Southern tip of the island. Largest port city in Taiwan. That is the most solid lead we have received so far.
“At least it wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
A few minutes later, Roen and Hutch found themselves standing outside the old circuit board warehouse on the northeastern fringe of the industrial district of Hsinchu county. It was a balmy sitting-in-a-steam-bath night that drenched them both within minutes. Roen had never missed air conditioning as much as he did being here in Taiwan. The only other times he felt more suffocated by the heat was when the Prophus had attacked the Genjix thermal plant at the basin of the Erta Ale Volcano in Ethiopia, and the time he went to Disney World in Orlando in July.
Three minutes into their walk down several rows of darkened warehouses, Roen whispered to Hutch. “Tail to our five. Next intersection, continue north and east. If I don’t find you within twenty minutes, rendezvous at the secondary site. Do not report back to the safe house. Oh, and walk slower.” He waited until they turned left at the next intersection before splitting off.
Now, Roen wasn’t worth much in the field of espionage. He couldn’t turn the charm on like Edward could or become a chameleon like Sonya did when it suited her. These were just skills he had never developed. Tao often called him a Phillips screwdriver, a single-purpose tool that did one job well. That suited Roen fine because what he was talented at, he was now very good at.
Within steps of leaving Hutch, Roen had disappeared into the shadows and was soon perched on top of the low-hanging roof of one of the warehouses, watching the dark shadow that followed Hutch. He had a few seconds to position himself to set up the tail. Whoever it was would soon realize that he was only following one person now. If the guy was smart, he would back off. And when he did, Roen could follow him to something useful, hopefully.
He waited just outside the shadow’s range of vision, skulking along the ledge. Roen saw Hutch strolling down the dark streets and cursed. With the way Hutch overplayed his part, any self-respecting spy would be able to tell something was amiss. However, whoever this tail was was not smart or self-respecting. He continued to follow Hutch.
Roen cursed again. “He didn’t even notice he lost a guy. Damn amateur hour.”
Well, so much for that. What is plan B?
“We wait. I want to see what he does once Hutch stops moving.”
What if he kills Hutch?
“Hutch is not going to die at the hands of a two-bit punk who doesn’t know when to abort a tailing mission. Besides, Hutch knows the guy is coming.”
Roen continued tracking the shadow, moving from rooftop to rooftop. He didn’t worry too much about being noticed. Whatever this guy’s day job was better be stable, because he wasn’t cut out for covert work. Roen had his doubts that Hutch, who was a smash-first-think-later kind of guy, wouldn’t have eventually noticed him himself.
He did take the time to study the shadow though. He was a young man with an upper body disproportionate to his legs and was obviously military. It was evident not just by his build but by the way he carried himself. The casualness was too forced and the man’s hands strayed far too often to his ribs, a sign of someone armed and trigger-happy.
Roen wondered if he was dealing with an especially inquisitive syndicate member tracking them or if it was the Genjix.
Hutch was now sitting on a bench at the intersection pretending to wait for the bus. Not exactly the brightest alibi considering the next bus wouldn’t stop by in this remote area for eight or so hours, but the man was trying at least.
Remember your first tailing assignments?
“Hey, we all start somewhere, right?”
Some people’s somewhere are much different from others’.
And then the espionage version of musical chairs – a game Roen detested – began. For the next fifteen minutes, Roen sat in the sweltering heat waiting for the tail waiting on Hutch to make a move. Hutch ended up waiting nearly thirty minutes for Roen. When Roen never showed, he stood up and walked along the river, the direction opposite of the secondary site.
Roen couldn’t believe it; he wanted to tear his hair out. The dumbest thing Hutch could do was to lead a tail directly back to their safe house. The second dumbest thing he could do was be too obvious, and wandering in such a roundabout way, where he would eventually need to double back, fit that category.
For the better part of the next two hours, Roen tailed the tail who tailed Hutch as they made a merry scenic tour of the city, going from the warehouse district to the red light district to the downtown area. Twice, Hutch stopped to get something to eat; the first time at a noodle shop and the second for shaved ice. Roen’s stomach grumbled both times as he sweated the night away, waiting for something to happen. Finally, at 2am, Hutch got to the secondary site. In a minute, he would go in, take the back room to the sewers, and hole up at a hostel across town before reporting back to Wuehler.
Roen followed the tail until dawn. By this time, he was so tired he didn’t care where this damn guy went, but he stayed with it. What was another hour or two when he’d already done this for six anyway? The chase mercifully ended at a house on the far end of an affluent residential district. Roen was grateful. In his nearly all-black garb, he wasn’t exactly dressed to blend in with the morning crowds. Satisfied, he took the information down and made a beeline back to the safe house.
SEVENTEEN
WORTHY SACRIFICE
The Prophus proved their appropriateness of their name by becoming traitors. True Quasing would not choose humans over their own kind. True Quasing would not value a servant over a master, an animal over a god.
After the Thirty Years’ War and the incident with the Chest of the Menagerie, we began to treat the Prophus as true enemies. The mercy we extended them was no longer offered. We began to send both the vessel and Prophus to the Eternal Sea.
Zoras
The meeting with the Genjix Council did not go well. He had thought his handling the Scimitar and her crew would have cemented his status on the Council. Instead, they berated him on the concessions he made to Abrams. When he pointed out that he actually conceded nothing because he had cleverly manipulated the Prophus into breaking their word, they berated him even more!
They said his tactics stained their honor, that the price they paid was too high, and that the Prophus would never trust them again. Why should they care what the enemy thought of their honor? He retorted that there shouldn’t be trust between them anyway.
His first meeting with the Council did not get any better from there. They accused him of brashness and of disregarding his Holy One. They said he was too young to understand the way the real world works and that their relationship with the Prophus was more complicated than technicalities. In the end, he was placed on probationary Council status. In six months, they would re-evaluate his position to see whether Zoras kept his seat.
They are correct. You did not listen as you should have. That is a common issue with vessels from the Hatchery. Many on the Council believe that your experience in such a sheltered incubator ill-prepares you for reality. I see that they are right. No amount of training can replace actual experience in command and combat. I will make a note of this and speak with Elder Mother regarding her wards’ training.
“My results exceeded our goals. What more could you ask of me?”
Pyrrhus, vessel to Galen during the height of the Hellenistic age, won every battle he ever fought against Rome, yet lost the war.
“That wasn’t the case at the Scimitar, though. We suffered fewer than thirty casualties. In return, we captured their entire force.”