“Colonel Malin is not part of this conversation and has not made such accusations.” Given how much Malin dislikes Morgan, it is a bit odd that he has never even implied that Morgan is promiscuous, but then, Malin doesn’t seem the type to heedlessly use that sort of slur as a weapon against a woman. He might have tried to kill her during that incident in orbit, or he might instead have saved her from being killed by someone else as he claims despite the improbability of his doing that, but he’s never called her a slut. I guess his mother raised Malin right. “Even if all you’re doing is offering something you don’t intend to ever deliver on, the whole thing strikes me as too much like what the snakes would do to entrap somebody.”
Morgan shrugged. “If the enemy does something smart, do you reject using the same idea because the enemy came up with it? General, it would be extremely useful for us to have effective control of that battleship. You still don’t know who sicced those assassins on you, and maybe on me, but you can’t rule out the possibility that our President wants to clear the field of competitors. If you want Gaiene to lead this op, that’s fine. Let me go along so I can do some, uh, close-in maneuvering with Kontos and get him really interested in doing what we want.”
“No offense, Roh, but that tactic wasn’t too successful when you tried it on Black Jack.”
She made a scornful sound. “That slug Malin was there cramping my style. And that woman, the one that Black Jack was obviously sleeping with. I still could have gotten to Black Jack if Malin hadn’t been there. That Alliance drab wasn’t anything special.”
Drakon laughed. “She was an Alliance battle cruiser commander. And Black Jack’s wife.”
“Wife?” Morgan cocked on eyebrow at Drakon. “When did that happen?”
“Not too long ago, I guess.”
“He’ll get restless. Now, what about our boy Kontos?”
I don’t like it, and I don’t want to do anything that would feed any suspicions that Gwen has of me. But I have to put this in terms that Morgan can understand. “Here’s the thing, Colonel. If you make an explicit play for Kontos, and he doesn’t bite but instead reports it to his superiors, where does that place us? You’ll be on his ship. He can record everything you say and do with him even if you two are supposedly in an unmonitored compartment.”
Morgan scowled at that. “He probably would, too. Just to protect himself. If that happens, our own plans could be exposed.”
“I need you here, anyway,” Drakon added. “You’re right that we need to run down whoever ordered the attack that almost got you and me. You’re the best for that job.”
“Damn right I am. Whoever set that up covered their tracks really well.” Mollified by Drakon’s praise, Morgan saluted jauntily. “But I’ll find whoever it was.”
“And then you will tell me, and I will decide what to do. Right?”
“Yes, sir,” Morgan replied with another grin.
“Especially if you think either Colonel Malin or President Iceni were involved,” Drakon emphasized with his hardest glare. “Nothing is to happen to President Iceni.”
Morgan’s smile didn’t waver. “Yes, sir.”
“Madam President, the military explosives used in the bomb at your desk have been traced to the armory of a subunit of the brigade commanded by Colonel Rogero of General Drakon’s division,” Togo reported dispassionately.
“Someone must have issued those explosives,” Iceni observed. They were in her office, as secure a place to talk as possible. Her desk display showed a stream of shuttles heading upward from one of Drakon’s camps toward a single freighter in orbit.
Togo, standing facing her desk, nodded diffidently. “Interrogations were begun to determine who had issued the explosives and under what pretences. One of the supply sergeants, however, was found dead in his quarters before questioning began. The cause of death appeared to be an overdose of the illegal drug known as Rapture.”
“An overdose? Before questioning began? How very convenient for someone. Who knew that questioning of those personnel was to be conducted?”
“General Drakon’s office was notified twenty minutes before our team arrived at the armory,” Togo said.
“Twenty minutes? Who gave that much warning of an interrogation raid?” Iceni demanded. “Do I have to personally supervise the carrying out of even the most basic security actions?”
“The interrogation personnel were delayed by a breakdown of their vehicle,” Togo said without emotion. “I accept full responsibility for the failure.”
“That won’t bring back that supply sergeant and whatever he knew.” Iceni sat back, rubbing her mouth with one hand as she thought. “But he might not have known anything. I have experience in the mobile forces, remember. Even with the tightest controls, it is possible to acquire the small amount of explosives used in that bomb by legitimate means. All you have to do is draw some for training or for demonstration purposes and draw a bit more than you really need.”
The sub-CEO who had taught her such tools for dealing with rivals had been a charming man who had appointed himself her mentor, seeking to bed Iceni through guile rather than coercion. He might eventually have succeeded in that if his wife hadn’t blown him and his bed to bits over yet another woman. In the end, he had taught Gwen a few more lessons than he had intended.
“The fact remains, Madam President,” Togo persisted, “that the explosives have been traced to the command of Colonel Rogero, who is a loyal follower of General Drakon.”
“And that doesn’t make you suspicious?” Iceni said, letting ice form on her words. “Neither of those men is stupid.” Though you wouldn’t know it from Drakon’s oblivious behavior in personal matters. “Draw the explosives from a source directly traceable to them? Even the lowest level subexecutive knows better than to point such an accusing finger at themselves.”
“Perhaps that was the goal,” Togo suggested after a pause. “They know you would regard such a move as hopelessly amateurish, so by pointing the evidence so clearly toward themselves, they would convince you that they were not involved.”
Iceni laughed scornfully. “That’s the sort of thing that happens in bad novels. Drakon is a successful commander. He knows how foolish it is to base your plans on the assumption that your opponent will act exactly as you wish, and the more convoluted your wishes, the less likely it is that your opponent will take the steps you desire. What can you tell me about the trigger for the bomb?”
“It was as I said, Madam President. Tuned to your biometrics and focused on the chair behind the desk.”
She sat forward, eyes intent on Togo. “Then how did you detect its presence from the door?”
Togo didn’t hesitate. “There was a wave-guide leak. A pinhole that allowed some signal strength to emanate back and to the side.”
“I see. How fortunate. Are there any leads yet as to who set up the attack on General Drakon and whether or not the Alliance officer was also a target?”
“No, Madam President. Most of the members of The People’s Word have proven to be unaware of the actions by their most radical associates. Others have disappeared though remains linked to several indicate they might have been victims of suicide belts that exploded. Three were found dead from the actions of injected nanos.”
“The same type of nanos that killed the one captured by Colonel Morgan?”
Togo visibly tensed at Morgan’s name, but his voice remained unemotional. “Yes, Madam President.”