"I don't have that many men," Sada objected, "not unhurt anyway."
"We expect you to recruit. We expect you to recruit very carefully because this brigade must be really first rate."
"Assuming you're paying, I suppose I can recruit. But I'll have to be very careful who I recruit."
"We know," Carrera agreed. "We expect you to take your time about it. It's going to be a few months before the insurgency we expect to come about can really kick off. You have to be ready by then."
"The insurgency is in place," Sada answered. "It's been in place. And with the FSC letting all those soldiers go, it's going to grow fast."
"Yes, but not here, not in our area."
"Maybe not," Sada said, noncommittally. "But it will spill over even so."
"That's the third thing we need. After you subtract for the translator-guides and the cadre for your new brigade, we want… watchers."
"In the towns?" Sada asked. "To spy and report?"
"And assassinate," Carrera added. "And to terrorize, if and when that becomes necessary. But the whole thing has to fall under your command. For any number of reasons, but mostly financial, we can't do some of the necessary dirty work. Some of that dirty work involves… well… let's say it involves information control."
Sada held out his glass to Fahad, who automatically refilled it. " Shokran, ya Fahad," he said, while using the moment to think.
"You realize, then, that no one can rule this place except through fear. I always despised the dictator except for one thing; he was able to hold us together. No one else could have. Carrot and stick is all well and good, but the donkey has to be able to see the stick."
"We understand that," Carrera answered.
"Pay?" Sada asked, more curious about whether it would be enough to keep his men and their families fed than out of any sense of greed.
Carrera handed over a sheet with pay scales. "It's about half what we pay our own, and about thirty or thirty-five percent more than the pay rates under the dictator. Plus there are some bonuses and extra pay for translators and the watchers. And we can work out special event bonuses for some utterly necessary but distasteful actions."
Sada put the sheet down. It was enough not to need to quibble over. More importantly, "How many of my wounded are expected to recover?"
"About six hundred," Carrera answered. "Maybe a few more."
"So… two thousand men to be your translators, form a secret police network, and cadre for a brigade. It's… possible, but only just possible."
"Best start now then," Parilla said, after Carrera had translated. "Pay starts as soon as you begin."
Sada was leaving, under escort, when Fernandez stopped him in the corridor. He introduced himself and explained, "I'm the military intelligence section. Rather, I'm the dirty part of it. I know what Carrera and Parilla asked you for. I need something, too."
"Yes?"
"You won't have any of what I need in your brigade," Fernandez began to explain. "But, given your former position, you'll have connections to what I need."
"And that would be, Tribune?"
"Interrogators," Fernandez answered simply. "And I have my own budget. I'll pay better than normal rates for what I have in mind."
Ninewa, 12/3/461 AC
It was hard, if not quite as hard as the decision to surrender his command had been. What do I do? Sada asked himself. What do I do about the special… packages. I don't have a use for the weapons. I don't even want my country to have the filthy things. The funds? I can see better uses for them than they're likely to receive if Saleh's people get control of them. And what about if they get control of the weapons? Allah, that's a horrible thought.
But to turn them over to the enemies who just conquered us? Is it treason? Is it treason when the government that I swore an oath to has ceased to exist?
On the other hand, the Balboans have hired me. Wouldn't it be treason to my new bosses to fail to give them the weapons? God, I don't know.
After two days of thinking about it, Sada asked to see Carrera and Parilla again. Standing orders were that he was to be given every possible leeway and privilege. The MPs guarding the camp accordingly escorted him to headquarters, which had been moved to the fairly undamaged university. The gate guard had apprised Carrera that Sada was coming.
"There is a reason I was here," Sada announced without fanfare.
"Well, of course…"
"No. Another reason. Your men wouldn't have found it, not yet. Can you assemble a guard, a very reliable guard, quickly? They'll need flashlights."
That took a bit, perhaps an hour. When the guard was assembled Sada told Carrera, "Follow me, please."
He led the party to a building in an isolated part of the university compound, almost at the surrounding wall. There, he continued on down into the basement by way of a wide staircase. At the base of the stairs Sada opened what looked to be a gray metal circuit breaker box. He flicked a few switches and a hidden door opened up in the wall, moving out of the way with an irritating screech.
Sada took a flashlight from one of the legionaries and led the way through the door.
"None of my men knew about this," he explained, waving the light from side to side of a long, broad corridor. "Just me and a few mukharbarat I had shot before the battle."
Sada and Carrera walked to one of the open doors that fronted the corridor. There, the Sumeri turned the flashlight into a room and played it about. "That's money," he said. "I don't know how much but I'm guessing it's at least several hundred million, maybe a billion. Maybe more. Mostly it's Tauran Union currency, with some FS drachma and Anglian pounds. Come on, there's more."
"More money?" asked Carrera incredulously. "It's already more than we can easily funnel into rebuilding the country."
"No, not money… other things."
"Those two lead to chemical agents and the makings for more," Sada said, as they reemerged into the corridor. He flicked the light from one of two further doors to the other. "I wouldn't open those, not until you have men equipped to deal with a possible leak." He flashed another door and said, "That one's bio. Smallpox and anthrax. Scares the shit out of me and if you can figure out a way to destroy it without opening the doors I'll be very grateful."
Sada's light came to rest on a final door. "This is the important thing I wanted to show you," he finished, as he turned himself and the light toward a door marked with radiation symbols. He had to open another box and flick several more switches to make that door open.
Inside, Carrera saw twenty-one plastic cases, each about the size of a footlocker. Some, but not all, of those were likewise marked with radiation symbols.
"Jesus Christ!" he uttered. "Are these…?"
"Yes. And it's more like Shaitan," Sada corrected. "There are seven of them here. I think that was all there were. They're in sets of three cases to a weapon: nuclear material, conventional explosive, and control device. Only three have been reconditioned to work. The others could be, but there was no time. They were supposed to go to another place, I don't know where-for safekeeping and possible future use. You must take control of them."
"I must, indeed," Carrera agreed.
Ninewa, 15/3/461 AC
Drums beat and bagpipes skirled as the legion marched onto the field from a hidden position behind the sand dunes. Carrera, Parilla, most of the cohort commanders and a party of about sixty Sumeris stood on a reviewing stand that had been bulldozed up out of the sand.
Sada asked, "Where the hell did you get those pipers, anyway, Patricio? I wouldn't have picked Balboa for a place where bagpipes would be popular."
Carrera chuckled. "It's a funny story actually. The Balboans love the horrid things to the extent they know about them. But you're right. They're not that well known in the country. We got these by a sort of roundabout route. A lot of our people emigrated to Secordia during Pina's time in power. Even before that, too, as a matter of fact. Often they eventually return. One of our women, living down there for a few years, married a Secordian who was a reservist in their army.