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It’s so, so quiet, which is how I know I didn’t mishear him, even though my first reaction is that none of this applies to me.
I don’t take orders.
I don’t leave the country.
And I very much don’t deliver myself into the hands of someone else’s security.
Talking out loud, on my phone, during this game is a dead giveaway. I can feel Artemis getting closer. Not as close as the ghost of Senator Walsh’s breath on my neck, that shadow twisting his features.
Five.
“I’m not the man for this job, Senator.”
“On the contrary, Apollo. You are the only man for this job.”
Four.
“Well, you’ll have to make do with someone else. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but?—”
“There’s the matter of the assets, of course.” I go so still even Artemis might mistake me for a tree.
Three.
“Which assets, Senator Walsh?”
“I don’t know how I can be more clear. This is a simple issue of transferring assets at the border.”
He hadn’t mentioned the border before.
“How many of these assets are people, Walsh? Because there are only a few reasons I can think of that an opposition party would abduct citizens of its own country.”
“Abduction?” The Senator laughs, and for the first time, there’s something else in his voice. Fear? Uncertainty? I can’t tell. “No one was abducted, Apollo. That would be a war crime.”
“Yes. It fucking would be a war crime.” I lower my voice, hoping I can at least keep Artemis from making out the words. Trafficking is a violation of the Geneva Convention even if you aren’t actually at war. Some things, Zeus had said, looking more haunted than I’ve ever seen him, make you pray the gods punish evil. Or consider taking it into your own hands.
“We understand each other, then. It’s imperative to do what we can to ease the tension in Mociar so that the democratic process can sort itself out.” Whatever I heard in his voice before is gone. Walsh is back in sound-bite mode. “This is an opportunity for you to not make the same mistake twice.”
Daisy’s words echo in my ears. It makes my skin crawl to have them heaved back at me by this asshole.
Two.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m quieter still.
“Oh, I think you do. The military dictatorship you put in power in Rathbek has been known to get quite heavy-handed with civilians. And, all things equal, I think you’d prefer to keep that between us. Nasty bit of business if it got out.” There’s a shuffling sound over the line, like he’s flipping through papers. “How long do you think it would take you to broker a similar negotiation in Mociar? A week? Two? I suppose the faster you work, the fewer risks you take.”
One.
“It’s not—I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” As though I can convince him it matters when I don’t believe it myself.
“No one needs to know.” He’s patronizing now. “We both want the same thing. We’re on the same side. And think of what a hero you’ll be, keeping all those innocent people safe. You’ll be drowning in pussy. How is Artemis, by the way?”
The sound of the grenade I’d been waiting for, in the end, was just that. No boom. Just a few words in a silky voice. All it would take to blow up my entire life is her.
Senator Chris Walsh is right. It would be a nasty bit of business if word of my involvement with the military takeover in Rathbek got out, but not for the reason he thinks. There’s no doubt that my think tank’s reputation would take a hit. Maybe even a substantial hit. And I wouldn’t be tapped for backchannel negotiations for a period of time.
But reputations can be fixed by strategically deploying donations to targeted causes and, more crucially, by glowing at the right people with the full force of my ability. I would do that if it meant I could keep hacking away at the problem of world peace. Keep shoveling penance into the void left behind by all those favors.
It’s Artemis finding out that matters to me.
