Contrarian, page 16
As they headed out of the office and toward the main staircase, Dekkard asked, “How are you coming with staff?”
“I have good legalists, an excellent personal secretary, and solid typists. Economic aides who understand Craft issues are rare. That was one reason why Axel pushed you in that direction. And, suddenly,” her tone turned ironic, “good security aides are scarce.”
“Nincya and I spoke about that earlier.”
“You were wise to take her and train her,” said Ingrella quietly.
“No. I was wise to listen to Avraal about it,” replied Dekkard dryly. “Also wise enough not to ignore any recommendations she made.”
“You’re like Axel in that, except I think you learned younger than he did.”
“That’s only because I met Avraal when I was younger than Axel was when he met you.” Dekkard beckoned for her to lead the way down the staircase, then followed her.
When they stepped out into the courtyard, Dekkard was definitely glad that he’d worn his overcoat, given the wind and the fact that it felt even colder outside than it had in the morning. He glanced toward the north. A greenish-black wall of clouds was definitely moving in.
“Fellow headed toward us,” said Gaaroll quietly. “Strong red feelings. Real strong.”
Dekkard shifted his eyes toward the figure striding quickly toward them, loosening his coat and putting one hand on his personal truncheon, even before he recognized the councilor—Gerard Schmidtz, the senior Commercer on the Military Affairs Committee, on which Ingrella also was a member.
Well before Schmidtz was that close, he moved to the north edge of the covered walkway without so much as glancing in Dekkard’s or Ingrella’s direction as he hurried past them.
“That was the walk of a very angry man,” said Ingrella several moments later.
“I have to wonder just why he was that angry,” said Dekkard. “I’ve never seen him like that. He’s always seemingly pleasant, even when he’s not feeling that way at all.” Which suggests that he was furious. Dekkard couldn’t help wondering who and/or what had upset Schmidtz.
“Most likely something Hasheem or Mardosh did or said,” replied Ingrella. “They’re the only ones with enough power to thwart him.”
“He doesn’t seem the type who’d like being thwarted.”
“Really?” asked Ingrella, her tone amused.
“That was my impression, but I’ve only talked with him once, very briefly. How is he on the committee?”
“We’ve only had the one meeting since I became a councilor. He said very little.”
Once they reached the entrance to the councilors’ dining room, Dekkard said to Gaaroll, “Meet us here a sixth after first bell.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dekkard didn’t say much until after they were seated and had ordered, when he asked, “Have you thought much about Gretina Baar?”
“I have some people looking into her. If they come to the same conclusions you and Avraal did, there are several firms that might be interested. There aren’t that many women legalists who deal in the high-end technical aspects of property law and who are good. The good female legalists usually chose other fields.”
“Thank you. I won’t say anything except that I’ve passed on her name.”
“I appreciate that, Steffan.”
“You were at the Military Affairs Committee meeting this morning, I take it?”
“I was.”
“What are your thoughts about the Khuld incident?”
“I doubt it was a mutiny,” replied Ingrella evenly. “More like a planned takeover. Isn’t that what you think?”
“It is. I also suspect that the Khuld is steaming toward Machtarn. From outside the harbor, they could shell the Council Hall. The Imperial Palace would be at the edge of its range.”
“Have you mentioned that to anyone else?” asked Ingrella.
“Not so far. Fredrich mentioned that the Resolute and several other warships would be patrolling the sea approaches to Machtarn. It will take the Khuld two weeks to reach Machtarn at cruising speed. Longer, if the weather is bad. It’s almost four thousand milles.”
“Why do you think they didn’t try to take over a warship at a nearer port?”
“The Khuld was about to undergo maintenance. At least half the crew was on leave. Maintenance on cruisers and corvettes is done at Port Reale. Siincleer is the only other port that does extensive maintenance, but it handles heavy cruisers and dreadnoughts. They have much larger crews, and it would have required a much greater force to capture even a heavy cruiser. Also, the Khuld is an older light cruiser, perhaps one with, shall I say, a less effective commander. Maintenance schedules are planned years out.”
“You’re saying this was planned well in advance.”
“That’s the only way it could have been accomplished. Just like the destruction of sixteen Security buildings.”
“What else do you think they’ve planned?”
“I have no idea. As I told Axel, it will likely be something that makes perfect sense in hindsight, but something that’s either so improbable or so obvious that we don’t foresee it.” Dekkard paused as the server appeared with their orders, white bean soup for him, onion soup for her, and cafés for both.
They both sampled their respective soups before Ingrella spoke.
“The way it appears, the Commercers have used the New Meritorists, but making even limited common cause with revolutionaries whose goals you despise seems foolhardy to me.”
“They’re worried, if not desperate,” replied Dekkard. “They’ve held power for decades, but, despite all their recent efforts, the Craft Party keeps gaining seats.”
Ingrella shook her head. “The New Meritorists are anything but stupid. They’ll take anything they can get without any compunction and then destroy those who helped them.”
“That’s clear now,” agreed Dekkard, “but the Commercers tend to equate marks with intelligence. On the other hand, I suspect revolutionaries equate marks with lack of perception. The fact that they’re both wrong will make matters worse.” He paused. “The New Meritorists are turning out to be much more dangerous than anyone thought.” Including me. “They also have a much broader base of support than was apparent.”
“I still find it unconscionable that Lukkyn Wyath never investigated them,” said Ingrella.
“We don’t know that,” Dekkard pointed out. “We only know that there aren’t any records of such an investigation. Wyath’s dead; the director in charge of the Special Agents fled Guldor; and some fifty agents have vanished.”
“Fredrich hasn’t selected a Minister of Public Safety yet, either.” Ingrella looked meaningfully at Dekkard.
Dekkard ignored the look, knowing he didn’t have the knowledge or the inclination for such a post. “Someone like Captain Narryt—he’s Emrelda’s station captain—would be a good choice. He’s knowledgeable, and he’s survived under Wyath without losing his integrity.”
“You might mention that to Fredrich.”
“I will if the opportunity arises.”
Ingrella merely nodded.
“Your colleague Namoor Desharra has been most helpful in providing material to my legalists,” Dekkard offered. “We’re working on a legislative proposal dealing with the rights of women in the workplace.”
“Harleona Zerlyon mentioned that.”
For the remainder of lunch, the two spoke of legal issues.
After escorting Ingrella back to her office, Dekkard returned to the records room, where he spent another two bells. He did discover, as Trujillo had told him earlier, that Minz had deposited a banque draft for fifteen thousand marks in the Capitol Services account two weeks before he withdrew ten thousand marks in notes, presumably the ten thousand that had gone to Sohl Hurrek, the clerk who had tried to kill Dekkard with Atacaman pepper dust. Interestingly enough, the banque draft had been drawn on the Banque of Siincleer. Again, a transaction suggesting that it came from Siincleer Shipbuilding through the late Pietro Venburg, but not exactly proof. There were also a number of banque drafts of two thousand five hundred marks from the Suvion Commerce Banque and the Banque of Siincleer, and after Fallfirst, the Northwest Banque of Chuive, as well as two from the Banque of Uldwyrk and several drawn on the Neewyrk Imperial Banque.
Incredibly suggestive of regular payments by corporacions in those cities, but not proof.
By a little after third bell he returned to his office, where he immediately began signing or revising replies to letters, occasionally looking out the window to the north where the looming greenish-black clouds continued to advance on Machtarn. He could also hear the wind outside. He finished dealing with the correspondence slightly before fourth bell, after which he pondered what other links might exist between the New Meritorists and Ulrich.
When he noticed snowflakes beginning to fall past the window, he walked out into the staff office and to Roostof’s desk. “Svard, let everyone go right now. That snow is going to get heavy before long.”
“I’d thought about it.”
“Next time, interrupt me,” replied Dekkard with a wry smile. “I was caught up in something.”
In minutes, only Roostof, Gaaroll, and Dekkard remained.
Then Avraal arrived, bundled in her black overcoat with a black scarf. Before she could say anything, Dekkard spoke. “I know. We need to be going.” He turned to Roostof. “You, too, Svard. Remember, if the snow’s deeper than ten digits, the Council’s closed until the main streets are clear.” Then he walked back into his personal office, donned his overcoat and gloves, and picked up his gray leather folder. Abruptly, he stopped and shut off the gas lamp before joining Avraal in the outer office.
“The snow is already sticking to the side streets,” Avraal said after the four left the office. “There aren’t that many steamers on the roads. I think most people left work early.”
“Good.”
When they reached the west doors, Dekkard said, “Be careful on the drive home, Svard.”
“You, too, sir.”
Because Avraal had driven the Gresynt, it took no time at all for the steamer to pressure up, for which Dekkard was grateful, especially since the snow was beginning to come down more heavily. Thankfully, both Council Avenue and Jacquez were largely still clear because of the traffic, but Florinda already held more than a digit of snow when Dekkard turned onto it and, less than a hundred yards later, headed up the drive to the garage, where he stopped short of the door, got out and opened it, and then eased the Gresynt inside.
“Emrelda’s not home,” said Avraal. “She’s not scheduled to work late. That means something went wrong.”
“She might be late because the snow delayed her relief. We can’t do anything here in the garage,” Dekkard pointed out as he opened the steamer door. “I’ll keep sweeping the drive every so often so the snow doesn’t build up. She shouldn’t be that long.”
When everyone was inside, with the kitchen stove and sitting room gas grate turned on, Dekkard went back out into the snow and swept the drive, all the way from the garage doors to the street, while Avraal and Gaaroll worked on getting dinner. Almost a bell later, and after several more drive sweepings by Dekkard, with the snow close to four digits deep where Dekkard hadn’t swept, Emrelda drove up the drive, and Dekkard hurried out and opened the garage door.
Once she was out of the steamer and the garage, he brushed off the snow still remaining on her teal Gresynt, then closed the door, and walked to the portico door with Emrelda.
“Thank you for clearing the way,” she said. “All of the side streets are getting icy, and I was a little worried about Florinda and getting up the drive.”
“I thought that might be the case.” Dekkard opened the portico door, then followed Emrelda inside, closing the door firmly against the wind from the northeast.
Avraal hurried out of the kitchen and into the main hall where Emrelda was hanging up her patroller’s winter jacket. “We’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Tomorrow and Furdi will be the days to worry about, particularly if the snow keeps falling and it stays this cold.” Emrelda smiled. “Whatever you’re cooking smells good.”
“It’s a mash-up of sorts, with the leftover lamb, some boiled potatoes, and even a few turnips that Steffan won’t eat but won’t say anything about.” Avraal smiled sweetly at her husband.
Dekkard smiled back. “I’ve never complained.” Especially since it wouldn’t do any good.
“How were your days?” asked Emrelda.
“We’ll tell you at dinner. It’s almost ready,” said Avraal.
That was fine with Dekkard, although some of his day would be shared later, and only with Avraal.
19
EVEN before Dekkard was fully awake on Tridi morning, he could feel the chill in the bedroom and had the feeling that it was still snowing. One glance out the window told him that neither of them was likely to be going anywhere. Even so, he shaved and took a quick shower, but donned an old set of winter security grays before heading downstairs.
“I take it there’s no Gestirn this morning?” he asked as he entered the breakfast room.
Gaaroll snorted. “Snow’s more than knee-deep. Still coming down.”
Dekkard looked to Emrelda, in full uniform. “You’re going to work?”
“I said today and tomorrow would be hard.”
“I can clear the drive.”
“There’s no hurry. I’ll be walking today. The way the snow’s coming down, it’s safer to walk. It won’t take that much longer, and the steamer would be buried by the time my shift is over. I was just getting ready to go.” Emrelda smiled sardonically. “There is a snow shovel in the garage. Markell inherited it. We never used it. Have fun.”
“It’ll likely be easier than what you’re doing.” Dekkard walked with Emrelda into the hallway, where she donned her winter patrol jacket, gloves, and visor cap. He accompanied her to the portico door, which he opened for her. “Until this afternoon.”
“It might be later.”
Dekkard watched as she walked down the snow-covered drive. The snow looked deeper than even knee-high, and, if anything, was coming down more rapidly than the night before. He quickly shut the door and made his way back to the kitchen, where he made two cafés, then retrieved the croissants from the cooler and brought them and the cafés to the breakfast room.
“Where’s Emrelda?” asked Avraal as she appeared.
“On her way to work.” As Dekkard spoke, he noted that Avraal was also wearing winter security grays, as well as a gray pullover sweater.
“She’s driving in this?”
“She’s walking. She said it would be a long day.”
“Are you going to work?” asked Avraal.
“The snow is well over ten digits deep already. That’s when the Council is closed. Besides, nothing important is scheduled. No sessions and no hearings, not for any of my committees. What about you?”
“I’m not about to drive in this much snow. Not when it’s coming down as hard as it is.”
“Good idea,” said Gaaroll.
Avraal seated herself and cradled the café mug in her hands. “How long will this last?”
“I’d wager it won’t end soon. The heliographs were shut down early yesterday across most of the north.” Dekkard settled across from her and smiled wryly. “Emrelda told me where the snow shovel is.”
“That should keep you busy,” replied Avraal.
“Some of the time. What will you do?”
“Read, and I’ll write another letter to Mother. I can post it after the snow clears. Maybe she’ll even reply.”
Dekkard knew that Avraal’s mother hadn’t replied to the letter about the house in Gaarlak and thanking her parents for the gift that had made it possible, but he only said, “You’re being the well-mannered daughter.”
“At least you didn’t say dutiful. I’ve never fulfilled their definition of that.”
“How could you say that?” teased Dekkard. “You’ve married a Ritter, and all their friends approve.”
Avraal said sweetly, “How would you like hot café in the face?”
Dekkard decided against saying, You don’t want their friends to approve? Instead, he said, “I’d appreciate not having burns on my face.”
“You were going to say something else, weren’t you?”
“I thought better of it.”
“Excellent idea.”
Gaaroll failed to hide a grin.
“I thought so,” replied Dekkard cheerfully.
After breakfast, he donned his old winter security jacket and gloves, then trudged through the snow on the upper drive to the garage, where he retrieved the shovel. Shoveling the drive down to the street took a good bell.
He wasn’t the only one shoveling. Next door, to the east, while someone had shoveled the drive earlier, Sr. Waaldwud had obviously left earlier, because his wife and the young empath nanny took turns re-shoveling the drive. Young Tomas played in the snow while the nanny shoveled.
By the time Dekkard finished, another digit of the white stuff coated the area between the house and the garage. Dekkard shook his head and went inside to warm up, especially his hands. At least the next time there won’t be as much to shovel.
Over the course of the morning and afternoon, he shoveled the drive twice more. In between he wrote out various possibilities for New Meritorist actions, forcing himself not to tear up those he decided were too far-fetched, even one where the revolutionaries managed to kill the Imperador. While Dekkard knew such an assassination was certainly possible, particularly if the Meritorists didn’t mind the costs or repercussions, he couldn’t see the point of such an assassination since the real power in Guldor lay in the Council and the provisions of the Great Charter. And the Commercer-dominated corporacions.
While Dekkard struggled with analyzing the Meritorist possibilities and battling the snow, Gaaroll spent the day helping Avraal in the kitchen.
At about a third before sixth bell, Dekkard went out again to shovel the drive. He’d almost reached the bottom when Emrelda trudged toward him. By then, the snow in front of the house was almost waist-deep—and still falling. “Are you all right?” he asked as he walked down to meet her.
