ALTHOUGH a high haze hung over Machtarn, Duadi morning dawned warmer and drier than Unadi. When Dekkard turned off Imperial Boulevard heading east on Council Avenue, he scanned both sides of the avenue, taking in the variety of buildings, looking for anything that seemed out of place. For the most part, everything appeared normal, although he took a second look at a large stake lorry, its dull brown paint battered and scratched, with a patched canvas top covering the rear cargo area. His first thought was that it looked like the type of lorry used by renderers. It was also parked near where he’d seen the lorry holding the signs for the demonstration disrupted by the renegade Special Agents.
“Is there anyone around that big brown lorry?”
“No, sir,” declared Gaaroll. “No strong feelings, either.”
“I don’t sense anyone nearby,” added Avraal.
“Thank you both.”
Dekkard continued to wonder about the slightly out-of-place lorry when he and the other two neared the Council Office Building more than a third before second bell.
“There don’t seem to be quite so many people out and about this morning,” said Dekkard as he eased the Gresynt to a stop opposite the west doors of the Council Office Building.
“That just might be because we’re earlier,” Avraal pointed out.
Dekkard certainly hoped that was the case and that he was just being overcautious. “I take it I won’t see you until this afternoon.”
“Since I didn’t show up at Carlos’s yesterday, I thought putting in a full day might be a good idea.”
“I can see that.” Dekkard opened the steamer door and got out, picking up his gray leather folder, while Avraal moved behind the wheel. “Fourth bell?”
“I’ll send a message if I’ll be much later than that.”
“Have a good day, and give Carlos my best.” Dekkard closed the steamer door, then stepped to the sidewalk and watched for a moment as Avraal drove off toward Imperial Boulevard, before turning toward the bronze doors of the building.
“Do you have any meetings today?” asked Gaaroll once they were inside and walking toward the central staircase.
“Not that I know of. I don’t know that the Council will be that busy between now and the Midwinter Recess, but that could always change, especially depending on what the New Meritorists do.”
“You think they’ll do something so soon after the explosion in the Guildhall?”
“They’ll do something. When is another question. Usually, there’s been time between their demonstrations.” But what if there’s not?
He shook his head. “We’re going to Guard Captain Trujillo’s office.”
“Sir?”
“The lorry we saw this morning? The last time I saw one there was when there was a New Meritorist demonstration.”
Less than a sixth passed before Dekkard and Gaaroll were in the very small chamber adjoining the Premier’s floor office.
“Councilor? What can I do for you?” asked Trujillo as he turned from the filing cabinet and closed it.
“It might be nothing, but there’s a brown stake lorry parked across the street some two blocks west of the Council Office Building. There was no one in it, but the last time one was parked there…” Dekkard explained briefly, then finished, “It might be nothing, but I wanted to let you know.”
“We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass the word to the outside guards and the sentries, just in case.”
“Thank you.”
Trujillo smiled. “No. Thank you. Your insights have always been useful.”
After leaving the Guard captain, Dekkard wondered if he was being too sensitive. But if it’s a problem and you didn’t let Trujillo know …
Once he and Gaaroll were back in the Council Office Building, he saw several staffers on the way to the central stairs, but they weren’t people he recognized or knew closely.
When Dekkard neared the top of the stairs, he saw another councilor—Chiram Ghohal, who appeared to be waiting for him. “Good morning, Chiram. How are you doing?”
“Acceptably. The newssheets exaggerated my condition.” Ghohal paused. “Could I have a moment of your time?”
“Certainly.” Dekkard glanced to Gaaroll, who immediately stepped away. “What is it?”
“Chairman Mardosh had scheduled some hearings on procurement. With Navy officers from Uldwyrk. He canceled them. I asked him why. He said the timing was impolitic. I suggested that it was very politic, since all sorts of mentions about contract irregularities appeared in the newssheets. He chuckled and said that someday I’d understand.”
Dekkard wanted to sigh. He didn’t. “Chiram, Councilor Mardosh was assistant guildmeister for the Shipfitters Guild in Siincleer. Siincleer is his district. Siincleer Shipbuilding is not only the biggest corporacion in Siincleer, but one of the largest in all of Guldor. Sr. Venburg was the head of legal affairs for the corporacion. He was likely the guest of either Councilor Mardosh or Councilor Kuuresoh—although that’s just a guess—”
“Someone requested the chairman to ask Sr. Venburg. He told me that.”
Dekkard managed a polite nod. “How would it look to the presidente of Siincleer if, right after a senior corporacion official was killed here in the Council Hall, the Military Affairs Committee held hearings on procurements involving Siincleer? How might the presidente feel about Councilor Mardosh? Or the Council?”
“He might be upset, but isn’t it our job to fix things?”
“It is, but if the chairman feels the time isn’t right, it becomes more difficult. He has to have the votes, and right now it can be hard to get Commercer and some Landor votes.”
“You got the Security reform bill through.”
“That was easier. The Commercer councilors opposed it, but everyone else wanted reform after all the abuses. Right now, the abuse occurring in military contracts outrages only a few people.” Dekkard paused. “I take it there have been some egregious examples in Surpunta?”
“You wouldn’t believe.” Ghohal smiled sheepishly. “I expect you would after dealing with Security.”
“I’m sure that Chairman Mardosh will revisit the hearings when he thinks the time is right.” Whether he’ll do more than hold hearings is another question. “If he doesn’t within a few weeks, or if you think something isn’t quite right, I’d appreciate your letting me know.”
“I certainly will. I appreciate your thoughts, and thank you.” Ghohal smiled, then turned, presumably heading to his office.
Dekkard started toward his own office, and once they were well away from Ghohal, he asked, “What did you sense about Councilor Ghohal?”
“Low purple piles. He’s scared-like of you. Not a lot, but some.”
“Did he feel puzzled?”
“I don’t think so. Light blue is puzzled. I know that.”
Because Ghohal hadn’t ever sought out Dekkard before, he couldn’t help but wonder if Mardosh, or someone else, had suggested that Ghohal talk to him. And if not Mardosh, who?
Obreduur likely wouldn’t have, nor Nortak, and Ghohal wouldn’t have confided in any of the Commercers. But then, it could have been someone not on the Military Affairs Committee, possibly Julian Andros or even Pajiin.
After Dekkard and Gaaroll reached the office, Dekkard hung up his overcoat, put the folder on the side table shelf, and settled behind the desk, thinking over the events of the past few months, especially the past few weeks. Life had been so much simpler as a security aide—identify the possible threat, almost always an individual, and neutralize it. The threats were different as a councilor, and his ability to do anything rested not merely on seeing the threats, but on convincing others.
Dekkard thought he’d been moderately effective at seeing threats, and less effective at convincing others. Is that you … or the nature of politics … or some of both?
Finally, he began to go through the mail, reading each letter, some quickly, when he could get the gist of the writer’s purpose, and some more slowly. Even so, he felt uneasy, and after a time walked to the window, looking out to the north, where he could see the upper reaches of the Imperial Palace. A story below the window stretched a wide hedge, bordered by a stone walk, and then a swath of lawn extending some twenty yards to a stone wall a little more than two yards high. Beyond the wall was a narrow street used mainly by vehicles servicing the Council Office Building and the Council Hall.
A steam lorry headed west on the service road, but continued past the Council Office Building without slowing or stopping. Dekkard smiled wryly and walked back to his desk. After reading for another half bell, he found himself again uneasy, and he walked to the door, opened it, and asked, “Are there any messages?”
Margrit smiled. “Not yet, sir. Are you expecting any?”
Dekkard managed a smile in return. “I can’t say that I am. Thank you.” He closed the door and walked to the widow, looking out once more at a few steamers headed east on the service road. He shook his head and went back to his desk. Less than a third later, he came across another almost aimless letter.
… here in Gaarlak, the early flax grows well, and that’s good, but not so good, because there’s lots of it, and we can’t get a good price for it, but when there’s too much early rain, it washes out the seeds, and then those that are left spread too much so that the fibres are too short and the seed yield is down … but if it’s too dry early we can’t get enough water because it all goes to the mills …
Dekkard read the letter again, but the writer wasn’t asking for anything, at least not so far as Dekkard could determine.
He shook his head, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had never really left him. Finally, he stood and walked to the window, where he looked again at the Palace on the heights that overlooked Machtarn. It was a good view.
Movement on the service street caught his eye, and he concentrated to make out what crept eastward. From what he could tell, it was a large stake lorry, the same brown-painted one he’d noted on the drive to the Council Office Building. The lorry slowed, then stopped a little short of a point opposite the middle of the building.
Two men at the back of the cargo area began rolling back the canvas, revealing an odd-looking device that they swiveled toward the building. As they did, Dekkard also noted that the side pointed toward the building presented a flat metal front that shielded the two men.
Armor plate … or something like it? Frig!
In instants, the two had the device pointed at the building. A blast of steam issued from a small gap in the plate protecting the device, and something flew toward the second story of the building.
Frig! Frig!
Dekkard turned and dashed into the outer office. Before he could say a word, a massive CRUMMPTT reverberated through the building.
“Everyone out of here! Leave everything! Run! Take the east staff stairs to the basement! Go!”
Roostof came running. “What—”
“They’re using a steam cannon to shell the building! Go!”
Dekkard had to drag Illana from her desk, but the two of them weren’t that far behind the others, scrambling down the steps. He just hoped they could make it to the basement before the gunners targeted the east end of the building. He’d been in the basement enough to know that nothing fired from the makeshift steam cannon could penetrate the heavy stone foundations, and possibly not even the heavy outer walls, but the windows on all floors would allow shells or whatever the steam cannon was launching to reach into the offices before exploding, and the shrapnel and fragmented internal masonry could easily make the center hall a killing ground. If there’s enough dunnite or whatever in the shells. But whether there was Dekkard had no way of knowing.
Dekkard had barely entered the staircase when there was another explosion, followed by another … and another. In the few minutes it took him and his staff to reach the basement, Dekkard thought he heard close to a half score explosions.
“Stay inside the stairwell!” he ordered as he reached the basement floor.
Roostof turned to him. “Now what?”
“The moment the explosions stop we go up to the first floor and get out of the building. One of those explosions could rupture a gas line. There are supposed to be surge-cutoff valves, but who knows?” As he finished explaining, he realized he hadn’t heard any more detonations. But then there was a single, larger explosion, somehow more muffled, but continuing for much longer than the others.
“That might be it,” Dekkard found himself saying. “We’ll wait and see for a minute or two.”
Several minutes passed with no further explosions. Then Dekkard could hear yelling and shouts, and someone screaming. Somewhere, a steam whistle screeched out a distress signal. As Dekkard started up the steps, amid the dust sifting down the stairwell, he could hear others coming down the steps from the second floor. He emerged from the stairwell archway into a haze of dust and grit.
“Everyone out of the building! Out of the building!”
Dekkard had no idea who was calling out the orders, but suspected it was a Council Guard. He looked back to see Roostof, then Colsbaan, following him, then Teitryn, Bretta, Illana, and finally Gaaroll and Margrit. Once she was through the archway, Gaaroll hurried forward so that she was beside Dekkard. He looked back toward Roostof and called out, “We’re going to the Council Hall.” He kept moving toward the courtyard doors, held open by two Council Guards, obviously to make it easier for people to leave the building.
Once Dekkard had his staff out of the Council Office Building, he glanced back. While he couldn’t see the north or south side, a mixture of dust and smoke wreathed the entire building, although it seemed heavier around the upper floor. The attack had been made with only one steam cannon, and it had been directed at the offices on the north side, in the middle.
Dekkard swallowed. Obreduur! And Macri, Karola, Anna, possibly Isobel Irlende or even Ingrella.
Then again, Obreduur might have been in the Premier’s floor office. But that leaves all the others. He thought about heading back, then shook his head. There was absolutely nothing he could do. He wasn’t a physician, or even a nurse.
It had to be the same stake lorry! Why hadn’t Trujillo done something? Or had the lorry been moved? Dekkard couldn’t do anything about that now. “Just keep close together,” he said to the staff.
“Sir,” said Roostof, “all you said was that someone was shelling the building with a steam cannon. How did you know that?”
“I was wondering about a letter, and I walked to the window. I saw an old steam lorry, a covered stake lorry, stop on the service road. Two men rolled back the canvas and turned this odd-looking device toward the building. There was a gout of steam. That was when I realized what it was. I hurried toward the staff office, and then the shell or bomb exploded. You know the rest.”
“You don’t know any more?”
“No. It all happened so fast. I just wanted to get everyone out. I’d guess that the last long explosion was when the guards destroyed the cannon, or it destroyed itself. Otherwise, I think the shelling would have lasted longer.”
Dekkard glanced back again. People poured out of the Council Office Building. Some milled aimlessly around the courtyard. Others seemed to be following Dekkard and his staff. He turned his attention back to the covered portico and the walkway ahead, where just a few handfuls of people preceded him and his staff. He had no real idea of what to do next, but it seemed to him that any sort of direction or information would more likely be found in the Council Hall and there was little sense in standing around in the courtyard and getting chilled.
“Who was it, sir?” asked Roostof. “Was it the New Meritorists? Could you tell?”
“I couldn’t, but the odds definitely favor the New Meritorists.” Dekkard found his thoughts going back to Obreduur and those he’d worked with. Maybe they missed his office.
But he had a cold feeling that the gunners hadn’t missed, and the only question was who had been in Obreduur’s office and who had died.
In the few minutes it took Dekkard and his staff to reach the Council Hall more guards appeared, most of them hurrying toward the Council Office Building, but two remained by the Council Hall doors, being held open by wooden wedges.
“Councilor, sir, all councilors are requested to go to the Council chamber.”
“Thank you.” Dekkard nodded, then stepped inside the Council Hall. After several steps he turned and said, “Svard, we need to get everyone to the staff cafeteria before it fills up and no one has a place to sit. I don’t think they’ll be allowing anyone back into the office building anytime soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Behind him, he could hear the guards repeating, “Councilors to the Council chamber, please.” Ahead of them, the corridor wasn’t at all crowded, but Dekkard knew that would change.
Once they reached the staff cafeteria, Dekkard made sure that Svard ushered everyone to two adjoining tables, then headed for the councilors’ lobby. He’d no more than stepped in when Breffyn Haastar hurried over.
“Steffan! What do you know? I came over from the banque, and the guards insist that the Council Office Building has been bombed and may be unsafe. They’re not letting anyone go back.”
“The building wasn’t bombed. It was shelled, most likely by the New Meritorists. Where’s your office?”
“On the lower level on the south side just to the east of the main staircase.”
“They shelled the north side, and it didn’t last that long. I’d guess your staff is probably all right. The Council Guards sent everyone here. You might take a quick look at the staff cafeteria. That’s all I know.”
“Thank you.” Haastar rushed off.
Dekkard just stood there, possibly for several minutes, before he slowly walked into the Council chamber and toward his desk.
Then, before Dekkard could sit down, Haarsfel appeared. “You’re here! How did you escape? Your office was one of those totally destroyed. There’s no trace of your staff.”
“They’re all right. I happened to be looking out my window when they fired the first shell. I ordered my staff out of the office and into the stairwell. We made it just in time.”
“You saw what happened?”
Dekkard shook his head. “Only the first shell. I didn’t need to see any more.”
“Shells? They had a cannon?”
“I didn’t know what it was until the two men fired it. I think it was a makeshift steam cannon. One side had metal plating. The side closest to the building.”
“Guard Captain Trujillo will need to talk to you. Stop by the Premier’s floor office in two bells or so.”
“What about the Premier? His councilor’s office?”
Haarsfel shook his head. “It doesn’t look good, Steffan.”
Dekkard just shuddered.
“Nothing like this has ever happened,” said Haarsfel. “Never.”
There’s a first time for everything. But what Dekkard said was, “Nothing like this past year has ever happened.” He paused. “They didn’t hit your office?”
“It’s on the first floor, on the south side, and I was here in the Council Hall working with the committee staff on tomorrow’s hearing. Do you have any thoughts or suggestions?”
“Don’t let anyone interfere with Trujillo or advise him except you, and see if someone can determine which corporacion manufactured the dunnite.”
“Dunnite?”
“Guilhohn, the Premier was certain that the New Meritorists had more dunnite stashed away. I’m guessing that’s what they used. The smoke would have been darker if they’d used black powder, and the explosions not as powerful.”
“You know a lot—”
“I’m a Military Institute graduate, remember? You might ask Admiral Konnigsburg. He’d likely know even more.”
“Oh, I should have thought of that. Thank you.”
With that, Haarsfel hurried off.
Dekkard couldn’t but wonder how Haarsfel knew about Obreduur’s office, except that the Council Guards would have briefed him in Obreduur’s absence. Could Obreduur have been elsewhere? Dekkard could hope, but he had sinking feelings and great doubts. The New Meritorists wanted to strike at the Council, and some corporacion agents would have been more than glad to suggest that targeting the Premier would be a perfect way to do just that.
Dekkard shook his head. He’d worried about bombs being smuggled in and planted, but he hadn’t even thought of a targeted strike at Obreduur with a frigging steam cannon. But it makes sense. Afterward. And any group with the ability to destroy fifteen Security buildings certainly had enough expertise to make a single steam cannon. No one would even look twice at a compact steam device, even if one side happened to be plated. Various steam engines were everywhere. Making a score of shells out of large copper tubing with lead azide fuses wouldn’t be that difficult, and they already had the dunnite.
You knew that lorry wasn’t right. But what else could you have done besides tell Trujillo? There wasn’t anyone around, and you and Avraal couldn’t physically search all the nearby buildings.
Around him, other councilors filed in, most of them talking in lowered voices.
Dekkard was still sitting at his small desk, trying to sort it all out, when someone approached. He looked up and saw Eyril Konnigsburg.
“How are you doing, Steffan?”
Dekkard stood. “Personally, I’m fine. A little shaken. No, more than a little, but— What about you?”
“There are advantages to being a junior Commercer. My office isn’t that far from the west doors on the main level. The New Meritorists targeted the second level somewhat east of the office. The building is rather solid, except for the windows. Floor Leader Haarsfel said your office was destroyed. Your staff?”
“I got them all out.” Dekkard provided a quick explanation.
Konnigsburg nodded. “That’s what Haarsfel said. Did you have any idea?”
“I told the Premier that the New Meritorists would do something drastic and unexpected, and that it would be soon, but I had no idea. A frigging steam cannon in the cargo area of a stake lorry?” After a moment, he asked, “What do you think?”
“The plating was enough to keep the roof guards from being able to take them out while they targeted the part of the building where the Premier has his office and where there are more Crafters. Then they targeted your office. They even had to move the stake lorry some to do that, and they could have done more damage if they hadn’t.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Haarsfel told me that. He wanted my thoughts. By the way, I agree with your conclusion that they used dunnite as the explosive agent. The blast smoke is distinctive. Do you have any thought on where they obtained it?”
“My thought was that they got it more than a year ago from a source at either Suvion Industries or Northwest Industrial Chemical, because dunnite was what they used to destroy the Security buildings, and frankly, because the only place where they could get it in bulk from the Navy was at the munitions works, and the Navy has tight safeguards.”
Konnigsburg offered a wry smile. “We agree on that. Why would anyone do that?”
“The one thing that makes sense is that someone wanted to make the New Meritorists more of a threat than they otherwise would have been in order to build a case for strengthening the Security Ministry. The STF was on its way to becoming a military unit under the control of the Security minister.”
“Steffan, you were made for Naval Intelligence, but right now…” The retired admiral shook his head. “What else can you tell me?”
“Former Premier Ulrich is now a vice-presidente of Suvion Industries and his former security aide, one Jaime Minz, is an assistant security director, here in Machtarn, for Northwest Industrial Chemical. I find that interesting, but exactly what that means…” Dekkard shrugged.
“It’s a bit more than interesting. Thank you.” Konnigsburg looked past Dekkard toward the dais, and the session bell chimed. “It looks like the majority floor leader will be addressing us.” He nodded to Dekkard and then moved away, presumably toward his desk.
A bit more than interesting? Dekkard also wondered about the reference to Naval Intelligence. Had that been Konnigsburg’s command? He looked up to the front of the Council chamber, where Haarsfel approached the lectern.
The conversations and murmurs died away, but Haarsfel was silent for several moments before speaking.
“Little more than a bell ago…”
Has it been that long? Dekkard found that hard to believe.
“… a steam lorry stopped on the north service road. In minutes, two men turned a makeshift but armored steam cannon on the north side of the Council Office Building and began to fire shells of some sort at the second level of the building. The first shells hit the windows of the Premier’s office and those on each side. It appears that the Premier and most if not all of his staff were killed. In addition to the Premier’s office, the offices of Councilors Marryat Osmond, Tedor Waarfel, Quentin Fader, and Steffan Dekkard were totally destroyed. Councilor Dekkard’s office was the last targeted, and he managed to escape with all of his staff. The other four and most of their staffs were not so fortunate. We have not had time to identify any others who may have been killed. There are well over a score who were wounded but who are expected to survive.
“The perpetrators are believed to be members of the group calling themselves the New Meritorists. Those operating the steam cannon did not survive an explosion that largely consumed the lorry and the weapon. That explosion sent shrapnel through various windows on the north side of the building. That is all the information that I have at present. The Council Office Building will be closed until it is fully inspected and determined to be safe to reenter. All water and gas lines have been secured, and the water damage has been held to a minimum.
“The Council will meet tomorrow morning at third bell to receive additional information and to discuss the next steps. Following that session, the Security Committee will meet at first bell of the afternoon. All other hearings scheduled for the remainder of the week are postponed. The councilors’ dining room and lobby will be open from second morning bell until fifth afternoon bell for the immediate future.”
With that, Haarsfel turned and left the lectern, heading for the Premier’s floor office. As majority floor leader, Dekkard knew, Haarsfel was acting temporary premier, at least for the present, but that wasn’t likely to last. According to what Obreduur had told Dekkard, Haarsfel preferred being floor leader to premier, and Dekkard began to see why.
As the other councilors began to leave, Villem Baar walked toward Dekkard.
“Are you and your staff all right, Villem?”
“One of my legalists was cut by flying glass, but not badly. How in the world did you escape?”
“Sheer luck.” Dekkard went on to explain briefly.
“Not just luck. Most of us don’t think that quickly, Steffan. Your staff should be grateful.”
Dekkard managed a wry smile. “I’m just glad I could save them from the effects of whatever it was, but I don’t see why they targeted my office.”
“The Security reform act. You removed the cause of a lot of anger against Security and the government. That makes the job of revolutionaries that much harder. You and Obreduur set a moderate course. You concentrated on solving the problems of the workers without destroying the productive side of Guldor. Extremists and ideologues don’t care for moderates.” Baar smiled sympathetically. “You’re going to have your work cut out for you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dekkard. “Maybe it should be obvious, but I’m probably not thinking as well as I could be.”
“That’s understandable. Most of us probably aren’t at the moment, and we weren’t affected as directly as you. Something unthinkable yesterday happened this morning. What I meant was that the Craft Party and the Council lost a strong leader, and that’s going to make dealing with the New Meritorists and other problems even more difficult. The Crafters need new ideas, and from what I’ve seen, outside of the Premier, most of the new ideas were coming from you and a few other very junior councilors. Without Obreduur, getting them considered, let alone implemented, is going to be much more difficult.”
“That makes sense,” Dekkard agreed. “I knew that the older Crafter councilors tend to be rather cautious.” But you’d never considered that Obreduur would be assassinated in the way it happened, or what that will mean. “I appreciate the insight, and now I need to go and brief my staff.”
“I do as well. You have my best wishes, Steffan.”
Baar hurried off, and Dekkard followed him to the councilors’ lobby. From there, Dekkard walked to the staff cafeteria, making his way through the crowd of staffers, not that difficult a task because the staffers saw the councilor’s pin and moved aside.
Roostof and the others looked at him expectantly as he stopped at the end of one of the two tables. He could also see and sense that the staffers of other councilors or committees nearby were listening, and he realized that he’d have to be careful with every word.
“First off, before you leave today, you need to give Svard your message address. Yes, I know that administration has them and so did Svard, but I’ve been informed that our office was destroyed, not the walls likely, but the windows and everything else, and it may be days before the Council Office Building is safe to reenter. We need your messaging address so that we can inform you when and where to return to work. You still have positions, and you’ll be paid. I suspect, but I don’t know, that you’ll get your pay on schedule or close to it.”
From there, he went on to repeat, as accurately as he could, what Haarsfel had said. Then he asked, “Do you have any other questions?”
Margrit asked, the tracks of tears on her face, “The Premier’s staff?”
“It’s unlikely that any of them survived, unless someone was out of the office at the time, and it may be several days before we know, because of the number of people injured and missing.” Dekkard was just hoping that Ritten Obreduur hadn’t been in the office, although that would have been unlikely. Losing both Obreduurs would be an even greater blow, something Dekkard would never have seen even four months ago.
Margrit nodded, but did not speak.
Roostof just looked stunned.
Dekkard understood. Both of them had worked for years with Obreduur before coming to work for him, and they’d been close to those staffers almost certainly killed.
“Do any of you have any questions?”
Shuryn Teitryn cleared his throat. “Sir, how did you know so quickly?”
Once again, Dekkard explained.
“How long do you think it will take to repair the building?” asked Luara.
“I don’t know, but some of the offices on the main floor were scarcely damaged. They got the water and gas off quickly so the water damage has been contained and there was no fire. It all depends on the amount of damage on the second floor. I’d say a good week at a minimum, but that’s just a guess.” Dekkard paused. “Any other questions?”
No one spoke.
“Then I’ll need to speak to Svard and Nincya. The rest of you are free to go, after you leave your messaging address with Svard. I’d strongly suggest you at least leave the Council buildings. I don’t think there will be any more violence, but it’s likely to be crowded and confusing, and there’s nothing else you can do here at the moment.”
While Roostof began to take down messaging addresses on scraps of paper, Dekkard turned to Gaaroll. “Nincya, I need you to do something for me.” He handed Gaaroll two ten-mark bills. “Find a steamhack and go to Carlos Baartol’s office. Tell my wife what happened and come back here with her. If she’s already left, take a steamhack back here. I’ll either be here, in the councilors’ lobby or the dining room, or maybe in the Premier’s floor office.”
“Yes, sir.” Gaaroll immediately hurried off.
Almost a sixth passed before Roostof had jotted down the various addresses and all Dekkard’s remaining staffers had left the staff cafeteria. Then Roostof turned to Dekkard.
“I don’t know that there’s anything else you can do today,” Dekkard said. “Tomorrow, I might know more.”
“Should I meet you before the Council convenes tomorrow morning, then?”
“I think afterward would be better. I doubt I’ll know any more until then. Just take a table in the staff cafeteria, and I’ll find you.”
“Sir, I’d feel better if I stayed until Ritten Dekkard returns.”
“I appreciate the thought, Svard, but I’ll wait for her in the councilors’ dining room. You really can’t do much right now, and tomorrow could be a very busy day.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, but you can walk there with me.”
As the two made their way to the councilors’ dining room, they had to navigate around various groups nearly filling the main corridor, largely of staffers, from what Dekkard could tell. He saw several councilors, each talking to their staff, among them Julian Andros and Jareem Saarh. Once he said goodbye to Roostof and entered the dining room, he saw that most of the tables were taken.
Then Kaliara Bassaana gestured, insistently, and Dekkard walked to her table and sat down.
“I was hoping I’d have a chance to talk to you. Are you all right?”
“Other than having my office destroyed, discovering that I was a target, and learning that the councilor I respected the most has been killed, along with apparently all of his staff, I suppose I’m dealing with matters as well as could be expected.” As he finished speaking, Dekkard realized that his tone had been sharp and bitter.
“Considering all that, and likely more, you look to be holding up remarkably well.”
“What about you?”
“I was fortunate to escape injury.”
“Was your office damaged?”
“We lost a window, and several staffers have cuts. One suffered a deep slash across her upper arm. What about your staff?”
“I got them out without injury.”
“Might I ask how?”
Dekkard explained quickly, ending with, “I was just lucky to be looking out the window.”
“It wasn’t luck, Steffan.”
“Then what was it?”
“I suspect you’re one of those very rare individuals who can sense danger, even when it’s unexpected, or perhaps you’re just more attuned to it. You also react quickly and decisively to danger once it presents itself.”
“I’ve had the benefit of excellent training.”
A server approached. Bassaana stopped him and said, “A café for Councilor Dekkard.”
“Yes, Councilor.”
“What do you expect next?” asked Bassaana.
“In a day or two, perhaps a week, there will be a letter or a broadsheet demanding that the Council immediately amend the Great Charter to require the recording and publication of all votes.”
“How would you react to that?”
“Denounce it. The only thing worse than a Council moved by marks or popularity would be a Council intimidated by violence.”
“That’s easy enough to say, but how would you stop the violence?”
“I suspect that Premier Obreduur already set in motion some of the steps to do that. That’s only a guess on my part, and that may be why this morning’s attack was so unexpected.”
Bassaana didn’t bother to hide her surprise or her interest. “What exactly do you mean? What else do you know?”
“It’s barely more than a week since the explosion in the Machtarn Guildhall. They’ve never created this kind of havoc this close together. They rushed to do this attack, clearly targeting Obreduur. Other demonstrations had a much wider focus. The Summerend demonstrations were aimed at the Security Ministry, not at Minister Lukkyn. The more recent demonstrations were against the Council and the Crafters. But this one?”
“Was aimed at Obreduur, and at you.”
“It was certainly aimed at him. They took out his office and those on each side. I was almost an afterthought.” Or they were just slow. But Dekkard wasn’t about to say that. He waited for the oncoming server to deliver his café, then took a small swallow.
“Why you at all?” asked Bassaana. “You were the one who pushed through the Security reforms.”
“That’s a very good question, Kaliara. It does suggest that the New Meritorists or whoever is grouped together behind that name have more in mind than reform, or that reform is merely a façade.”
“Out-and-out revolution, you’re saying.”
“That’s certainly the most obvious possibility. I wouldn’t discount others. I couldn’t say what they might be, but it appears that nothing about the New Meritorists is quite as it once seemed. That’s why”—one reason, anyway—“I don’t want to jump to premature conclusions.”
“Conspiracies within revolution, yet.” Bassaana’s voice was both sardonic and sarcastic. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
“My judgment could easily be in error. That sort of thing happens when people try to blow up you and your staff.”
“I can see that from almost anyone but you.”
“I’m just as human as anyone else.” Dekkard took another swallow of café. “And it has been a very long and violent morning.”
“You mentioned that you thought Obreduur might already have taken steps. What do you think they might have been?”
“I don’t know. Since I became a councilor, we’ve been much more distanced, and in our few interactions, he cautioned me in one way or another not to push for anything for a while.”
“You have other legislative proposals?”
“A few. But after all this, who knows if anything along those lines will be possible for some time. What about you? I can’t believe you don’t have some ideas for improving transportation, especially concerning the ironways.”
“We’ll have to see who becomes the new chair.”
For a moment, Dekkard was confused, then realized that with Waarfel’s death in the morning’s attack, Haarsfel would have become the chair, but since he was already chair of Workplace Administration, he’d have to step down as chair there if he wanted to chair the Transportation Committee. If he didn’t take the Transportation chair, then either Elyncya Duforgue or Traelyna Treshaam, both just elected, would have to be the next chair. “Haarsfel may have to take it.”
“That would create some interesting possibilities.”
“These days,” replied Dekkard dryly, “everything creates interesting possibilities.”
“Whom do you think Haarsfel will propose as a candidate for premier?”
“I haven’t even thought about it,” replied Dekkard frankly and bluntly.
“The most senior Craft councilors besides himself are Mardosh, Safaell, and Hasheem.”
“He might have to put himself up, or the others might insist,” suggested Dekkard.
“Guilhohn has never wanted to be premier.”
“Then we’ll have to see what happens.” Dekkard did know one thing, and that was that he didn’t want Mardosh as premier under any circumstances.
“That we will.” Bassaana smiled and then stood. “I enjoyed talking with you. Take care of yourself, Steffan. The Craft Party—and the Council—need you.”
Dekkard continued to ponder his conversation with Kaliara Bassaana when Avraal hurried into the dining room. Dekkard stood as she headed for the table.
Relief flooded across her face. “You’re all right!” Both her arms went around him, and she just held him tightly.
Dekkard held her firmly, if not quite so strongly. “I just wanted to get word to you so you wouldn’t worry. Nincya did reach you, didn’t she?”
“She did, but I still worried. I gave her some marks and told her to get something to eat in the staff cafeteria and to wait there. I said it might be a while.” Avraal gradually released him. “I can’t believe about Obreduur. Shouldn’t we see if we can help Ingrella?”
“If she wasn’t in the office. She almost never is, but still.” Dekkard frowned. “I’ve been requested to meet with Guard Captain Trujillo, since I’m apparently the only one who saw what happened—or at least I’m one of the few.” Dekkard gestured. “We might as well sit down. I probably should have something to eat. It could be a long afternoon, although that’s just a guess. If you think it’s necessary, you could go see about Ingrella.”
“Right now, I think I’ll stick close to you.”
Dekkard eased out the chair across from him.
“Was someone here earlier?” asked Avraal.
“Absolutely. Kaliara Bassaana wanted to pick my brain. I tried to give her just the bare details of what happened. After that, she wanted speculation. I demurred. She left, pleasantly. She did tell me to take care of myself, because both the Craft Party and the Council needed me.”
“That means she needs you now that Obreduur isn’t here.”
“Most likely.”
“What else did she get from you?”
“I did hint at the fact that some other party might be influencing the New Meritorists.”
“Was that wise?”
“I think it was necessary.”
Avraal frowned for a moment, then nodded. “I can see that. Now tell me everything that happened, every little detail.”
“I will in a moment.” Dekkard gestured toward one of the servers. “After we order.”
Dekkard was slightly surprised that she ordered what he did—the white bean soup—although she asked for a cup and he ordered a full bowl. Then he told, yet again, except with every detail he could remember, what had happened all the way through his briefing his staff.
Halfway through, their soups arrived, and he paused and took a sip of the fresh café before continuing, more slowly, as he occasionally took a spoonful of soup.
When he had finished the recounting of the morning—and the soup—he said, “I needed to eat. So did you.”
“I did. I admit it. When are you supposed to meet with the Guard captain?”
“Whenever he shows up between first and second bell in the Premier’s floor office.”
“We have another third.”
“We?” asked Dekkard.
“I’m coming with you.”
“That’s a very good idea.” Dekkard frowned. “I told Trujillo about that brown lorry this morning. He said he’d look into it.”
“Maybe they moved it.” She paused. “We didn’t sense anyone around. What else could you have done?”
Dekkard shook his head, then said, “Did anything interesting or new show up with Carlos?”
“Nothing good. One of his leads for Amash Kharhan was found murdered last night. His people have been trying to locate the man for weeks. A contact in the central Machtarn patrol station sent him a message that he’d been murdered. Oh, I did send a message to Emrelda at her station saying that you were all right.”
“That was another good thought, of which you have many.”
Roughly a sixth later, Dekkard and Avraal left the dining room, but Dekkard led the way to and through the Council chamber and then into the Premier’s floor office. The two clerks and the secretary looked up in surprise.
“Floor Leader Haarsfel told me to come here to meet with Guard Captain Trujillo. I really didn’t feel like coming by the main corridor. Ritten Ysella-Dekkard is acting as my empath security aide. I’m certain you understand.”
“Yes, sir.”
From the way the two reacted, Dekkard had the definite impression that Avraal had reinforced his words.
“We haven’t seen the Guard captain, but Councilor Haarsfel was with him when he left. That was more than two bells ago.”
“We’ll wait.”
“Ah, sir, I don’t think anyone would mind if you waited in the inner office. It’s a bit more comfortable.”
“Thank you. We’ll leave the door open.”
Dekkard and Avraal settled into the two chairs in front of the bare desk, the way Obreduur had kept his desk except for whatever papers he was immediately working on.
Almost a third passed before Dekkard heard the door to the main corridor open. Moments later, Haarsfel entered the Premier’s inner office, followed by Trujillo, and said, “I’m glad you’re here, Steffan. Guard Captain Trujillo very much wants to talk to you.” Haarsfel looked to Avraal. “Ritten.”
“She stays,” Dekkard said firmly. “I’ll tell her anyway, and, as a trained security empath, she just might be able to add something.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d forgotten. I’m sure you understand.” Haarsfel actually sounded sorry.
Avraal smiled. “I do understand. I believe I’m the first spouse of a councilor who’s been a Council security aide.”
“Just a moment.” Haarsfel stepped out into the main office and immediately returned with a straight-backed wooden chair, which he set at the side of the desk, half facing Dekkard and Avraal. Then he sat behind the desk.
As Trujillo took the straight-backed chair, Dekkard could see traces of dust and grit on his uniform.
“Before we start,” said Dekkard, “what about the Premier and his staff? Was Ritten Obreduur there when it happened?”
Trujillo shook his head, which could have meant anything, then said, “The Premier was in his personal office. No one else was. There were seven other bodies. Ritten Obreduur was not one of them.”
Dekkard swallowed. “That sounds … like … the whole staff.”
“We’ll know for certain in a while,” replied Trujillo, his voice slightly hoarse. He coughed several times. “Councilor Haarsfel said you saw the beginning of the attack. Would you please tell me exactly what you saw?”
Dekkard cleared his throat and began. “I told you the first part of it already, when I drove up Council Avenue and saw the stake lorry—”
“When the guards got there, it was gone,” said Trujillo. “I passed the word to all those on duty. Please continue.”
Dekkard went on to relate exactly what he had witnessed, then waited for the questions that would surely come.
“How did you know that the lorry you saw was the same one used to attack the building?”
“To my eyes, the brown scratched paint and the patched canvas cover of the cargo area looked the same. I’d be very surprised if there were two like that.”
“You said they were using shells. How did you know that?”
“I didn’t know that. The steam device—or cannon—conveyed something so fast I couldn’t see anything beyond the steam it released. Whatever it released exploded inside the building. That suggested an impact fuse and a military explosive. I called it a shell because it was fired like a shell and it exploded like one. I thought that they might have used copper tubing, maybe annealed it, because it would be easy to work. At the time, all that was a guess. I wasn’t about to stay around and subject my staff to what seemed to be coming—or myself, for that matter.”
“You didn’t think about warning others?”
“No. I didn’t. I could say that I knew it would be useless, which it would have been, but at the time I was just concerned with getting my staff to safety.”
“You react quickly. Are you sure of that?”
“I am, but you need to remember one thing. I didn’t know what the device was. I saw it being pointed. I saw the steam after something was released. I didn’t know it was an explosive until I heard and felt the impact.”
“I understand you told Premier Obreduur that the New Meritorists would likely attack the Council Office Building. What was your basis for that statement?”
“The rhetoric of the New Meritorists, and their emphasis on reforming the Council and changing the Great Charter. Their acts never seemed designed to overthrow the entire government, but to force councilors to vote for what they wanted. In the past, they targeted individual councilors. With that mindset, I felt it was far more likely that they’d target the Council Office Building, rather than the Council Hall. It was a feeling as much as anything. But I did tell Premier Obreduur they might place bombs in the building. I never even thought that they might shell it.”
Trujillo nodded, then asked, “Do you believe that Sr. Jaime Minz is involved in some way with the shelling of the Council Office Building?”
“If he is, I’d think it would be in some very indirect fashion.” Dekkard paused, then said, “He’s involved in some fashion with a business called Capitol Services. I believe, but I have absolutely no proof, that various corporacion funds are funneled through Capitol Services to pay for other services, ranging from payoffs and bribery to worse.”
“Why do you think Sr. Minz is linked to this Capitol Services?”
“Because the business addresses are the same, and because the only people in his office are Minz and his secretary.”
“That would indicate some linkage.” Trujillo smiled briefly. “The Premier mentioned that someone had suggested former Premier Ulrich might have had a connection to Capitol Services. Is that correct, and were you that person?”
“I believe it to be correct, given that Sr. Minz worked for years for Ulrich. I’d guess, and it’s only a guess, that Minz is the bridge between Ulrich and Capitol Services, especially given that Minz is an isolate. I’m not whoever that person is, but if the Premier said someone suggested something, someone did indeed suggest it.”
“Can you say who that person might be?”
“I cannot.” Not without revealing more than I essentially promised.
“Are you particularly friendly with Sr. Minz?”
“No. We’ve never been more than casual acquaintances in the same profession. We exchanged words occasionally, but, as I told you earlier, I haven’t seen him since before the elections.”
“Do you think it’s possible he was behind the Atacaman pepper attack on you?”
“I can’t think of anyone else it could have been. I just don’t know why, unless it had something to do with Premier Obreduur, but that doesn’t make sense because, once I was elected, we seldom saw each other.”
“Would you define seldom?” asked Trujillo in a slightly amused tone.
“We’ve had dinner with them three times in about two months, and I’ve had three or four brief meetings in his office, usually about either legislation or my thoughts on the New Meritorists.”
Haarsfel laughed harshly, if softly. “Steffan, that makes you one of his closest confidants, especially given that you’re not part of the leadership. That alone might explain why the New Meritorists went after you.”
“The Premier indicated that you felt Sr. Minz was involved in how the New Meritorists obtained the dunnite used in the various explosions. Is that accurate?” asked Trujillo.
“The dunnite had to come from either Suvion Industries or Northwest Industrial Chemical. They’re the only manufacturers. Ulrich paid for an ironway ticket for Minz to go to Chuive well before the Summerend explosions. Chuive is nowhere near Ulrich’s district, and Minz was a security aide, not an investigator or a legalist, but the Premier found out he charged his ticket to the committee, and Ulrich said that was a mistake and paid for it.”
“Why would a corporacion even think of supplying dunnite to revolutionaries?” demanded Haarsfel.
“The corporacion might not even know,” Dekkard pointed out. “All it would take would be one official at the right level.”
“That still doesn’t explain why,” said Haarsfel, almost querulously.
“That part is simpler,” replied Dekkard. “Someone might have wanted to make the New Meritorists even more of a danger in order to justify increasing the power of the Security Ministry. The New Meritorists were happy to have the dunnite to attack Security. It probably would have worked except for the Kraffeist Affair, which forced Premier Grieg’s resignation. Then when the Summerend explosions occurred, it was Ulrich who got forced out, and not Grieg. Since it was the second major problem for the government, that led the Imperador to call new elections.”
“That’s all speculation,” said Haarsfel.
“Not entirely,” said Trujillo. “Those events occurred just as Councilor Dekkard pointed out. While there’s no evidence at present, I doubt that the New Meritorists were unhappy to obtain the dunnite, however that transfer occurred. So far, there is no evidence about who might have facilitated the illegal transfer of the dunnite or any proof of a specific motive. There is recent evidence that Sr. Minz may have committed some other offenses. The Ministry of Public Safety and the Council Guards are also looking into certain ‘irregularities.’ I trust all of you will remain silent about that. By the way, Councilor Dekkard, your leather folder is outside. I retrieved it from the remains of your furniture when we inspected your office. I thought you might like to have it, since it will be several days at the least before the Council Office Building will be open.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, how were you certain that the explosions had concluded?”
“There was a larger explosion, but none followed that. I thought that either the Guards had managed to do something or that the device malfunctioned and a shell exploded in the device and set off others.”
“The roof sentries were warned to look for the brown lorry, but it took several minutes for them to get into a position to fire around the metal plating. They believe they wounded or killed one of the men and that led to the explosion.”
Trujillo’s subsequent questions, most of them attempts at expanding Dekkard’s earlier explanation, went on for another third of a bell before the Guard captain said, “Thank you, Councilor Dekkard. I appreciate your patience.”
Haarsfel immediately asked, “When do you think we’ll know more?”
“When we find more, sir,” replied Trujillo, standing.
“Guard Captain,” said Dekkard, “I’m sure that you’ve thought of it, but when repairs begin—”
“We have thought of it, sir. We’ll have guards watching closely.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a great deal more I need to attend to.” Trujillo inclined his head, then turned, opened the door, and left the inner office.
“Just what else do you know, Steffan?” demanded Haarsfel.
“I’ve told you what I know.” Just not quite all of it.
“Do you really believe the Commercers would stoop so low?”
“No. I believe Ulrich and a few others would. Grieg couldn’t stop them without risking getting killed, and that’s why he got himself dismissed.” Dekkard paused, then smiled, but only momentarily.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Just about how strangely things sometimes turn out.” Dekkard stood. “Since there’s nothing else I can do here, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I have the feeling you’ve done more than enough, Steffan.” Haarsfel’s voice held a mixture of anger and resignation.
“Guilhohn, most all of that happened when I was a mere security aide, and you were the Craft Party floor leader. We’re just the ones left picking up the pieces that resulted from Ulrich’s lust for power, while he’s a highly paid vice-presidente of Suvion Industries. If you want to blame anyone for Axel’s death, blame Ulrich. Unlike you, Avraal and I put our lives on the line time after time to protect Axel.”
Abruptly, Haarsfel shut his mouth. After a moment, he said quietly, and apologetically, “I’m sorry. It’s just … this shouldn’t have happened.”
“No … it shouldn’t. I told him there would be an attack. I just didn’t foresee that kind of attack—shelling from behind with a frigging steam cannon. I wish I had, but I didn’t. I owe him for so much…” Dekkard found himself swallowing and unable to speak. Finally, he shook his head, blinking back the tears he hadn’t even realized were flowing from his eyes.
“Steffan,” said Haarsfel kindly, “you did all you could. No one else could have done more. You need to go home and have a stiff drink or four. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dekkard just nodded.
Avraal took his arm and guided him out. She did not look at Haarsfel.
Dekkard did remember to pick up his leather folder, scuffed in places, before they left the outer office.
By the time they neared the staff cafeteria, Dekkard could speak. “We need to see Ingrella.”
“If she’ll see us.”