Part 2
Work of The Wettest Kind
Elena shielded her eyes from the harsh glare of Quadraxis' primary star. This ceased to become a problem as the maglev sped into the city limits and the light grew dimmer and dimmer. By the time the team had pulled up to a platform in the commercial district the light looked more like dawn than early morning. She was dressed in civilian clothing just like the rest of the team, and she had to suppress the urge to laugh at how odd they all looked out of their uniforms. None of them spoke to each other, and when the train car stopped they all disembarked casually, trying to look as disinterested as possible. Once in the square, they split up and disappeared into the crowd milling around on the platform. As she walked to the pre-planned address, Elena caught brief glimpses of the others from time to time, James in a ridiculous panama hat, walking with purpose and a hint of a strut, now disappearing behind a newspaper stand. Intelligence Doctrine and Strategy Basic seemed ridiculous to those whose lives had not yet been saved by its use, but Elena knew that the logic behind it was sound. Blending in anywhere was all about the first impression you gave. People's eyes had to see you and then forget you almost instantly. You had to be bland, conforming, and never in the same place twice. One could walk around un-questioned for hours inside a big industrial area with just a hardhat and a clipboard. Psychology was as much use as force in ONI work, and it showed.
Elena was the last to reach the building. On the front it looked like some kind of mechanic or parts depot. The property was fenced off with barbed wire and an automatic gate. Antennas concealed inside dummy smokestacks reached towards the sky and a plastic trash bag fluttered around the empty parking lot. Overall, it looked like a place that, if it could talk, would tell you that it was none of your goddamn business and didn't really do anything interesting anyway so bugger off.
The gate opened and closed behind her and a dusty security camera hummed gently as it tracked her movement. She walked up a few metal stairs and knocked. A few seconds later James pulled the door open and ushered her inside. The interior was drastically different than the outside hinted. The walls had a fresh coat of paint, there was not a hint of decay anywhere and the stone floor was carefully swept.
"Welcome to ONI safe house number 615. All the living area stuff, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, are upstairs. Garage is to your right coming in, the armory is in there too, and to your left is the communications room. I'd give you a tour but we have a schedule to meet and you haven't been fully briefed yet."
Elena followed James into the garage, where the white van was sitting like something much more innocuous than it was, tinted windows and all. James closed the door behind them and put a small little cube down on the floor, which started to glow faintly. Elena recognized it as an anti-bugging device. They were worth more than she earned in a year, maybe two.
"Alright. Now, I won't lie, there was some debate over how to get you into the rebel cell originally, but after some frantic digging we found you an backdoor."
The captain held out a photograph and she took it. It was taken on archaic film, the kind only used to circumvent anti-electronic devices. The twenty something man in the photograph was tall, lean, and, she had to admit, pretty handsome. Short black hair covered his head and threatened to break out along his jaw. Bright blue eyes surveyed an area off-camera intently, as though waiting for something. He was immaculately dressed, a perfectly ironed suit hung a little loose on his shoulders and his shoes appeared to be newly shined.
"That, is the best picture we have of a man named Alex Pinkerton. Of course, that's a nom de guerre, we don't have any clue what his real name is, he has so many fake ones. We don't know where he was born, where he went to school, who his family were, nothing, he's a man completely off the grid. He first popped on to our radar a few years ago as a professional crook of the highest distinction. The Eridanus Law Enforcement Agency actually had to appeal to Colonial Administration Security because they were having major trouble apprehending him. Now mind you, CoAdSec takes their job pretty damn seriously, so it was a bit of a surprise when they too came back empty handed. Something like five raids, and each time, nothing there except a mocking little note and maybe a sandwich wrapper which of course turned up negative for genetic material. He gave the finger to the Colonial Authority, and shit, were they mad. So they went one step higher and contacted FleetCom. FleetCom! Because of one white collar criminal! Well, FleetCom reviewed the case and handed it off to us, ONI Special Activities Division. Naturally we cracked the case in about three months, tracked him here to Quadraxis. Apparently he'd had a fling with the Insurrectionists and was running their books, plus helping them get money and valuable contacts on the side. We caught him, took him in, and worked out a deal. He would provide his extensive knowledge of rebel activity and boost an ONI operative into the ranks of the Insurrectionists in exchange for amnesty. He couldn't exactly refuse, by that time he was wanted on everything from wire fraud to kidnapping."
"And I'm going to go meet this guy?"
"Meet him, work with him, rub his belly, whatever it takes. I have to warn you, he's a fucking prodigy. He is easily one of the smartest people in the Orion arm of the galaxy and he knows it too, God help us that he ended up being such a bastard. Don't take anything he says as the truth, he's clever as hell, and he knows how to press people's buttons, I've seen it. Likewise, don't take anything he says for granted. In general, just keep your head about you, pay attention to what he's saying and how he says it. Someone like him would get kick out of playing both sides against each other."
"What, you think he's playing us?"
James grinned
"I think we're both trying to play each other."
The van turned onto another residential avenue, this one a dead end. White and grey colonial houses lined the block, each with its own little variation on the average two story suburban dwelling. At the apex of the cul-de-sac was one of these houses. Two men sat on the front porch in rocking chairs, surveying the street. James pulled up into the small driveway and parked. They got out and approached the house. James stood on the top porch stop and nodded to the two men.
"Wilson, Edgecombe, this is Lieutenant Rosenthal, the ONI spook I called about yesterday, she's here to see Pinkerton."
"Not so loud sir, we had some suspicious characters snooping around earlier, probably Insurrectionists."
"Shit, they know where he is..."
"Yeah, they just walked down and around the block again, carrying a briefcase, probably a concealed camera."
"You need any backup?"
Wilson shook his head and rested a hand on a black shape tucked under a blanket next to him.
"We've got plenty of firepower if it comes to that, but I don't think it will. We'll just have to move him to the safe house first thing tomorrow morning, possibly tonight."
James nodded and began to head back to the car.
"Alright, keep your eyes peeled, I've got other things to do. If you need a pickup call me on the satellite link, don't use a landline, it might be tapped."
The door slammed and the van pulled out of the driveway and rumbled off down the street. The man named Edgecombe pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
"He's upstairs, knock before you come out the front door again."
Elena stepped through the white wooden door and closed it softly behind her. The house was dead quiet, save for the hum of a refrigerator and the distant sound of children playing. Motes of dust floated through the air and reflected the noon sun coming through the blinds. Cautiously she ascended the carpeted staircase until she emerged onto a landing. Tentatively, she called out.
"Hello?"
From a closed door at the end of the hall, a voice answered.
"In here."
Elena's feet tread softly over the carpet and pushed the door open. The room inside was better furnished than the rest of the house, but only slightly. A bed was nestled in the far corner, a nightstand with various watches stood next to it. Alexander Pinkerton sat low in a high backed swivel chair, his feet perched up on a desk, looking intently at a data screen. He spun the chair to face her and sat up straighter, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked a little older than the photograph she had seen. His hair was untidy and there were dark circles under his eyes.
"Well don't gawp, it's not polite. Sit down, I expect you want something."
"You could say that."
Elena walked over to the chair that was indicated and sat down. Pinkerton was silent for a moment, his eyes boring holes into hers. She repressed a shiver; those blue irises seemed almost like entities of their own.
"Second Lieutenant Elena Rosenthal, third child of four, two brothers and a sister, born on Luna, raised in relative affluence, joined the Officer Candidate School and graduated into ONI Section Three near the top of your class, second highest marks if I recall correctly."
Elena tried to keep her face impassive and think up a retort at the same time, but instead all that followed was a stony silence. For a while neither of them spoke, then when it became apparent that he was waiting for a response, she broke the silence.
"Captain Hale tells me you can get me into the Insurrection."
Alex took a deep drag and ashed into a small glass tray beside the darkened data screen.
"And for once, James is telling the truth. I can indeed do this, but there need to be ground rules you understand, you can't just go willy nilly into something like this and expect to last more than a few days, a rebel is a paranoid creature by nature, and with good reason."
"I'm listening."
Elena was actually getting pretty tired of sitting in chairs and listening at this point, but then again, Pinkerton probably was too.
"First thing you should know, you tell me about everything you do, every move you make once you're inside. Preface every action with the question: What would dear uncle Pinkerton do? Second thing, this is bigger than you, or me, or the Insurrection. The UNSC is getting nasty, and there isn't a right a wrong side anymore, just people who hate other people for really stupid reasons."
"The rebels have killed millions of people! That's evil!"
The end of his cigarette glowed and Alex exhaled another large cloud of blue smoke.
"Evil is a paradigm, a point of view. I guarantee you, if ColAdSec hadn't stepped in, most of those same people would still be breathing. Third thing, if we're going to work together, you need to keep an off the record line of communication with me."
"That, I won't do. The UNSC is my boss, and keeping anything from them is punishable by death or life in prison."
"I know a hell of a lot more about the way ONI's black little heart beats than you do I'm afraid, and that's ironic considering you're a goddamn field operative, and I'm the dastardly ne'er-do-well. They use you just as much as you use me, understand? They pretend they're giving this investigation to you and James' team, but the second something goes any direction they feel is imprudent, you will be re-assigned and nobody will ever hear from me again."
"So what?"
Alex put out his cigarette and crossed his arms.
"So I don't want to end up spending my last moments alive choking on a black bag, that's what, and if I'm going to help you screw the rebels over, you have to promise me you will do everything in your power to ensure that your boss doesn't shoot me the second he gets what he wants."
"You think the ONI won't honor their end of the bargain?"
"I know they won't. I wouldn't."
The thought had never crossed her mind, but maybe this was what James had warned her about, maybe Pinkerton was just playing her to get something, but if he was she couldn't tell. Behind the veneer of calculated smugness there was a definite hint of panic.
"Alright, fine. You will get me in, and I will cover your ass when this whole thing wraps up."
Pinkerton nodded and extended a hand, which she shook.
"Alright, now that's out of the way, here's the skinny on the local cell."
/End Part 2/
