DeWitt's face was stunned and amused, even half asleep. His bedroom showed behind him. "Yeah, I'll comment," he offered. "I guess Weilhung's already covered because he was not directly in the area, was cut out by the contractors and had orders that didn't involve taking action. Colonel Weygandt opposed the idea, mostly because he didn't want to get burned, but we pay off on results, not intentions. I expect he has all the documentation he needs. I didn't actually give any orders and officially opposed everything I could. Sergeant White documented that for me, and helped with the extraction. I guess that just leaves Mister leMieure. I suppose he's fucked."
"DeWitt, I'll have you gone over this!" the fat man screamed.
"Sure, from jail. So, how's that going to work for you?" deWitt cackled with glee.
Weilhung was still shocked himself, but when the toad looked at him and said, "Weilhung, if you'd—" he trod on it.
"Fuck you, you gutless worm. I'm not sure who in the chain went along with that idea, but it made me want to puke, and I'll be glad to see them gone. I've got my differences with the colonel, but he stayed out of it and I'm not going to try to make him a scapegoat. Sounds like I'm covered. I can't be nailed for not assassinating someone, and BuState smuggled my people insystem. Everyone seems to be less visible or approachable than you. You were told the press would be as happy to take you down as to glorify you. Guess that's coming."
"Thank you, Major," Weygandt said. He did still look as if a car was bearing down on him. "I also have my differences, but I don't see that this is a military matter at our level. We were reassigned by someone at Cabinet or New York level. If I were involved, there's specific legal advice I'd offer. But of course, I'm not." His grin looked relieved.
LeMieure was panting, crying, about to go into hysterics. What a piece of shit, Weilhung thought.
"If I go, I'll see to it that reports are made! You will all fucking pay. You were all told what . . ."
"Oh, good to have that on file, sir," White said cheerfully after a light-speed delay. "I'll copy everyone on this as soon as I stamp it against edits. My commander is also with me as a witness, by the way."
"I have not been charged or read any rights!" leMieure practically screamed.
"Of course not, sir," Weygandt put in, copying White's formal but derogatory tone. "So you have the right of free speech. You may wish to exercise it with discretion."
It took leMieure four swipes to kill the connection, while he clutched at his throat with the other hand. His eyes looked as if they'd pop from his head.
"Colonel," Weilhung said to break the stretching silence, "what do you think of the idea of contacting Ripple Creek and offering supporting documentation. I just happen to have a couple that might help."
"Negative, Major," Weygandt replied with a shake. "I'd suggest holding on to that. After Mister deWitt contacts their attorneys in confidentiality, and they contact us, so we are only on record as responding to inquiries, then send them your files."
"Excellent, sir," he agreed. Whew. He hadn't done anything wrong, but it wouldn't have taken much of a misstep to land him in jail, too. An adrenaline ripple that felt like a combat reaction jolted through to his fingertips and up his neck. "Then I should get back to work."
"By all means."
"Good-bye, Major," deWitt said.
Weilhung said, "And Sergeant White, thank you. Thank you a lot. Can you get me contact information for Mister Marlow?"
"I can," she said. "I don't have it at present, but I'm sure I can find it shortly."
"Thank you."
Epilogue
Alex took several deep breaths as he entered the office. He knew exactly what this would be about.
It wasn't actually necessary to stand at attention, especially with a healing shoulder. Ripple Creek was a civilian enterprise, but Alex recalled a previous major screwup where he'd had to stand before a superior and take it. So he faced Don Meyer, Ripple Creek CEO, who was a fine operator, the man who contracted all this work, and a pocket billionaire.
The office wasn't a place to make him comfortable. There was nothing wrong with it, except that it was suit central, not military at all in layout, though it felt that way, and this was his general, if one thought of it as a chain of command. Adding to the discomfort was Massa's broad form sitting in a chair to one side.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Alex said. He'd tried to think of something better, but that was neutral enough and acknowledged the meeting. After that, he'd play it by ear. He wasn't too worried yet. No charges had been filed, there was a certain amount of visibility, and Bishwanath had promised to pull any strings and help cover costs. But Bishwanath wasn't exactly the SecGen or a federated nation president.
Meyer sat back in his chair, looked up from the screen set into his desk and said, "AIC Marlow, it sounds like you had one hell of a deployment."
"Yes, sir. That would be a good way to put it." He'd brought everyone home. That had to count. Most of them were still recovering from wounds and damage, but they were alive and mostly intact.
"Everyone came back alive, and the principal survived some major political backstabbing. That's the good news to start with," Meyer said, and rubbed at his eyes.
"I imagine the bad news is that certain elements are highly pissed at me."
"Several," Massa nodded from the side. "Assemblypersons, senators, heads of major corporations . . ." His expression was part grimace, part grin.
What was that implication? But RC wasn't a major corporation technically. Although . . .
Meyer spoke again. "We also have a huge amount of publicity, although Sykora vehemently refused the nude modeling contract that came in."
No one laughed. Even if she wasn't here, Elke commanded a certain level of respect and fear.
"How's the other publicity coming across, sir?" Alex asked. That could make or ruin them all.
"Very well, truth be told," Meyer nodded, failing to hide a grin. "Contract inquiries by the hundreds by paranoid execs and a few heads of state, as well as several highly placed appointees with cash to burn. Cash they probably shouldn't have," he snickered. "But BuState is officially unhappy with us and has sent us a letter to that effect. They are going to 'review our status and contracts.' "
"Ah, shit, I'm sorry, sir."
"No, you're not." Massa locked eyes with him. "You're not stupid, and you knew exactly what you were doing. Your contract was cancelled, and you carried on anyway, with another unofficial contract with the same principal, knowing that the connection between you and Ripple Creek was tangible. You had to know our primary contractee would be annoyed at you circumventing their operation." He stopped and let the silence hang. Alex needed a moment to decipher the corpspeak.
Alex picked it up. "You're right, sir. But I didn't feel like walking out on Bishwanath, or anyone, and leaving them to die, and I didn't think that being quite that mercenary would inspire confidence in anyone other than a government contract, and likely not many of them."
Meyer nodded. "You're correct. We didn't enter their plans at all, and if they were willing to sacrifice Bishwanath, I'm sure they were willing to then dump the blame on us. The initial reports already showed that, and I've since seen documents we acquired," he didn't say "stole," "that indicate they were ready to start inquiries about you and your team. Had you contacted us, that's exactly the information I would have given you."
"Sorry, sir. I was afraid of getting an answer I wouldn't like."
Meyer's voice was firm. "That's the part we have a problem with, Agent."
"Yes, sir." Was that "Agent" for "Agent in Charge" or a demotion to "Agent"? If so, that wasn't too bad. Yet.
"Within any reasonable means, you will keep this office informed of your actions and intents, so we can direct it from here. Had you inquired about that order, I would have given you some appropriately worded hints about what to do with your free time. I don't like being bent over the desk by bureaucrats, and I am not getting fucked for their entertainment." Meyer j
abbed his finger against the desk for emphasis, making knocking noises from the impact.
"I can understand that, sir."
"Which is why I'm very glad to have AICs with the foresight and courage to tackle a situation like that. You put your ass on the line several different ways for your principal, and that's coming out in industry publications, even if not in the mainstream."
"That's good to know, sir." A positive spin. Hopefully, this wouldn't mean another "resignation."
Meyer said, "I'm sure you'll like this part," and Alex let out his breath in relief. Sarcasm wasn't Meyer's way. So the good news was?
"I've had inquiries about your availability, and heard hints. I'm bumping you a slot. I'll likely still use you as an AIC for special contracts, but you're officially a District Agent."
Well. It was never bad to be told your monthly contract rate was equivalent to a skilled craftsman's or middle exec's annual salary.
"Thank you, sir. I'm very glad it worked out for the best."
Meyer nodded. "I did interview your team and principal and noted that you considered the repercussions on the company. You juggled ethics with cold professionalism, and then got the job done without any support we could be blamed for. I was able to sit here shrugging my shoulders, grinning like an idiot and denying any involvement. The illegally done surveillance—which we are filing charges on—showed nothing to stain us. We followed the letter of the contract, you followed the spirit, and between them, we look like executive protection gods." He grinned as he said it.
"But the nail chewing I was doing when I thought you'd skipped out entirely and were going to wreck all of that was a nightmare. I was running on drugs for a week."
Alex was relieved. He'd figured it wouldn't be all bad, but this was a break after entire weeks of shit. "Got it, sir. I'll try to have better commo before disaster hits."
"That's what I want to hear. Did Bishwanath mention a bonus to you?"
"No, sir. He mentioned he'd cover us if we got him out and he was able to acquire assets."
"Well, he is President now, and he wants you six back until things steady down. He prefers the distance professionals give him over any local groups, including his own. He's forced BuState to contract it, and his government is tossing in a twenty-five percent kicker, plus a hundred K for each of you for the mission. Oh, and a medal from his new government."
"Damn, sir. I'd thought it was going to be a balls-up." Holy crap. He'd known Bishwanath was a man of his word. He wouldn't have even attempted this otherwise. Still, it had never been about the money and he hadn't thought of it in those terms.
"Not quite. Will you take the contract?"
"Oh, hell yes, sir. I'll ask the rest, but I think we'll do it."
"You do realize the nation's in the midst of a civil war and experiencing large amounts of chaos? If you thought it was screwed up before, you won't like it now."
Alex grinned and said, "We'll manage. As long as it's not boring."
THE END
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Michael Z. Williamson, Better to Beg Forgiveness
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