Acknowledged. Diversion one launching.
"They've cleared the perimeter," Ramirez announced to no one in particular. "And the gate is closed.
Doesn't look like there were any attempts at infiltration."
"Agreed," Bailey said, his eyes on the Denver map and the green lights that indicated the convoy vans, listening with half an ear to the quiet murmur of status reports drifting around the situation room.
"Anything from the spotters?"
Ramirez looked over at the status display. "Just normal city traffic," he said.
"Yae rill 'ind nothing else," Daasaa rumbled, striding restlessly back and forth. Bailey had offered him and Halaak seats, but both Ryqril had chosen instead to stand. At the moment, the battle architect's pacing had put him directly behind Poirot, and Bailey could see the general flinching away a little from the alien's proximity. "The 'lackcollar 'ositions rill 'e rell canou'laged," Daasaa added.
"Agreed, Your Eminence," Bailey said. "Still, there's a chance that either the infrared or the microradar will—"
"Colonel?" Ramirez cut in, his forehead creasing in a frown as he leaned closer to one of the displays.
"How many spotters did you order up?"
"There are supposed to be six," Poirot put in before Bailey could answer. "Are we missing someone?"
"No, sir, just the opposite," Ramirez said, pointing to the display. "Two more have just been scrambled from Boulder."
"What?" Bailey demanded, stepping to Ramirez's side. "On whose orders?"
"Major?" Ramirez prompted, nudging the spotter officer.
"She identified herself as Athena Special Ops," the controller said, running his fingers across his keyboard. "Here's the playback."
He touched a final key. "Boulder spotter control, this is Athena Special Ops Command," an authoritative female voice said crisply from the speaker. "You're to scramble two spotters immediately to assist in convoy escort duty."
"Recognize the voice?" Ramirez murmured.
"No," Bailey murmured back. "You?"
Ramirez shook his head. "Authorization code?" the Boulder dispatcher asked, just as crisply.
"Alpha-nine-seven-beta-three-three," the woman replied. "This operation is under the direct jurisdiction of General Poirot."
"I gave no such order," Poirot insisted, glancing furtively at the Ryq towering over him.
"Code acknowledged and accepted," Boulder control said. "Spotters on their way."
"Acknowledged," the woman said. "They're to maintain radio silence, and to accept no signals or orders except mine or General Poirot's."
"Acknowledged."
"That's it," the major said, shutting down the recording. "Spotters' ETA to convoy, approximately three minutes."
"I gave no such order," Poirot insisted again. "It has to be the blackcollars."
"How did they o'tain the radio data?" Halaak demanded. "Colonel 'Ailey?"
"I don't know, Your Eminence," Bailey admitted. The khassq, he noted uneasily, had his hand resting on his laser pistol. "We could just as well ask how they got General Poirot's authorization code."
"Oh, we could, could we?" Poirot snapped back, an edge of sudden anger in his voice. "As long as we're pointing fingers, we could also ask how it is those spotters happen to come from Lieutenant Ramirez's office."
"I had nothing to do with it," Ramirez insisted.
"Neither did I," Poirot shot back. "This is all an attempt to sow confus—"
"Enou'," Daasaa said, the warning in his voice cutting off the argument. "Re know the re'els are in the extra s'otters. Re rill ratch they, and thus disco'er their 'lan."
"I'm not entirely comfortable with that idea," Bailey said, choosing his words carefully. Daasaa carried a laser and short sword, too; and if he wasn't quite as skilled with the weaponry as Halaak, he was certainly skilled enough. "Whatever they're planning, having those bandits among our own spotters could mean trouble."
"Yae rould destroy they?" Daasaa asked.
"Or try to capture them," Bailey said.
"You do that and you'll spook them for sure," Poirot warned.
"Not if we do it right," Bailey insisted. "We just have to come up with a plausible reason for bringing the spotters down."
Daasaa muttered something in Ryqrili, his dark eyes strangely distant as he thought it over. "Re rill not risk it," he said at last. "Yae rill not sto' the new s'otters."
Bailey took a deep breath. "As you command, Your Eminence. Major, inform the spotters of the newcomers from Boulder, and order them to fit them into the formation. Then order Spotters Three, Five, and Six to form up behind them."
"Yes, sir," the controller said.
Bailey looked across at Poirot, silently daring him to argue. But the general merely spared him a single, unreadable look before turning back to his own study of the monitors.
Ramirez cleared his throat. "Something you want to say, Lieutenant?" Bailey invited.
Ramirez's lip twitched. Clearly, he wasn't any happier about this than Bailey was. "No, sir," he said.
"I didn't think so," Bailey said.
No, Ramirez wasn't happy. Bailey just wished he knew exactly which part of the situation the lieutenant was unhappy about.
Convoy out of view, Flynn signaled.
Acknowledged, Skyler sent back, doing a quick mental calculation. So far, the convoy seemed to be doing the legal speed limit—no real surprise, given that it was pretending to be normal city traffic. If it maintained that pace, it ought to be coming into O'Hara's view in about two minutes.
Time to turn up the heat a little farther. Launch diversion two.
Acknowledged, Flynn signaled back. "Party time," he called to Anne, crossing to the window.
To the window, and the four dozen helium balloons undulating gently as they pressed against the ceiling. Somehow, Flynn couldn't help thinking that using children's balloons didn't really fit well with the blackcollar dramatic mystique.
Still, as long as they got the results, dramatic mystique could go hop.
He slid the window open and caught one of the balloons by the wire hanging down beneath it, being careful not to disturb the large blasting cap that hung from the wire's other end. Collecting three more balloons, he pulled the group to the window.
"Watch those bombs," Anne warned.
"I'm watching them," Flynn assured her, maneuvering the foursome out into the evening air. They floated leisurely upward, the lift of the helium almost balanced by the weight of the blasting caps hanging beneath them. "You'd better get downstairs," he added. "Once these start flying, it's not going to take them long to backtrack them here."
"Right," Anne said, scooping up her portable radio set and heading toward the door. "Don't you hang around after they're gone, either." Opening the door, she glanced both directions down the hallway and headed toward the elevator.
"No worries there," Flynn said under his breath. Getting hold of the next four, he sent them out the window behind the first group. By the time the last four balloons were away, the first ones had risen high enough over the apartment building's roof to be caught by the northerly wind. They were heading south at a brisk pace now, the later ones falling into line behind them.
All of them heading straight for the Athena perimeter fence.
Flynn grinned to himself as he headed for the door. Yes, the plan lacked dignity. Just the same, he would give a month off the far end of his life to see Security's faces when they realized just what was attacking them.