ON Duadi morning there was a lengthy and detailed article about the raids in Gestirn. It quoted Obreduur extensively, but the basic point was that the Council hadn’t authorized the raids, and those who did and participated would be charged under the criminal code. Dekkard was about to set the newssheet aside when a small article caught his eye, about the rapid rise in the cost of flour and breadstuffs, due to poor harvests and the high cost of imported emmer wheat-corn.
He recalled Ingrella’s comment. And she doesn’t make idle comments. She wanted you to know that.
“I didn’t see anything new in it,” said Emrelda, from where she sat, in uniform, at the breakfast room table finishing her café.
Dekkard forced his mind back to Emrelda’s comment. “Neither did I.” He set the newssheet aside and poured two mugs of café, because he heard Avraal’s steps in the hall. He set hers at her place.
“Thank you.” Avraal sat down and picked up the mug.
Dekkard turned back to Emrelda. “Last night you said that the patrollers in your station were angry about what the Special Agents did. Do you think that’s representative?”
“Most patrollers I know feel that way. Most of the patrollers they know in other stations feel the same. How far that goes, or what it’s like in other cities, I don’t know.”
“Most of the patrollers on the docks don’t care for the Specials,” added Gaaroll, who had been so quiet that Dekkard had hardly noticed her. “Think they’re bastards.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way,” said Emrelda with an amused smile, “but it’s not inaccurate.”
“Will the Premier do what he says?” asked Gaaroll.
“He’ll do what he can,” replied Dekkard. “He can’t question or put Director Jebulon on trial if he’s left the country, but the Justiciary minister clearly wants to hold guilty agents responsible.”
“That figures. Director skips, and gets off.”
“Wyath and Manwaeren won’t get off,” Dekkard pointed out, as he sat down and then moved two croissants to his plate.
“Hate to see any of ’em get off,” said Gaaroll.
So did Dekkard, but that was up to others at this point.
“I need to go,” said Emrelda. “Just be careful.”
“We’ll do our best,” said Gaaroll.
“We have to do better than that,” said Avraal dryly, as Emrelda left the breakfast room.
“If you’re going to do better than best, you’ll need more than café,” said Dekkard, placing a croissant on her plate. “I won’t insist on quince paste, though.”
“Not if you want me to be effective, you won’t.” She cut a small piece off the end of the croissant and ate it, then returned to sipping her café.
Dekkard wisely said nothing more and concentrated on finishing his own breakfast, then returned to their room, put on one of the red cravats, and donned the dark gray suit jacket, while Avraal finished dressing in a gray suit with trousers, touched up with one of her teal scarves, this one absolutely brilliant.
“That scarf looks good on you.”
“Thank you.”
Dekkard appreciated her smile, especially after the turmoil of Unadi.
Once more, he took a different route to the Council Office Building, and neither Avraal nor Gaaroll sensed any danger until they neared the Council premises.
Even before Dekkard turned onto Council Avenue, Gaaroll said, “Strong feelings up by Heroes Square and near the Council. Feels like that last demonstration, but there are fewer of them.”
“Are there any tightly focused?” asked Dekkard.
“Not that I can tell, sir.”
Dekkard could feel Avraal tightening up and said, “If either of you sense anything…”
“We will,” replied Avraal.
When Dekkard drew closer to the blue-clad demonstrators, he saw that they were more scattered, and the signs were far less professional in appearance and lettering. He caught several of the messages as he drove by.
MURDER FOR WANTING CHANGE?
WANTING CHANGE SHOULDN’T MEAN DEATH
EXECUTE THE SPECIALS!
SPECIALS = DEATH SQUADS
And, of course, REFORM THE COUNCIL!
After Dekkard turned in to the covered parking area and brought the steamer to a halt in his spot, he turned to Avraal. “I know you were worried that whoever’s after me might use the demonstration as a cover to shoot me and create more violence, but I also had the feeling that this demonstration was spur of the moment, and that meant—”
“That those after you wouldn’t have known quickly enough?”
“Also … neither of you sensed an intent or focus. If you had, I would have turned and sped away. In addition, this was a smaller demonstration. There were less than a hundred. An assassin would stand out in such a small group, and might get caught. That’s not something they’d want. If there had been hundreds, I wouldn’t have chanced it.” The last reason had come to Dekkard after he’d parked, but he wasn’t about to admit that he’d largely gone on feel and trust in Avraal and Gaaroll.
“They just may be waiting for us to let down our guard or to get careless,” said Avraal.
“I’ve worried about that, too,” replied Dekkard before opening the steamer door and getting out.
As they walked across the street toward the Council Office Building, Dekkard asked, “I’d like your thoughts about the demonstrators being out here this morning.”
Avraal did not answer immediately. Finally, she said, “They organized this demonstration less than two days after an extensive series of raids. To me, that says that the Special Agents either didn’t have very good information about the New Meritorists or that the raids were designed to incite more violence.”
“What about being a last-chance strike at them?”
“That, too. That might have been what Jebulon used to motivate the agents. I still think the principal aim was to upset the Meritorists and to undermine the government.”
“By showing that the Crafter government either can’t be trusted or that it’s not in control?”
“Both, most likely,” she replied. “Either one is bad from Obreduur’s point of view. The raids make it harder to deal with the New Meritorists, and would advance Commercer hopes of regaining control of the Council.”
“That means more demonstrations and broadsheets against the Council and more pressure from corporacions to crack down even harder on the New Meritorists.”
“Not immediately,” she pointed out. “They need to create the illusion that he had time enough to deal with the problems and failed.” She added, as they neared the bronze west doors to the Council Office Building, “Enough for now.”
As soon as they reached the office, Margrit handed him four envelopes.
“The first one is from Premier Obreduur. Anna brought it.”
Dekkard put Obreduur’s envelope on the bottom and opened the second message. “A reminder about the Workplace Administration Committee meeting this afternoon.” The next was another reminder, from Haarsfel as majority floor leader, that debates and discussion on the next year’s budget and appropriations legislation would begin at fourth bell on Tridi, and that councilors could expect daily sessions to last until at least fifth bell every day until the appropriations were passed.
Dekkard showed that to Avraal, then handed it to Margrit. “Make sure everyone reads this. The office will be open until fifth bell until the appropriations pass.”
The fourth envelope held a short note from Fredrich Hasheem on Security Committee stationery, which suggested that Dekkard drop by his office between fourth and sixth bell. Dekkard merely said, “Apparently, I have to meet with Chairman Hasheem later this morning, largely at my convenience. Also, I’ll need to talk to Shuryn later this morning, if you’d tell him, probably around fifth bell.”
“I can do that, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Then he and Avraal walked into his office, where he set his leather folder on the desk and opened Obreduur’s envelope. He took out the single sheet and held it so that Avraal could read it as well.
Steffan—
The subject of your last message appears to have acted as you feared; although the names do not match, the description does.
I appreciate your speed and thoughtfulness in mentioning the possibility.
The signature was simply “Axel.”
Avraal shook her head. “He’s never liked to put much in writing.”
“Unless he wants it to appear in the newssheets.” Dekkard slipped the note into his gray leather folder. “So Jebulon is likely on a foreign vessel headed for a livable city in the Teknold Confederacy. I don’t see him going to Medarck or Sargasso, because Obreduur could demand any country there return him and be assured that they would.” While it had been almost a decade since the Guldoran fleet had bombarded Dreshaan into rubble, Dekkard doubted that any of the less industrialized countries would want to risk it—not over a demand to return a criminal.
“What do you think Hasheem wants?”
“To tell me that he got an answer from the Navy about the report that Manwaeren said existed about how the New Meritorists got the dunnite. Whatever he’s found out, he doesn’t want to put it in writing.” Dekkard frowned. “Then again, he’s cautious. He just might tell me that the Navy confirmed Manwaeren’s story. I’ll just have to see. He wrote that I should come by any time after fourth bell.”
“That gives you time to go through your pile.” Avraal’s eyes went to the neat stack in the inbox and added, “Maybe.” Then she smiled.
Dekkard shook his head in return. “I still need to study the appropriations bill as well.”
Then he smiled and said, “Go work with Nincya. Or conspire with Svard to improve how the office works.”
She grinned back at him. “Don’t tempt me.”
He gestured her toward the door. “We’ll leave to see Hasheem at fourth bell.”
Once Avraal closed the door, Dekkard sat down behind the desk, picking up the first letter, clearly from Guldoran Ironway, but postmarked from Gaarlak. He extracted the letter and began to read, his eyes focusing more on the words after the courteous opening.
I understand that you and my wife talked when you were here in Gaarlak last summer, and she conveyed to you my concerns about the lack of adequate supplemental funds for ironway right-of-way and track maintenance. With the restrictions on the last reallocation legislation, Guldoran Ironway’s ability to maintain the track in the Gaarlak district will be greatly diminished, and I thought you would want to be aware of that …
The signature was that of Waaltar Haelkoch, district manager.
Dekkard couldn’t help smiling, if ruefully, and wondering how many more letters referencing personal contacts would show up regarding the coming appropriations. Probably not that many this year. Next year would be a different matter.
He jotted down a brief note to Svard that he had met with Haelkoch’s charming wife, but not to commit to more than thanking Haelkoch and promising to look into the matter.
The remainder of the correspondence and petitions were more routine. He even read through the opening section of the appropriations measure before he and Avraal left the office just after fourth bell for the short walk to Hasheem’s office, which was one of the closest to the main staircase down to the main level.
When Dekkard and Avraal walked through the door, Hasheem’s personal secretary looked slightly puzzled, but Erleen Orlov stood immediately, grinning. “Councilor Dekkard, Ritten, I wondered if we might see you both. I’d like you to meet my new partner, Myrenda Lestiig.” Then she half turned to the very young-looking empath. “Myrenda, this is Councilor Steffan Dekkard and his wife, Ritten Avraal Ysella-Dekkard. They were once Premier Obreduur’s security team.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you both.”
Dekkard could hear a hint of nervousness in Lestiig’s voice. “We’re glad to meet you and pleased that Erleen has a solid and dependable partner.”
“And one who’s a strong empath as well,” added Avraal warmly.
“Not as strong as you are, Ritten,” replied Lestiig.
“But close,” replied Avraal, “and you’re still learning.”
“Thank you.”
The secretary cleared her throat. “Councilor Hasheem said you could just go in, Councilor Dekkard.”
Avraal looked to Dekkard with a smile. “We’ll be fine here.”
“I’m sure you will,” replied Dekkard, who then turned and entered the inner office, closing the door.
Hasheem rose from the desk and stepped around it, gesturing to the chairs, then took the one that half faced to the window.
Dekkard took the one that faced Hasheem.
“Axel warned me that you were dangerous,” said Hasheem, with a rueful smile. “He said you were dangerous because you see what others don’t or don’t wish to.”
“Dangerous?” Dekkard asked lightly.
“When people don’t wish to see something, they get angry, sometimes violent, when it’s brought to their attention in a way where they can’t ignore it.” The older councilor paused. “I appreciate very much your suggestion that I look into that letter Manwaeren referenced. The letter does exist. It looks perfect. It’s on the proper stationery with the proper format and references, and the correct names. It’s also a forgery. The Navy was very unhappy to discover it existed. Admiral Jingao—he replaced Admiral Gorral—insisted on personally refuting the forgery before the Premier and his empath. He was somewhat mollified when the Premier assured him that former Security Minister Wyath would also be charged with aiding and abetting the fraudulent creation of government records. I’ve been led to believe that the Navy is not at all unhappy with the Security and Public Safety Reorganization Act—if for other reasons dealing with the former minister and his predecessors.”
Dekkard nodded, waiting.
“I did not mention your name in connection with this matter to anyone but the Premier, and only in person. He did not use your name, either.” Hasheem paused, then looked to the window, out at the darkening sky, before finally continuing. “This revelation presents a problem, as I’m sure you understand. Everyone would prefer that the matter remain as it is, with the blame primarily upon the New Meritorists and secondarily upon the corrupt leadership of the last Security minister. So, for the present, or unless more definitive evidence surfaces, the Premier would prefer that no hearings be held on the matter, since they could prove … unsettling at a time when there is already all too much unresolved.” Hasheem paused again. “I’m certain you understand.”
Dekkard definitely understood. “I can see the problem. Without absolute and irrefutable evidence, it would appear that the government would be trying to cover up or distract from ministerial malfeasance, and that would be very unwise.”
“Precisely. I’m glad that we’re clear on that. I trust you understand why I wanted to convey this in person.”
“Absolutely.” So there are no paper trails anyone can find or use. “And should any such evidence appear, I’ll make certain that you and the Premier know immediately.”
“We would both appreciate that greatly. Disruption within the Council and the government is to be avoided if at all possible.”
“Especially since disruption is one of the tools being used by corporacions against the government.”
“To date, however, there’s little or no proof of that,” Hasheem pointed out.
“That’s true.” And it well may be too late when such proof is both visible and irrefutable.
Hasheem stood. “That’s all I wanted to say, Steffan.”
“I appreciate it.”
With two empaths outside the door, when Dekkard left the inner office, it scarcely surprised him that Avraal stood beside the personal secretary’s desk.
Dekkard turned to Erleen. “It was good to see you. And to meet you, Myrenda,” he added.
Both inclined their heads in return.
Once Avraal and Dekkard were out in the main corridor and away from Hasheem’s office, she asked, “What exactly did Hasheem wish to tell you?”
“That an admiral told Obreduur that the letter Manwaeren referenced was a forgery, insisting on having an empath present, likely Isobel, and that they want the matter hushed up unless irrefutable evidence showed up. I agreed—mostly. I did promise that if such evidence appeared, I’d let them know first.”
“None of that’s going to help us, but you knew that before you stepped into his office.”
“So did you. Did you find out anything of interest while you were waiting?”
“Hasheem is wary of you. He felt better at the end, at least somewhat. Myrenda is one of the strongest empaths I’ve run across in years, but her technique feels rough. She is strong enough to block any emp attack against Hasheem.”
“That’s good.”
“It means that the three most important Craft councilors are protected against attacks.”
“Three? Haarsfel doesn’t even have an empath.”
“I said important, not most senior. You’re more important than Haarsfel, because you affect how things turn out.”
Dekkard definitely had his doubts, but he wasn’t about to argue, especially not after the day before. “Anything else?”
Avraal shook her head. “How do you feel about Obreduur and Hasheem’s decision?”
“That it’s wrong, but I can’t call hearings.”
“Maybe we should talk to Carlos.”
“Won’t he tell Obreduur?”
“If we merely talk to him about the decision and ask him for his opinion, that shouldn’t upset Obreduur, and that’s if Carlos even tells Obreduur. He might not, especially if he shares our concerns.”
“What if he—” Dekkard broke off as he saw another councilor heading toward them—Villem Baar, accompanied by two security aides. “Villem Baar,” he murmured, then said more loudly, “Good morning, Villem.”
“The same to you, Steffan.” Baar inclined his head to Avraal. “I presume this is the redoubtable Ritten Ysella-Dekkard?”
“I am, but not all that redoubtable,” replied Avraal.
“Your accomplishments would say otherwise,” replied Baar cheerfully, before looking to Dekkard. “Steffan, do you have any idea when there might be additional hearings in the Security Committee or what the subject might be?”
“The chairman hasn’t said anything to me. He may be preoccupied with budget and appropriations measures, given the comparatively last-moment passage of the Security reform act and the changes it entailed for next year’s budget and appropriations.”
Baar looked slightly disconcerted. “You can tell I’m new here. I hadn’t even considered that. Thank you. I won’t keep you. A pleasant day to you both.” With a smile he turned and continued toward the main staircase.
“Was he as disconcerted as he looked?” asked Dekkard.
“More so, I’d say.”
Dekkard frowned, then thought for a moment. “He’s only been a councilor for three weeks. I suppose he wouldn’t have considered that.”
“Why did they select him?”
“Because any legalist would have been better than Marrak, and someone thought they needed a legalist to water down or kill the Security reform act—and they needed someone quickly.”
Avraal nodded. “What do you think of him?”
“I don’t know, but I have the feeling he’s not entirely what the Commercers would like. I can’t tell you why, except he congratulated me on the way I handled the Security reform act, and it was without condescension.”
“That alone suggests he’s different.”
“I didn’t recognize either of the security aides. Did you?”
“No. They have to come from the corporacion or legalist field. The empath is moderately strong. You could take the isolate one-handed, but I got the impression that he doesn’t know it. He may be used to carrying a pistol.”
“That’s not exactly legal.”
“You’re surprised,” she asked sardonically, “when he comes from the corporacion security world?”
“You saw that when you were a parole screener?”
“Even before that, in Sudaen.”
Dekkard opened the office door for her, then followed her in. “I take it nothing astounding happened?” he asked Margrit.
“No, sir.”
“Excellent.” Dekkard turned to Avraal. “Would you like—”
“No. I’d barely get there, and then I’d have to come back. Besides, I thought we were going to stop there on the way home.”
“I need to talk to Shuryn. I should have earlier.”
“I’ll be here.”
Dekkard reached out and squeezed her hand, then released it, and walked to the doorway to the staff room. “Shuryn?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Come on into the office.”
Moments later, the extremely fair-skinned and blond junior engineer was seated in front of the desk, slightly on the front edge of his chair.
“How is your research coming?”
“I’ve found a few more instances, sir, but it’s like there’s a stone wall most of the time.”
“A stone wall?”
“There are basic pieces of information in the newssheets, and sometimes I can find a bit more in the professional journals. If I’m fortunate, there might be a small reference months later that suggests the project or building or contract has been completed by the larger firm. But it’s like there’s a stone wall around anything between those points.”
Dekkard nodded. “There probably is. For now, you’ve done enough research. Write it all up. Every instance you’ve found. Are there different cases for some corporacions?”
“Sometimes.”
“Group them by corporacions. At some point, we may also need a chronological listing. Once Svard and I”—and a few others—“read your report, we’ll see where we go from there.”
“There’s not much there on a number of them, sir.”
“Don’t worry, Shuryn. I expected that. But we have to start somewhere.”
“Yes, sir. Is that all, sir?”
“For now, and until I read your report,” replied Dekkard with a smile.
Once Shuryn left, Dekkard checked the notice for the Workplace Administration meeting, but all it said was “Testimony from the Paperworkers Guild of Eshbruk.”
Something else that Pajiin helped set up? He’d just have to see.
After reading more of the appropriations measure and having a light lunch in the councilors’ dining room, Dekkard walked to the committee room, escorted by Avraal.
Dekkard looked into the chamber and saw at least a dozen men and two women, who had to be testifying witnesses. He turned back to Avraal. “It’s likely to be two bells, at least. If it’s shorter, I can walk back with Kaliara Bassaana.”
“I’m certain she won’t mind that.” Avraal’s tone of voice was between dry and acid.
“I’ll wait,” Dekkard replied with an amused smile.
“If … if you finish that early, you should go back with her and learn what you can.” Then she smiled in return, before turning to leave.
Dekkard walked into the chamber and sat down beside Yordan Farris. “Good afternoon, Yordan.”
“Good afternoon, Steffan.” Farris paused for a moment, then said, “I’d like to apologize.”
Dekkard managed to conceal his surprise. “Whatever for?”
“I didn’t realize that you and your wife were the ones who saved others when my predecessor was assassinated here in the Council Hall.”
“I’m the one who ought to be sorry,” replied Dekkard. “We didn’t pick out the assassin in time to shield Councilor Aashtaan.”
“I don’t think anyone could fault you for that,” replied Farris. “But you’ve been pleasant and even acknowledged me when it wasn’t required, and no other Crafters do.”
Dekkard almost shook his head. “Sometimes people don’t think. I never sought this job. I didn’t even know I was being considered. I often wondered if that might have been true for you.”
Farris hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “It was. I was a legalist in Hyarh, and chosen as a compromise. Then the Imperador called for new elections, and … well, let’s just say that some things came out. I had nothing to do with them, and the party decided to stay with me.”
Interesting. Dekkard nodded and said, “Similar circumstances.”
Farris lowered his voice and asked, “What do you make of these hearings?”
“I’m guessing, but in the past, hearings in various industries always brought in corporacion officials. Seldom did the Council hear from guilds or workers. I’d guess that the chairman is redressing that lack of balance. What else he might have in mind, he hasn’t said. Not to me, anyway.”
Farris nodded slowly, then said, “Thank you.”
Haarsfel taking his place and dropping the gavel spared Dekkard having to say more. “The committee is in session. We hear from representatives from the Paperworkers Guild of Eshbruk. Guildmeister Duerfeld, if you would begin…”
The graying and shadow-thin Duerfeld seated himself behind the small witness desk. “Thank you, Chairman Haarsfel. We deeply appreciate the invitation to appear before the Workplace Administration Committee…”
After a not quite lengthy opening, Duerfeld settled into a listing of dangers facing workers in the paper mills, beginning with those facing the rag girls who sorted the cloth used for the finer grades of paper.
After Duerfeld’s statement, in which he summarized the hazards, each of the guild representatives who followed gave detailed descriptions of the difficulties in each area of papermaking. The first of two testimonies that hit Dekkard the hardest involved the wood chipping and pulping areas. A number of men had lost digits and limbs, and even their lives, including one unfortunate who had literally been chipped and his remains pulped.
The second striking testimony involved the skin lesions and early deaths for men who worked with the bleach tank slurry—the worker testifying opened his shirt and revealed the evidence.
Dekkard noticed that the revelation of the lesions didn’t faze Bassaana at all, but seemed to unsettle both Halljen and Farris.
All in all, the hearing lasted until a third before fourth bell and confirmed, at least to Dekkard, what Haarsfel was doing—conducting week after week of hearings showing safety shortcomings by various corporacions. The only question, in Dekkard’s mind, was what would follow the hearings. Would it be a report and the creation of a Workplace Safety Administration? Or extensive litigation against the corporacions by the Justiciary Ministry? Both? Neither? Something else?
It was too early to tell. And it might not make any difference if Obreduur doesn’t find a way to deal with the New Meritorists.
When Haarsfel gaveled the hearing to an end, Dekkard knew Avraal would be waiting outside. He picked up his leather folder and timed his departure so that he ended up beside Kaliara Bassaana walking to the chamber door. “Another moderately long hearing.”
“That’s understandable. Haarsfel wants to give the workers their time.”
“Do you think he’ll summon any of the iron and steel guilds?”
“Kathaar Iron and Steel is possible. He and Vhiola don’t get along that well.”
Vhiola? Then Dekkard made the connection. Vhiola Sandegarde, the councilor from Nolaan who had been the chair of the Commerce Committee and who was also an heir to Kathaar Iron & Steel. “That seems unlikely.”
“With him, you never know.” Bassaana looked toward the open doors of the committee room. Avraal waited just beyond them, beside Amelya Detauran and Elyssa Kaan.
“It’s too bad you can’t hire your wife, since she’s clearly acting as a security aide,” said Bassaana.
“We’re managing so far. I make more now than both of us did together before we were married. We’ll just have to see how things turn out,” said Dekkard with a cheerful tone he didn’t fully feel.
“Do you really think matters will improve with the New Meritorists stirring up trouble?”
“Not soon. Between incidents like the unauthorized raids by disaffected Special Agents and the New Meritorists, I think we may be in for an interesting autumn and winter.”
“Can you blame the Special Agents?”
“Oh, that’s easy enough to do. I’ve seen far more misconduct on their part than just those raids. But all those behind the orders the agents followed? They should be executed.”
“And the Meritorists rewarded?”
“Hardly,” replied Dekkard. “I’m just as opposed to their goals as those behind the raids.”
“You could end up with both sides firing at you, Steffan.”
Dekkard ignored the bait. “Anything’s possible, Kaliara. Have a pleasant evening.”
“You as well.” Dekkard let Bassaana leave the chamber first, then stepped out and joined Avraal.
“Whatever you said to Bassaana, I think I would have liked. She wasn’t happy, although she smiled pleasantly at me.” Avraal turned, and the two began the walk to the far end of the Council Hall and the doors to the courtyard.
Dekkard quickly related the exchange.
“You handled that well, especially with your answer about anything happening.”
“Good. She has to know that some Commercers are behind the Special Agents.”
“From her reactions, she has to know that you know, and that doesn’t bother her.”
“From what I see, very little bothers her. Her power and politics are a game. That might be because she doesn’t need more power or marks.”
“Dear, those are the very people who game politics to increase their power and marks.”
“I keep forgetting that,” he replied ruefully.
“You don’t think that way.”
“You don’t either.”
“Why do you think I left Sudaen? I understand how it all works, but I prefer not to operate that way.” She paused, then added, “We may not have much of a choice, though.”
“We’re still going to see Carlos on the way home, then?”
“Do you think we shouldn’t?” asked Avraal.
“You just pointed out that our choices are limited. I have to agree.”
By the time Dekkard and Avraal returned to his office, fourth bell had already chimed, and Dekkard said to Margrit, “I’ll deal with the correspondence in the morning. I have another appointment this afternoon.”
After Dekkard spoke, he realized he really didn’t have to explain, but he hadn’t wanted to leave the impression that he was leaving work undone on a whim.
“Yes, sir.” Margrit smiled, almost as if she understood.
She probably does. Dekkard gestured to Gaaroll, and he and Avraal headed out of the office, with Gaaroll close behind.
When the three left the Council Office Building, Dekkard saw no trace of the morning’s demonstrators. Neither Avraal nor Gaaroll sensed any danger or emotional focus on Dekkard as they walked to the Gresynt, which Dekkard inspected before entering.
A sixth later, Avraal and Dekkard walked into Baartol’s outer office, having left Gaaroll to watch the steamer.
The desk outside the inner office was vacant, and Dekkard knocked on the half-open door and asked, “Do you have a few minutes?”
“For you two, I’ll always have time, but it will have to be less than a third of a bell, because I have a meeting at the Guildhall at fifth bell. While I can be a trace late…” Baartol nodded to Elicya, who slipped out of the inner office, and then motioned for Avraal and Dekkard to enter, although he did not rise from behind the desk.
“This won’t be solved in a third,” said Avraal, “but we can give you enough to consider in helping us with a solution.”
“Or a course of action,” added Dekkard, closing the door as he followed Avraal into the office.
Avraal looked at Dekkard.
“There’s a very good possibility that the Commercers actually supplied the dunnite to the New Meritorists…” Still standing, Dekkard went on to outline the situation, including everything—except his suspicions about Jaime Minz, though he did mention the positions Ulrich and Minz now occupied. “… and given the political situation, neither Obreduur nor Hasheem wants any further Council investigations into the dunnite.”
“Interesting. You’re concerned, I take it, because you believe there’s a connection between the dunnite and the attempts on your life?”
“More that those who facilitated the dunnite transfer may have larger plans to heighten the conflict between the government and the New Meritorists. I’m viewed as an obstacle—”
Avraal’s harsh short laugh stopped Dekkard cold. “Right now, you are the only one who sees what’s going on and is willing to do anything. Except we don’t have the knowledge and power necessary to do much.”
“And that’s why you’re here,” said Baartol calmly.
Dekkard nodded.
“The two of you have enough power. What you don’t have is the knowledge about how and where to apply it in a way that can’t be traced back to you.” He leaned forward slightly in his chair. “The other problem you have is that unless you do what is necessary yourselves, it can be traced back to you. With the right contacts and information, anything done through third parties can be traced.”
For a moment, Baartol’s words seemed paradoxical. Then Dekkard nodded. A strong and talented empath could track and discover anyone that he and Avraal talked to or asked to do something—except another isolate or an empath as strong as Avraal. “But that’s allowed as part of a legal service, such as home security.”
“True, but that’s protecting one’s own property, which is allowed under the law, so long as excessive force is not employed. There is also a third problem, which may be the greatest. Both of you have been disciplined and trained to defend—except in terms of political action. You’ve just told me that any immediate political action is foreclosed.”
“So far as I can determine,” replied Dekkard.
“Your judgment in that area is doubtless superior to mine. In the other area, I’d like to offer some observations. While the attempts at assassinating you, Steffan, are doubtless linked at the top to an individual or a few individuals in large and powerful corporacions, those individuals are likely not located in Machtarn. There also will be no discernible or provable link to those carrying out the attacks.”
“Meaning that some corporacion vice-presidente tells an underling to take care of the problem so that he can deny ordering anything illegal, and so that the blame, if it’s even discovered, falls on whoever organizes matters.”
“That is the usual pattern.” Baartol stood. “Please think all that over, and if you need additional advice, I’m always here.”
“We appreciate the insights,” said Avraal.
Dekkard did also, although he knew most of what Baartol had laid out. “Thank you.”
“You’re both more than welcome.”
“Oh,” added Dekkard. “One other thing. Have you had any luck in finding out anything about Sohl Hurrek, the committee clerk?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know immediately if we do.”
“Thank you,” Dekkard said again.
Baartol just nodded.
Neither Dekkard nor Avraal spoke until they were outside.
Then Avraal said, “We’ll talk later.”
“That’s for the best.”
Once they reached the house, Dekkard stopped under the portico to let Avraal and Gaaroll out, then drove the Gresynt to the garage. He closed the doors and walked toward the portico. As he did, he saw a woman about Emrelda’s age talking to Avraal, and he tried to catch some of the words, but the other woman was talking so softly he couldn’t make out what she said.
“We did what we could,” said Avraal. “I’m sorry it was hard on you.”
The other woman again spoke softly, then turned and walked back to the adjoining house, almost as if she were slinking.
“The lady of the Waaldwud house?” asked Dekkard.
“Ameena Waaldwud, Tomas’s mother. She said that, no matter what her husband said, she appreciated what we did. Tomas is already happier and much better behaved.”
“That he’s better behaved doesn’t surprise me. That she told you does.”
“She’s the kind that wants to do right, but she’s trapped because she’s married to the wrong man, and she never developed any marketable skills.”
“And without skills…” Dekkard shook his head. There were few choices indeed for a woman without skills who left her husband.
Emrelda’s first words when they entered the kitchen were, “Another long day?”
“There were New Meritorist pickets outside the Council buildings…” From there Dekkard recounted everything, except the details of their conversation with Baartol. He only mentioned that they’d stopped by his office to get Baartol’s views on the current situation.
“Well, I’m glad that Ameena Waaldwud recognized the favor you did her,” replied Emrelda. “I can’t say that I’m exactly astonished that Obreduur doesn’t want to look into the dunnite problem when he can leave it on the doorstep of the previous Commercer government.”
“It’s quite convenient,” replied Dekkard dryly. “How was your day?”
“I got called out to help with a domestic-violence case.” Emrelda smiled ruefully. “The man attacked me. I discovered I really enjoyed subduing him. He was stunned that a small woman could put him on the floor. Well, a small woman’s truncheon correctly and swiftly applied. Because he attacked a patroller, he’ll be spending some time in gaol.” She shook her head. “Unless his wife leaves, though, it will just make her life harder when he gets out.”
“I’d leave,” said Gaaroll. “Will she?”
“I couldn’t say. A few do leave. Those are the ones who have family that are willing and can help. The rest…” Emrelda shrugged. “Anyway, dinner’s a mash-up of leftovers, but there should be plenty for everyone.”
While there was enough for everyone, there also wasn’t anything left, but since the leftovers included half of a small lemon pound cake, Dekkard was definitely satiated. The conversation revolved around speculations about what the New Meritorists would do next, and when that might be. The reluctant consensus being sooner than later, but not immediately, although Dekkard wondered if that might be what the Meritorists wanted everyone to think.
Once Avraal and Dekkard were alone in their bedroom, he turned to Avraal and said, “What do you make of what Carlos said?”
“What he basically told us.” She held up a finger as she mentioned each point. “Whoever is behind the mechanics of the shooting attempts is here in Machtarn. There would be no evidence trail back to whoever ordered the attacks, and asking him to deal with it risked everything coming back to us.”
“Then how did Marrak’s death not come back to us?” asked Dekkard.
“We never asked him to do anything. If you recall, he said there were a few loose ends to take care of. I think he’d had difficulties with Marrak before. You might also recall that Carlos told me earlier that there wasn’t any activity among the people he knew. That means outsiders.”
“Among outsiders, he’d have difficulty erasing traces of his activity, and our involvement,” added Dekkard. “That’s why he limited what he said and told us to think things over.”
“Except he was more than hinting that it was better that we do it ourselves.”
“Why would he do that?”
“It might be that Commercer operatives are watching him.”
“So what do we do? Follow Jaime Minz?”
“No. To begin with, I follow Minz. We don’t have to ask about that. Gaaroll stays with you. She can’t sense what people feel, only how strongly they feel, but that should work well enough in the Council buildings. Also, that way, people won’t comment about me being an unpaid security aide.”
“At least, not as much. You don’t care much for Kaliara Bassaana, do you?”
“How could you tell?”
Dekkard grinned.
“She’s an opportunist, through and through. Right now, opportunity lies through the Craft Party, but that’s only for now.”
“She doesn’t seem to think anything’s going to change soon,” said Dekkard. “I’d like to know why she thinks that.”
“Because of you and Obreduur and some solid evidence of criminal misdeeds by Commercer politicians.”
“There’s something else,” said Dekkard, musingly.
“If there is she’ll want a high price for revealing it.”
“I’m not interested in paying that kind of price. I’m just hoping I can figure out what it is.” And not engaging in unfounded wishful thinking. “But there’s one problem with you following Minz. Our steamer may be nondescript if elegant gray, but it has a moderately visible councilor’s emblem rising from the front bumper.”
“I can borrow a very nondescript Ferrum from Carlos without explaining.” Avraal paused. “We should sleep on it, and see how we feel in the morning.”
Dekkard looked at her.
“I said sleep.” Then she smiled.