“Excuse me a moment, Your Excellency,” Elora said as a young man motioned impatiently to her from across the room. Parsons watched as she swayed over and spoke with him in hushed tones. Elora returned in less than a minute.
“Business never ends,” she said.
“He had the look of a menial about him. In what capacity is he employed at the Ministry of Information?” asked Parsons.
“He doesn’t work here,” she said smoothly. “He’s a waiter at a local café, actually. He came to confirm… a reservation I had there.” Her face hardened for a moment.
“Such personal service is hard to find,” Parsons said, wondering about her look. He shifted the view of the city until he tapped into a news feed at an accident. “How tragic,” Parsons said. “A woman seems to have been injured in a hit-and-run downtown.”
“Cingulum has become a dangerous city, Excellency,” Elora said, reaching over and turning off the camera feed. “You don’t really want that signal.”
“What signal would you most like to receive, Minister?” Parsons asked. “Perhaps something showing the way to guide Mirach away from a weakening alliance?”
“Is The Republic’s grip on the Prefecture weakening?”
“Why, I never said that,” Parsons declared, his green eyes widening in mock surprise. He saw that Elora picked up his intent perfectly. She jumped to the conclusion that Sandoval sought new alliances in the wake of the HPG failure. He wondered what else she knew, or suspected.
“You represent Lord Governor Sandoval,” she said carefully. “Through my contacts, I’ve interviewed someone who claims Sandoval is distancing himself from The Republic.”
Parsons laughed and made it sound genuine. “That’s no more true than, say, Prefect Radick distancing himself from The Republic. It is a shame such rumors abound, but it becomes incumbent upon people like you and me to quell such …treason.”
“As you say, Envoy,” Elora said, bowing slightly.
“If you will excuse me, Minister,” Parsons said. “It is so late and I am woefully drained from today’s activities. Worse for my beauty sleep, I must rise before dawn.”
“You’re leaving Mirach so soon?”
“Oh, no, I’ll be here another few days. Tomorrow morning, far too early for my taste, Legate Tortorelli has arranged an inspection of the military. There is nothing quite so tiresome as seeing boxes of equipment or even long lines of soldiers dressed up and standing at attention for no good reason. Why, the last time I endured such an inspection, I got blisters from walking up one line and down the other. No one appreciated it. No one.” Parsons heaved a deep sigh of resignation. “Such is an Envoy’s fate.”
“If you find it too tiresome, perhaps I can arrange something more fascinating for you,” Elora said.
“You are such a gracious hostess, looking out for my interests this way,” Jerome Parsons said, “but I must attend, no matter how boring I might find it. The Legate was quite insistent about parading his combined forces.”
“Was he, now?” Elora frowned.
“Good evening, Lady Elora,” Parsons said, bowing slightly. He read people well. Elora had not known the Legate had issued that invitation. So were the seeds of distrust sown.
8
Ministry of Information, Cingulum
Mirach
15 April 3133
“You missed the other one,” Lady Elora raged. The man who had worked as a waiter in the café refused to be cowed.
“You said you wanted the woman dead. She is. The man would have cost you more.”
“Incompetent,” grumbled Elora. She shoved back in her desk chair and glared at the man. He had been useful before. He had to be useful again. Hanna had been rooting out too much information for Elora to be comfortable. What had she done with her data? Undoubtedly she would have told her lover. It would have been far easier if Dale Ortega had died along with her.
But had she told anyone else? Elora continued to fume. She had ordered that Hanna be watched when it had become apparent the Ministry of Information had a traitor in its ranks, but that observation had failed repeatedly. Hanna might have spoken to any number of people other than the Baronet. Elora frowned when she considered the possibility that Hanna had given what she had discovered to the Baron.
She quickly discarded that idea. The Baron would have fired Elora. Or would he? Was he astute enough to realize how that would appear to the people hanging on every word issued by the Ministry? She had gone out of her way to draw in as large a viewership as possible for the news, always hinting that danger lay around the corner. Removal of a Minister of Information would have been seen as an attempt at censorship.
“I have another job for you,” Elora said.
“I can do it.”
“You’ll have to play at being more than a waiter.”
“I can do it.”
“Let’s see how quickly you can become a soldier. One in charge of supply for the Legate.” She smiled as the man looked perplexed. The idea had come to her after learning Tortorelli had scheduled war games.
Let the games begin.
9
Palace of Facets, Cingulum
Mirach
16 April 3133
“Words are hardly enough to convey my sorrow, Dale,” Sergio Ortega said. “I know Hanna meant a great deal to you.”
Dale Ortega tried to put on a stoic face, but Austin saw the true pain his brother felt. For all his womanizing, Dale had finally found a soul mate in Hanna Leong. To lose her in such a terrible accident had to be painful, perhaps more so than when they had lost their mother in the air transport crash.
Austin tried to decide if it was better to know death was coming, creeping forward inexorably, or to be confronted with the abrupt fact of its finality. Try as he might, he could not decide.
“I’m in contact with the authorities,” the Governor said, “who assure me they’ll find the driver and prosecute to the full extent of the law. This was a tragedy that should never have happened.”
Dale started to speak, looked at his brother, then clamped his mouth shut. Austin wondered what Dale had been going to say but had chosen not to.
“Why don’t you take some time off?” suggested Austin. He wanted to ease his brother through the grief and knew time away from duties would help blunt it.
“There’s no reason,” Dale said. “I only got a few scratches. I prefer working to sitting and moping.”
Austin heard something else in his brother’s words. Dale wanted to be near the resources afforded by the Governor’s office.
Why? Austin wondered. What’s Dale up to?
“This is a terrible time to speak of political matters, I know,” Sergio said. “Your brother’s idea for you to take a week or two off is a good one. Consider yourself on leave beginning now.” Sergio checked his schedule. “After the Envoy leaves, why don’t we go fishing, the way we did when you were young? You always enjoyed being out on the sea.”
“A small vacation might do you good, too, Father,” Austin said.
“I prefer to work as much as I can, sir,” Dale said, looking upset at the notion his father would order him out of the office. “I might not have my mind fully on business, but any diversion helps.”
“Until the Envoy leaves,” Sergio said firmly. “Until then, take it easy. You two are my most trusted advisors. I need you with clear heads and hearts.”
“What’s the Envoy doing today?” asked Dale.
“Tortorelli is showing off his troops,” Sergio said with some distaste. Austin thought his father was going to spit. “It’s one thing to flaunt a world’s achievements, but to ruin it with a show of military might?” He shook his head.