Covert work, however, was still tolerated as long as no one was caught. This made the Decennial dangerous, and the friendly daytime meetings sometimes degenerated into assassination attempts at night. These conference protections only extended to the four walls of the hotel, so it became open game once anyone stepped off the grounds.
As a precaution, they formed a joint task force consisting of members from both sides assigned specifically to keep the peace. Roen marveled at the first three checkpoints on the way in, and they were still on the driveway leading to the hotel. Once he got out with his bags, he had to join another line to the fourth checkpoint, where security searched through his luggage. They confiscated his pistol, knife, even his flashbangs.
“Man, Tao. It’s worse than airport security here.”
You should have seen it before these rules were set up. We almost started World War III one year when they snuck in a biological weapon.
“What?!”
It is all right. We brought incendiaries that year, so it kind of evened out.
“Why do I feel like coming here was a very bad idea?”
Why do you think I was originally against you coming? I did not think you would be ready by the time the Decennial was held. You have proved me wrong though.
Roen checked into his room and went over the conference itinerary. Tao did not have any issues to bring up, but wanted to keep up to date with current events. In the past, his previous hosts had always played a contentious role in these negotiations, but Tao did not think Roen was ready for that sort of limelight.
Next Decennial, perhaps?
“I get stage fright.”
Roen pulled out a map of the resort and looked at the layout for all the emergency exits, committing them to memory. The Metropole was divided into two large wings connected by a central area that housed the lobby, restaurants, and stores. There were large circles on the map, around all the connecting points between the exits, and a big red square around the eastern wing. The Prophus had the western one.
“Guess I’m not supposed to go to that wing,” Roen muttered.
Most of the action will occur in the central lobby or pool area during the night. It is not unheard of for teams to make incursions as well. Just stay in your room.
“What if I need to go down to buy toothpaste or a magazine?”
Then you deserve to die for your stupidity.
“You’re in a bad mood, aren’t you? I guess a night out on the town is not going to be on the cards tonight, huh?”
Only if you want to get assassinated on the way back. This is serious, Roen. The most peaceful Decennial we ever had involved four deaths across both factions, and that was a hundred years ago.
“Jesus. Why do we bother coming?”
I agree with you there, but even warring countries need to communicate sometimes. Think of it as a United Nations with only two countries.
“Not a big believer in email, huh?”
Roen spent the afternoon unpacking, taking the opportunity to shower and nap before meeting up with Sonya and Paula for dinner. Stephen and Dylan joined them for drinks afterward at the bar.
You can relax tonight. The night before the conference is called the Homestead Reunion. It was the one time when all Quasing put aside our differences.
Roen watched Genjix and Prophus interact as if there wasn’t a five-hundred year-old war going on. Many old friends torn apart by the conflict reconnected here. Even the others sitting with him were frequently greeted by many of the agents from the other faction. No one greeted Roen, though.
“Tao, I have no Genjix friends, and it’s your fault. Sonya and Paula both have a line of people waiting to talk to them. Heck, even Dylan and Stephen got a few.”
I find this reunion experience preposterous. If you are at war, be at war. This is not halftime at a ball game. Timeouts should not be allowed.
“Really? I find it quite civilized.”
There is nothing civilized about war, Roen. Do not be fooled by this charade. These same Genjix buying you drinks tonight were trying to kill you yesterday. And they will try to kill you tomorrow.
“No one is buying me drinks, thanks to you.”
Some friends you can do without.
It was obvious most of the other Quasing did not share the same views as Tao. The bar was becoming crowded as the revelry grew into a full-blown party, though Roen did notice a few scowling faces of Genjix sitting at the far end. Obviously, Tao’s views were shared by some on the other team as well.
Tao wanted him to have a clear head for the next four days and forbade him to drink. That suited Roen fine, since no good ever came from drinking with Stephen and Dylan anyway. His “Tao won’t let me” excuse worked for the most part, though Dylan called Tao “Mother Hen” for the rest of the night. As the night wore on, the others dispersed to mingle with the crowd until he found himself alone.
After sitting by himself for an hour and experiencing a pre-agent life flashback of loneliness, he decided to stop looking like such a loser and went for a walk. Roen was pretty sure no one would miss him anyway. He left the main building and went to a small outdoor café on the balcony. He ordered a latte and sat back, admiring the city lights.
“Hello, Roen, is this seat taken?”
Roen turned and looked at a distinguished looking gentleman standing before him.
Chiyva!
Roen had never heard Tao snarl before, if a Quasing could even snarl. He jumped out of his chair, eyeing Sean warily. Roen didn’t know much about the man, except that Sean was a high-ranking Genjix, heading up much of their American operations, and that Tao hated Chiyva’s guts. Their paths had crossed often and Chiyva had been responsible for the deaths of Tao’s hosts on more than one occasion.
Tao made another snarling, strangled sound when Roen noticed Marc standing just behind Sean. Marc’s look expressed pure hatred. Roen’s hands tightened into fists as he returned the glare. He briefly considered throwing his beverage at Marc until he remembered where he was.
Sean rolled his eyes. “Oh, sit down, Roen. We’re not going ten rounds right now. Ruining Homestead Reunion would be bad form, and I just got my suit back from the cleaners. Besides, are you sure you want to go toe to toe with me? You might have escaped from old Omer and a few incompetent troops, but you’ll find me a bit more challenging. Please, sit. I trust you’ve met Mr Kenton?”
“I’m not such an easy target anymore,” Roen hissed, before hesitantly sitting back down.
Sean smirked at the guards eyeing them warily and followed suit. Behind him, Marc stayed standing. Sean ordered a coffee and took a long exaggerated sip when it came. He then put the cup down on the table, crossed his legs, and leaned back. Neither Roen nor Sean said a word as they studied each other.
Sean said, “You’ve never been an easy target, even since the beginning. You’ve avoided the mental midget here a few times now.” Sean gestured back at Marc. “And you’re looking well, like you almost fit your role with Tao. Almost.” Sean wiggled a finger at Roen’s chest. “There’s a whole lot less of you now than initially reported. That or our operatives need new glasses.”
“You should have made your move a year ago when I wasn’t ready,” Roen said haughtily.
“Well, there are ten million people in Chicago.” Sean shrugged. “Like finding a needle in a haystack. Trust me, if we could have found you sooner, we would have. Oh well, there’s always next time.” He chuckled. “That’s the thing about us blessed ones. There is always tomorrow, if not this lifetime, then the next.”