memory. “It stands for Secret Martian Allies. Of course, John said that this was just a game, but it is obvious that Captain Sheridan and I are not playing a game anymore.”
The third man in the room, a short fellow who sat in another chair and spent most of his time looking at his nails, looked up now and blurted out a laugh. Delenn saw that he was missing many teeth.
“The dame’s koo-koo!” the short man spat.
The bald man agreed, “Sure sounds like it.” To Delenn he said, “Actually, my name’s Mitchell, and you’re starting to piss me off.”
The giant took a step toward Delenn, but Mitchell held up his hand.
“Not yet. You can break both of them in half later. First I want to find out what they know-and why she’s dressed in the funny getup.”
“This was part of the game, my spy trench coat,” Delenn explained. She reached into her pocket, produced her dark glasses. “These were part of the game, also. Perhaps you will believe me now when I tell you who we are. And I demand that you free us immediately.”
“She is koo-koo!” the short man reiterated, pausing again from his examination of his nails.
“Could be,” Mitchell said.
“Hey, can you imagine if they really were who she says they are? That’d put us in some really deep doo-doo, wouldn’t it?”
