McNamara shrugged.
Hennessey and McNamara discussed a few details about setting up the headquarters. Then Hennessey turned over to Clean a large bundle of cash, FSD 40,000 in fifties, to fund the initial work he wanted done. "There's more available when you need it," he said to the sapper. "I'll want receipts."
Giving the CSM the keys to their rental car, he said, "Sergeant Major, in the morning I'll be heading up to Valle de las Lunas for a few days to see some people. I'll rent another car at the hotel desk. Check us out of the hotel when the house is minimally fit to move into." He reached into his pocket, pulled out his checkbook, opened it and began to write. "Here's a check for the full price plus closing costs for the headquarters. I'm turning in. Oh. And Gary? Put up a sign on the front. We'll call the place 'Casa Linda.'"
Ciudad Cervantes, 14/8/459 AC
After a seven-hour drive to Linda's family's city residence, Hennessey was ready for the cold beer her brother, David, handed him at the door. The beer was Nacional. It was not good beer. Hennessey recalled that Linda had done a television commercial for that company in the mid forties, the family owning some stock in the enterprise.
Hennessey asked, "Do you have the list?"
David nodded, "Yes, Patricio. Seven hundred and thirty-eight names and addresses of the parents, wives and children of the soldiers who were killed in the invasion twelve years ago, and those reserve troops of the Sovereignty Battalions who fought and were killed, too. I also have the list of the two hundred and fifteen soldiers and SB troops who were permanently disabled. It has taken me almost all this time to finish compiling it. Why did you need it?"
Hennessey didn't answer directly. "Has the government started paying support to any of them yet?"
"No. Did you expect they would? Crippled and unsupported, those men and their families are walking advertisements for antimilitarism. Much more likely they'd throw the disabled troops in jail than give them money."
"I suppose I didn't expect them to help, not really. Never mind, we'll take care of them for a while, thanks to my Uncle Bob. I want you to find a lawyer here in Cervantes. Your family keeps one on retainer, don't they?" Seeing David nod, Hennessey continued, "Good. Set up a trust fund. I'll give you a check to start it off. Then I want every wife and set of parents on that list to get two hundred drachma per month. Send an additional hundred for each kid. If there is a particularly needy case let me know. We'll try to cover that too."
"There is one case I'm aware of, over in Las Mesas Province. One of our mid-rank NCOs who was killed, a Sergeant Cordoba, had a very young daughter named Marqueli. His parents are dead. His wife just died." David saw that Hennessey flinched.
"The mother was working to send the girl to school. I'm afraid a hundred drachma won't cover that. Two-fifty might, if she's very careful and can work, too."
"Fine. Put her down for two hundred and fifty a month. Any others?"
"I'll have to check. It would have been easier if you had told me why you needed to know."
"I know. Sorry. I wasn't sure myself until about a week ago. Let's just say that I'm buying good public relations. Do you have my domestic staff?"
"I have the two cooks you wanted, plus a groundskeeper. And Lucinda has agreed to take the new job. My mother will send one of her girls over to keep up your old place. All three women are noted for keeping quiet. The groundskeeper is one of our workers. They also don't have any great grudge against gringos. That's important, isn't it?"
"Very. Now, tell me, have you arranged to move yourself to Balboa City?"
"Yes. I start the beginning of next month."
"Good. I'll want you to make as many connections as you can. Will you be stationed right in the city?"
"Yes, with DEBI, the Balboa Department of Investigations. I'll be working for a Major Fernandez. Which thought doesn't thrill me… Fernandez has a reputation for extreme measures."
Hennessey shrugged. "Too bad. It's still a useful posting."
"I don't see what difference it makes, Patricio. The government is not going to let us rebuild an army."
"Well… I need to talk to Parilla about that in a couple of days."
Ciudad Balboa City, 16/8/459 AC
They met at Parilla's house, a well-furnished and sprawling twostory colonial mansion in the city's Old Cuirass district. They spent no time inside, but retired upstairs to converse in the privacy of a patio overlooking the tranquil waters of the Bahia de Balboa.
"Not a chance, Patricio," Parilla said, with finality. He'd really thought he could do better. It was a sickening and frustrating defeat that he hadn't been able to. "I can raise maybe eighty-five percent of the votes we need in the legislature. The rest? They're shitting in their pants at the thought of resurrecting the Defense Corps."
"Bribes?" Hennessey asked.
"Still not enough. And we can't just bribe those who are opposed to us. In fairness, we'd have to bribe the entire crew that would vote our way or they'd vote against us out of spite. That's more money than my little fund has in it. Millions more. Many millions."
Hennessey sighed. "And I've had worse news. I'm afraid my pussy cousin in First Landing is going to tie up my uncle's estate for some years, too, so I don't have all that much to help with; just my personal bequest. Less now, really, what with the market down. I've sent one of my people, Matthias Esterhazy, to First Landing to see what he can do."
"But I thought you said that your Uncle's will would cut-what was his name? Eugene?-cut him out of the will if he contested it."
"Yes, so my uncle's lawyer told me. But apparently, from Eugene's point of view it's a good bet. He gets a lifetime income, a comfortable one, if he keeps quiet, true. But he's filthy fucking rich if he sues and wins. And, apparently, an 'in terrorem' clause, with a videotaped codicil to a will, under unusually stressful circumstances, is just weak enough that he might win. So says the lawyer now, anyway. He's advising that I settle."
"Are you willing to settle?" Parilla asked.
"Willing? Up to a point. If I could keep enough to fund our little enterprise, I would settle. Problem is, Eugene hates my guts. Can't say I blame him, either. We've loathed each other since we were kids. He would never settle on any terms that were acceptable to me, anyway. Besides, even though the Salafis would chop Eugene's head off in a heartbeat, he still supports them. I don't want to see that much money going into the other side's coffers. Even if he gave it to charity, that only frees up a different pile of money for war and terrorism."
"So. I see," answered Parilla. "Well, in any case, I just can't deliver the votes, Patricio. Not enough; not at a price we can afford."
Hennessey scowled. "Hmmm. More than one way to skin a cat. Raul, do you know any good propagandists?"
Drama Department, University of Balboa, 18/8/459 AC
The campus really should have been moved. Sitting, really sprawling, as it did between the financial district, the high-end shopping district, and the hotel and casino district, the land on which the university sat was not only too valuable for its current use, it wasn't even convenient any longer to the bulk of its students.
Leaving Soult to guard the Phaeton, Hennessey walked to the drama department. Rather, he searched for it on foot. It was only with difficulty that he finally managed to find it. When he did find it, a secretary showed him to the office of Professor Ruiz, with whom he had an appointment. Hennessey had gotten Ruiz's name from Parilla along with an introduction. The professor had a reputation of being a nationalist to a degree even greater than the university norm. When Hennessey had made the appointment, he had given his name as Patricio Carrera. Under Balboan law, he'd become Hennessey de Carrera at the same time Linda had become Carrera de Hennessey.