So were lighted windows, now that the meeting in the cathedral had broken up and the gangs were out in force again.
Tyl clicked his face shield down in the lighted courtyard and watched the seven soldiers jogging toward him with the greenish tinge of enhanced ambient light.
"All present 'n accounted for, sir," muttered Kekkonan when he reached Tyl, reporting because he was the senior Slammer in the unit.
"Sergeant major's got a squad on the roof," Tyl explained. "Make sure your own gear's ready to move, then relieve Jack. All right?"
"Yes sir," said Kekkonan and ducked off after his men. The emotion in his agreement was the only hint the noncom gave of just how tight things had been an hour before.
"Lachere,make sure Control's core pack's ready to jerk out,"Desoix said."We've
got one jeep, so don't expect to leave with more than you can carry walking."
The clerk's boots skidded on the rotunda's stone flooring as he scampered to obey.
Desoix put his arm around Tyl's shoulders as they followed their subordinates through armored doors which the guard immediately began to close behind them. Tyl was glad of the contact. He felt like a rat in a maze in this warren of corridors and blocked exits.
"I appreciate your help," Desoix said. "It might have worked. And without those very good people you lent me, it would—"
He paused. "It wouldn't have been survivable. And I'd have probably made the attempt anyway, because I didn't understand what it was like out there until we started back."
"Iguess . . ." Tyl said. "I guess we better report to,to the President before we go. Unless he was tapping the push. I guess we owe him that, for the contract."
They stepped together into the small elevator. It was no longer separately guarded. The Executive Guardsmen watched them without expression.
A few of the Slammers stationed in the rotunda threw ironic salutes. They were in a brighter mood than they'd been a few minutes before. They knew from their fellows who'd just come in that the whole unit would be bugging out shortly.
"You're short of transport too?" Tyl asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice as he watched Desoix sidelong.
"I can give my seat to your sergeant major, if that's what you mean," Desoix replied. "I've hiked before. But yes, this was the base unit they robbed to outfit all the batteries on Two that had to be mobile."
That was exactly what Tyl had meant.
The elevator stopped. In the moment before the door opened, Desoix added, "There's vehicles parked in the garage under the Palace here. If we're providing protection, there shouldn't be a problem arranging rides."
If it's safe to call attention to yourself with a vehicle, Tyl thought, remembering the fire trucks. Luxury cars with the presidential seal would be even better targets.
Tyl expected Anne McGill to be at the open door connecting the Consistory Room with the presidential suite, where she could be in sight of her mistress and still able to hear the elevator arrive. She was closer than that, arm's length of the elevator—and so was Eunice Delcorio.
The President was across the room, in silhouette against the faint glow which was all that remained of the City Offices toward which he was staring. His nephew stood beside him, but there was no one else—not even a servant—in the darkened room.
"Charles?" Anne said. Her big body trembled like a spring, but she did not reach to clasp her lover now, in front of Eunice.
Tyl let Desoix handle the next part. They hadn't discussed it, but the UDB officer knew more about things like this . . . politics and the emotions that accompany politics.
Desoix stepped forward and bowed to Eunice Delcorio, expertly sweeping back the civilian cape he still wore over his gun and armor."Madam,"he said."Sir—" John Delcorio had turned to watch them,though he remained where he was."I very much regret that it's time for you to withdraw from the city."
The President slammed the bottom of his fist against the marble pillar beside him. Anne was nodding hopeful agreement; her mistress was still, though not calm.
"There's still time to get out," Desoix continued. Tyl marvelled at Desoix's control. He wanted to get out, wanted it so badly that he had to consciously restrain himself from jumping into the elevator and ordering the unit to form on him in the courtyard.
"But barely enough time. The—they are going to anoint Thom Chastain President at dawn in the plaza, and then they'll come here. Even if they haven't gotten heavy weapons from one of the military arsenals, there's no possible way that the Palace can be defended."
"I knew the swine were betraying me,"Delcorio shouted. "I should never have let them live, never!"
"We can cover the way out if you move fast enough," Tyl said aloud. "Ten minutes, maybe."
What he'd seen in the Consistory Room and heard from Desoix's terse report on the way back to the Palace convinced him that Delcorio, not Thom Chastain, was responsible for the present situation. But why didn't matter anymore.
"Allright,"the President said calmly."I've already packed the seal and robes of state. I had to do it myself because they'd all run, even Heinrich . . . ."
"No," said Eunice Delcorio. "No!"
"Eunice," begged Anne McGill.
"Ma'am," said Tyl Koopman desperately. "There's no way."
He was unwilling to see people throw themselves away. You learn that when you fight for hire. There's always another contract, if you're around to take it up . . . .
"I've been mistress of this city, of this planet," the President's wife said in a voice that hummed like a cable being tightened. "If they think to change that, well, they can burn me in the Palace first."
She turned to stare, either at her husband or at the smoldering night beyond him. "It'll be a fitting monument, I think," she said.
"And I'll set the fires myself—" whirling, her eyes lashed both the mercenary officers "—if no one's man enough to help me defend it."
Anne McGill fell to her knees, praying or crying.
"Madam," said Major Borodin, entering from the hall unannounced because there was no greeter in the building to announce him.
The battery commander looked neither nervous nor frustrated. There was an aura of vague distaste about him, the way his sort of officer always looked when required to speak to a group of people.
This was a set speech, not a contribution to the discussion.
"I urge you," Borodin went on, reeling the words off a sheaf of mental notes, "to use common sense in making personal decisions. So far as public decisions go, I must inform you that I am withdrawing my battery from the area affected by the present unrest, under orders of my commander—and with the concurrence of our legal staff."
"I said—" John Delcorio began, ready to blaze up harmlessly at having his nose rubbed in a reality of which he was already aware.
"No, of course we can defeat them!" said Eunice, pirouetting to Borodin's side with a girlish sprightliness that surprised everyone else in the room as much as it did the major.