“Your coder works,” he said to Jason.
“I thought the engine was already running.”
“The driver had a disconnect. He pressed it and looked smug. Then he looked concerned. Then he ceased looking anything when Shaman dropped him.”
Alex said, “Well done. Get us lost first.”
“Moving,” Bart agreed and took a turn.
Elke scrolled through her feeds, didn’t see something, and said, “Alex, we have a problem.”
“Talk to me.”
“Jessie’s update is not showing on the churp feed. I am seeing other feeds that look like her style. Did you say something about a trip to the Eastern Forest Reserve?”
Jessie looked confused. “No?”
Alex shouted, “The receivers. Jessie, give your phone to Elke right now!”
Jessie stuttered and said, “Uh, okay. Hacked?” She handed her phone over reluctantly.
Elke flipped it, popped the back, pulled the power cell, pulled the card and fumbled for a case. She had one in a thigh pocket she used to isolate circuits, but she was squashed next to the door and Jessie. It took considerable wiggling and arching, but she got it and placed the card inside.
“Yes, hacked,” she said. “None of this is going on local or system feed. Someone has control of the service, which is run by the Lezt family. They are either corrupted or conspirators. And oh, yes.” She clicked her detonator. There should be two warning pops to reduce casualties, a shame that, and then…
BANG, flash, thump.
She did love overpressure.
Highland seemed to come around to something at the mention of Lezt. She didn’t notice the explosion.
“It would take someone in UN Security Agency or Intelligence to order the nodes locked, even that minimal amount. It must be Lezt doing it for some third party.”
Jason said, “And that third party is UNSA or UNBI, working under orders from someone in your party.”
She shook her head. “I’m not convinced of that at all. You’re being dangerously paranoid.”
Alex said, “That’s my job. I’m paranoid so you don’t have to be. Regardless of who it is, they’ve set it up so they can get signals and you can’t communicate. We have spare phones, but we can’t waste them for Miss Jessie to churp notes. If they accomplish nothing else, they’ve cut your communications, and are masquerading as you.”
“I agree with that. How do we stop them and get control back?”
Jason said, “That depends on how they approach it. This just became an intel fight.”
Aramis said, “As I see it, and I’ve done publicity, they can play this at least three ways.” He ticked off on his fingers. “They can simply post reports, and compile B roll video, to show you having meaningless PR meetings with small groups. The locations will be vague, so you can’t be positively pinned down. That gets you out of the campaign eye. Or, they could have you say some odd, malicious or incriminating things to wreck your campaign. At the far end, they’ll try to locate and kill you.”
Alex said, “It depends on if they think slowing you will do the job, sabotaging you, or if they need you as a martyr.”
“We don’t martyr people in the Egalitarian Party,” she snapped.
Elke said, “Except for trigger happy mercenary bodyguards, and potentially silly but useful hangers on.”
Color drained from Highland’s face, then flushed back. That had hit her hard.
Elke did enjoy being able to love her work.
Bart said, “Cruk’s ratings are low and sinking. He needs a substantial boost, and less competition. The Party specifically said they were ‘looking at all options for candidates,’ when I saw the German feed. They are not confident of his popularity even in your own party.”
Highland snorted. “It’s not that I think he wouldn’t do it. He’d readily do it. He’s just too fucking stupid. He’s a pretty face and a soothing voice, and never ran even a Third World constituency. He wins elections by handing out largesse and manipulating people.”
“This would manipulate you, yes?”
“He couldn’t do it, though.”
“So who got him in?”
She was silent. Bart drove, maneuvering constantly.
Eventually she spoke. “I have to trust you with my life. That’s much easier than trusting you with party dirt.”
“Ma’am, unless you want to be a martyr, I’d suggest you relay us information. Have you heard anything ugly about our previous principals, from us?”
“No. But it’s not that simple.” She sighed. “I suppose I must. You’re seen as a threat.”
She left it hanging as if it were a revelation.
Elke said, “We deduced that before we left Earth.”
Jason said, “We’ll continue this inside. We’re here. Alex, how do you want to do it?”
Alex never hesitated. Elke appreciated that.
“Jason, you’ll lead Elke in with Ms. Highland. Bart will get out with Aramis. Shaman will take over driving. Around the block, I’ll get out with Jessie. Shaman ditches it and comes last.”
Bart pulled over and they started debarking, onto a sidewalk lightly traveled by only a few matrons with wheeled baskets if poor, or humming floaters if a little less so.
After two stops, Horace slid over to drive. JessieM was still stunned silent, and debarked with Alex. That left him alone to park a stolen vehicle, and of course, that’s when he drove past a parked police vehicle.
He made no funny moves, just drove as a limo driver would. In the rear screen, he saw them frown slightly. The vehicle was out of place in this area. It wasn’t out of place enough for them to risk the wrath of whichever mucky-muck was aboard. He took a side street, then another, keeping direction and distance in mind. It was quiet and dusky, so he pulled over, raised his scarf to a hood, checked his pistol, parked and stepped out.
All his gear was already inside, or should be. He shouldered a small cross-pack that held emergency sundries, and kept a clear path between hand and pistol. No one molested him; indeed, he saw almost no one until he reached the thoroughfare, where he seemed to blend in well enough. Three minutes of steady but unhurried walking got him to the saferoom.
Horace hadn’t expected any particular apartment. Location and discretion were primary, then cost always played a role. Too pricey would raise inquiries. Too cheap affected reliability of the landlord and neighbors. He was surprised when he walked in the door.
Furnished, it would be a very nice place. Seven plastic chairs and seven basic cots filled a nicely laid out common room. This was probably considered a studio, but it was a large studio. The bathroom was back there, with a frosted one-way pane. The kitchenette was modern, and quite a few cans, instant packages and beverages sat waiting.
“New phone,” Jason said, and underhanded one. Horace caught it.
Elke stood in the middle observing. She said to Jason, “You already set the bathroom window with a line and a breaking charge.”
“Yes.”
“Not a bad job. Should I tune it?”
“I assume you can do better, so yes.”
Elke seemed happy and relaxed with explosive in hand. For most people, that would be insane. For her, it was comfortably normal. Good.
Alex said, “I hadn’t planned on Jessie, so we’re short a cot. However, we’ll need someone on watch.”
“I am on now,” Bart said. He had a tub of soup open, steaming, and sipped it like a drink.
“We won’t be here long,” Alex said. “We’ll be planning an offensive and moving. Ms. Highland, Jessie, while this location is probably safe, nothing is guaranteed. Remain dressed. Keep all property immediately at hand. We may move on a moment’s notice. Do not make any communications. That is an order.”
Horace examined Highland as she flared her eyebrows and said nothing. She at least understood the practicalities of the situation. Jessie just nodded.
Highland said, “I’ll try to rest then.”
“Good idea. I want half down, half up for now. Eat, rest, rearm. How’s our stock?”
Jason said, “We’ve hardly shot anything. I have spare ammo here so we can take full loadouts, but that’s mass.”