A Dark and Dirty War, page 22
Hersom, a lean, tall man in his early seventies with craggy features topped by luxuriant gray hair, exuded the vigor of someone decades younger. He wore an expensive, gray business suit with a high-collared silk shirt, the sort that served as a quasi-uniform among the Commonwealth government’s top bureaucrats. And, like his counterparts in other organizations, the sole splashes of color in an otherwise sober appearance were provided by a lapel pin with the SSB’s crest, an eagle clutching the scales of justice, a gold watch on his left wrist, and a class ring on his right hand. The latter marked him as a graduate of Earth’s Commonwealth University, one of the most prestigious institutions of higher learning in the star system, if not the entirety of human space, although many, especially in the Fleet, attributed a different meaning to its initials.
As Lauzier took a chair across from his desk, he studied her with dispassionate eyes that could unnerve any keen observer thanks to their emptiness. As befit the head of the Commonwealth’s shadowy security police, a man who acknowledged no master other than the SecGen himself, he didn’t know the meaning of pity, much less that of empathy.
Hersom sat again and leaned forward, elbows on the desktop, and joined his hands, fingertips touching, an expectant air on his face. He was clearly wondering what brought Sara Lauzier to SSB headquarters, a nondescript, high-security, five-story building on Geneva’s northern outskirts. His top-floor office enjoyed a magnificent view of the lake and the mountains ringing it, better even than the one enjoyed by humanity’s most powerful politician. But she wasn’t here for that.
“We may face a bit of a problem with the fallout from our most recent operation.”
“How so, Madame? Because Dunmoore retrieved Athena ahead of time? She has a habit of showing up unexpectedly where she’s not wanted, something the SSB experienced several times during the war.”
“You heard they gave her a reprieve from early retirement with a promotion to rear admiral and her own battle group as a result of showing up unexpectedly in the Galadiman system, right?”
He nodded once.
“Of course. Blind luck will derail the most solid planning and meticulous execution, unfortunately. We almost had Dunmoore out of uniform and no longer capable of interfering, thanks to friends in the right places and her own hubris. One week either way,” Hersom shrugged, “and she wouldn’t have been in the right place to carry out the rescue. Fleet HQ would have appointed a less effective and experienced officer, one who’d still be blundering around the Zone while things unfolded as they should.”
“Blind luck and her own friends in the right places — a Rear Admiral Kathryn Kowalski, from Naval Operations, and a Commodore Ezekiel Holt, from Naval Intelligence.”
Hersom allowed himself a wintry smile.
“We’re quite familiar with both of them. Kowalski is something of a shooting star in the Navy, smarter than ninety-nine percent of flag officers, ambitious, and utterly incorruptible. She made it up the ranks on her own merits. Holt, on the other hand, is something of a cipher. He heads one of the counterintelligence divisions, but what his organization does is more than that. In part, I suppose you could call it an internal affairs branch of sorts. Both served under Dunmoore during the war and are thoroughly loyal to her, making them dangerous.”
“I met them at the Armed Forces Gala last Saturday, and my instincts told me they realize the hijacking was a carefully engineered operation and not just a desperate ploy by colonial malcontents. That makes them even more dangerous than you think. But they don’t have proof.”
When Hersom opened his mouth, she raised a restraining hand.
“More worrisome is Dunmoore and her new 101st Battle Group. Its mission is apparently dedicated to anti-piracy in the Rim Sector, focusing on the Protectorate Zone frontier. When I pressed Admiral Lowell for more, he was suspiciously cagey. My sources inside Fleet HQ can’t tell me anything about the 101st because its mission, composition, and patrol routes are hidden behind a top secret special access codename impenetrable even to my father. That can only mean she’s inside the Zone, looking for the Confederacy mercenaries and the people taken off Athena. If she tracked us down before the operation ran its course — and with extraordinarily little to guide her, by the way — I wouldn’t dismiss her chances of finding your hirelings and discovering the truth.”
A thoughtful expression crossed Hersom’s face.
“I dismiss nothing where Dunmoore’s concerned. But she necessarily received help from outside the Fleet because she isn’t clairvoyant.” His eyes slipped to one side and lost their focus as he parsed the possibilities. “You’re aware the Colonial Office has its own intelligence service, right?”
Lauzier nodded.
“One over which the administration should exercise more control, but I’ve yet to meet a Colonial Secretary who can stand against his own senior bureaucrats.”
“One could say the same of the various Defense Secretaries since before the war. Are you also cognizant of the fact the Office established a consulate on Kilia Station for which it didn’t obtain Senate approval and whose existence it doesn’t advertise?”
A perfectly sculpted eyebrow crept up. “Really? A well kept secret if I wasn’t aware of it.”
“This consulate is clearly the cover for an intelligence gathering operation. The consul, Mikhail Forenza, was a Colonial Office operative during the war and probably still works for the Intelligence Service. We can take it as a given that he has agents on the main, human-settled Zone worlds.” Hersom looked at Lauzier again. “Now, here’s the thing. He knows Dunmoore personally from an incident on Toboso and later when she rescued him along with the passengers and the crew of a tramp freighter after pirates took them in what is now the Zone. Perhaps Forenza has been feeding Dunmoore what his network picked up about the Confederacy of the Howling Stars.”
“The Colonial Office and the Fleet working together in secret behind the administration’s back?” A frown creased Lauzier’s smooth forehead. “That’s a disquieting notion.”
“Indeed. While the Fleet can’t operate in the Zone other than undercover, the Treaty of Ulufan does not prohibit the Colonial Office’s activities there. Cooperation between the two in throttling certain activities deemed illegal by our laws could prove costly for many Commonwealth interests.”
“And reveal how the SSB has been using mercenaries based in the Zone to conduct extra-judicial operations both within and beyond the Commonwealth sphere.”
Hersom inclined his head.
“Just so. Should that come to light, the SecGen — present and future — will lose a powerful tool capable of suppressing dissent in the colonies and OutWorlds.”
Lauzier, who was aware Hersom knew all about her ambitions, gave him a wry look.
“Noted. So, how do we deal with this situation? Take Kowalski and Holt off the board since they can’t be suborned or otherwise turned?”
A shake of the head.
“No. That would make matters worse and incur Dunmoore’s wrath, something we underestimate at our peril. She directly wrecked three major SSB operations during the war, along with several minor ones who became collateral damage when she took out other targets. Remove her friends, and she’ll find a way of damaging us again, this time disastrously. That loyalty Kowalski and Holt show toward her? She returns it fully.”
“How would she find out you did it?”
“She would. Trust me. There’s more going on here than we can fathom right now. If you think Kowalski and Holt smell a rat about Athena’s hijacking, then so will Dunmoore. Those well-timed leaks we engineered as part of the operation will make sure the SSB won’t be overlooked by any of them considering their known hostility toward the Bureau.”
“Probably.” She made a face. “In hindsight, those were perhaps a mistake.”
“We didn’t know then what the outcome would be.”
“But you knew about Dunmoore’s involvement by the time you released the information.”
“True, though the odds of her finding Athena before our mercenaries effected a ‘rescue’ were deemed incredibly small.”
“Then I suggest you don’t underestimate her again.” Lauzier’s words, delivered in a casual tone, were belied by an icy glare that could make anyone but Hersom draw back in fear. “Make sure she doesn’t find anyone or anything capable of revealing the truth for both our sakes.”
“You, Madame, are safe no matter what. Nothing connects you with the hijacking.”
“I spoke personally with the woman who calls herself the Commodore. She knows I’m in on it.”
A faint smile, the sort capable of freezing methane, appeared on Hersom’s lips.
“Perhaps having you speak with her face-to-face was a mistake as well.”
“There was no other way of telling her who she must remove from the ship, at what frequency, and how. Communicating that information ahead of time would have been too risky, in case the SSB leaks from places you don’t control.”
“Touché. But I merely raised the question as a way of pointing out nothing ever works as planned in any given operation, or as the military wisdom goes, no plan survives contact with the enemy. And an enemy like Siobhan Dunmoore will absolutely wreck the best-laid ones. Ask our former foes, the Shrehari, how they feel about her. We were victims of bad timing and faced an officer who acts on the dictum victories result from opportunities clearly seen and swiftly seized. I’ll find out what occurred in Kilia. Never fear.”
Lauzier gave him a dismissive shrug. “That won’t do us much good with the immediate problem.”
“True, but then, nothing we do will change what happens in the Zone if that’s where Dunmoore is hunting our Confederacy contractors. Pray she destroys their ships with the Commodore aboard. That way, the last one capable of incriminating you will vanish.”
“The last one outside this office, you mean.”
He inclined his head again, acknowledging her point.
“Other than me, yes. But you and I have an understanding. The consequences if one of us betrays the other will be more than painful.”
She made a gesture of acquiescence. “Mutually assured destruction.”
“The price for cooperation, Madame. Only a fool in my position trusts ambitious politicians. I suggest we ignore Kowalski, Holt, Dunmoore, and everyone involved. Let them do as they please. Even if they uncover evidence, who will bring it forward? Who will investigate it officially? Who will risk a political crisis like none since the Second Migration War for a mere thirty-six lives?”
“No one.”
“Precisely. Let fate decide whether they suffer retribution for meddling in your affairs.”
Yet even as he spoke, Hersom thought he saw a murderous glint in Sara Lauzier’s eyes. She wasn’t the type who forgave an insult or injury, let alone anyone who crossed her. In theory, one of his jobs as head of the SSB was ensuring her sort didn’t get near the reins of power after her father left office. But the idea of having a SecGen beholden to his organization in a few years was irresistible.
— Thirty-Four —
“Sara Lauzier visited SSB headquarters this morning.” Ezekiel Holt, coffee cup in hand, dropped into the chair facing Kathryn Kowalski’s desk. “Yes, we keep a permanent watch on the building, so we’re always aware of who goes in and out. You’d think she would choose a less visible method — the area around Geneva is replete with tunnels, including the former Large Hadron Collider, which is now used for long-term storage by the government if you've not yet heard. Or so it claims but checking on that isn’t part of my remit.”
“Natural arrogance? Or perhaps dear Sara doesn’t care who sees her?”
“Or it wasn’t her in the staff car we saw entering the building’s underground garage, which I doubt.” At Kowalski’s questioning glance, he said, “Sara Lauzier frequently borrows her father’s official means of transportation, and when in Geneva, that’s a Terra Shadow from Spirit Luxury Designs. There’s only one of that make, model, and color in town, and Charles Lauzier never visits SSB HQ. So it could only be Sara because no one else uses the Shadow besides her and Charles. I’m betting on her overweening sense of entitlement and impunity.”
Kowalski cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re sure of that?”
“Even her sort has weaknesses we can exploit. It’s not because she’s without emotions or empathy that she’s without blind spots. Sadly, the SSB doesn’t have the sort of blind spot that lets us listen to conversations in Blayne Hersom’s office. I’ll wager she spoke about meeting us on Saturday evening and told him she thought we might not fully believe the hijacking story. Fortunately, Hersom has not only met Siobhan but knows what she’s capable of doing — I was present, by the way, though I didn’t come face-to-face with him. And yes, it was one of those operations which will remain classified until the end of time, sorry. Suffice to say, if Sara is climbing on her high horse because things didn’t go as she wanted, Hersom will talk her back down, lest things that should stay hidden spill over into the public domain.”
“Again, assuming we’re not dreaming up this whole conspiracy thing.”
“Whenever your belief falters, my friend, peruse the list of those taken off Athena again. It helps me maintain focus. As I said, many are potential threats to Sara Lauzier assuming the mantle of SecGen in a few years. The rest?” He shrugged. “I could paint a picture of how much Sara’s potential supporters would enjoy her engineering the disappearance of inconvenient relatives and business associates. Take Vitus Amali, for example. He and brother Geraldo never agreed on much. However, Geraldo has backed Charles Lauzier’s ambitions — for consideration, of course — and wouldn’t mind if Vitus dropped into a black hole, so he no longer needs to look over his shoulder all the time.”
Kowalski gave him a knowing nod.
“And if Sara hints that she helped engineer Vitus’ disappearance, she gains Geraldo’s support. Or rather the support of the senators the Amali family owns. Especially if said hint comes with a vague notion that Vitus isn’t the only Amali capable of vanishing without a trace.”
Holt tapped the side of his nose with an extended index finger.
“Or Geraldo was in on it from the start, which makes him a co-conspirator. Who better to organize a luxury liner from one of his own subsidiaries and put Confederacy mercs passing as replacement crew aboard? I cross-referenced the vanished passengers with people we suspect Geraldo would rather see gone, and guess what? There are enough of them on both Sara and Geraldo’s least wanted lists that it cannot be a coincidence. But proving we’re right? As much as I place my faith in Siobhan, I doubt she’ll uncover anything actionable. The SSB will have compartmentalized the various parts of the operation with only Sara, Hersom, and maybe one or two others who know everything. None of them will talk, nor can we force them into Naval Intelligence interrogation rooms and loosen their tongues with the various methods at our disposal. In effect, the people involved are untouchable, perhaps even if Siobhan brings back irrefutable evidence.”
Kowalski made a face at him. “Did you come here to depress me, Zeke?”
“No. I merely want to make you aware of what’s happening in Geneva and make sure you realize there will be no straightforward solution. Our operatives are trying to find the SSB’s contacts with the Confederacy of the Howling Stars, but it will take time, and success is in no way guaranteed. The only thing in our favor is access to the database of discharged Armed Forces members. It’ll allow us to narrow down the list of known and suspected Confederacy members based on law enforcement reports, psych profiles, post-Fleet employment history, etc.”
“Did it help you find Lena Corto?”
A wry smile appeared on Holt’s lips.
“Sorry. I forgot to tell you. But, no, we couldn’t find her whereabouts. Corto cashed out her pension shortly after she retired — involuntarily because she ran out of promotion board chances — seven years ago and essentially vanished. That being said, it’s a distinct possibility she’s working as a merc in the Zone. Why else would a retired senior officer fall off the sensor grid? There are plenty of legal job opportunities for someone with her pedigree. After all, she has a solid service record even though her ambitions brought her face-to-face with someone more suitable as a raider task force commander. If SOCOM had given Rear Admiral Petras a conventional Q ship instead of Iolanthe, the outcome might have been radically different.”
“Which outcome? The war’s or Corto’s career?”
“Both.” Holt’s communicator buzzed softly, forestalling Kowalski’s response. He pulled it from his tunic pocket, activated the virtual display, and read its contents. As he did so, his forehead creased in a frown. “It’s from Alexander Rostov, the Director General of the Colonial Office Intelligence Service.”
Holt looked up at Kowalski.
“He and I are becoming rather chummy of late. Exchanging data and favors makes both his outfit and Naval Intelligence look good, even though only a few people on either side know about it. Alex says Blayne Hersom called him just now, fishing for information. Specifically, he asked whether Alex’s people uncovered more about the hijackers and if he knew what the Navy’s new 101st Battle Group was up to in the Zone.”
“Sounds like someone’s getting worried the Navy might uncover more than it should. Does your friend say what he told Hersom?”
“Words to the effect that his people are still listening and looking and that Alex would share anything they dig up. As for the 101st, Alex recommended Hersom ask the Navy.”
Kowalski gave Holt a sardonic smile.
“I’m going to guess the SSB isn’t the sort who barters data and favors.”
He shook his head.
“No. Since the SSB director general reports solely to the SecGen, they figure information goes only one way — to them.”
“Typical arrogance. One of these days, they’ll desperately need friends and find no one willing to help.”
