When Diplomacy Fails…

CHAPTER 14

Aramis left the room faking a headache. Shaman followed him.

“Are you allright, Aramis?”

“Yes. Faking. It didn’t seem healthy to stick around.”

“Indeed. She is hard on my blood pressure. As long as you’re okay.”

“I am,” he lied. His head wasn’t going to explode, but it was aching at every impact site. That meant ongoing healing, he hoped.

Shaman nodded and checked out the door. Highland was facing Bart and berating him, and with a shift of feet, the surgeon danced between doorways. Aramis barely heard that door close.

Aramis didn’t sleep well, from a combination of pain, nightmares, worry and anxiety. That, and not taking his prescribed medication, but dammit, it made him groggy and hungover, and he had work to do. He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, though Shaman probably could read him, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t all know each other very well by now.

The escort mission started badly and decayed rapidly. Alex didn’t seem to have slept much, either. Elke seemed a bit more relaxed. She had explosives, because nothing else would make her jacket that lumpy. She had pockets sewn to her armor, full of a variety of nasties. He was glad to see that.

Bart seemed fit enough, and Shaman. Aramis was worried because Alex was ragged, and would probably take lead for most of the mission.

Sure enough, he did.

“Aramis, how’s your range of motion?”

“Good.”

“Pain?”

“Some, but it won’t slow me.”

“Good. The military finally relented, so we can test weapons as we leave.”

“Oh. Excellent.” Wow. What had accomplished that? Had enough shooting changed their moods?

He felt as if he was the new guy all over again. What had gone on in those two weeks? He’d seen the after action reviews, but they didn’t suggest any real problems. He’d have to read between the lines, or ask once they were back. But no one had said anything to him.

This was an indoor appearance in a “Safe” area, so they wore light armor under suits. Elke always looked a few kilos bulkier from her vest full of toys. He wished he could do that, only it would all be armor.

They carried carbines and Elke’s shotgun, which would stay stowed in the limo. They wore easy to access holsters for their pistols, which looked intact, even though Jason had very carefully disabled every safety circuit in them. Lionel, from Cady’s team, was designated driver. Aramis gladly took right wing position as they formed up, fired one test round into the clearing drum, then waited for Highland and Jessie.

They were prompt, dressed in long skirts and high collars, and made a point of not looking at Elke’s suit. Yes, it might piss off certain factions to be aware that she had legs. That wasn’t his concern, or hers. Doing their job right was their concern. He was also surprised that such a vocal proponent of female superiority would deign to dress to suit the locals, whose culture was diametrical to one another.

It might be one of those diplomacy things. Or it might just be true that politicians were whores.

It wasn’t his problem. All he had to do was keep her safe.

They boxed around her, Alex and Shaman first, Elke and he on the flanks, and Bart and Jason bringing up the rear. Alex got the door, and they climbed in. Jason closed it behind them and took shotgun seat.

They only had the one limo, which was disturbing, though they were supposed to have a military escort. That gray area Highland lived in was very annoying.

It wasn’t nearly as annoying as what happened next.

They rolled forward, around the compound, while they stowed their carbines. Aramis propped his behind him and left, in a thoughtfully provided clip added by the manufacturer. In moments they all looked like suited assistants, though that would only fool the lower half of society. Anyone with a brain knew they were muscle.

They made a final turn onto the exit road out the BuState gate, and grated to a stop.

Aramis clutched at his pistol, then realized they were still inside, and that it was a blockage. He looked at Alex, wondering if they were safer where they were, or needed to unass with the principal and sprint back to cover.

Lionel said, “We’re caught on the goddam speed bump. They built it up to meet the new standards, and it’s taller than ground clearance on this beast.”

“Didn’t we do this once already?”

“Yes. New standards, poor communication.”

“I’ll clear it,” Elke said.

Bart made a point of looking through the window before opening the door. Elke slipped through, bent down and did something. She walked around to the other side and repeated the motion. She stood up with a detonator.

Highland said, “Are you sure that’s saf-” and was drowned out as Elke hit the button and whatever charge she planted made a rumbling pop. She motioned for the door, and Bart reopened it.

Alex muttered. “I don’t care what the standards are, they will be made to fit Ms. Highland’s transport, at once, and they can install an extra triggered barrier instead. These things are outdated and simplistic.”

Aramis agreed. Simple was often better, but a barricade that defaulted to positive would work as well. If it failed to retract, they’d just detour, rather than being turtled.

Whatever Elke had done had crumbled the rise. Lionel eased forward, and after a scrape and rattle, they proceeded normally. She’d also apparently cut wipes for the tires.

Alex spoke into his phone. “I want that gone when we get back. That’s per me, Ms. Highland,” he glanced at her for assent, and she nodded, tight-lipped and flushed, “and Agent in Charge Cady… Well, right now, I’m speaking as District Agent in Charge. That’s the contract equivalent of Chief of Mission, Security.” There was a pause, then he said, “I appreciate it.”

To Alex, Highland said, “Thank you.” She said it smoothly and without rancor, and Aramis knew she was pissed.

As this was an official function, at least officially, the military escort pulled in front and behind. Two Grumblies, ten troops, two machine guns, except they were crowd control machine guns shooting rubber pellets and mild incapacitance agents. It was Aramis’s experience, on five planets so far, that nonlethal weapons didn’t deter threats, didn’t end threats, and often just irritated the threats or let them claim martyr status without the actual risk of being a real martyr. Still, it was better than nothing.

Lionel took a slightly convoluted route, but Aramis was easily able to follow it. He noted that.

“Alex, this route is too direct to suit me.”

“Understood. Got a suggestion?”

“Pull two blocks north and resume.”

“Sounds good. Lionel, did you get that?”

“Yes, sir, will do.” The man was strictly professional. He might not agree, but he’d accept the guidance without debate.

Of course, their terminus was known. There was only one gate in big enough to handle the limo. Alex said nothing, but Aramis noticed everyone shift slightly to make weapon access easier, so he stretched and did the same. Highland might disapprove, so they weren’t going to mention it.

The protest zones were a block shy of the forum, and weren’t supposed to be on the approach route. It was clear they were. Situated in vacant lots, they faced each other across the street. Whoever had set this up was an idiot.

Of course, there were several entourages in limos of different types. A convoy of three was just ahead of them, and one group pelted it with garbage.

Lionel said, “This traffic is too slow for safety. Should I divert?”

Alex said, “Yes,” as Highland said, “No!”

He diverted, pulling from between the escort vehicles, cutting obliquely across traffic, taking the left turn and accelerating. They went right past the protesters, who seemed to have brought all their kitchen trash with them.

Aramis observed. The crowd split in age between the very old and the quite young. It split between those in traditional Arab dress, and those in conservative younger dress. They would have religious or moral objections to some of Highland’s many policies, or those of the government.

Highland shouted, “This is my vehicle, my meeting and my mission, and you will do as I say!”

Alex was on the phone, hush hood up, talking to someone. Highland turned to Elke, who was carefully looking out the window and writing notes. She faced Shaman, who was checking his response bag for something. She faced Aramis.

He hadn’t moved fast enough, so he said, “Ma’am, this group knows who you are and doesn’t like you.”

She paused for a moment.

“Look at their makeup as we go,” he said. They were a block away by now. “They’re religious, mostly Amala, composed of quite young and quite old. That means they’re swinging back to the conservative side.”

Alex finished and said, “Lionel, go ahead and swing around. We should have an unobstructed approach. From now on, we’ll do our own staging.”

“Understood.”

Highland asked, “So what are you saying?”

“I’m merely observing that the two military vehicles marked us, they knew who you were, and we were unable to move.”

“I’m late, and it will show up as cowardice, with us pulling away.”

Alex said, “I can state we perceived your safety was improved by the diversion.”

“You’d better,” she said crossly.

“I’d rather do that than have to fight,” he said.

They were back around, as Aramis wondered at the insecurity or narcissism of someone who, with that much power, was concerned about being late. It seemed there was nothing to her but appearance.

Alex said, “The military escort will meet us as we turn back onto Amadi Street.”

The troops were waiting, and pulled in as they turned north again.

Which was just as the two groups of protesters started hurling debris at each other.

Lionel asked, “Alex, what do I do?”

“We’ve already been pelted. May as well go through.”

“Understood.”

Yeah, what was more garbage? Except it looked as if there might be rocks. Then fistfights broke out in both groups. The limo drew between them and took impacts, though it was doubtful even the larger rocks would damage the surface.

Then someone started shooting.

Alex said, “Get us out of here.” Everyone had hands under coats, resting on guns. Lionel threw them in reverse and sounded the horn for the follow vehicle to move.

Highland said, “I have to get to the forum. It is far more important than safety, and I thought this car was bulletproof?”

“Ma’am, it is, but they’ve escalated from protest to garbage to firearms. I’m not comfortable with the escalation. I’m diverting, we can reassess, and reapproach.”

“No. We’re continuing.”

Alex sighed. “It is your prerogative to continue at this point, ma’am. I will override you if we actually get engaged. I comply, under protest. Lionel, proceed.”

“Forward,” he said, and they accelerated.

Then stopped.

The crowd had broken through the barricades on one side, had swarmed the street toward the other group, but were now milling in the roadway, blocking movement.

Elke muttered, “How familiar.” She fumbled with something, which Aramis assumed was explosive.

He was amazed at how calm he felt. Apparently, enough firefights, a combat wound and a torture session had acclimated him to stuff like this.

The crowd realized the limo contained someone of note, then someone deduced that military escort implied a high-ranking Earth dignitary. In moments, people were shouting her name and rocking the massive vehicle on its suspension. Others were fighting them, pulling them away. They were presumably supporters of her.

The wrestling turned to punching, knifing, broken bottles and gunfire.

Alex said, “Lionel, disperse them.”

He nodded and hit a button. One of the new stench gases farted out from under the car. It was fascinating to see it work. It was so overpowering that everyone stopped their activity and ran aimlessly, smacking into vehicles, curbs, each other, crawling, stumbling to feet and running more. In twelve seconds the entire street was clear forty meters each way. Aramis smelled nothing. The same control had buttoned them up and they were now on canned oxygen.

The military, however, hadn’t had notice, and clutched for gas masks, shaking and retching, faces in gruesome masks. Aramis had had a bare whiff in training, for familiarization. He felt sorry for the poor bastards.

One debarked from the vehicle ahead and ran straight across the road into a building wall. After a few seconds, three of his buddies advanced to him, forced his mask on while he thrashed and panicked, then ferried him back. Even through their masks, Aramis could see the mean looks.

Elke kept the grin off her face. It was always delightful to see a weapon work to best effect, especially an invisible one. Half of those primitives had no idea what had happened.

She hoped the troop was well. The chaos of engagement led to such things, but the participants never found them funny at the time.

Alex was on phone. “Yes, I understand. Stand by, please.” He looked up at Highland, and said, “Ma’am, the road is completely blocked by rioters. I recommend we back out slowly, to avoid injuring anyone. We can speed up if our safety dictates. This is why I was hesitant earlier. I’m less worried about us than the outcome of dealing with civilians. Alternately, we can attempt to push forward.”

“It sounds as if you’ll be pushing either way, so forward.”

“Very good,” he said to her, then resumed on the radio. “We’re going forward. Slow and steady. Yes, stick with masks. I apologize for that. It came up suddenly.”

From the other side of Highland, Jessie said, “I can’t get any signal. Are you blocking me?”

Elke said, “I am not, but it would not surprise me if the locals have set up signal jamming and spoofing. Alex’s phone uses tough algorithms, but it isn’t impenetrable.”

Alex stiffened, said, “Thanks,” and called back to the forward vehicle. “This is Playwright. There’s a strong possibility our signals may be jammed. If so, proceed on last… hello? Lieutenant? I am unable to receive, but will continue with my instruction. Proceed as discussed, and look for hand signals from driver. Playwright out.” He looked up. “Well, this is going to be interesting. I want to get Ms. Highland and Jessie in unharmed. I want to minimize harm to the locals. Is that clear, Elke?”

“Of course,” she agreed. That’s what he always wanted. She’d do so if she deemed it advisable, but this was a riot, and riots generally deserved to be put down.

Alex continued, “Dump guns can be used for distraction. Elke, be ready with nonlethal smoke and bangs, please. Reserve hands-on force for Ms. Highland’s safety only. Ms. Highland, we are attempting to drive into the conference. We may need to debark and walk a short distance, probably not over one hundred meters. You may need your protective mask.”

“I understand,” she said, and smirked. She actually liked the idea of getting into a fight. Elke decided she wasn’t all bad after all. Though of course, Highland’s goal was PR. Elke’s goal was hurting people who needed hurt.

She watched principal peripherally, and gave most of her attention out the window. The windows were high quality one-way transparencies, so the crowd had no idea how their antics were perceived. On Celadon, they’d escalated to urination and very disgusting gestures. Here, they settled for childish faces, hand signs, and waving placards. It was so sweet that they thought anyone cared.

Still, they increased in number and density. She revised her estimates on everything from smoke to concussion charges, and waited.

Lionel called back, “They’re swarming in close. If I continue, I’ll be pushing people aside, and some may fall. If I stop, we won’t be able to proceed. They’ll probably lie down in front of us.”

Jason said, “Given the cultures, I expect some of them are quite willing to be martyrs for visibility.”

Alex said, “Move until you have to stop. We’ll repeat the gas then. I don’t want to overuse it.”

That was why he was in charge, Elke reflected. Her reality did not match the illusion created by governments and media. She’d simply escalate violence until everyone left or was dead. Few people, and no governments, had the moral strength to do so. Still, she’d hope for her small part to play.

Jessie shivered, and Highland twitched now and then, seeming quite nervous. Facade aside, she obviously saw the real world threat here.

Lionel said, “I’m blocked. Solidly penned by bodies.”

“Pop gas,” Alex ordered.

Once again the crowd shrieked and ran. However, thumping noises indicated people collapsed against the vehicle.

Lionel said, “Front wheels are blocked. The subjects are persistent and seem to have restrained themselves.”

That was a very calm report for an incident that was about to get exciting.

Alex said, “We’re proceeding on foot. Nonlethal force only. Elke, note that.”

“Nonlethal,” she repeated. That was frustrating, but she had nonlethal toys she wanted to bring into play.

“Ma’am, Elke will lead you. Hold onto her jacket. Jessie, hold onto Shaman’s. Bart and Aramis lead. Jason right wing. Lionel, proceed when you can. If they refuse to yield, call me and the military.”

Everyone shuffled around, bracing, clutching and ready. They all held stun batons and Elke had her fingers on a fun gadget she hoped to use.

Alex said, “Report if not ready… go.”

Aramis raised the door and sprang out to the rear. Bart shoved his way out and around forward. Elke followed, feeling Highland’s hands on the tail of her coat. I bet the bitch is glad of the suit now, rather than some stupid robe, she thought.

Behind her, Alex went out the other door.

The crowd was well-distant, and the humid air still bore a whiff of… ugly. There was no way to describe that manufactured smell, but even parts per billion were awful. They moved forward as Aramis zapped one of the bodies at the front of the car. Yes, the blazen had wedged himself in tight, so he couldn’t disperse when the gas hit.

She zapped him again, just to make sure, then joined the formation as they jogged forward. It should take only a half minute to reach the gate. The security guards there were locals, and made no effort to extend a safe corridor. Elke had expected them to be useless.

The crowd started to collapse back in, shouting angrily. It was probable some of Highland’s fans had taken badly to being stink-gassed.

Alex had said nonlethal, and Elke complied. She tossed one disk left and behind, the other right and behind.

“Watch eyes,” she said, a half second before they ignited.

They lit, and behind her, Alex swore. They were visible even in daylight, thought granted it was overcast.

The hundred bulbs in each ignited over the span of two seconds in a chain of reports. They sounded a lot like automatic weapon fire. However, they were mere noisemakers, plus zirconium dust with some enhancements. Anyone looking at that should be flash-blind for several minutes, because the output was close to 5000 lumens. There was also a strong chance of epileptic response.

In fact, as they passed the leading Grumbly, one of the troops swayed and collapsed. They were certainly taking a beating on this simple convoy trip.

Still, the team reached the gate unharmed, which was the point.

“Open, please,” Alex said. Yes, they’d actually kept the gate locked and closed. Elke turned to keep herself between principal and crowd, and they huddled around their two charges. The mob seemed well-cowed at this point, refusing to approach, but settling for hurling gestures, epithets and the occasional chunk of garbage.

Eventually, the simpering monkeys rolled the gate just enough to allow the party to back through individually. Elke squeezed her shoulders past the polymer columns, and they were in, surrounded by media. While she appreciated their ability to ablate explosive threats, she had no other use for them.

The gate slid shut again as Alex came in last.

Highland, of course, was immediately in front of the cameras.

“… it is a privilege to be here today, despite certain elements harassing my loyal supporters and attempting to deter me. This just confirms my support and determination to see all these processes-the environmental summit, the cultural divide, and my own service to humanity-through to what some would call the end, but what I like to think of as a new beginning.”

Very pretty, Elke thought. Now can we get inside? Some of the protesters were trying to push closer, and some looked to have a giant slingshot ready. Yes, they did, with paint.

Fortunately, a transparent shield moved into place behind the gate. Highland had been last to arrive.

Elke heard someone ask, “Why was your motorcade singled out for harassment?”

“We were last to arrive, due to some scheduling matters, so we were easy to place. Please note I have many more supporters than detractors, and I appreciate their peaceful presence in the face of rudeness.”

“Is that ‘rudeness’ why your security detail used dispersal gas?”

“I always prefer a peaceful response. In this case, there were elements presenting a risk to my supporters, and the military women and men escorting me. Gunfire was involved. My security contractors took unpleasant but necessary steps, the minimum necessary, to ensure the safety of all. Even after this response, my vehicle was blocked by extremists, so we left the vehicle despite the threat and proceeded on foot. I of course am sorry the incident happened.”

She hadn’t actually blamed them, but she’d certainly deflected all focus to them. The bitch.

With that, Highland gave a regal nod and started walking. They fell in around her, as contract and professionalism required, though Elke wished to be elsewhere.

No luck. As the female present she was required, for visibility. Gender didn’t matter, so Highland made as much of it as possible. On the other hand, both Christian and Muslim extremists disliked that, so Elke decided going along with it wasn’t entirely bad. She could sit, stay awake and watch for threats while ignoring diplophrasing if that’s what was called for.

They made their way directly into the main hall, which had been dressed up to make it look less like a gymnasium and more like a dressed up gymnasium. Highland’s box was the only one left, with seats for three. That was because no one had mentioned the Ripple Creek detail, which was a good thing, but it meant one of them standing.

Elke decided she’d stand. Even the glee of her new device working as planned might not keep her awake through hours of speeches. Besides, she’d be more visible for Highland that way.

Aramis hurt after twenty minutes of sitting in a chair. The seats were stiff, hard and apparently designed for appearance only. He made a gesture and swapped out with Elke. That would let him stretch and shift. It would be imperceptible to most people, but would be more comfortable. His shoulders hated him for those armrests. They were half numb, but only half, the other half a burning ache.

Standing, though, made him wonder if any of his kidnappers and antagonists recognized him. That caused enough fear, anger and introspection to completely wipe out any attention to Highland’s speeches, or that of others. That was the good part. The bad part was that after a half hour, he ached again, this time his heels and ankles.

Shaman apparently read it in his posture or tremors, and stepped in to replace him, letting him take a turn outside. The steady rotation also helped with alertness, made them less predictable, and let them do a partial patrol of the hall, though everyone else’s escorts tensed in professional paranoia as they passed.

Nothing substantive was done that day, and Aramis expected one of BuState’s staff experts would take over. Highland had been present to pretend Earth cared what any other planet thought, and to get face time for election.

As the forum closed, Alex had his phone out, and looked concerned. Aramis interrogated him by look.

Alex said, “We’re flying out. It’s not safe. The protests are now riots and turning into brawls. Battles will be next.”

Highland refused to hear it. “I must travel in dignity,” she said. “If I drove in, I must drive out. I won’t acknowledge a few protesters by diverting.”

“Ma’am, militarily I agree with you. Diplomatically I agree with you. As your security operations chief, I must insist on aircraft. We can blame a mechanical problem, or you can blame me.”

“Of course I would. But we’re driving.”

She probably saw Alex say, “Yes, ma’am,” nod and turn to comply. Aramis saw the unsaid, you egotistical bitch, and the twitch in his boss’s jaw.

So they trooped down to the vehicle apron, led fore and aft by local security, furnished by Emir Mudassir. They kept their distance. It was all a juggling act. Everyone here, of course, was trusted not to try to assassinate their peers, except that some few of them might, so everyone had guards in case of collateral casualties, and then the guards became a necessary status symbol.

The emir’s detail seemed quite happy to depart as they reached the broad vehicle park, which was ringed by wall, umbrella’d by transparent shield, and patrolled by three agencies, plus the Army. Lionel rolled up in the limo, and Aramis knew the man had not stepped foot out, unless he’d had a company relief. They’d learned not to trust anyone in this game-family, assistant, doctor, even bureau chief.

Aramis got the door, Highland and Jessie slid in, as Jessie tagged a churp about leaving the conference. He’d enjoy using that device for target practice, but she probably had a spare and possibly an implanted backup. They just had to deal with it.

Highland would have to deal with not taking the car.

The rioting had reached what they called Level Two. It was a plateau of random shouting, hurling, speechmakers and sheer mass of bodies that made progress impossible. Three vehicles ahead were stopped and not proceeding.

Alex dutifully and professionally had his phone out, but Aramis knew it was largely for Highland’s benefit.

“… That’s the assessment? Yes, I concur. Any response is likely to become violent. Letting them play themselves out is best.. No, I expect any advance will result in casualties, both accidental, and planned by activists. It’s best not to play the game… Yes, I will so inform Ms. Highland. Stand by.” He turned from the phone and said, “Ma’am, they are scheduling or recommending aircraft travel for all participants. The Aerospace Force detachment has a Hummingbird transport lifter waiting. It can be here in ten minutes and will get priority.”

Aramis could see her teeth grind.

“I abhor this turn of events.”

“I would drive if we could, ma’am, but if the vehicles ahead of us won’t, then we’d be leading the way into a riot. It’s almost certain someone would get hurt, and you get blamed. I’m not willing to take a fall against my advice. I’m perfectly willing to take it for diverting. I’ll issue a statement accordingly.”

She spoke with icy clarity. “That won’t be necessary. Proceed.”

“By air?”

“Yes, as you advise.”

Aramis suspected it didn’t matter what Alex would take the blame for. She’d do as she pleased. Of course, that would lead to a grudge match. That could escalate…

Yeah, he wanted to be done with this mission, fast.

Highland did not like Ripple Creek. She’d been wary from the beginning, with good reason. When that incompetent but scheming snake in New York had assigned them-and she had no doubt it was the SecGen’s office that assigned them-she’d known it was to embarrass her, either by saddling her with their disregard for bystanders, or the bad press that followed them, or the way they’d choke down on her movements. So far, the smarmy fucker was three for three.

They were certainly competent at keeping threats away, even when they lost a man. Still, the Army had gotten him back for them. It hadn’t softened their attitude. Minor protesters were not a threat. She half expected the goons to follow her to the bathroom. In the meantime, they used stink gas, gunfire, explosives and vehicles, and had killed a newsworthy number of nobodies who’d follow Highland’s career like zombies. She was quite sure that had been the reason they’d been sent. The Special Service knew to intercept bullets and keep quiet. These trigger-happy clowns seemed to enjoy shooting people, and she was fairly sure their weapons did not have biometric locks. Not working ones, at least.

She would be in need of a new biosculp when this was over, and that before taking office. They even saw Jessie as a potential threat, not to mention Huble.

So it was time to pull in some favors, have the mercenary bastards marked as what they were. She could then separate herself, be magnanimous and fair, and regret it as they went down.

She just had to keep Cruk’s publicity people from covering them against her. So perhaps a call to Blanding was in order, to find some non-profit group who could sue on behalf of the low-class rabble they’d blithely shot.

The next load that flashed made her grit her teeth and growl. She wanted something to bite, to chew, to rip with her jaw.

People wondered why she hated the common morons the Equality Party attracted. It was because they were morons. Enthusiasm didn’t equate to competence or even usefulness.

The slogan was, “Let’s position Joy on top!”

It was on flash buttons, on shirts, on hats and pennants.

Even worse, at a rally in Bangladesh, a crowd was chanting. The reporter waxed eloquent about the turnout numbers, but behind her it was easy to hear, “Joy on top! Assume the position!”

It might be enthusiasm and lack of familiarity with English idiom. It might be unintentional idiocy. Or, it might be the work of some shill from Cruk’s camp or even Hunter’s. And yes, his name was most certainly part of why she wouldn’t team with him. “Joy/Hunter” would have made this even worse.

It had to be stopped. Morons would ignore spelling errors, or even inadvertent insults. But a catchy phrase with innuendous potential would linger for years. She screened a quick message.

Huble: Cease and desist these moronic fuckers at once.

I want those signs gone within the hour.

Spend the money to makesure they are destroyed.

Then she moderated it slightly, because it just might get cracked in transit. Polite in all matters, she reminded herself.

She understood why so many of her… well, no, they weren’t peers, but competitors, took offers from the multinationals. The power was less visible, but that gave leeway to behave more casually.

But she would beat that classless buffoon. It would take a few phone calls… which she couldn’t make from here. That twelve hour delay was infuriating.