The Phoenix Crisis (27 page)

He’d ordered his people to surround the
residential tower and capture him. Not wanting to sit idly on his
hands back at his control center in the fortified Akira Estate,
Calvin decided to race to the scene himself. Nikolai insisted on
coming with him, of course, happy for the chance to get into the
action. As the car rolled along the congested Capital World
streets, the second-to-rear car in the motorcade—following the car
that carried Calvin’s body double—Calvin spent the time going over
his notes of questions he intended to ask Evans. He also kept
thinking about how annoyingly slow it was travelling in a motorcade
and how stupid and unnecessary it was that a Calvin-look-alike had
to ride in the car ahead of him. The Akiras were sparing no expense
in protecting their new Executor of the Empire but Calvin found the
additional security cumbersome and ridiculous. He would have
preferred to go everywhere in disguise, blending into crowds
invisibly, rather than paint a target on his face by travelling in
a convoy of armored cars. Still, he doubted anyone would actually
attack an armored convoy flying the flag of the King in broad
daylight on Capital World—the Akiras were right about that, they
were keeping him safe—but Calvin still would be grateful to be rid
of it as soon as he could and simply be a regular person again.

“
We’re here,” said Nikolai.
He sat next to Calvin and spent the time in silence cleaning his
handgun.

Calvin looked out the window as his car
pulled up next to a medium-sized apartment tower. The general décor
was a bit more upscale than most flat towers and the grounds were
vibrant with color and well kept. One of the security guards got
out from the front of the car and opened Calvin’s door. The rest
secured a perimeter around him as he exited the vehicle.

The scene that greeted him was not what he’d
expected. Sure enough his people had surrounded the tower and their
vehicles could be seen, as well as soldiers-in-arms, but there were
local police here too. Emergency lights flashed and even medical
personnel were on the scene. In the distance Calvin saw a man
taking photos of the ground. It looked like a body was sprawled
out. Calvin squinted and could make out some of the gruesome
features—apparently the corpse had been brutally damaged by the
impact with the ground. There was a large spread of blood, tissues,
and broken bones.

“
Don’t tell me,” said Calvin
to nobody, “let me guess…” he felt his heart quicken and he jogged
to the scene. A policeman moved to intercept him but, upon
realizing who Calvin was he thought better of it and stood
aside.

As Calvin approached the smashed corpse, the
gruesome details were more pronounced and disgusting, the skull had
been completely crushed on impact—apparently he’d fallen face
first—and skull fragments and grey matter had been strewn in every
direction.

“
Mister Executor,” the
detective who was taking photographs stopped and saluted. Calvin
returned the salute. Calvin’s own investigators were on the scene
too, collecting evidence and minor samples.

“
Murder?” asked
Calvin.

“
We investigate every
suspicious death as murder,” explained the detective. “But so far
this is looking like a suicide. Apparently the man had had enough
and decided to jump twenty stories and end it all.”

Calvin looked up, raising a hand to block
the sun, and he spotted an open door on one of the balconies twenty
stories above. Investigators could be seen taking photos and
searching for evidence up there too, from this far away they looked
like ants. Calvin glanced back down at the disfigured body and had
a new understanding for what a sixty meter drop onto hard pavement
could do. It was revolting and he looked away.

“
Why do you think it’s a
suicide?” asked Calvin.

“
The victim left a suicide
note. Additionally the door to his flat was locked from the inside
and there was no indication that it was forced.”

“
Is it possible the killer
was invited into the flat—perhaps he was someone the victim
trusted—and then after pushing his friend off the balcony the
killer left, locking the door on the way out?”

“
No. Not unless he chopped
off the victim’s thumb first. The door can only be locked on the
outside by the registered occupant. Additionally, we’ve interviewed
some of the tenants on that floor and no one saw anyone go in or
out of apartment twenty-thirteen.”

Calvin didn’t find that convincing, though
it was persuasive. He could imagine a very talented free-climber
could get up to the balcony that way, or could have been dropped
off there by a flying vehicle—though one shouldn’t have escaped
notice. He could also imagine if the murder was premeditated enough
in advance, the killer could have rented the apartment below or
above the victim’s and then climbed to the victim’s balcony that
way—and used that same path as a means of escape. There were a lot
of possibilities worth investigating.

“
We’ve managed to ID the
victim,” said the detective. “He signed the suicide note, but we’ve
also tested his DNA.”

“
Let me guess: Michael
Evans,” said Calvin.

“
That’s right,
sir.”

Calvin nodded, certain this
wasn’t a suicide. Someone had found out that Calvin had wanted to
bring Evans in for questioning, and had decided it was better that
Calvin not get the chance. He cursed under his breath, furious that
another of his best leads had dried up, but he also counted it as a
minor victory. He was on the right track. He just needed to be
better about keeping his plans under the Phoenix Ring’s radar—if
that were possible—and get his potential assets into protective
custody a lot sooner. Before more
incidents
happened.

“
I’ll have my department
send you all of the photos and evidence we collect, including a
copy of the suicide note, if you’d like, sir,” the detective
said.

Calvin was sure his own investigators would
do an equally good—if not better—job than the local police but
there was no harm in getting as much information as he could.
“Thank you,” said Calvin. He walked away.

Nikolai walked at his side. “So what now?”
the burly man asked.

“
Get me our investigative
team on the radio,” said Calvin.

Nikolai complied and handed him the radio.
His teams were exchanging information about the evidence they were
collecting. He decided to interrupt the chatter. “This is Executor
Actual to all teams. I am certain this was a homicide and not a
suicide. Search everything. And don’t stop searching until you find
something.”

They acknowledged him. Calvin wasn’t overly
optimistic that they’d find anything so he decided to put it from
his mind. His next best angle was to try to identify the Phoenix
Ring leaders themselves. He had a few ideas where to search. MXR.
The Martels. Anyone who might have been connected to the Beotan
cargo. Anyone in the Assembly who’d opposed the Princess’s
acquittal. Any corporations or entities who support suspicious
members of the Assembly. Top admirals and leaders of the Fleet.
Intel Wing’s top brass. Even Director Edwards. Calvin had leads,
and he intended to discover all of their secrets. Swiftly and
thoroughly. With no remorse and no quarter. Every skeleton in every
closet would be found.

***

“
Look at that,” said
Vulture.

Ryker took the binoculars from him and
pointed them at the pillars of smoke rising in the west. A large
part of the urban center had been torched, and in the main streets
mobs of angry people clashed with soldiers in riot gear. Countless
batons came crashing down on the pushing crowd, their black metal
surfaces gleaming in the firelight, but as people fell or were
driven back, more seemed to rally. It was the strongest push
against the government’s forward position that Ryker had seen.

“
Looks like our actions are
bearing fruit,” he said. He scanned the horizon and noted that
Imperial flags had been torn down—many of them burned. A group of
rebels stood in front of the nearest Imperial outpost and torched
the flags in plain sight of the soldiers. A storm of rubber bullets
was fired in response, but it did little to douse the anger raging
in their hearts. These citizens—who had never been fond of the
Imperial government—had seen their capital destroyed by what had
looked like the Princess’s ship; they’d watched their homes be
torched to the ground by the hands of what appeared to be Imperial
troops, and in the violence and chaos they’d lost countless
children and loved ones. They would not be stopped by a few batons
and some rubber bullets. Ryker and his Black Phantoms had done
well. They’d convinced the population that the Empire was to blame
for all of these
tragedies
. Now it looked like all-out
war.

“
Lemme see,” said Tank.
Ryker handed him the binoculars. An ugly, crooked smile spread
across Tank’s face as he took in the carnage. “Well I’ll be
damned…” he said. “They—”

He was interrupted by the sound of gunfire.
Instantly Ryker, Vulture, Tank, and the other men who were with him
dropped to the ground. Once prone, Ryker tried to get his bearings
on who was shooting whom.

“
Five-point-five-six mil,”
said Vulture. “From the outpost.”

Ryker took the binocular back and gazed
ahead. Vulture was right. By the looks of it the Imperial troops
had actually fired on the rebels. There were a dozen or so bodies
on the ground and plenty of yelling and screaming could be heard
like a whisper over the crackling flames. A crowd of rebels had
gathered and were moving toward the outpost, making what looked
like a second attack on the base. They fired small arms, threw
homemade explosives, and carried makeshift weapons. They didn’t
have the discipline under fire that the troops had, but they were
enraged and looked like they had little left to lose.

In response to the threat, the Imperial
troops took aim again with their rifles. Ryker could faintly hear
orders being shouted, probably a warning to the approaching crowd.
They didn’t care. They brandished their weapons, threw their
explosives, and charged the outpost. The soldiers opened fire.

It was a bloodbath.

***

“
The actions taken by this
King in regard to Renora have been violent and reckless,” said
Caerwyn loudly. He stood on the floor of the Assembly, opposite
Kalila, and he faced his fellow representatives. All of the
balconies were packed. “I submit to you that an investigation is
needed to consider the plight of the poor victims of Renora,
citizens of
this
Empire, who now suffer at the hands of Imperial troops. Troops
dispatched by the King against the recommendation of this
body.”

“
No one is more concerned
for the welfare and wellbeing of the citizens of Renora than my
lord father,” said Kalila, also addressing the Assembly. “Let us
not jump to conclusions. I swear to you with all my honor that my
father and my House have only the best interests of the citizens of
the Empire in mind.” She stood in her family’s traditional place
and represented the voting bloc that was loyal to House Akira. It
would have been a breach of propriety for anyone but her to be
there. This was her appointed station. She represented the Akira
House before the Assembly. And her presence was proving to be a
nuisance, but the fact that she was here in person, and not relying
on a second or third to represent her, was a sign of desperation.
Perhaps eventually the King himself would appear before the
Assembly and show the entire Empire the weakness and desperation of
his position. Until then it was Kalila who Caerwyn must contend
with. And despite her capability, she couldn’t protect the Akiran
claim to the throne forever. It was a vicious dance for now, but
one day soon Caerwyn would have his throne.

“
Words, Princess, meager
words,” said Caerwyn. “Will words and good intentions feed the
starving? Will they clothe the naked?” He looked at her and his
eyes narrowed. “Will they bring back the dead?”

There was a loud response to this. Loyalists
hissed and were dissonant but Martel’s bloc and their allies were
noisy, too. It was the undecided Houses, which swung with the wind,
who needed to be convinced.

Representative Tate, who acted as the
Assembly Leader, crashed her gavel on her desk and called for
order. It took several seconds for the Assembly Floor to fall
silent.

“
Right now the King has
transports with food, supplies, and other cargo distributing badly
needed resources to the citizens of Renora. Yes there are troops
there too, but only to protect those giving aid, stop the looting
and the violence, and restore order,” said Kalila.

“
Your own documents show
that you brought with you a cargo of one and a half billion tons of
foodstuffs but there are over nine billion people. That’s not
enough food for
one
day for a planet as populated as Renora.” Caerwyn smiled as he
spoke, noting the reaction of many in attendance. Of course, in
truth, only a fraction of the Renoran population was starving and
in need of immediate assistance. Not all nine billion of them, not
even close. But if he could make the King’s relief efforts seem
meager, inadequate, and out of touch, he would. Before Kalila
corrected him, he swiftly changed the subject. “
And
,” he said, “the King deposited an
army on the surface in the hundreds of millions. Enough to occupy a
hostile planet during war time. Tell us, Princess, does your father
consider Renora—filled with his own citizens—a hostile
planet?”