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Chapter 75 - By the Horns[]
Outskirts of Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
February 7th, 3026
Max had been true to his word, Phil thought as he stepped through the breach in the side of the sewer tunnels that Marik agents had created in advance—just in case, they said. The breach dropped down yet another level into the storm drains that removed any and all runoff from heavy precipitation and prevented the city from flooding. And those drains emptied at the junction of the beach and the low bluff on which Samantha City had been constructed so long ago.
He slogged through the last meters of the drain and then stepped out onto the dark beach, the ground consisting of a mixture of rocks and finely grained sand. Other than the faint distant sound of sirens in the distance, the only thing Phil heard was the gentle crash of the waves as they climbed up the beach and then receded back into the sea.
"Almost done, eh, Phil?" Victor asked as he slapped the MI-4 agent on the shoulder and smiled at him.
"Don't taunt Murphy, Victor," Phil pleaded. "Please. Please, don't taunt that evil demon-imp of misfortune."
Both Max and Victor laughed at this, while Koga only shook his head stoically with a disapproving frown on his face. At least until Victor translated the phrase into Japanese, and then the old samurai suddenly grinned as he got it.
"Truth," Osami Koga said at last. "It is not done until it is done. We still much to do before this Core gets to one of our masters . . . and while I do like you all and would hate to have to kill you," he shrugged, "in the end there can only be one."
"My dear friend, you do not believe I planned for this?" asked Max. "While it would possibly better suit our masters to kill each other and the survivor make off with the Core . . . I'm not so certain that I would survive. Or that House Marik would get the data contained within. Which is why my team has six data-storage nodes waiting at the rendezvous. It will take five or ten minutes to download the data, we will all have a copy, and then we can part ways amicably." He paused. "Which also means none of us really have to die tonight."
"We hope," whispered Phil.
"We hope and we plan and we live—or die—with the consequences of our actions," Max answered with a grin.
"The dying part I can do without." Phil replied.
"As can we all." chimed in Victor who was grinning; even Koga gave out a short bark of laughter.
Max stopped and he held up one hand; the others came to a halt behind him. He raised a flashlight and triggered it four times; two fast flashes; a pause; another two fast flashes.
And in the distance, another light flashed. Three fast flashes; a pause; one long flash; a pause; a second long flash.
"there they are," he whispered just loud enough to be heard over the breakers rolling onshore.
The four men advanced along the beach and waiting for them was Barbara Hilton (otherwise known to the four as Control), Gerhadt Manstein, Nicky Kirkland, Sandra Ingram, and Angelina Devereaux—the later two wearing restraints on their wrists.
"You tried to blow us up!" Phil snarled as he approached Nicky. "Left us down there with a bomb and two canisters of VXM—that was NOT the plan! If that thing had gone off, you would have contaminated the bunker and half the city when that nuke had gone off!"
Nicky shrugged. "It was a small nuke. Might have contaminated a tenth of the city, at most." She smiled. "Besides, you disarmed my bomb and the nuke, so why the bitching, Phil?"
"Why the . . ." Phil sputtered and he balled up one fist as he shook.
"Phil," whispered Victor.
"What?"
"Let it go, man. Let it go."
Phil just glared at him, then Max, and Koga, and Gerhadt, and Barbara, then he nodded. "All right, it was a smart play on her part, I'll admit it. Except for leaving the VXM in the freaking bunker!" he snarled.
"Mosley was an idiot," Sandra spoke up. "I tried to get him to secure the nerve gas, but he insisted it would be fine where it was; besides," she said with a sudden grin, "our bomb was a fake just to make you waste time. No explosives inside, just a pair of detonator caps."
Phil's eyes grew wide and his face turned red as Victor began to chuckle.
She shrugged. "So did he live or did he die?"
"Don't know; don't really care," answered Phil with a snarl as he realized how he had been played.
"Enough, people," Max interjected. "Ninety-nine, you've got the data-storage modules?"
"Don't call me that, Danforth! And yes, we've got the modules."
Ninety-nine? Mouthed Phil silently and Max grinned.
"A nickname she hates. You see, back in the Academy, we were class-mates and she made a wager that she could hit the bull's-eye on the gunnery range 100 times out of 100 shots. Almost made it; she missed that last shot by this much," he finished as he held up his thumb and forefinger barely separated.
"I missed that shot because you jostled my elbow at the last second!"
"Can't expect perfect conditions in the field, can you?" Max answered with a grin. "But enough of our past, Victor if you will open up the case, we can download the data from the Core and get out of here."
"Yeah," added Phil. "It is past time to go our separate ways."
Victor grunted and he sat down the case containing the Core and opened it as Barbara opened a case of her own and extracted six data storage modules and several fiber-optic cables. Beside her Gerhadt turned on a small generator to power the Core and the modules as the data was transferred.
"Okay, we are good to go." Victor said as there was a sudden sharp CRACK of a rifle shot!
Robert West lay prone as he looked through the scope of his anti-material rifle atop the bluff. Adjusting the optics, he zoomed in to see the tiny figures far below and away from him gathered in the beachside cabana. "Range?" he asked.
"Eight hundred forty-two meters," his spotter answered.
"Wind?"
"Thirteen point seven kph at eight-four degrees."
"Humidity?"
"Sixty-four percent."
Robert made a few adjustments and he zoomed the optics in one more magnification setting. And settled the crosshairs on the face of Phil Sheridan. "There you are, old friend," he whispered. Then he shifted slightly and took aim on his target.
The crash of the rifle as it fired came as he squeezed the trigger gently. And Robert West, Adept of ROM, smiled.
"SHIT!" shouted Phil as he dove down behind a flimsy chair; a chair that would not even slow a bullet. But the beach house had little substantial cover and he was not the only one to find what shelter he could, as ineffective as it was.
But the first shot was also the last. And slowly Phil raised his head. "Anyone hit?" he asked softly.
"I'm good," answered Victor.
"No damage," said Max.
And one by one, each of the field agents answered. None of them had been struck by the heavy projectile.
"Well, if we weren't the target . . . oh, fuck," Phil softly cursed as Victor lifted the Data Core from where it had fallen and he could see the hole in the Core left by the passage of the armor piercing bullet that had struck it.
"Right through the memory bank," Max said as he shook his head.
"Can we recover . . .," Phil began, but he stopped as Barbara Hilton and Gerhadt Manstein shook their own heads in a NO.
"All of this? All of this? For nothing?" Phil asked.
"Well, you still have me," Victor said.
"And me," added Nicky.
"Wonderful. I've got you two, but not the Core, and Taurian Security has to be on their way to the beach—that rifle shot has to have been heard."
Max stood up straight, and he ran one hand through his hair. "Yes. We need to leave and go our separate ways." And he shook his head in frustration as looked down on the still smoking Data Core.
Cháteau des Calderon
Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
February 7, 3026
"HENRI!" Thomas bellowed as he entered his private office, the Taurian spy-master waiting for him.
"Yes, my Protector." Henri Jouett answered simply.
"We had a fire fight on the campus of the University of Taurus, four of our 'Mechs engaged one of our own transport vans blowing it to pieces—along with a good number of buildings around it!—the Core is missing, and I've got a research scientist traumatized by having canisters of live nerve gas stuffed down the front of his trousers as he lay paralyzed on the floor while at least two separate teams exchanged gunfire over WHO exactly would get to steal the damn Core!"
He stopped and he shook his head. "The sewers are a mess, we've got damage all over the place, and . . .," and he stopped in mid-tirade as Henri held up his hand.
"And not one civilian was physically injured. Yes, we lost several security guards and there was infrastructure damage. But the Core they stole was the decoy, my Protector. And according to information that I received just tonight, we owe whoever stole the Core a sizeable debt for stopping that commando raid on the facility. My people say that those were Liao Death Commandos . . . and that they had a nuclear demolition charge with them that their opponents defused in the field."
Thomas began to sputter again and then he collected himself and took a deep breath.
"How certain are you it was the Death Commandos?"
"Not completely, but a high likelihood. My source says they decided that getting the Core out would be a problem, so they—in typically Liao fashion—decided if they could not have it, then no one would."
"Where is the that nuclear demolition charge?"
"One of my tech teams has recovered it. Standard Inner Sphere design, no markings on the case, but," and Henri shook his head. "They tried to be clever. The hydrogen core was surrounded with plutonium to make it look like a fission device. If it had detonated."
"Why would they want to make it look a fission weapon?" Thomas asked as he sat down.
"It would appear that one of our own people had decided—for some insane reason—to detonate a nuclear weapon on the campus of the University of Taurus, Tom. Except we don't use plutonium in our fission devices; I'd wager the plutonium came from a Davion facility somewhere. Our analysts will confirm that in a matter of hours now that we have the device to examine."
"Davions." Thomas growled.
And Henri held up his hand again. "Throws the scent off the Capellans rather nicely, doesn't it, Tom?"
Thomas glowered for a moment longer and then he nodded. "It does. Damn it."
He stood and began to pace. "I want this whole thing shut down, Henri. We can't play games with my people—MY PEOPLE—like this!"
And Henri grinned. "They stole the decoy Core, and the duplicate Core that Mosley's two lab assistants made. I'll bet they are trying to smuggle those Cores off-world right now; and by the time they learn that the data within is utterly useless—pie-in-the-sky projects not possible either now or during the Star League—it will be too late."
Thomas started to answer him, and then there was a knock on the door. One of the guards outside opened it and a courier walked into the executive office and handed Henri a data-pad before he left again, the guard closing the door behind him.
Henri read the information quickly and frowned. "Someone shot up the decoy Core on the beach below the city," he finally said.
"Why in the world would they do that?" asked Thomas. "Did they transfer the data first?"
"Not according to this. Seems there is another player that did not want the Core's data getting out—he didn't kill anyone, there wasn't any blood, but there is god-awful huge hole in the decoy Core where he shot it with an anti-material rifle."
Thomas sat down and he sighed. "Tonight, Henri. This ends tonight."
"Yes, my Protector."
Central Transit Station
Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
February 8th, 3026
Phil stood on the platform and looked at his ticket one last time. The DropShip Emma Dale, departing Victor Taurens Spaceport at 0415 local time; bound for a rendezvous with the JumpShip White Rose, with destinations of New Vallis, Flintoff, New Syrtis, and points beyond. He'd contact Quintus Allard once he got back in Davion space and let know exactly the cluster-fuck that had occurred out here on the Taurian capital.
And maybe, just maybe, he could arrange for a transfer back somewhere in the center of the Federated Suns where he wouldn't have to dodge bullets, disarm bombs, and have to deal with live nerve gas!
The train was running late, Phil thought as he looked at the clock again. But he had plenty of time. Plenty of time and there was not a great many people here on the platform at two in the morning.
There was whine of brakes and Phil looked down the tunnel to see the approaching lights. Not too late, he thought as he picked up his suitcase and put the ticket in his jacket pocket.
"Mister Sheridan? Phil Sheridan?" a voice behind him asked, and Phil forced his face to remain perfectly still as he turned around.
"Yes? May I help you?"
Two men stood on the platform behind him, and one of them smiled. "I hope so. We are with the Office of Special Intelligence and Operations; Monsieur Jouett would like a word. If you please, Mister Sheridan," he finished, gesturing towards the platform exit with one hand.
Phil considered—briefly—running, but he noted another four men stationed to cover all of the exits. He sighed. Murphy strikes again, he thought to himself as he nodded to the OSIO operative and began to walk towards the exit with a confidence that he did not feel.
TCOSIO Headquarters
Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
February 8th, 3026
A middle-aged woman took Phil's hat and coat—his suitcase had already been taken away by other OSIO personnel—and hung them on a coat rack outside the door to an office. The building to which he had been escorted was rather nondescript, blending well into the seemingly endless vista of near identical apartment rows and office complexes to either side and across the boulevard.
That façade had faded once Phil entered the building. As he had expected. The Headquarters of the OSIO was one of the best defended facilities in the entire Concordat . . . and no one here was taking any chances with him. Which meant, Phil thought with a silent sigh, that they knew about him and the odds were not good that he would be walking back out those doors.
Rolled out on a gurney, bound for the morgue; that was far more likely.
"Monsieur Jouett will see you now," the lady said with a faint smile and opened the outer door. Past it was a small passage—no more than three meters long—that ended in a second door. Phil recognized the high quality of the sound proofing on those doors and the walls; and if he had been a betting man would have put money on it being encased in a Faraday Cage as well to defeat any electronic listening devices.
He reached the inner door and he opened it, and was not surprised at the weight. Armored, he thought. Probably well enough to resist a missile strike; well, one missile strike anyway.
He stepped into the lair of the Taurian spymaster.
And came to a halt as he recognized the men and women sitting there in front of a rather normal—and full—desk. Victor Li, Nicky Kirkland, Maxwell Danforth, Osami Koga, and Gerhadt Manstein. Behind the desk there sat a man that simply had to be Henri Jouett, his fingers steepled together and he nodded at Phil with the faintest hint of a smile.
Oh, hell, he thought. They've known about us the entire time.
"Mister Sheridan," a smooth voice spoke up from behind the desk. "Our last player in the game that will be joining us tonight. Would you care to take a seat?"
Phil walked over and he sat down.
"Excellent. My name is Henri Jouett and I am the Minister of the Office of Special Intelligence and Operations. And each one of you are an agent of a foreign power, working in the Taurian Concordat under a non-official cover. Spies. I could have you all taken out and shot and no one in this building—or your own agencies—would blink an eye. Or, I could throw you each in an isolated cell and interrogate you at my leisure. I am certain that your own agencies would deny any knowledge of your existence; you would be mine to do with as I please."
And he smiled again. "But I would rather not do either. Nor would Protector Thomas."
Phil frowned.
"It appears, ladies and gentlemen, that the Taurian Concordat owes you a debt for your role in stopping the detonation of a nuclear device beneath the University of Taurus earlier this evening. So, in repayment of that debt, I am prepared to release each of you—provided that you leave Taurus immediately and do not return."
He paused and waited until each of the six nodded to show their understanding.
"Good. Protector Thomas hates having debts, and he—as do I—believe that simply letting you leave with your lives is not enough to repay what he owes each of you. Now, we will let you leave, but it is your choice if you do so with empty hands. But, in return, I need questions answered—truthfully, ladies and gentlemen."
He waited a moment before he resumed. "Who destroyed the Data Core you stole from the research lab? And where is the copy that you associates made that aboard the transport van you stole?"
Max and Phil exchanged a glance and then Phil nodded. Max looked at Henri direct in the eyes and held his gaze for a second.
"Adept Robert West, agent of ROM. We think that is who destroyed the Data Core." Max said softly.
"The same bastard who shot your security officers at the Quick Pick that night." Phil added.
Gerhadt Manstein chimed in. "The duplicate Data Core was destroyed in the van; we did not have time to get it out once your 'Mechs began shooting at us." he thought for a moment. "I suppose we have Adept West to thank for that as well. Unless you identified us in some other manner."
"That would be telling," Henri said with a smile. "But we owe you a debt, Herr Manstein. No. That was not any of our people that made that broadcast. I suspect you are correct that it was this ComStar operative. Which begs the question, why are they so determined to see the Data Core destroyed?"
"If they can't have it, no one can?" Phil asked.
"Makes sense for any one of you; well, your governments, anyway. But ComStar? What does ComStar stand to gain from a Taurian Data Core from the last years of the 26th Century?"
No one answered the question, but Henri could see the wheels turning in their minds and one-by-one the agents nodded.
"They don't want any of us to have that information," Phil muttered in an angry voice. "And those bastards got what they wanted. None of us have the data in that Core now. Not even you."
"Ah," Henri said with another smile. "There is where you are wrong, Mister Sheridan. The Data Core you were after was nothing but a decoy—the real Core is safe and sound at an extremely secure location; one not in Samantha City, by the way. We have already made almost a dozen copies of the data—we had the correct decryption key from the start, after all. And those copies have been dispersed to different locations. The information on the Core is quite safe and secure, ladies and gentlemen."
He paused and smiled again.
"And Thomas is more than willing to share it."
Henri waited while the six agents suddenly sat up, their faces showing pure, unadulterated shock.
"Well. Sell it, at the very least. Tell you masters that Thomas is willing to negotiate for the price of a copy of this Data Core. But do so via courier, not by HPG. Since, after all, it does appear that ComStar is not beyond arranging the loss of this data if they know about it."
And with that, Henri turned his head to look directly at Victor Li. "This offer is extended by Protector Calderon to each of you—except for House Liao and the Capellan Confederation. Not only did Romano Liao and Archibald McCarron invade the Concordat, but your Death Commandos planned to detonate a weapon of mass destruction on the soil of Taurus itself."
"Michael-Hasek Davion also invaded." Victor said softly.
"So he did. And he was defeated, but before that defeat happened, before he and his Fusiliers set foot on New Vallis, First Prince Hanse Davion declared him a rogue agent, a pirate, and his men guilty of mutiny and desertion. I do not believe that Maximillian Liao has done anything similar; although it seems that ComStar—once again—has resolved to make it look as if McCarron's Armored Cavalry was there at their invitation to secure their HPG stations from us periphery barbarians."
"Maximillian Liao will not get a copy of the Data Core. Indeed, he will be lucky if the Taurian Concordat does not decide to return the favor," and Henri leaned back in his chair and raised his steepled hands to his lips. "As you have no doubt already heard, our new Battleship took part in the engagement at New Vallis. Make certain Lord Liao understands that if he ever tries such an action again, it will engage him at Sian. And it will be loaded down with enough nuclear ordnance to ensure the obliteration of the Celestial City and all within it."
Henri's voice was cold and flat and not one of the agents in the room doubted either his sincerity or his resolve.
And Victor Li nodded. "You wish me to convey this information to the Chancellor?"
"No. He would kill you, if I may be blunt. The message is being sent via other channels. But you need to decide if you really want to return to the Capellan Confederation, Victor Li. As I said, we owe you a debt. And if you come to work for us, well, we can repay it in other ways than giving you a copy of the Core for the Chancellor."
"It is a gracious offer, Monsieur," Victor finally whispered. "But one I must refuse. I shall return home and you may consider your debt paid in full."
"As you wish. As you wish."
Henri stood. "The rest of you are free to go. Take my message back to your masters and we shall begin to haggle for the price."
He pressed a button on the desk and the inner door opened, two men entering to escort the agents away.
Each nodded at Henri in turn and then they left.
Henri sat down behind the desk again and pressed a blinking button on the phone. "You heard, my Protector?" he asked.
"All of it." the sound of Thomas Calderon's voice came over the intercom.
"Are you satisfied, my Lord?"
There was a pause and then he heard Thomas sigh. "No. I want to hang them all, debt or no. But I can't. And getting their governments to funnel that much cash to us? Edward is right, we can't let the opportunity pass. Will they do it?"
"Every last one of them, my Protector. There is still the problem of ComStar; they are playing games despite what is coming from the leadership on Terra."
"And now that we know they are, we can start doing something about that. Good work tonight, Henri. I—and the realm—owe you as well."
And the line went dead as Thomas hung up.
Henri only smiled and he picked up a folder, opened it, and began to read yet another report.