Iskra was enjoying himself too much to be angry. "That's all right. I don't expect compliments from the ignorant."
Venloe thumbed at the vidscreen. "You think that's genius?"
"What do you call it, my uneducated friend?"
"Crazy," Venloe snapped. "Or just plain stupid."
"My, my. Humanity bleeds in that cold heart."
"Don't mistake professional opinion for a warm and cuddly nature, professor," Venloe said. "It should be obvious to anyone other than a pedantic fool that you're just making things worse. This is all not only unnecessary, but dangerous. Every time you do something like that"—he jabbed a finger at a picture of a soldier hammering a lagging refugee—"you make yourself five or six more enemies."
"This isn't a popularity contest," Iskra said with a laugh. "Besides, I would think you'd be pleased. After what happened at the barracks, I'd think you'd be delighted that I'm revenging your poor, dead Guardsmen."
"Don't put it on us," Venloe warned. "You were never requested to take this kind of action. Don't drag the Emperor into this thing."
"But he already is," Iskra purred. "And quite vocally. Why, the entire Empire knows how important I am to him." He gestured at the vidscreen. "Just as everyone in the Altaics will soon know that it is in his name all these sacrifices are being made."
Venloe's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"This is just the beginning." Iskra laughed. "Oh, it will take much more work to purify the Altaics."
"Meaning?"
"Watch my next vid cast," Iskra said. "I think even you will be impressed at my new emergency decrees."
Venloe looked away from Iskra's sneer. On the vidscreen he saw a refugee break out of the crowd. The being quickly unfurled a handmade banner.
He had just time to make out the words on the banner before the man was hammered down by soldiers: WHERE IS THE EMPEROR?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
"There's no way, Your Highness, anyone could have foreseen what Iskra has become," Venloe said, adding one milliliter of concerned sympathy to his tone, "let alone yourself. The last time I checked, you had to worry about an entire Empire."
To Venloe's concealed astonishment, a flickered expression crossed the Eternal
Emperor's face. Surprise that anyone should care? Venloe could not—would not—interpret what he had seen on the screen. The Emperor's countenance swiftly reverted to calm authority.
"Yes," the Emperor said. "You're right, Venloe. You understand a bit of the reality of ruling. I can see why Mahoney thought highly of you, even though you were on opposite sides."
It was now Venloe's turn to poker-face. Ian Mahoney had, in fact, not only refused to touch palms with him as a gentleman should have when the game was over, but had said he would like to kill Venloe. Slowly. Venloe had believed him. Absolutely.
The Emperor didn't appear to have noticed Venloe's studied lack of reaction.
"These latest actions of Dr. Iskra and his regime that you, Sten, and... other agents have reported are completely psychopathic," the Emperor continued. "So we must deal with the problem directly and immediately."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for clarifying the situation. I'm afraid I was confused about which option should be used," Venloe lied, deliberately laying it on a trifle thick, trying to see at what point the Emperor's famous antisycophant snarl would cut in.
The Emperor, however, was looking off at another screen Venloe could not make out. "I've called up," the Emperor said, "the fiche you prepared on what we called the fallback option. A thorough job, Venloe. My compliments."
"Thank you, sir."
"I will tell you which option I want implemented shortly. One thing, though. There'll be a change to the one I'll order. I wish you to be directly involved. It isn't enough to control the exercise at long range. There must not be—cannot be—the slightest error."
Venloe bristled a bit. "Your Highness, my operations have been uniformly successful, and I've always kept one thing foremost in my planning."
"Which is, that if the drakh comes down, you're safely on a stage headed out of town."
"I've never before been accused of being a coward, sir. The reason I prefer to work by remote control is to keep my client's hands clean. If the operative is caught and then plays true confessions, it doesn't matter, because no one beyond a field agent or two, who's been deliberately given misinformation, will be caught in the net." Venloe thought, but certainly didn't say, that his clotting plans worked well enough to have speared the biggest fish of alclass="underline" the clotting Eternal Emperor himself. But he was hardly suicidal.
"That's not a concern here," the Emperor said. "And that was an order. I want you on-scene and capable of personally rectifying any error, if an error is made."
"Yes. Sir."
"Very well. I've told you that Mahoney has been assigned to the Altaics, and in what capacity. He knows nothing of this plan, by the way. And I want you to extract yourself from the Altaics as soon as possible—after the operation has been completed. Now, adding Mahoney to the equation, your option must accomplish several things.
"First. Dr. Iskra is to be killed. Instantly. He must not be allowed to suspect anything before the moment of removal."
"Obviously, sir."
"Second. In view of Mahoney's orders, his task will be made much easier if some of these lightweights who've been flocking around Iskra, those ineffectual power-seekers Sten has mentioned in his reports—it would be well if some of them ceased to exist. The confusion of their replacement is desirable, in the eyes of the Empire."
"That would suggest that Your Highness will order either Option C or R."
"Correct. And you will know which of the two when I give you the final condition.
"The Empire cannot be implicated in this matter. Not even in whispers or the vaguest of paranoiac rumors. And the best way I can see for us to remain beyond suspicion is if one of our most highly respected and honored servants is unfortunately killed in the debacle."
"The—ambassador? Sir?"
"Yes," the Eternal Emperor said. "We all exist but to serve. And this will be his greatest service to me.
"Sten must die."
BOOK FOUR
VORTEX
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Venloe foresaw no major problems carrying out the Eternal Emperor's orders—at least as far as the murder of Iskra and any other Jochi politico who could be decoyed into the trap.
He wasn't especially in love with killing Sten to cover up the conspiracy. Not because he had any feeling for him—Sten and Mahoney had, after all, tracked Venloe to his hiding place and forced him to undergo the racking brutality of a brainscan—but he thought the Emperor was planning a flight when no one would pursue.
Venloe did not think that anyone in the Empire outside the Altaic Cluster would care if a slimeball dictator was assassinated. Many would even cheer a little, even if they suspected the Eternal Emperor had masterminded the killing.
But he had his orders.
So Sten would die.
It might, the more he considered it, be beneficial to Venloe himself. Sten was too slippery, too good at the double- and triple-think of intelligence ops. If he were in his meat locker, that might make Venloe's extraction less risky.
Venloe was still angry at the Emperor's orders that he, himself, had to be part of the murder plot. Stupid. And it showed a measure of distrust. But he eventually shrugged and forgot it. The Eternal Emperor wasn't the first to require the absurd—and he certainly was the biggest client Venloe had ever worked for and must be kept satisfied.