Command Decision (27 page)

He had never wanted the job. He had told himself that over and over: he was a free lance, a lone wolf, a wild rogue adventurer, able to go and come as he pleased, only partly dependent on that remittance credit once he found he could support himself one way and another. He felt the weight of it pressing on him now, all that responsibility he didn’t want. And yet—

“I trust you, Rafe,” his father said. “Not just because you saved my life—our lives—just now. Not just because you were a good child. But in part because you killed those intruders, and in part because you have survived on your own and developed skills I never needed—or thought I needed. I am trusting you with this, and you will not let me down.”

Whatever his father had lost, he had not lost the ability to inspire loyalty and delegate…Rafe took a long breath, feeling now the full weight of what his father wanted him to do firmly on his shoulders.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll talk to Gary—and we also need to get the accounts open so I can pay him and his team.”

“When you are sure you can get to the meeting without being killed, I will make a shielded video call…I have to show myself to them, to convince the ones Lew hasn’t already corrupted. He’ll probably try to tell them that you kidnapped me and have pressured me—”

“Thought of that,” Rafe said. “I’ll bring them here, one at a time, by roundabout routes, to talk to you.”

“I think most of ISC’s loyal,” his father said. “I just don’t know who.”

“Where are your implant backups?” Rafe asked. “Did you have them?”

“I did. He got them. But although they might contain information to convict him, they wouldn’t tell him anything he didn’t know.”

“My…er…cranial ansible,” Rafe said. “The access code for it?”

His father’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry, Rafe. They got that out of me when they threatened to kill the baby…and then they did anyway.”

“What about Linnet and Deri?” His older sisters, who had never married as far as he knew. The night of the attack, they had been off at boarding school.

“Dead,” his father said. “Supposedly both accidental, though now of course I wonder about that. Linnet had gone on a ski trip with her boyfriend…Lew’s cousin, now I think of it. She was a good skier, but there was an avalanche…no one’s that good.”

“The cousin?”

“Also died, along with fifteen others who were on that slope. Deri—Deri had taken a commerical flight with several friends to go to a wedding; it crashed with no survivors. Pilot error, the safety board ruled: a night landing and the pilot undershot the runway—altimeter wasn’t set properly, and there was a little hill, hardly a hundred meters high…” His eyes sagged shut, then opened again. “I see now…either one could have been arranged, if you didn’t mind killing a lot of other people.”

“So there was just Penelope left. And me. What about Penelope’s husband?”

“He died when we were taken. Tried to defend her. Nice boy. Lew hadn’t thought much of him; he wasn’t ISC at all. His father was a wholesale grocer, decent fellow, very down-to-earth. We got along fine. Penelope adored Jared; they were so excited about the pregnancy—” Tears rolled down his face.

Rafe let him cry a moment, turning aside to look at the cheery picture of a woman cradling a child by a window that overlooked a pleasant green field.

“All right,” his father said, a few moments later. “Let’s get to work.”

Lew’s tentacles had reached far into the government as well as ISC’s power structure, as Rafe’s discreet inquiries proved, but Vaclav Hewitt Box, one of his father’s oldest friends, was clean of that taint.

“Garston!” he said the moment Rafe’s father called. “Where in thunder are you? Lew’s been telling us you’re in safekeeping for fear your demon son will kill you, but he won’t tell us where.”

“I’m at a secure clinic, recovering from the treatment Lew Parmina’s goons gave me. Ardath is alive, and so is Penelope, but Jared and the baby are both dead.”

“What!”

“Listen. I don’t think any communication on this planet is truly secure, Vaclav, so I don’t know how long we can talk without the call being traced. If it is, your life is in danger, too. I believe that Lew engineered the deaths of my other daughters as well. Rafe saved our lives—”

“That sounds like hogwash, Garston. He went bad; bad boys stay bad.”

“Poppycock,” his father said. “He didn’t go bad without help, and he’s not bad now. He saved our lives; he got us out of the hellhole where Lew put us with his goons. Vaclav, remember Christine?”

“Ah, yes, Christine of the flowers…”

“Christine of the owls, you nitwit.”

Vaclav’s expression changed. “All right. What do you want me to do?”

“I want Rafe to take over for me, for now. I’ve got serious injuries, and my implant’s fried.”

“You sound sane enough.”

“Right-sided installation. No speech damage, and yes, I can think. But my left side is involved, and I can’t change implants until they’ve done some repairs.”

“Good—grief. You really were—”

“That close to death, yes. I don’t know who on the board are Lew’s plants…Termanian, probably, Oster, maybe Wickins? But Lew’s the real danger. I need to meet you in person—you’ll know then that I’m not some zombie plant of Rafe’s.”

“Where is Rafe? Do you know?”

“He’s here, with me. Like I said, he got us out.”

“By himself?”

“No. But this is going on too long, Vaclav. Will you come? Quietly?”

“Yes. Anywhere. Tell me.”

“I can’t. But I can tell you what to say.”

Rafe had never been in the Boardroom. As a small child, he’d been taken to headquarters, shown the office his father had then, had seen assistants and secretaries scurrying to do anything his father asked. One of them had given him candy. Now, armed with ID and credentials Vaclav had provided, wearing a new suit altered overnight to his measurements by one of Gary’s contacts, he pushed the float chair with his father up to the entry. They were flanked by four of Gary’s people.

“Ser Dunbarger!” the guard said. “The rest of the Board are all here. Ser Parmina said you wouldn’t be in today again—he said—”

“As you see, I’m here,” his father said. “Only a little the worse for wear. You won’t remember my son, Rafael—and these are my security—”

“They’re not ISC,” the guard said.

“No,” his father said. “For the moment, I’m using a private service.”

“I don’t know if I should—”

“You should,” his father said. “I vouch for them—can’t come from higher than that, can it?” He managed a grin; the guard finally smiled back.

“All right, Ser Dunbarger, if you’re sure. They’ll need tags once they’re inside.”

“Waiting for us,” his father said. He looked past the guard. “Vaclav—over here.” Vaclav Box, taller than Rafe by a head, waved and came forward.

“You said four tags…here they are.”

“Go ahead,” the guard said. Rafe pushed the float chair forward. The guard would no doubt report this to someone—possibly someone in Lew Parmina’s pay—when they were past, but that shouldn’t matter. The executive elevator was just ahead, its doors already open. They all crowded in.

Vaclav gave him a sardonic look. “You’ve changed, Rafe.”

“Time does that,” Rafe said. The edge in his voice would have sliced a ship hull; he tried to soften it. “I believe the last time I saw you, I was fourteen or fifteen, wasn’t it? Not my best year.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Vaclav said. He looked away. “This is going to be interesting. Are you ready for any…surprises?”

“Surprises surprise because one is not ready,” Rafe said. “I expect trouble, if that’s what you mean. He’s had years to set this up; we’ve had only a short time to unravel it. We’re bound to have missed something.” His hand wanted to slide into the suit, be sure of his weapons, but he made himself stand relaxed.

“You always were a confident so-and-so,” Vaclav said.

“He got that from me,” his father said. “Only in his case, the overconfidence was beaten out of him early.”

The elevator rose smoothly past floor after floor, coming to rest at last. The doors opened onto a carpeted space with a receptionist’s desk angled to give a view into the elevator. The man there was scribbling something on the desktop; he looked up, and his brows raised.

“Ser Box…the meeting started several minutes ago; didn’t you hear your page? And—” His face changed as he looked at the man in the float chair. “Ser Dunbarger! I had no idea you were coming! Ser Parmina said—”

“I know what Ser Parmina said,” his father said. “But I’m feeling better, and I decided to come in. Vaclav waited for me downstairs. No, don’t bother to announce us. We’ll just go on in.”

One of Gary’s people had stepped to the desk and had the receptionist’s hand in a grip that, Rafe knew, could tighten in an instant to excruciating pain. He nodded at Rafe.

The Boardroom double doors were not locked during meetings; there had never been need. Now two of Gary’s people pulled them open and stepped inside while Rafe pushed his father through. Vaclav walked beside him.

Lew Parmina, at the head of the table, had been pointing at a display hovering over the group. Rafe tipped his head; one of the guards stepped that way. Lew had gone white, but he recovered quickly.

“Ser Dunbarger—Garston—we didn’t expect you today. What a pleasant surprise!”

“Is it?” his father asked. Rafe didn’t look down at his father; he was watching Parmina’s hands. “It wasn’t a pleasant surprise when your goons abducted me and my family from our home, killed my son-in-law, and spent the next several tendays torturing us.”

“
My
goons? What do you mean? You’re confused; you—”

A stocky redheaded woman on the far side of the table spoke up. “You said Garston had to go into hiding for fear of his life, Lew. You said you knew where but couldn’t tell us, for security reasons…” Rafe’s implant informed him that this was Madeleine Pronst, senior vice president for human resources. Headhunter, hatchet woman, and yet not universally hated. Madeleine, his father had said, was ruthless with the incompetent, as willing to chop off a VP or division head as a terrified new hire, but oddly compassionate with those who had real problems, and fair-minded with everyone.

“He—I thought—that’s what I was told.” Rafe could just about see the gears whirling in Parmina’s head, trying to cover himself.

“Interesting,” his father said. “The men who killed my grandson—my daughter was forced into induced labor while captive, and the men then murdered the infant in front of me and my wife—told me with great pleasure that you had ordered it. And what you planned to do with the power you would gain as CEO of ISC.”

“I—
he
did it!” Parmina pointed at Rafe. “He’s been bad from the first; he’s jealous of me; he wants the power himself. He came back; he had you abducted; he had his hirelings tell me you were in hiding, told them he was acting on my behalf, and then he fooled you by pretending to rescue you—”

“It wasn’t pretense,” Rafe’s father said. “I would have been dead in a few hours if he hadn’t come. And I think I know my son better than you do. A lot of things make more sense now, Lew.”

Rafe watched Lew’s hand slide under the table. That would be the panel for the emergency response, his father had told him. “It won’t work,” he said, surprising himself by his own tone of voice: light, relaxed. “You have no communication with the outside world, Lew. No, not even your skullphone, as you’ve no doubt been noticing while you tried to buy time.”

“This is ridiculous!” That was Oster; Termanian and Wickins hadn’t yet moved, though they were sweating more than the innocent would. “Lew is a respected member of this corporation; he has been handling things since you disappeared. You can’t just walk in here and expect us to fall in line—” His hands, below table level, jerked up suddenly.

Rafe felt a surge of glee, drawing and firing his pocket needler before Oster’s weapon was clear of the table. Oster slumped forward, his face thudding onto the table’s polished surface. He had hardly taken his eyes off Parmina; he had
felt
Oster’s move as much as seen it.

“You!” Parmina said. All pretense gone now; teeth bared, he glared at Rafe. “You disgusting little leech! Why didn’t you die?”