“Shut up!”

I let surprise fit like a mask over my face. “You don’t actually think he had his father murdered, do you?”

Teyte shook his head quickly. “No, he couldn’t have.”

“You better hope not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Think about it. The only evidence he has that Emblyn is involved in things is me. He doesn’t want me able to contradict him: I know too much to be allowed to live.” I jerked my head at the back room. “That call. That could be Bernard telling Oates that he has to kill us both, make it look like you came to capture me and I shot you, Oates shot me. It’s perfect. He eulogizes you, since he can’t eulogize his father quite yet, and he gets rid of a popular rival to power.”

“No, he wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” I shook my head. “Call him. See if he’s talking on his squawker.”

Teyte took the bait. He pulled his communications device and dialed. “Bernard, this is Teyte. Donelly’s saying you had your father attacked and that you’re going to kill us because he can’t be left alive!” What he said was actually a bit more hysterical than that, and referred to me with a sobriquet that most JumpShippers would hesitate to use.

What he said really didn’t matter, however. Bernard spoke and Teyte started nodding. He said, “Yes, yes, of course, never doubted it. Yes, I will. I’ll tell him.” He then lowered the squawker and smiled calmly in my direction.

“He said to tell you that you were right. You can’t be left alive.” Teyte slipped his right hand to the small of his back and drew out a squat black needle pistol. They shoot slivers carved from a block of weapons’-grade polymer. My previous comments about exit wounds don’t really apply, save that a shot to my chest or throat would kill me, and a postmortem shot to the face would make me look like a bowl full of soggy shredded wheat.

With lots of blood splashed around, just for fun.

He reached over with his left hand to cock the weapon, then the squawker rang. Teyte turned it over, looked at the small screen and got a puzzled expression on his face. “What the…?”

The apartment door crashed inward, half torn from the hinges. A Public Safety officer in Hauberk armor burst into the room. Teyte came around, the pistol tracking the lead target. He snapped off a shot, but the needles just skipped off the armor like toothpicks hurled against a wall. The armored figure’s right arm came up. Scarlet bolts of cohesive light burned through the air. The heat flashed against my face, and vaporized both Teyte’s chest and bits of the wall behind him. He dropped to the floor with a trio of smoking holes in his chest.

Oates came from the back room, with a pistol in one hand and identification in the other. “Police!” he yelled, but his pistol came up and swept toward me.

Before it could accidentally misfire, Niemeyer raised his right hand and fired from the doorway. The laser bolt sizzled past my head, singeing a bit of hair. The lead officer cut to the back room and pronounced it clear.

The visor on Niemeyer’s armor came up. “We’re even now, Donelly.”

I nodded, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass.”

“Why?”

Niemeyer snorted. “Some people think you’re worth saving.” He stepped into the room, then waved toward the hall. “You have powerful friends, Donelly.”

I looked up and Janella strode into the room.

Manville, Capital District

Basalt

Prefecture IV, Republic of the Sphere

27 February 3133

I looked at her and held my smile back. “Do I know you?”

Lady Janella Lakewood nodded rather regally. “Yes, Sam, you do. Colonel Niemeyer knows we have worked together before.”

I nodded. Janella had gone with option one, which was to depict me as an informant who had been useful to her in the past. Niemeyer still wouldn’t like me, but he’d trust me a bit more. He’d trust her a whole lot. In many ways this was the best choice of cover, since it minimized my notoriety and let my current files stand. He’d imagine that I worked with Janella to get some of the charges against me reduced to nothing.

One of the Public Safety officers undid my cuffs and I rubbed at my wrists. “Oates, Teyte and another officer nabbed me after I left the hospital. They brought me here and were just holding me until Bernard could squeeze some time into his schedule for making me very dead. Even if you caught the last call and can decrypt it, he’ll deny everything.”

I looked up. “How did you find me, anyway?”

Niemeyer smiled. “The taxi driver you had is a chronic complainer. He got roughed up resisting arrest once—we wanted to take his taxi out of service to look for evidence and he objected. He’s always in and out complaining about something. When they grabbed you, he came immediately to headquarters and started filling forms out. He recognized Teyte and Carlson—the other officer. We got authorization from a magistrate to look for the location data for their squawkers. We narrowed it down to this sector, brought in special equipment and triangulated. We found you.”

“What took you so long?”

Janella frowned at me. “We had to find a magistrate who could authorize the squawker monitoring and yet would not spill his guts to the Germaynes.” She looked at Niemeyer. “Colonel, I would suggest your report on this incident concerns the wiping out of an FfW cell. There were casualties, with identities withheld, pending notification of next of kin. Sam would be the only person identified as being dead.”

The big man frowned. “That will make Bernard think he is safe, which might free him to do more.”

I stood, then reached back and supported myself on the chair. “He’ll know he hasn’t heard from Teyte, and this Carlson will likely let him know he’s not heard from Oates. He’ll know something is up. He’s going to feel pressure no matter what we do.”

“Well, Carlson’s on ice, so that’s not a problem.” Niemeyer pointed at Teyte’s squawker. “If you want to grab that and turn it off, people will leave messages, which will buy us some time. He won’t know Teyte is gone for a bit yet.”

I did as he suggested, killing the squawker. “Okay, so this pulls a little bit of pressure off him, but not enough because bigger trouble is going to come rolling down the line and fast. Bernard has Emblyn, and Emblyn isn’t going to stand for that.”

Niemeyer lifted the helmet from his armor and tucked it under his right arm. “He’s limited in what he can do, though. Lawyers will wrangle, but treason isn’t an offense that will allow him to get out of jail. He’s stuck.”

“With him, it’s going to be less actually being in jail than it will be his being in Bernard’s power. I imagine he’ll have his people unleash waves of terror attacks, and the real deal this time. Lots of people will die, and I’d not put it past him to have Catford spring him from jail.”

The colonel looked past me toward the apartment’s window. In the distance somewhere was the Capital District holding facility. “A battle to get him free would cause so much damage…”

“Agreed, so we can’t let that happen.” I smiled. “We won’t.”

Janella’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking, Sam?”

“Colonel, Public Safety arrested Emblyn, so he’s nominally in your control, right? You could move him if you thought there was a safety issue, couldn’t you?”

The big man slowly nodded. “It would take a little doing, but it could be done.”

“Good. We know they’ll be coming for him one way or another, so we have to minimize collateral damage. I have an idea about how to do that and, just perhaps, get everyone and everything right where we want it.” I glanced at Janella. “Did you bring a ride?”