“Are you ready? That is the more relevant question.” Stark’s eyes bored into those of the fake Garret. “It is essential that you pass for the admiral. This is a dangerous game we are playing.”
“I am ready.” He looked and sounded exactly like Garret, down to the cold stare and commanding presence. “Shall I go?”
Stark looked him up and down, almost forgetting it wasn’t the admiral he was facing. It was uncanny, his own creation, and even he was taken in. The imposter had Garret’s small personal mannerisms nailed perfectly – posture, expressions, fluidity of movement. “There are two vacancies on the Directorate at present. If you are successful in your mission, you will occupy one of these.”
“Thank you, Number One.” The agent, whose real name was Zander Alexi, was genuinely surprised. He knew there would be great rewards for success – that was how Alliance Intelligence operated. But he hadn’t considered a seat on the Directorate. The wealth and privilege – and power – that came with such an appointment were almost incalculable. “I will succeed.” Anything else was unthinkable…he knew the penalties for failure would be draconian. That, also, was how Alliance Intelligence operated.
“I hope so.” Stark’s voice was still calm and even, but a reptilian coldness crept in. “I trust you are aware of the consequences if you are not successful. Assuming, of course, that the navy leaves me enough of you to punish.”
Alexi swallowed hard. “Yes, Number One.” His voice wavered a bit, but he still sounded confident. “I understand. And I shall not fail.” He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. This was Alliance Intelligence, how it operated. There was constant stress, and operatives were dually motivated by the promise of great reward and the threat of unspeakable punishment. It was carrot and stick on steroids, and it worked. Things had always been that way to an extent, but Stark was the master of maintaining a constant level of tension in his people. The cost in burnt out agents was high, but in the end, they too were just tools to Stark. Getting the job done, that was all that mattered.
“Then go. You will already be late getting to the office.” Stark took one last look at Alexi. Everything was perfect, right down to the slightly rumpled uniform. “Number Three will meet you this evening for dinner. No doubt many people have seen the admiral with her. She is quite…noticeable.” Stark always had to repress a little smile when he thought of Alex. It was nothing so quaint as affection, more an appreciation of her own ruthlessness and stubbornness. Of the entire Directorate, she was the most like him, though Stark never really let anyone know him very well. Except for Jack Dutton, of course. “The two of you will appear to be tense at dinner, and this will set the stage for a breakup. I need Number Three for another operation, but we must be methodical in extricating her from this one. We don’t want to arouse any suspicions, however minor.”
“Yes, Number One.” Alexi turned on his heels and started to go.
“And Zander?”
The agent spun around. “Yes, Number One?”
Stark couldn’t help admire his handiwork. It could have been Augustus Garret standing there. “Don’t overdo it at dinner. Just a little tension. Admiral Garret would never make a scene in public, not even when quarreling with a lover. Understood?”
“Yes, Number One.” He looked slightly impatient, just the way Augustus Garret would in this situation. “I will remember.” He turned and walked down the corridor and rounded the corner toward the lift.
“So what do you think?” Stark was alone in the hallway, but a few seconds later, a hatch in the wall opposite Garret’s cell slid open.
“I think he is as ready as possible.” Jack Dutton walked slowly out into the corridor. “And I think there was no alternative.” He paused slightly as the hatch slid closed behind him. “Admiral Garret is not a blatant colonial partisan like many of the others. He is a creature of duty, and the coming conflict will put him in an almost impossible situation. There is no way to reliably predict how he would react.” He sighed quietly. “We could not take the risk. We must control the navy, or at least a large percentage of it.”
“I would have preferred that Lin Kiang had saved us this trouble.” Stark’s tone was slightly bitter. “That damned fool can’t do anything right.” Lin Kiang had been a senior CAC admiral assigned to intercept Garret’s task force and destroy the admiral’s flagship during the latter stages of the war. It was a daring assassination attempt against the preeminent mastermind of naval tactics, but it failed. The flagship was destroyed, but an unconscious Garret was saved by his fanatically loyal staff, most of whom died after getting him off the ship in his cutter. The disgraced Admiral Lin was now the guest of Alliance Intelligence, ensconced in luxurious quarters in this very building where Stark protected him from the agents of his vengeful counterpart, Li An, head of CAC external intelligence. Li An had assured Lin that failure would carry a heavy price, and she was accustomed to keeping such promises.
“Garret’s survival yielded us benefits as well. The fighting at Epsilon Eridani could have gone quite differently without the admiral.” Garret had been thought dead, but he’d come back on the eve of the final battle to take command and win a smashing victory. “Now, however, we have no other options. He is too powerful not to control, and too big a hero to push aside. The navy must continue to think he is in command.” Dutton put a hand on Stark’s shoulder. “Once we are able to complete our restructuring, we won’t need him anymore.”
Stark looked back at the door to Garret’s cell. “And then we will have to arrange a suitable end for the good admiral.” Stark’s tone had the slightest hint of regret. “Perhaps a shipyard accident on an inspection tour.”
“Yes.” Dutton was somber, genuinely unhappy about the prospect. “I don’t see any alternative to liquidation.” He paused, looking down at the ground. “It is a shame. Garret is a good man, one who should never have ended up here.”
Stark’s gaze turned back to Dutton. “Life is not fair, my friend.” The momentary emotion was gone from his voice, replaced by a feral coldness. “We both know that.” He paused, a stony expression on his face. “We will have to terminate Zander as well. Such will be his reward for success.”
Dutton paused before answering. He found the realities of the job becoming more difficult with age. He was just too tired for it. He sighed deeply, an aching sadness in his eyes. “I agree. We cannot afford any loose ends on this.”
Chapter 7
“Kevin, take five of your people upstairs and find good vantage points covering the road.” Marek’s voice was crisp, commanding. Things were spiraling out of control, and his combat instincts were taking over. “Now! We don’t have time to waste.”
“Ok, John. On the way.” Kevin Clarkson was a submersible captain, one of the 20 or so contractors who scoured the oceans of Columbia for the raw materials Marek’s factory turned into valuable exports. He turned and called out to several of his crew, telling them to get upstairs. “Are they really coming, John?” His voice was a little shaky.
Marek almost scolded Clarkson for wasting time with nonsense, but he held it back. You have to remember, he thought, scolding himself, these are not all veterans - you can’t handle them like you would a crack platoon. “Yes, Kevin. I left a couple scouts in Weston before I came here, and they sent the signal. The Feds are mustering now. We must have tripped an alarm we didn’t know about.” He could see the tension in Clarkson’s face. Kevin had never been in combat; he’d never fought his way through the slums on Earth. His father had immigrated to Columbia before he was born, and he’d never even been off-planet. “It will be OK, Kevin.” Marek put his hand on Clarkson’s shoulder. “Just stay focused. Tell your people to be steady, be deliberative. If it comes to shooting, pick your targets carefully, methodically.” He paused, looking right into Clarkson’s eyes. “And, Kevin…it only comes to shooting if they force the issue. No one fires without my order. Understood?”