Fire with Fire
Prologue
Perry City, Luna
September, 2105
The Taiwanese captain bowed quickly when his temporary commander—USSF Admiral Nolan Corcoran—rounded the corner. “Admiral Corcoran, I—”
Corcoran, a tall, broad-shouldered man whose sharp blue eyes and trim physique belied his advancing age, raised a silencing hand. He ignored the captain’s waiting covert ops team, and moved instead to the cryogenic suspension unit resting on a gurney just behind them. “Is that the intruder?”
“Yes, Admiral. We found him right outside the door to your quarters. I’m sure you have the report by now.”
“We do, Captain Chen,” answered a second man who came around the same corner that Corcoran had. “But the details are sketchy.”
Chen did not recognize the man, who spoke with an English accent. “Apologies, sir: I relayed what I had at the time.”
The tall, thin Englishman looked up from his dataslate. “So you weren’t present at the incident?”
Chen stood even straighter. “Nonetheless, I am the team leader, sirs.”
Corcoran canted his head toward the Englishman. “Mr. Downing is not implying you were at fault, Captain Chen. We know it’s your job to take responsibility for what happens on your watch. Even if you weren’t there yourself. Now, what more have you learned since alerting us?”
“The subject—Mr. Riordan—was detected near your quarters at 2020 hours GMT, Admiral. He was behaving in a suspicious manner, apparently attempting to force entry. Since you had shared classified information with him earlier today, we feared that he intended to steal additional, sensitive data from your suite.”
Downing stared at the cryogenic suspension unit. “And he resisted so strongly that you had to render him unconscious and stick him in a cold cell?”
Chen felt sweat rising on his upper lip. “That was, in hindsight, an excessive response. However, when accosted, Riordan turned sharply and his hand was concealed in a bag. Our operative had originally conjectured it might hold tools, but then feared that it might conceal a weapon. So the subject was—subdued.”
Corcoran nodded, but, Chen noted, without the peripheral signs of reassurance that were common among Western commanders. “That explains why he’s unconscious. Why did you put him in a cold cell?”
Chen’s upper lip was now thoroughly wet with perspiration. “Sirs, you were on the Far Side. I had no way of knowing if you had received our communications. And we had to act quickly.”
Downing folded his arms. “Why?”
“I reasoned that Mr. Riordan’s books might have made him too well-known for us to detain until you returned. And if the local authorities had discovered him in our custody, that would have necessitated explaining why my team is here at all, thereby attracting more attenti—”
“Yes, you had a difficult situation,” Corcoran said. And Chen saw that he meant it, but was also disappointed. Now that Caine Riordan was in cold sleep, there was no way to awaken him without calling attention to the covert activities being undertaken on Luna. Which meant that—
“Have you informed our contacts that we will need to initiate a ‘missing, presumed dead’ scenario to cover up Mr. Riordan’s disappearance?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Mr. Downing will need access to the corridor security footage. We’ll overwrite the recording of the incident with ‘neutral view’ footage. See to that quickly, Rich.”
The Englishman grumbled. “Let’s just hope somebody hasn’t reviewed the video logs already.” He moved off to establish communication with their operative inside Perry City’s security force. Corcoran turned back to Chen. “And what were the contents of the bag Mr. Riordan was carrying?”
The Taiwanese captain handed it to the admiral, who looked inside as Downing called over, “We’re clear; no one’s screened the security footage, yet.”
The retired admiral stared down into the bag for several seconds before handing it back to Chen. “Keep the contents with Mr. Riordan for now. I’ll have need of them later.”
Chen did not allow himself to look puzzled. “Yes, sir.”
Downing had returned. He looked at Caine Riordan’s deathly white face, made blue by the glass of the cryocell’s lid. “You know, I believed Riordan when he said he wouldn’t reveal our work here.” He shook his head, ran a hand rearwards over his prominent widow’s peak. “Somehow, I still believe him.”
Corcoran’s response was quiet. “Well, that’s a moot point now.”
Downing shrugged. “No tools for breaking and entering, then?” He scanned the area. “So what was in the bag?”
Perry City, Luna
September, 2105
The Taiwanese captain bowed quickly when his temporary commander—USSF Admiral Nolan Corcoran—rounded the corner. “Admiral Corcoran, I—”
Corcoran, a tall, broad-shouldered man whose sharp blue eyes and trim physique belied his advancing age, raised a silencing hand. He ignored the captain’s waiting covert ops team, and moved instead to the cryogenic suspension unit resting on a gurney just behind them. “Is that the intruder?”
“Yes, Admiral. We found him right outside the door to your quarters. I’m sure you have the report by now.”
“We do, Captain Chen,” answered a second man who came around the same corner that Corcoran had. “But the details are sketchy.”
Chen did not recognize the man, who spoke with an English accent. “Apologies, sir: I relayed what I had at the time.”
The tall, thin Englishman looked up from his dataslate. “So you weren’t present at the incident?”
Chen stood even straighter. “Nonetheless, I am the team leader, sirs.”
Corcoran canted his head toward the Englishman. “Mr. Downing is not implying you were at fault, Captain Chen. We know it’s your job to take responsibility for what happens on your watch. Even if you weren’t there yourself. Now, what more have you learned since alerting us?”
“The subject—Mr. Riordan—was detected near your quarters at 2020 hours GMT, Admiral. He was behaving in a suspicious manner, apparently attempting to force entry. Since you had shared classified information with him earlier today, we feared that he intended to steal additional, sensitive data from your suite.”
Downing stared at the cryogenic suspension unit. “And he resisted so strongly that you had to render him unconscious and stick him in a cold cell?”
Chen felt sweat rising on his upper lip. “That was, in hindsight, an excessive response. However, when accosted, Riordan turned sharply and his hand was concealed in a bag. Our operative had originally conjectured it might hold tools, but then feared that it might conceal a weapon. So the subject was—subdued.”
Corcoran nodded, but, Chen noted, without the peripheral signs of reassurance that were common among Western commanders. “That explains why he’s unconscious. Why did you put him in a cold cell?”
Chen’s upper lip was now thoroughly wet with perspiration. “Sirs, you were on the Far Side. I had no way of knowing if you had received our communications. And we had to act quickly.”
Downing folded his arms. “Why?”
“I reasoned that Mr. Riordan’s books might have made him too well-known for us to detain until you returned. And if the local authorities had discovered him in our custody, that would have necessitated explaining why my team is here at all, thereby attracting more attenti—”
“Yes, you had a difficult situation,” Corcoran said. And Chen saw that he meant it, but was also disappointed. Now that Caine Riordan was in cold sleep, there was no way to awaken him without calling attention to the covert activities being undertaken on Luna. Which meant that—
“Have you informed our contacts that we will need to initiate a ‘missing, presumed dead’ scenario to cover up Mr. Riordan’s disappearance?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Mr. Downing will need access to the corridor security footage. We’ll overwrite the recording of the incident with ‘neutral view’ footage. See to that quickly, Rich.”
The Englishman grumbled. “Let’s just hope somebody hasn’t reviewed the video logs already.” He moved off to establish communication with their operative inside Perry City’s security force. Corcoran turned back to Chen. “And what were the contents of the bag Mr. Riordan was carrying?”
The Taiwanese captain handed it to the admiral, who looked inside as Downing called over, “We’re clear; no one’s screened the security footage, yet.”
The retired admiral stared down into the bag for several seconds before handing it back to Chen. “Keep the contents with Mr. Riordan for now. I’ll have need of them later.”
Chen did not allow himself to look puzzled. “Yes, sir.”
Downing had returned. He looked at Caine Riordan’s deathly white face, made blue by the glass of the cryocell’s lid. “You know, I believed Riordan when he said he wouldn’t reveal our work here.” He shook his head, ran a hand rearwards over his prominent widow’s peak. “Somehow, I still believe him.”
Corcoran’s response was quiet. “Well, that’s a moot point now.”
Downing shrugged. “No tools for breaking and entering, then?” He scanned the area. “So what was in the bag?”