“We go back after the Palace.” Bernard started pacing. “Was I wrong about you, Donelly, or are you setting me up again?”

“You know what? I don’t care about you or Basalt. Get me out of here and I’m heading off Basalt. If there’s a DropShip going this afternoon, I’m on it.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“Why not?”

“You’re my man inside Emblyn’s organization. You’ll deliver the traitor to me.”

“Fine, then I’m gone.”

“No, Mr. Donelly, nowhere near gone.” Bernard gave me a smile that made me nostalgic for Helen. “After the traitor, you’ll give me Ring Emblyn himself.”

32

He who has the gold makes the rules.

—The Golden Rule Rev. 2.0

Manville, Capital District

Basalt

Prefecture IV, Republic of the Sphere

16 February 3133

Bernard called his bullyboys back in and they dragged me down to their hovercar. Given the deterioration of my personal hygiene, they stuffed me in the trunk and drove around for a while, then dumped me in an alley. They took turns kicking me in the stomach, then uncuffed me.

One grabbed a handful of my hair, then slapped me with the other hand. “Be smart. Do what he wants. Next time we’re planting you where you’ll never be found.” He let my hair go then kicked me into a garbage midden.

I passed out at that point and when I came to, I actually thought I was dreaming. I was on my back in a garbage pile that reeked of puked pizza and oranges. A rather large rodent was sitting on my chest and came upright as my eyes opened. It flashed me a grin full of nibbler teeth, which made my belly ache more, and then it spoke.

“So sorry a sight even a nibbler won’t bite you.”

It took me a moment to marvel at the nibbler speaking about himself in the third person, but then my brain coordinated things and told me the voice was actually coming from above and to my right. The nibbler and I both looked in that direction simultaneously. The rodent scampered off and I wished I could have.

I groaned. “Good evening, Colonel Niemeyer. Out for your constitutional?”

“Nope. Back from the coroner’s office, where we’re putting BSU corpses together like puzzles. Lots of work, and it’s your fault.”

I rolled to my right and gained a knee. “My fault? Enable help files, please.”

“Come off it, Donelly. I know what’s going on.” He posted his fists on his hips. “Why do you think I’m here?”

He almost had me on that one, but my head had cleared just enough for my training to click in. Any time someone in authority asks an open-ended question like that—“Do you know why I stopped you?” or “Do you know how fast you were going?”—they’re fishing for information they can use against you. The logical answer to his question would be to assume he knew about FfW or BSU and actually had tied me to things. In an effort to avoid trouble, I might spill my guts, which would just put me in deeper with him.

I was about to be sullen and vaguely insulting in my response, but my brain had started running and an idea popped up. “Actually, I think you’re here because of an internal PSD investigation into the activities of officers Higgle and Giggle. You know they’re working for Bernard Germayne, you’re afraid laws are being broken and that the integrity of any investigation you might be doing is compromised because of them. You need to catch them red-handed, however, preferably with Bernard there too, because he has enough influence to be able to protect them and discredit you. How close is that?”

Niemeyer blinked, then crouched down beside me. “I think you’re a lot smarter than I give you credit for.” He looked me over, then shook his head. “Not that you give that impression in your current state.”

“Yeah, well, I fell down the stairs. Into a urinal.”

He reached out and turned my face to the side where a bruise was coming up from Higgle’s last slap. “Okay, we’re going to have a conversation, and I want to fast forward through all the macho posturing. I know you won’t give Bernard up to me. You’re not going to turn nibbler. And maybe you have it in the back of your head that you’ll get Haggle and Gaggle yourself. Ditch that idea. They’ll kill you or you’ll kill them, and if you do, I’ll kill you. I’ll just have to.”

“Okay, you’ve saved yourself twenty minutes. The point you’re going for is?”

“My world, my people, I care. So far, aside from the mercs that got splashed up north, all we’ve had is property damage. That’s not Bernard’s style. Someone is exerting a lot of influence to keep things on a simmer. I’m glad of that, but that same person has to know things will boil over. He can’t control someone like Bernard. No one can.”

I narrowed my eyes. “No one? Not even you?”

“I can control him, but I have to be able to put him away.”

“And you want me to give him to you, somehow?”

“No, that would be going back to the part of the conversation we skipped. You won’t do that. Fine.” He slowly stood. “I will get him, one way or another. A smart guy like you might just want to be clear before that happens.”

I looked up. “And how would a smart guy like me know when that was going to happen?”

“Same way that someone who called a tip into PSD knew when the assault up north was happening. You’re not smart enough to leave Basalt, so I hope you’ll be smart enough that you don’t get stuck here forever.”

Niemeyer didn’t offer to give me a hand up, much less a ride back to the Grand Germayne. When I could finally stand I checked myself for injuries. I had lots of bruising on my stomach and chest, but no cracked ribs as nearly as I could tell. I was going to be pretty tender for a while, but could still function.

Once I got to the street, I figured out where I was and made my own way back to the Grand Germayne. I entered through the garage and got to my room unnoticed. For once no one else was waiting for me, so I stripped my clothes off and tossed them into the shower. I let the water run fast and hot, and the steam filling the bathroom felt good. I also liked the fact that it coated the mirror so I didn’t have to look at the purple mottling.

I showered carefully, bagged the sopping clothes and called for valet service, then dressed and headed out again. I arrived at the main branch of the public library and stood next to a statue of a stylized lion from the hour to ten past, then wandered down the street to a Javapulse Generator. I got coffee and a scone, getting halfway through both by the time Gypsy showed up.

He was smiling broadly enough that he indulged in a pastry, too. “It was brilliant. We are set to go with the details of publicity and our next move.” He glanced at the storefront and I visualized it all fire-blackened and melted.

“When?”

“We launch our campaign tonight, with full coverage tomorrow for the early news cycle.”

“Good. What do you need me to do?”

He chewed and then swallowed as he drew his noteputer from his pocket. “We had hit on an angle of directing praise and, hopefully, money to some worthy causes. I have a list. Pick one.”

I looked at the list, then frowned. “The Basalt Foundation isn’t on here.”

“Family ties make it a negative.”

“I disagree. She offers such a contrast to the others that she makes them look worse. They have ostracized her, and she is so nice, they look yet more like monsters. Moreover, having her still present means that when an olive branch is extended, there will be someone who can accept it and salve the sensibilities of disaffected portions of the population, especially the off-worlders she’s helped. We have to look two steps ahead here, don’t we?”

Gypsy slowly nodded. “I’d actually had it on the list, but Elle argued for it to be deleted. It’s back on and it’s the one we’ll use. I like your analysis.”


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