“Doing what?”
“We’ve tried various approaches,” Mallowes said. “The one that appears to be most successful involves working closely with military academies and MechWarrior training centers to develop appropriate educational programs and sponsor promising candidates for advancement. It’s slow work, nothing flashy, but as the overall quality of the pool of potential Knights gradually improves, so will the quality—eventually—of the Paladins and even of the Exarch.”
Gareth willed himself not to become distracted by speculation on what Mallowes’ other, less successful operations might have been. He kept his voice steady, and even managed to inject a note of admiration into it as he said, “That’s …ambitious.”
Mallowes looked modest. “It’s not a sudden, overnight change, but we believe it will be effective. We’ve planted seeds throughout The Republic, growing minds that understand the way the Sphere is supposed to be governed.”
“The academy on Skye.”
“One of our earliest efforts. And, despite the fact that you are an exemplary graduate, not our most successful. We sacrificed some control over the curriculum, and as a result it was not focused entirely correctly. Still, it is a good program and has generated several promising prospects—though none, of course, as promising as yourself.”
Numbers flew through Gareth’s head. Numbers connected to names, some of which he knew, some of which he had never heard. But now he knew how all of them were connected. The money was the investment. The names were the candidates. The list Victor Steiner-Davion had created, the list that had gotten him killed, was a list of the people Mallowes and his associates intended to use to seize power in The Republic. And Gareth had been the first, and highest-placed, name on that list.
He suddenly felt ill.
When he spoke, he hoped his voice did not betray his disgust.
“It seems like a risky plan. How can simply providing an education guarantee loyalty?”
“As I said, we have learned much since we opened the academy on Skye,” Mallowes said. “Then, we thought gratitude would be enough. We were, unfortunately, naive. Our program is better run now. Those we have groomed fully understand the extent of their debt, and have the proper education so they properly support our cause.”
“Proper education” sounded, in this sense, like “brain-washing” to Gareth. He couldn’t imagine what kind of schools Mallowes was funding now.
“There are dozens, even hundreds, of candidates out there now, rising through the ranks. We have a newly elected Senator. We have several Knights of the Sphere. And now, thanks to your exemplary loyalty, we have a Paladin. Our strength can no longer be denied.”
Gareth shook his head in honest amazement. “I had no idea.”
“The Republic has grown too soft. We have had it too easy. The era of Devlin Stone was like a dream, and we all must now wake up and face reality. It’s time people remembered the families who governed them for so long. It’s time we were given our due.” A raspy note entered Mallowes’ voice as his tone became more strident. “Many of your associates are not prepared to do that. Victor Steiner-Davion was not. I am. You are. This will be our time.”
“Not if Jonah Levin has his way. Not if he keeps coming after me.”
“He will not. One way or another, Jonah Levin will not have any effect on you, or on tomorrow’s election.” Mallowes stood, leaving a mostly unfinished lunch. “I will see to that myself.”
50
Office of Paladin Jonah Levin, Geneva
Terra, Prefecture X
19 December 3134
Jonah Levin became more comfortable with his upcoming performance when he remembered that, in many battles, a lot of the key work involved theatrics. Making a show of strength to convince your opponents you had greater numbers than you actually possessed, feinting one way then moving your entire force another, sending a damaged unit out alone as bait then ambushing anyone who tried to take advantage of it—all of these involved misdirection, even showmanship. Those tactics weren’t really that different from what he was about to attempt.
Only he had to use words, not ’Mechs, and they weren’t his weapon of choice.
Senator Mallowes had been in Jonah’s reception area for six and a half minutes, and Jonah, using a small camera, had watched him every second. Mallowes had sat for six minutes, the model of statesmanlike decorum. His impatience, though, eventually got the best of him, and he had stood, made a quick circuit around the small room, then sat still once again. Jonah could almost see Mallowes’ knuckles whiten as he held his knees tightly.
A few more seconds, Jonah thought. A little more irritation is all I need.
He counted to twenty in his head, arranged his face into the expression of a man forcing himself to be polite, and opened his office door.
“Senator Mallowes,” he said. “How may I help you?”
“Paladin Levin,” Mallowes said with a convincing imitation of graciousness. “I realize you must be quite busy, preparing for tomorrow, but I’d like to ask for a moment of your time. You must believe that this is important and weighs heavily on the election.”
Jonah rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. “All right. Come in. But I don’t have long.”
As he turned, he could almost hear Mallowes bristling.
Jonah walked briskly to his desk, leaving Mallowes to close the door for himself.
The Senator sat on the edge of a plain wooden chair. Jonah had considered sawing an inch or two off the legs of the chair, but decided he had more important tasks than mangling the furniture to facilitate humiliation.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” Mallowes said. “I wanted to talk about something I said the last time we spoke.”
“What was that?”
“I may have led you to believe there was more of a connection between this Henrik Morten and Gareth Sinclair than actually exists. All I intended to say was that I was not aware of Sinclair severing his ties to Morten, as I had. Whether he actually employed Morten, or what he thought of him, I have no way of knowing.”
“Why are you coming to me now with… it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You can try to cover for your friend all you want, but it’s too late.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“It’s too late.” Jonah gripped the sides of his desk and leaned forward. “I’ve got Morten. And he’s talking.”
“What is he saying?”
“Plenty. Enough to guarantee that Sinclair’s career isn’t going forward anymore.”
“Are you sure Morten is a man you can trust? As I told you previously, I cut my ties to him because I found he lacked the requisite honor needed to serve The Republic in a high position. He would not hesitate to spread falsehood if he thought it could gain him an advantage—for example, if he thought it was something you wanted to hear.”
“What do you take me for?” Jonah snarled. “Do you think I’d build a case on the word of one man, even if I thought that man was honest? Morten just had to point me in the right direction. Once I knew where to look, I found corroboration. Plenty of it.”
“It doesn’t look good for Sinclair, then.”
“Not at all.”
“What do you intend to do to him?”
“Bring him to justice! Let the whole council know what kind of man was just admitted into our midst! If I have enough evidence—and I think I will—he’ll be in custody before we take the first vote.”
Mallowes sat with his hands calmly resting on his legs. The agitation he had shown in the reception area had disappeared.