A bullet to the back of the head can sometimes make the sort of exit wound that renders quick identification difficult.

From the very start I knew they would kill me and I was wondering why. I mean, there was no reason for them to let me live, but there was even less reason to want me dead. I’d been marginalized in FfW. Short of an all-out war, when Gypsy would sit my butt in a ’Mech, I was pretty much useless. My removal from the FfW command structure would have been a minor inconvenience, and actually would make Catford happy since Siwek would get my command.

It did dawn on me slowly that Bernard had yanked me in, at least in part, because he really wanted to avenge himself for both my interfering at Number 8 and, more importantly, for my having showed I was smarter than he was. I’d brutalized him and Teyte at poker, I’d helped the family’s black sheep, and I’d even provided him with the plan that he was using to fight back against Emblyn. As much as Bernard wanted to win the game, he wanted even more to be seen as the architect of it all, and I could expose him rather easily as a treasonous fraud.

Teyte, judging by the fare we had to watch on the Tri-Vid unit, was well versed in the ways of stereotypical villains and heroes. While the apartment I’d been brought to was small, it had been lavishly appointed with a big display unit and a full entertainment package. The Tri-Vid dramas were all old, but full of action and adventure. There were a couple based on Victor Steiner-Davion’s trip to the Clan Homeworlds and his slaying of their leader. Teyte did cheer for Victor, which might have been endearing save for the way he sat in his recliner as if it were a ’Mech command couch, moving his hands on the arms as if he was fighting the battles.

They kept me restrained at all times, with a short hobble that stopped me from running. No one bothered to change the bandages on my legs, and I kept waiting to get a whiff of gangrene. My hands were kept cuffed behind the back of a stout wooden chair or to a bedpost when they let me sleep. I always had at least one person other than Teyte watching me, even when I relieved myself.

I pretty much remained quiet during the whole time and caused no trouble. In part this was because I hoped they would let their guard down at some point. They did, to a certain extent, allowing me to do little things like pull out a lock of hair and scatter it around so some forensic investigator could find it and know I’d been there. I even managed to scratch open one of my leg cuts and dab some blood around. I wiped it up quickly, but I knew the application of chemicals and an ultraviolet light would make it show up easily.

Mostly I kept quiet because events going on in the outside world got worse than I’d imagined they could. In between films we watched the local news stations. Count Germayne had activated the Basalt Militia and allowed them to deploy armored troops and vehicles all over the planet, not just down in the Capital District. Reports came in about protests that were put down hard and order being restored. Unless Gypsy had been a lot more active than I imagined, the demonstrations were spontaneous and their repression painted the government in a bad light. A few protesters were killed in one clash on the northern continent, and the government blamed the trouble on FfW, as one would expect.

Bernard did emerge as a hero. No mention was made of his second salvo and how badly it hurt people. The media, looking for a convenient face to put on the government, lionized Bernard, and he took to it like a cat to cream. I could see that this made Teyte a bit uneasy at points, but I suspected he was looking to let Bernard be the stalking horse for trouble. He would play the loyal lieutenant until Bernard stumbled, then he could step in.

This actually wasn’t a bad plan. While the media suppressed the stories of antigovernment activity, the public safety folks who wandered in let slip a few things. FfW or copycats were petrol-bombing a variety of targets to make trouble. Nothing was as coordinated or devastating as a real FfW attack, but chaos is chaos and the government lost when too much chaos flared.

To oppose chaos, Bernard imposed more order and, at least in the Capital District, Basalt Militia called up its MechWarriors and authorized patrols. The locals got great imagery of ’Mechs striding through the streets. Their torsos swung left and right, weapon muzzles tracked up and down. It was the first time in decades Basalt had seen such a sight.

Bernard must have hired an image consultant because some of the scenes were silly. I half-expected shots of a ’Mech on the outskirts of town helping tug a stuck hovercar back onto the road or something, but these displays went further. In probably the most ridiculous of all, a pilot emerged from the cockpit of a Hatchetman to provide a tourist with directions. She looked great, the tourists thankful, but the whole thing was rather farcical.

Things began a slow escalation and likely would have taken two weeks or more to reach the flashpoint save for an event that was broadcast live. Count Germayne appeared at one of the Basalt Foundation kitchens—doubtless sent there to reap the benefit of association with Bianca, who was quite popular. The Count donned an apron and was on the serving line dishing up soup. He’d hand a bowl to his daughter who would then place it on a patron’s tray. People would smile and nod and the Count almost looked as if he was enjoying himself.

Then one young man named Gavin Prin—as Davion a specimen as Bernard or Teyte—produced a small holdout laser and lit the Count up from point-blank range. The red beam burned in halfway between right nipple and breastbone. The Count looked down at the black hole in his apron, then staggered back while the youth shifted for another shot. Bianca interposed herself between the assassin and her father and the man hesitated just long enough for other patrons to tackle him.

The shot put the Count in critical condition in the hospital. I caught flashes of the same folks who had worked on me laboring hard to save his life. Bianca traveled to the hospital and was there, with Quam using his considerable bulk and Snookums’ growl to keep the media at a respectful distance. Still, the long shots showed her sobbing, then looking up tearfully as a doctor came to give her the Count’s prognosis.

Bernard got nowhere near the hospital. Within fifteen minutes he was live on Tri-Vid, having assumed his father’s authority. He looked shaken, so I dismissed any possibility that he had tried to have his father assassinated. He put the planet under martial law, declared the would-be assassin to be an agent of FfW and then dropped a huge bombshell.

He stared right out at the viewers and said, “I have been given secret but incontrovertible evidence that Freedom from Want is funded entirely by Aldrington Emblyn. I have ordered his immediate arrest. He will be tried for treason and attempted murder, in accord with our law, with all penalties allowed to be applied.”

Almost immediately the view cut to a live shot of Public Safety officers taking Emblyn into custody. He, too, was shaken, though that quickly flowed into outrage. “I am innocent of any and all charges of treason. All I have ever wanted for Basalt is the best, and you all know I have given it to you. Once everything is sorted out, the people of Basalt will see this for what it is: a purge of those Bernard Germayne hates. Beware, my fellow citizens, for as I am now, soon you shall be, unless you dare to be free.”

Teyte, ashen-faced, looked away from the Tri-Vid unit as Oates’ squawker rang. The man unclipped it from his belt and went into the back bedroom to speak in private. Teyte blinked twice and, just for a moment, seemed very vulnerable.

I saw a chance and I took it. “I hope you’re certain of Bernard. If he plays this wrong, it all goes away. He can ruin this.”