Book 2: Chapter 145: Nepotism
Book 2: Chapter 145: Nepotism
There were a few issues that needed to be overcome in order for Dan’s mission to be called a success. The most difficult to address was also the most critical: everything about Dunkirk’s transfer needed to be completely above board. There were a few reasons for this, but the primary one was the easiest to understand. Any information gleaned from Dunkirk had to be bulletproof. There needed to be a clear accounting of his arrest and transfer, there needed to be a paper trail, and there could be no room at all for bureaucratic obfuscation.
Whoever was behind the curtain would do everything they could to discredit whatever testimony Dunkirk gave. This person was high enough in the chain to order the assassination of a federal official, and not an insignificant one at that. Rawls wasn’t a known face to the press, but as the head of the VRU, he commanded a fair amount of power. His death would have been no small thing, even if it had been ruled as natural causes or a suicide. Dunkirk’s testimony was key to unveiling this individual.
It was possible that the APD could get the name. Likely, even, given that they had the very same pain gun that Dunkirk had attempted to steal. It would be the man’s just desserts to have it turned on him, but the outright torture of a federal agent would not play well in court. Beyond that more practical reason, the APD really didn’t want anything to do with this drama. It had been dropped into their lap, and they wanted to pass it off as soon as humanly possible. The longer Dunkirk remained in police custody, the more likely an assassination attempt would claim the life of an officer. They wanted him gone.
The issue, then, lay with the paper trail. Dunkirk had been lawfully arrested, but his status as a federal agent made things tricky. The APD couldn’t just throw him into the city jail. They needed to liaise with Dunkirk’s superior at the FBI, who was using every bureaucratic trick in the book to dodge phone calls. Rawls technically had no direct authority over Dunkirk; he wouldn’t be interested in the man at all, if not for the information Dunkirk held. It would have been extremely inappropriate for the APD to contact Rawls directly, and even more dangerous. That kind of attention was exactly what they were trying to avoid.
Thus, Dan. Now that contact was made and information exchanged, theoretically the only thing left was for Rawls to order the transfer, send some of his guys to pick up Dunkirk, and hear out whatever story the fed would spin. Therein lay the problem: all that official-sounding malarkey left a trail that a blind idiot could follow. Rawls’ unit was already compromised—probably by whoever was meant to replace him upon his death—and the enemy would know the instant Rawls put in the paperwork. A problem, but not an insurmountable one.
After all, transportation was Dan’s specialty.
“You’ll have to be listed on the transfer paperwork, but you can use an alias if you’d like,” Rawls stated. “Private contractors are treated much like confidential informants. Identities are protected by law.” He paused, looking at Dan with a furrowed brow. “What should I call you? I just realized I never asked.”
Dan shrugged. “Call me Dan.” He had very little fear of reprisal in this. As far as the paperwork was concerned, he was just the delivery boy. Besides, all the people who wanted to kill him already knew where he lived.
That earned him an odd look. “Most mercenaries use codenames. White Shadow. Terrorbird. Nike. Things of that nature.”
Dan shrugged once more. “I’m fine being just Dan.”
The words left his mouth without much consideration, and he was surprised as anyone to find them completely true. The realization struck Dan dumb for a moment, a long-held aspiration being crossed off his list without ever having realized it. It felt like he’d been laboriously searching for El-Dorado, only to realize his backpack was actually a chest full of gold.
In his drive to prove himself, he’d improved himself. When had those old fears of inadequacy faded into the wind? When had he grown so comfortable in his own skin? He really couldn’t identify the moment. It wasn’t enough to be special. Everyone was special in Dimension A. He had worked for it, and at some point Dan had achieved his deepest dream and erased his darkest fear. From capability, came confidence.
Who would’ve guessed?
He shook away the sudden epiphany, focusing back on the here and now. He looked at Rawls and said, “Let’s run through it, one more time.”
The fed nodded without complaint and immediately began to recite the plan.
Step one would be to fire the transfer paperwork. Dan’s backchanneling would be kept out of it. Rawls would claim that he recognized his CI’s description from the news coverage of Galeforce’s fight. No cameras had gotten anywhere near the epicenter of that calamity, but survivors had been more than happy to talk to the press. Rawls would claim that he knew his informant would be in the Austin area, and was concerned that he’d somehow gotten involved. Naturally, he would contact the Austin PD, whereupon he would be politely informed that there was a federal agent being held in custody, and could he pretty-please take the fool off their hands.
The call would actually happen. It had been easy enough to arrange, and Captain Gable was apparently ready and willing to lie his ass off for the cause. Rawls would mention that it would take some time to arrange a transfer, and Gable would volunteer Dan’s services as a reliable third-party contractor. The good captain would make the offer sound like a favor for a friend of the department, which should settle any questions as to how Dan got involved. Nepotism was something everyone in the government implicitly understood.
That ought to cover the paper trail. The next trick would be getting Dunkirk to D.C. alive. Dan could accomplish that fairly easily, though it would give away more of his capabilities than he was entirely comfortable with. Sure, he could open a portal from Austin to Maryland and shuffle Dunkirk through it, but that was stupid. Dan wasn’t in the habit of revealing his trump cards so easily. His actions would be noted, here. Important eyes would be on this report. Dan had to act in a way that protected himself, both from retribution, and the discerning eyes of upgrade analysts.
“Abby,” he said, “I need you to charter a plane for me.”
This was his solution: take a very fast plane. The travel plan would be outlined, documented, and overt. Anyone with the proper credentials could take a look at it. That was fine. The Summerset logo would deter any but the most suicidal, and the damn thing was nimble as a fighter jet besides. Dan wasn’t worried about the plane being attacked. Nobody without a death wish would be anywhere near the airfield while Summerset employees were around. Anastasia was notoriously vengeful and bad-tempered, and would take even the risk of collateral damage as a personal insult.
It would seem excessive, but not strange. Dan was dating the Summers’ princess. Obviously he would use her contacts and wealth for his personal business. Nothing odd about it at all. Nepotism, once again. Nobody would bat an eye at the egregious waste of resources. Especially given someone had taken a shot at the imprisoned fed, already. It was properly paranoid.
Dunkirk would be sedated, loaded into a rented van, and driven out of the station by Dan. Anyone wanting a shot at the fed would have to be in place between District Command and the airfield. Therefore, Dan would head in the opposite direction. There was an incredibly useful parking garage not three blocks away, the very same one Cornelius had him go to before. The bottom floor was often empty, and had no security cameras. Dan would make a portal from there, all the way to the Summers’ private airfield.
He’d probably have to endure Anastasia’s questions after using her resources like this, but he intended to do that anyway.
From the airfield, Dunkirk would be loaded onto one of Summerset’s private jets and flown to another airfield outside D.C., where Rawls would be waiting. It was this part of the plan where any number of horrible things could go wrong. Dan’s greatest fear was another Geist being sicced on Rawls. The fed would die without ever knowing what killed him. Alternatively, a man with a rifle, posted somewhere high and far would do the man in just fine. That was the problem with assassins. There were so very many ways to kill people, it was impossible to prepare against them all.
That wouldn’t stop Dan from trying. He would not be riding with Dunkirk in the plane, short though that flight might be. He would be at the D.C. airfield with Rawls, sweeping it for unpleasant things. He’d stay out of sight and in cover, no need to further risk himself, but he wasn’t about to go to all this work only to fumble at the goal line. It was the best he could do for Rawls. Dan wasn’t eager to get in another fight with a trained killer; not if he could help it.
Rawls would bring his own cadre of feds, trusted or not. The man reasoned that they couldn’t all be moles, and even if they were, they’d be moles for different people. There was a small chance of a multiple-backstab cascade, where every single member of his guard troop turned on the other, but Dan figured that was unlikely. Once Dunkirk was in custody, mole or not, no agent would be pulling any funny business. The eyes of his peers would ensure it.
Unfortunately for Dan, payment would be received upon successful delivery to the RED Building. That meant he’d have to stick around and ensure the prisoner convoy actually made it home before washing his hands of this business entirely. That was a problem, because his hard-earned cynicism was telling him something would absolutely go wrong. Rawls seemed confident that no further attempts would be made, that it would be desperate and foolhardy, but Dan disagreed.
In his experience, desperate and foolhardy often went hand in hand.