Contrarian, page 22
“Emilya has offered similar counsel from the time I was a junior officer. There were definitely times when I should have listened more carefully.”
“It was probably a good thing that we were a security team before we married. She was senior, and I had to listen. Eventually, I realized that was definitely a good thing.”
From there the conversation was about wives and people, but Dekkard was left with the feeling that Konnigsburg hadn’t grasped how big the “little” indications might turn out to be.
When Dekkard returned to the office, accompanied by Gaaroll, a stack of replies for him to sign or revise awaited him.
Avraal arrived in his personal office at a third past fourth bell.
Dekkard immediately stood, walked around the desk, and hugged her.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not at all, but sometimes, I don’t always show you how I look forward to seeing you … just seeing you.”
“I’m glad.” She held him to her for a long moment before stepping back, then watched as he went to retrieve his overcoat and gloves.
“How was your day?” he asked as he donned the overcoat.
“Nothing much new, except the air’s gotten really bad. We haven’t found any leads on the missing investigators, and the Advisory Committee told Carlos that they’ll have to reduce his retainer beginning next month because guild dues payments are declining.”
“That means more guilders are out of work, but that usually happens in the winter.”
“Not this many, Carlos said.”
“I take it that your pay will be reduced.”
“I had to insist, but it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen percent for all the professionals. Five percent for the others. Carlos isn’t saying, but I suspect he won’t pay himself at all.”
Dekkard turned off the wall sconce and motioned to the door, following Avraal out.
“Svard! Margrit, time to close up.”
Dekkard did not move from where he stood beside Margrit’s desk until only Svard and Gaaroll remained. “We’ll wait out in the corridor for you, Svard.”
The senior legalist grinned. “You aren’t giving me any choice.”
“I want you to have a bit of life besides here,” replied Dekkard. “Not that I suspect you need much encouragement at present.”
“It’s good advice,” added Avraal, “even if he doesn’t always take it.”
Dekkard heard a snicker from Gaaroll.
In minutes, the four were walking down the center staircase and toward the west doors.
Once Dekkard stepped out of the Council Office Building, he almost choked, so strong was the smoke and the acridity of the cold air. “You were right. Whatever’s burning is more than coal from furnaces and boilers.”
“More like a whole block,” said Gaaroll.
“The wind’s from the northeast,” said Dekkard. “It could be from Woodlake or Easthill.”
“You’re assuming a poorer district is burning,” said Avraal.
“That’s a good assumption right now,” Dekkard replied. “If things don’t get better, it might not be.” He turned to Roostof. “Be careful on the drive home. You’re not that far from Rivertown.”
“I’ll be careful,” replied Roostof, “but that goes for you as well.”
The drive back to the house was without event, but when Dekkard eased the Gresynt into the drive, the garage doors were closed.
“Emrelda’s working late,” said Avraal.
“She still could be at the station because they sent patrollers to help other stations,” Dekkard pointed out. “She’s more valuable as a dispatcher when they’re shorthanded.”
“Let’s hope you’re right. The least we can do is fix dinner, even if it’s leftovers.”
“Your leftovers are better than most people’s original dinners.”
Avraal just shook her head as Dekkard stopped the Gresynt short of the garage, then got out and opened both doors. While the smoke and acridity that he smelled weren’t as strong as they had been at the Council buildings, they were still much stronger than on previous days.
Avraal and Gaaroll walked back to the portico and let themselves into the house while Dekkard garaged the Gresynt. Then he closed the one garage door, leaving the other open for Emrelda, and made his way to the house, where he took off his overcoat and gloves, as well as his suit coat, before going to the kitchen to help Avraal fix dinner.
More than a bell passed before Dekkard heard the portico door open and then shut, followed by the words, “I’m home. Sorry I’m so late.”
Dekkard let out a slow sigh of relief and followed Avraal out into the hall.
Emrelda looked at the three faces beholding her and said, “There’s nothing to worry about here—or in Southtown. We had to send a squad to Woodlake to help with the riots, fires, and looting there. Captain Narryt said that the acting Minister of Public Safety requested two companies of army troopers.”
“Not former STF, I hope,” said Dekkard.
“I asked the same thing,” replied Emrelda. “He said they were regular army because the STF troopers haven’t finished retraining. They had to recruit more STF troopers because so many resigned.”
That didn’t exactly astound Dekkard. “So you ran the station while it was going on?”
“Pretty much. Administratively, that is. What’s for dinner? It smells good.”
“Assorted warmed-up leftovers,” replied Avraal.
“It sounds wonderful. I’m starving.”
“So are we all,” replied Avraal, leading the way to the breakfast room.
25
DEKKARD woke at his normal time on Findi, knowing that Emrelda had duty as the head dispatcher, despite working the previous endday, because of the changes in shifts resulting from the riots in Woodlake, a fact she hadn’t mentioned until after dinner the night before.
He was about to tiptoe to the shower when Avraal said, “Don’t take all the warm water. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“I won’t.”
While Dekkard had doubts about Avraal getting up quickly, she was in the shower immediately after he left it. He did entertain certain thoughts, but she said, “Not now. It’s too cold.”
So Dekkard grinned sheepishly, finished getting dressed, then headed downstairs.
Emrelda sat at the breakfast table, in full uniform, except for her uniform jacket, sipping her café. She looked up and pointed to the morning Gestirn. “The captain didn’t mention that there was more crap going on in Rivertown, not just in Woodlake.”
“He might not have known.”
“More like he was told not to say more than he had to. That doesn’t happen as much now. Not after your reforms.”
“Likely he couldn’t avoid saying where your patrollers were sent, but not where those from other stations were headed. Someone above him is more than a little worried.”
“They should be.”
“How does the captain feel about it all?”
“He’s gotten quiet. He’s really worried. Who wouldn’t be? We’ve barely been able to keep things under control in Southtown.”
“Is there anything the Council can do?”
Emrelda shook her head. “More food and marks for the poorest would help some, but that’s something the Council’s never done. Another snowstorm might keep the violence down, but that will cause more deaths from the cold. Machtarn’s not prepared for prolonged snow and cold. This is the longest freezing spell I can recall.”
Dekkard had to agree, but he’d only been in Machtarn a little less than three years, unlike Emrelda’s ten years. He also doubted that there was much more food to be had soon. Prolonged food shortages had never been a problem in recent years, not given how fertile much of Guldor was. So food wasn’t really stockpiled to any degree, but the weather of the past year had been unusual, with frosts in the late spring, drought and then excessive rainfall, and early snows everywhere except in the far southwest. So many talked about poor harvests, but you didn’t realize just how bad they were.
Emrelda stood and donned her uniform jacket. “Don’t worry about dinner for me.”
“Of course we will,” interjected Avraal from the breakfast room door. “I’ll do a hearty soup. That way it won’t matter when you get home.”
“So long as it’s not leeks and beets,” replied Emrelda with a smile.
Avraal walked to the portico door with her sister, and Dekkard began to fix cafés. After setting them on the table, while Avraal seated herself and began to sip from her mug, Dekkard picked up the morning edition of Gestirn and began to read about the riots, looting, and burning in Rivertown and Woodlake. From what he read, no one had determined a precise cause for either set of disturbances. Suggesting that there’s a great amount of unfocused anger.
Dekkard wondered just how much of that was totally unrecognized by most councilors. Most of it, in all probability. Then he shook his head.
“What was that headshake all about?” asked Avraal.
“The Council. As I told you last night, Eyril Konnigsburg understands the danger the mutineers pose, but not the danger of hungry, angry, or desperate people.”
“Do we, really?”
“I don’t know what it’s like to be in that position. I do realize that hundreds of thousands of people in that situation are a threat to the Council and to keeping order without having to use excessive force. I’m not sure that many councilors see it that way.”
“Even after the shelling?”
“Too many think a few disgruntled revolutionaries got blown up in a badly organized plot to destroy the Council. They seem to have forgotten that the New Meritorists managed to destroy or damage sixteen Security buildings without anyone getting caught and have printed thousands and thousands of posters and broadsheets without being discovered.”
“You’ve suggested that the New Meritorists used Ulrich and Minz, and I’d agree. Are they still using Ulrich?” There was a trace of skepticism behind Avraal’s words.
“I doubt it. Shelling the Council had to go beyond what Ulrich had in mind, and Minz let his personal anger get in the way. If I had to wager, Ulrich has destroyed every bit of evidence that he can get his hands on. The problem is that what Minz did revealed some real Council vulnerabilities. Hasheem and Trujillo are dealing with the physical vulnerabilities, but no one’s dealing with the others.”
“You did with the Security reforms, and you’re working on others.”
“I worry that I can’t get them through the Council and that, even if I can, they’ll be too little and too late.”
“You’re only one councilor—”
“You’ve made that point before. And you’re right. But it still bothers me.”
“It can bother you,” replied Avraal firmly, “just so long as you don’t take on the responsibility and weight of the whole Council. Especially when you’ve done your best to let others know. You just may have to avoid the damage and let the others see for themselves. In the meantime, we can do things together today.” Her last words were resolutely cheerful.
“Like make a hearty soup?”
She smiled. “Along with a few other … diversions.”
Dekkard couldn’t help smiling in return.
26
WHEN Dekkard opened his eyes in the dim gloom on Unadi morning, he could immediately smell that, despite the closed and curtained windows, the odor of burning substances in addition to coal had not only continued, but increased. That wasn’t unexpected, not after Emrelda’s report the night before that disturbances had been reported in not only Rivertown and Woodlake, but in Easthill, and that matters weren’t that much better in Southtown.
Yet when Dekkard reached the breakfast room, the morning edition of Gestirn only had a short article, which he reread after getting Avraal’s café for her—just to make sure he’d read it correctly the first time, but the significant information was contained in one paragraph.
… continuing and unexpected cold weather has resulted in a number of dwelling fires all across Machtarn, but primarily in the more densely populated areas, where firefighters and civic patrollers have been hampered by crowds of displaced persons and by a lack of water pressure caused by frozen pipes and leakages … According to city records this is the longest period of cold weather in Machtarn in over a century …
Without a word, Dekkard just handed the newssheet to Avraal to see what she had to say.
After a minute or so she handed it back. “That’s about what Emrelda said. Unless it warms up, the problems with fires and crowds are going to get worse.”
“It’s colder out,” said Gaaroll. “Leastwise, it felt that way when Emrelda left.”
“We’ll have to see what the day brings.” And if Hasheem has any plans for dealing with it all.
He quickly went through the rest of the newssheet and discovered a story about the Khuld, the key section of which read:
The Admiralty has so far refused to comment on the possibility that the light cruiser I.S. Khuld, which was scheduled for a refit at Port Reale, may indeed have been lost at sea. Other sources indicate that some of the crewmen have been returned to Port Reale after being rescued. The Admiralty has refused comment …
Dekkard doubted that the mutiny would remain undisclosed much longer.
When he went out to light off the Gresynt, he paused outside the portico door and looked south, toward the ocean. Besides the haze and smoke, definitely stronger and more acrid than they had been on Findi night, he thought there were either low-lying clouds or banks of fog and sea mist over the water, but with the hampered visibility that was as much guess as calculation.
But the Khuld should be close to Point Larmat by now, unless the Resolute and her battle group have been successful.
Then he heard a screeching, possibly of brakes, and then more crunching sounds. Suspecting that he knew the cause, he still walked partway down the drive, far enough to ascertain that at least three steamers were smashed together in the middle of the intersection between Jacquez and Florinda.
Gaaroll immediately appeared. “What happened?”
“An accident on Jacquez. The steamers are jammed together, but not totally wrecked. What do you sense?”
“Doesn’t feel like anyone’s seriously hurt. Two people—men, I’d guess—are pretty angry, though.”
Dekkard studied the accident, but it appeared that, despite all the arguing, no one seemed to be injured—and no one was even looking in his direction. Still … “Nincya, is anyone headed this way that we can’t see?”
“No, sir. Not so far.”
“Keep sensing while I get the Gresynt ready.”
As he walked up the drive to the garage, Dekkard wondered if he might be overcautious. But after all that’s happened …
Although neither Avraal nor Gaaroll sensed anything presaging danger, Dekkard wasn’t about to tempt fate. So, after he drove down the drive, he turned west on Florinda and wound his way to Imperial Boulevard along the back streets on the north side of Imperial University.
He’d only been driving north on the boulevard for three blocks when Gaaroll said, “Lots of really, really strong emotions up ahead, especially to the left.”
“How far away? Can you tell?”
“Hard to tell, sir. Might be half a mille, or if it’s really strong, a mille.”
Dekkard glanced to the northwest, but the combination of smoke and haze, and possibly even fog, made it impossible for him to tell if there was some sort of conflagration in the direction of Rivertown. “Just let me know.”
While the traffic wasn’t that heavy, Dekkard eased into the right lane, so that he could turn off Imperial to the east if the boulevard turned out to be blocked farther north, although the steamers and lorries ahead of him were moving at close to normal speed. He’d driven about another half mille when the steamers in front of him began to slow.
“Strong feelings moving east. Not quite straight ahead,” said Gaaroll. “Might be on the west side of the boulevard.”
Even before Gaaroll finished speaking, Dekkard turned, barely squeezing the Gresynt between the steamer coming to a stop in front of him and a delivery lorry, then going halfway onto the sidewalk for a good ten yards before turning onto a side way, one he hoped wasn’t a dead end, at least not until he could reach a cross street.
“I can even sense those feelings,” declared Avraal, “and they have to be more than a fifth of a mille away.”
“People are getting hurt,” said Gaaroll. “Maybe shot.”
Dekkard kept the Gresynt moving eastward along the narrow street. “Are we gaining on those strong feelings?”
“So far,” said Gaaroll.
The next cross street looked to be wider, and Dekkard turned north again, paralleling Imperial Boulevard. There was some traffic, but not a great deal, and Dekkard understood why when it ended at Justiciary Avenue. He glanced to his left, where he saw a line of patroller lorries blocking the avenue.
“The feelings are building up on the other side of the lorries,” declared Gaaroll. “So many, has to be a mob.”
“We’ll see how it looks on Council Avenue,” said Dekkard, turning east on Justiciary and accelerating to the next cross street, which he took to Council Avenue. Again, he looked west, where he saw another line of vehicles, but they looked to be Army lorries. He turned east on Council Avenue, but then had to slow as he neared the Council buildings because the new iron gates across the avenue were closed except in one place.
“I don’t think you’re going to work today,” Dekkard said wryly as he brought the steamer to a halt before the gates.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Avraal replied sardonically.
The Council Guards checked the bumper emblem, looked at Dekkard, and then motioned him through. Only the main entrance to the covered parking was open, and there were three guards there, one of whom motioned for him to lower the window. Dekkard did.
