"Oh," he said, suddenly brightening.
"That's right," she said. "Then it becomes obvious, then common, then everyone guards their own and everyone ultimately loses."
"But couldn't one watch out for one's own and hide it?"
"Has that ever happened, Jorge? I mean in the long run? Doesn't it always come out, even if never openly admitted to? Doesn't it always begin with just one or two or a few . . . mmm . . . what was that term Professor Franco used?"
"Amoral familists," Jorge supplied.
"Right. 'Amoral familists.' They begin to look out for themselves and their own, alone, and it spreads like a wildfire. And soon enough—eventually, at any rate—they lose exactly what they were trying to save."
"All right then; I can see that," Jorge conceded. "That doesn't matter though as it will happen anyway. People are shortsighted. They will preserve their own."
"Then that kind of person has to be cut out from society before they have a chance to spread their infection," Marqueli said.
28/7/467 AC, Hajar, Yithrab
"It's like a plague has descended upon our clan," said the family's chief, Bakr ibn Mohamed ibn Salah, min Sa'ana. "Mahrous in Anglia, Hassan in Gaul, little Ishmael in First Landing, Mohammed Khalifa, here in Hajar, Cousin Rashid to a knife from some woman he was in bed with . . . nineteen others . . . even that thoroughly misnamed little apostate houri in Helvetia, Adara, had her throat cut on the street."
"Well, as for Adara," said the brother, Yeslam, "that job we should have done ourselves."
"Of course," agreed Bakr. "But the point is, we didn't. And someone did. The pattern is too obvious to ignore, someone is trying to make our family extinct."
"And they don't care how many others they kill to do it, either," added Abdullah, also a brother and one of only two of the clan to graduate a Tauran or Columbian law school, the other being the late Adara. "How many killed along with Mahrous? More than twenty, wasn't it? So there's no protection in more guards, or in hiding behind innocents . . . not that we're not innocent . . . of course."
"Of course," agreed Bakr, very drily. "Of course." Bakr's eyes went up, scanning the ceiling as if expecting a bomb to burst through at any moment. "And you are right, 'of course.' Normal, even abnormal, security measures are fine for normal, or only somewhat abnormal, threats. But this threat—and despite the fact that every murder has been different, I am convinced there is a single agency behind it—this threat will escalate to any conceivable means to make us extinct. He must hate us a great deal."
"Mustafa!" both Abdullah and Yeslam said together. "Who does not hate us after what Mustafa has done?"
"Mustafa is a hero!" insisted Khadijah, stepmother of Mustafa and prouder of him, by far, than she was of her own children. "He fights for the Faith! He does his duty by Allah and the people!" She left out, unlike you sots who work, when you work, for mere money!
"Silence, woman," Bakr commanded. "We allowed you here as proxy for Mustafa. But let me tell you, were he here, himself, I would cut him down like a dog and offer his head and his balls to whoever is trying to extinguish us in the hope they'd stop."
All went silent then, even Khadijah who was known to be something of a shrew.
"We should have more expert assistance with this problem," said Abdullah.
"My eldest boy has a son with the army," offered Bakr. "Perhaps we should invite him. Yes, let us invite him. But let us also begin to set up a secure base, here, and call the clan home from their travels."
"It would cost much gold," observed Yeslam.
Bakr nodded, but said, "Much good the gold of this world will do us if we're killed."
35/7/467 AC, First Landing Harbor
The deal had been complex in certain particulars. Malcolm, knowing how annoyed Carrera was with him, didn't fully trust him to go through on the deal once the gold was delivered. Carrera, for his part, absolutely didn't trust Malcolm to deliver the gold once his own troops were committed. It had led to a week-long impasse until Virgil Rivers had suggested a compromise.
"Send it in a carrier," he'd suggested. "Send the carrier with a full battalion of Marines to guard it. Carrera has enough firepower to make sure the carrier can't run off with the gold. The carrier, along with the Marines, has enough firepower to make sure that Carrera can't take the gold and then refuse to deploy. Given that his troops will be expecting to fight, he'll fight."
That had seemed fairly reasonable to both sides, though it had taken another week to hammer out a schedule to transfer the yellow bricks. In that week the nuclear aircraft carrier, FSS Sarah Jay, and its escorts had sailed to First Landing, where the bulk of the FSC's gold was stored, from its base in the state of Dominion.
The gold arrived at portside in something over five hundred trucks escorted by a full motorized infantry brigade. There were possibly even more members of the press there at the dock than there were Soldiers, Sailors and Marines, combined. Along with the press had come a small brigade of protestors. What the protestors wanted was anyone's guess, based on the signs they carried. Perhaps it was fairest to say that what they really wanted was publicity. Since the press was there . . .
1/8/467 AC, BdL Wappen von Bremen
There was no press in attendance. Neither Jaquie nor Marta had anyone they wanted to impress back home. Indeed, both had, for very different reasons, excellent cause not to want anyone at all to know where they were or what they were doing.
Fosa had helicoptered over, along with Rodriguez's platoon of Cazadors and most of Chu's boat crew. Some of the men still sported bandages and casts. Jaquie looked for the machine gunner whose face had been burned but didn't see him. Presumably he'd been evacuated for the superior medical care available back home, ashore.
The captain of the von Bremen had had cleared a large open area on the ship's mess deck. Into it had filed the two honorees, the four other girls who'd volunteered to sail aboard the sadly sunken Suzy Q, most of the rest of the hookers, some of the sailors and Cazadors whose turn it was for R&R aboard Fosa's Fornication Frigate, plus Fosa himself and Rodriguez's and Chu's boys. There was room, if barely.
"Attention to orders," ordered the captain of the von Bremen, once everyone was assembled.
The sailors and Cazadors present stiffened to attention. The girls really didn't know what to do, but took their cue from the military men and stood a little straighter. All talk ceased.
Fosa walked forward to where Jaquie and Marta stood, flanked by Chu and Rodriguez. "Publish the orders," Fosa ordered.
Von Bremen's captain read off, "Award is made of the Cruz de Coraje, in Steel, to civilian auxiliaries Jaquelina Gonzalez"—Fosa hung a ribboned cross around Jaquie's neck—" and Marta Bugatti"—he stepped right and did the same with Marta—" for gallantry in action in support of Legion objectives, aboard the auxiliary motor vessel, Suzy Q, on the 9th day of September, 467, off the coast of Xamar. On that day, aboard that vessel, the awardees, noticing that a critical weapon station had been knocked out, of their own accord, and having no duty to do so, moved to restore it to action, manning it until forced to abandon it by the sinking of the ship. In the course of their action, one auxiliary, Jaquelina Gonzalez, suffered grievous bodily wounds but continued to fire until forced away by rising water, while the other, Marta Bugatti, saved both Gonzalez and . . . "