She grimaced, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially since he could have very easily died when he exposed himself to the crowds along with his soldiers. That action would make no sense if he intended to survive as your successor.” Iceni took a deep breath. “Which leads us back to my side of the table.”
“I am confident that Kommodor Marphissa is loyal,” Drakon said.
“As am I. Not all of the former Reserve Flotilla members have been fully screened, but none of them had access to the departure information early enough to have alerted the Syndicate.”
“Who does that leave?” he asked.
Iceni tapped her desk surface lightly to cover up the turmoil inside her. “My personal assistant.”
“There isn’t anyone else?” Drakon said, startled.
“Not on my end. We kept it to those who needed to know until the ships actually started moving,” Iceni said.
“Where is your assistant?” He looked around, his hands moving in ways that she knew must be readying the hidden weapons and defenses built into his uniform.
“I don’t know.” She met his surprised gaze with her own level look. “Mehmet Togo disappeared shortly before the mobs took to the streets. I have not been able to find out anything regarding him since that time.”
Drakon twisted his mouth, looking into the distance. “Your Togo struck me as someone who would be pretty hard to take out.”
“Extremely hard. If someone did eliminate him, they must be a very dangerous threat.”
“If?” Drakon asked. “You think he may have chosen to go into hiding?”
“I don’t know.” She indicated her desk. “I’ve taken the precaution of resetting every password and access that Togo knew. I’ve also reset the passwords and accesses that Togo was not supposed to have known.”
“If he gave that information to the Syndicate—”
“I know!” Iceni calmed herself. “But he can’t be loyal to the Syndicate. If that were so, he would have tipped them off before we revolted. Neither one of us would have survived. And, if he wanted only you dead, all Togo had to do was pass word of your plans to the late and unlamented CEO Hardrad early enough that my own involvement could have been covered up.” She chewed her lip, gazing worriedly at Drakon. “Togo knows a great deal. There are means available to extract information from even those capable of withstanding standard interrogation methods.”
“If he’s not choosing to give that information freely,” Drakon said. “But those means of forcibly extracting information that you’re talking about don’t leave anything recognizably human behind.”
“I know that. I also know that they are not foolproof, and can sometimes destroy the information they seek, and so even the Syndicate rarely employed them. But I can’t disregard the possibility. Perhaps Togo betrayed me for reasons I don’t know. Or perhaps the information he carried was harvested. I don’t know. I am bending every effort to locate him.”
“Colonel Rogero didn’t mention being involved in that.”
“I haven’t asked the ground forces to assist,” Iceni said, waving a cutting gesture of denial with one hand. “It seemed to be a purely internal matter.”
“It might have been until we learned someone fed the Syndicate information,” Drakon said. “I would like to inform my staff. Your assistant knows a lot of my secrets, too, secrets that I shared with your office.”
“Damn.” Iceni slapped her forehead. “Codes. Togo would have been able to gain access to some of your codes as well. Yes. Yes. Tell your workers so they can take the necessary steps to protect your data and networks.”
Drakon frowned downward, then back at her. “If your assistant did have a deal with the Syndicate, they were going to betray him. The Syndicate plan included a quick follow-on attack here. Wipe us out at Ulindi, then bring all of those soldiers and CEO Boucher’s flotilla here to hit you before you had any warning.”
She inhaled deeply, taking in that information. “CEO Boucher would not have shown any mercy to me or anyone else no matter what deal Togo might have made. Togo was involved in enough executive actions to know that the Syndicate has a history of making many promises to turncoats, publicly hailing them, then privately eliminating them to ensure that they could never turn their coats again. Though we still don’t know that he betrayed me. Why disappear if he was certain that you would die at Ulindi?”
“I hope you won’t mind my remaining suspicious,” Drakon said with obvious sarcasm. “Speaking of secrets being spilled, how did you find out about the trap at Ulindi? All Freya and Bradamont knew was that you had received some highly credible information.”
“CEO Boyens told me.” She saw the immediate skepticism in him. “It was a matter of self-interest.”
Drakon snorted. “That makes it plausible. I wish Boyens had coughed up that information before I left.”
“I made it clear to him how disappointed I was,” Iceni said.
“Is he dead? Or just wishing he was?”
“Neither. Yet.”
“I might want to have a personal talk with him about it,” Drakon said. “His little game of withholding information almost cost us everything.”
“You don’t have to emphasize that to me.” She looked down at her hands. “Until Midway came back with the news of your survival, of your victory, I spent some time coming up with imaginative means of making Boyens regret not speaking earlier. But here you are. Still in one piece. Coming home with more soldiers than you left with, and more ships than you left with. You really are amazing, you know.”
Drakon sat back, giving her an enigmatic look. “If you really believe that, perhaps you’ll explain something else that I’m curious about.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I had some time to talk to your Kommodor.” Drakon cocked his head to one side, still gazing at Iceni. “She said she got a text from my command that told her we had taken the base, and needed some help with the Syndicate troops attacking us from the outside. But there’s one thing about that message that I don’t understand. Kommodor Marphissa said she knew the message was authentic, and not a Syndicate trick, because of a code phrase it contained. A code phrase that she said President Iceni had provided to a few trusted people to use in emergencies.” Drakon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at Iceni. “Your Kommodor thought I was the one who had sent the message with the special code phrase in it. Only, I didn’t.”
Iceni managed not to reveal her feelings. Damn. This is going to be awkward. And right after I protested against him suspecting me of anything. “Really? Who did?”
“I don’t know. But I’d like to know.”
She sighed and held up both hands in mock surrender. “Colonel Malin. It must have been him. I had, purely as an emergency measure, given him one of the code phrases.”
“Why Colonel Malin instead of me?” Drakon asked. He sounded and looked curious, not angry, but that meant nothing. When he really wanted to, the man could hide his true feelings as well as any CEO.
“I could lie—” Iceni began.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
That had come out with more force than Drakon had probably intended, Iceni thought. “—but I’ll tell you the truth,” she continued smoothly. “I wanted a backup. I knew that Kommodor Marphissa would accept something that she knew was from you. But you were going into battle. Something might have happened to you. I wanted Colonel Malin to have a means of letting the Kommodor know that he could be trusted.”
Drakon studied her, looking perplexed. “You trust Colonel Malin? When did that happen?”