Chapter 15

"What do you mean?" the man, who called himself 'The King of Clubs, ' ranted. "The first time I learn that ship is in the home system is when its hull number is seen by Lisbon's concubine as he serves lunch to the fucking traffic controllers." At this level of frustration, his eyes were squinted shut, his cheeks and neck burned with red, but his forehead consisted of pale lines created by furrowed white streaks of folded skin.

The AI expert called 'Columbus' at these meetings rose to respond. "Sire," he waited to be acknowledged.

The King of Clubs turned his head to his subordinate. "Explain."

"When the military legacy protocols were first discovered," Columbus tugged at his collar, "you proposed the idea to have you made governor of a colony." The King of Clubs nodded. "To meet that goal, all of our research was centered on changing personnel assignments. We have managed to place over fifty individuals in four colonies."

The King of Clubs cut his subordinate short. "What is required has changed."

"Sire," Columbus reiterated, "the structure is highly limited. We cannot control the AIs." Little beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"I do not care to hear your excuses!" The king slammed his fist onto the table. "You are our specialist, working the AIs to our advantage." The king looked around the room. No one met his gaze. Anonymity shielded them for the entire subversion. The discovery of the military legacy protocols built into the AIs' operating system was the very basis of the group's advantage. How the investigation by Confederacy Security discovered these protocols vexed them. None of their sources at security had any concrete leads. Doubts bred suspicion, suspicion lead to accusations. Tension built in the room. The king now sought to bring back a sense of control and stability. He sat down.

"I do know that he is scheduled to meet several individuals at Cambridge." To help keep their secrets, nothing the conspirators used or referenced was electronic. He lifted a sheet of paper. "They are using the Amateur Cambridge Rugby Invitational as a cover to permit augmented marines to move unobserved. I have learned the code name for the specialist. He is called Wonder Woman." The King paused, looking around the table. "He is meeting in the morning with AI experts at the Cambridge Botanical Gardens."

A collective silence engulfed the room. Memphis waited until the king nodded. "I have based this on the following factors." Holding a picture, he began. "An operative, Low-lude-wel-anne, Lo-bu-tale-wayne..."

"Llewelyn!" called a voice from the seated men.

"Llewelyn Carter was brought in from Mars. Inside two days," a different picture was displayed, "he met with Director Cassell's chief enforcer Percy. Carter traveled to Earth, to Cambridge. He met with an unspecified engineering faculty and students. Carter's whereabouts were lost to us until he returned to the lunar base." Two pictures were held up, one a silhouette the other a known operative. "The next day he met with both Wonder Woman and Andres Zucher."

Columbus raised his hand, "We are not in a position to do anything."

The king smiled. "Actually a message about the nefarious actions of Confederacy thugs is being delivered by messenger to the militant arm of the Earth First Party. They will eliminate this Wonder Woman for us."

Rhys Morris opened the envelope. Someone had been feeding his office detailed information about the activities of the Confederacy. He and his mates discouraged at least three extractions last month.

Violence never came into the equation. The response to force almost always favored the Marines. He could not prove it but in the states, several groups of upstanding anti-Confederacy yanks had been victims of directed reprisals. Even up in Scotland, out in Argyll an entire village had been chastised for failing to stop an extraction. Afraid of looking impotent to the public, the cover up from Number 10 Downing Street started six hours too late, Rhys had seen the pictures.

Back to his packet, a bünzli, what a German would call a bumpkin, was set to invade Cambridge and abscond with an intellectual resource for Britain. He would add the picture of Carter to the 'detain on sight' wall. Rhys had no true arrest powers but, as a true patriot, sometimes, undesirables needed to disappear. The trick was getting it done without the Marines hammering you. Anyway, tomorrow at the botanical gardens in Cambridge, he would send Lester and his boys. They could blend in almost anywhere. If Carter or Zidane dared show their face, he would have a response in place.

For secrecy, Rhys' office equipment consisted of vintage pieces never intended for a modern interconnected office. He photocopied several of the flyers showing Carter and Zucher, giving Lester's boys a good image to look at.

The man called Columbus waited for his counterpart Lisbon to join him in his private study. He activated the secrecy globe. They sat down across the small table.

"We are secure Ben," Columbus spoke confidently. Under the faint glow, the conversation was unrecorded. "When I thought I was securing my place in a research and breeding colony, I was OK with this." He leaned in. "Killing people," he spread his hands, opened his eyes, and glared.

Ben reached up and lightly grabbed Paul's hands. "That, my friend is why we need an exit strategy."

That did little to comfort Paul Rodriguez. "Cassell is not a threat." Paul eased their hands to the table. "The bridge to the think tank's servers is still viable." Paul closed his eyes. "They are the perfect patsy for activities. Everything is set to fake the extraction ... Fuck it."

Ben waited for Paul to wallow in self-pity for a few moments. "Our illustrious leader has enlisted the services of anti-confederacy forces in England."

"That just gives extra people to pop into a sleep trainer or testing unit." Beads of sweat formed on Paul's brow. "Can't the man follow his own protocols?"

"I actually believe he has followed the protocol." Paul locked eyes with Ben. "He is dropping letters into Pillar Boxes."

Paul cocked his head. "Pillar Box?"

"Ah yes," Ben smiled. "They are about this high." He held his hand a meter and a half above the floor. "A place to deposit stamped letters, metal secure cylinder, usually round and painted bright red. I think that in America your boxes were blue and rectangular, with a dump tray."

"He mails the information?"

"The very think tank computers you are using to generate a fall guy, he used to find useful tools to further his agenda." Ben spoke calmly.

"All that access is traceable." Paul began to breathe quick short breaths. The things he had created to pull this off. Just to have those keyboards made and placed in the offices. Paul pressed three fingers into his left temple to counter the pulsing. "You know we will be recycled."