“My apologies, sir.” The new arrival continued to look out casually at the crowd as he spoke. “I have been here for some time, but I had to wait for my associate to be on duty in the security center. You see, this is not a randomly chosen location; we can be assured that we will not be monitored while we discuss matters.”
“Who are you, anyway?” Cain knew a name would be meaningless to him, but he felt at a disadvantage without one.
“I am your contact. You may call me Charles.”
“You are aware of what I need, Charles?” Cain found it mildly disconcerting to have a conversation while carefully avoiding eye contact, but he played along. He was confident his visitor was far more adept at discretion than he was.
“Yes, Mr. Daniels.” His voice was pleasant, but Cain could detect a hint of skepticism. “What you request can be done, but it is difficult and dangerous…and therefore expensive.”
“This meeting was expensive.” Cain’s voice was sharp, clipped. He was frustrated with inaction and anxious about the mission…and he was most definitely not in the mood to waste time with nonsense. “I would like what I requested, and I would like it tomorrow. Just tell me what it will cost.”
“It is not as simple as that, Mr. Daniels.” Charles was a hard book to read, at least from his voice alone. “We must be confident that there will be no ramifications for us.”
Charles knew better than to ask directly why Cain had requested assistance in sneaking 11 people out of the Washbalt Core undetected, but that is essentially what he wanted to know. He assumed it was some type of drug deal, and if so he had no problem. But if Cain was here to assassinate someone or to spy on Alliance Gov, that was another matter. His trepidation had nothing to do with discomfort about murder or loyalty to the Alliance; it was a matter of the investigation that would follow. A routine drug transaction, even one as big as this appeared to be, would draw little attention. But if a well-placed politician was assassinated, the authorities would ransack Washbalt looking for the accomplices.
“My associates and I are only interested in conducting some business and going on our way.” Cain paused, and then he reached back into the buried recesses of his mind. Erik Cain, teenaged gang member, emerged. He knew what to say, how to sound like he was working a drug deal. He knew because he’d done it before.
Charles listened to Cain describe his proposed – and, of course, fictitious – drug transaction in great detail. It took two minutes, maybe three before he was convinced. He decided the mysterious Mr. Daniels’ business was acceptable. “Pardon me, Mr. Daniels,” he said softly, interrupting Cain’s ongoing description. “I believe we will be able to help you. However, tomorrow is out of the question. There is too much preparation required. Several days at least. You will have to be prepared to go on a 1-2 hours’ notice any time within the next week.” He paused, allowing Erik to consider what he had said. “Is this acceptable?”
It was a bit less definite than Cain had been hoping for, but he nodded and then, realizing Charles wasn’t looking at him and couldn’t see his gesture, said, “It is acceptable.”
“The cost will be an additional six platinum bars.” Charles’ voice was unemotional, though he was discussing a small fortune. “Payable in advance.”
Cain was stunned at the cost, but he really didn’t care how much of Vance’s money he spent anyway. “Six bars is acceptable.” His voice became firmer, more serious. “Payable when your people get us out of the city.”
Charles sat quietly for a minute, considering what Cain had said. “You will give our operative three bars immediately and the remaining three when you are outside of the city.” His voice, which had been pleasant and friendly, was darker, more forceful. “That is our final offer.”
Cain was going to argue, but he didn’t have much choice. It could be weeks, even months before Vance’s people could get them weapons through another channel, and even then, Cain wasn’t sure how they would get access to Alliance HQ. If he could get outside and bribe a gang to help him get into the undercity, he had a good chance. Or at least some chance. “Agreed. How will we know when you are ready.”
“A courier will deliver eleven tickets to the American West exhibit at the museum. That will be your signal. Two hours later, you and your associates will be right here. If you are not in this location within two hours and fifteen minutes of receiving the signal, the transaction is cancelled. Understood?”
“Yes.” It was really pissing Cain off dealing with this two-bit huckster, probably just the representative of some corrupt low-level politician. Temper control was never easy for Erik, and he detested politicians with a burning intensity. But he was determined to get Garret out no matter what he had to do. It was unthinkable to allow Alliance Intelligence to gain total control over the navy. He didn’t know the admiral well, but Holm did. And Erik would have marched into hell for Elias Holm. “I understand.”
Chapter 20
Jax looked down from the rocky crest of the ridgeline, but he wasn’t seeing the valley in front of him…not really. His mind was far away, not in space but in time, fifteen years earlier when he and Erik Cain were two sergeants desperately defending this very position. He wondered at the odd way things sometimes worked, at the strange sequence of events that brought him back here to this very spot in circumstances even more desperate.
They had saved Columbia back then, beating off a massively superior CAC invasion force in a desperate battle. The casualty list had been enormous that day, and it included the future General Cain, somehow miraculously alive – barely - after finding himself unsheltered too close to a nuclear explosion. Things did indeed work in strange ways. Jax thought he’d lost his friend and comrade that day, but Cain recovered and returned to win glory all across occupied space. And his stay in the hospital gave him more than his health back. In a turn of events so clichéd Jax still teased him about it, Erik had fallen in love with his doctor – feelings she fortunately reciprocated.
They had all come a long way since then, and yet here he was, back in the same place…though its name had changed. Jax couldn’t remember what the Columbians called the ridge then, but after the battle they gratefully renamed it after General – then Colonel – Holm, a tribute that both honored and embarrassed the publicity-shy officer.
They had come a long way from their landing zone too, traveling halfway across Columbia and launching dozens of hit and run attacks against isolated federal positions. The politics of the whole situation were complex and confusing. Was Jax fighting for the same side he did fifteen years before? Surely back then he was battling to protect the people of Columbia…which was what he saw himself doing this time too. But the soldiers he was fighting now carried the very flag he had served under the first time he came here. Jax craved a warrior’s simplicity, with good guys, bad guys, and no headsplitting conflicts about loyalty. But he knew it was not to be.
His forces had done well, tearing up all of the peripheral federal units they could find. They had rallied the populations in the remote areas, adding a small legion of volunteers to their ranks. Hundreds had come forward, but Jax would only take Marine veterans. He didn’t doubt the ability or courage of the others, but his small force depended on speed and discipline; he simply didn’t have the time or resources to integrate amateurs into his ranks.
Now, however, he was sticking his neck out. Getting this close to Weston was dangerous. The federals had been massively reinforced, and the rebellion was in grave danger. In the plain south of Weston was an encampment, larger even than the one that stood there when Columbia was the staging area for General Holm’s 1 st Corps. There were three Alliance army divisions on the planet now, outnumbering the rebels at least five to one.