Hoist the Jolly Lucas, Page 4

  FF shrugged and said that he understood. He seemed sad and stood up as though the weight of the world was pressing him down. "Tell Hank that B.C. loves his idea," and he excused himself and left. I was standing up to leave too when he poked his head back into the doorway to warn me that some security drills had started and I might be delayed in leaving the building. Perhaps I could use the delay to catch up on my reading.

  I figured that was some sort of lame FF joke. The guard asked me to follow him and we walked for a long time through their mazes. Finally the guard pointed me into an office and said that I'd have to stay there until the halls had been cleared for visitor traffic. He said the drill would end in exactly 15 minutes. He would be stationed outside and would knock on the door before coming in. He closed the door and I heard it lock.

  The office was the same office that FF and I had been using. This time, a file folder was on the table; the file had a big red Classified label glaring out at me. I found a multi-page report inside and I had been given 15 minutes of guaranteed privacy to read it. I made it with five minutes to spare.

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  Chapter 8

  Rick mentally prepared himself before entering Zzyk's office. This wasn't the office Zzyk used for military operations. This private office was deep underground and accessible only to invited quests who first had to face the scrutiny of two unarmed sentries stationed outside the steel door. That door had a password-protected lock that only the guest would know. This meant that the guards themselves couldn't sneak into the office and assassinate their boss. When they did escort a guest into Zzyk's presence, the first thing they'd see was his hand holding their brain-band controller. One false move and both guards would die in agony. After one visitor had left, the next visitor would have to enter a different password. This impenetrable security was required because Zzyk's living quarters were connected to this office. At least that was the rumour. Nobody knew for sure.

  With such tight security, Zzyk could do whatever he wanted inside that office, including dismember a staff member who had displeased him. Rick knew that he had killed at least one staff member inside the office. Rick knew this because he had been the one tasked with disposing of what remained of Zzyk's previous executive assistant. That cleanup started with sweeping the larger remnants of the body into a canvas bag, and then washing down the furniture along with the walls, ceiling and floor of the office. This personal introduction to a previous supervisor's internal bodily fluids and tissues was designed to promote a sense of fear whenever one was called in for a personal meeting. Today it could be Rick's time to turn around and find his own #2 standing silently in a corner with a mop and a pail.

  But not quite yet. Rick sensed that Zzyk was unhappy with him, but he had not yet made up his mind to kill him. For that reason, Rick had given one of Zzyk's assignments to his assistant. He had assigned him the task that held no hope for success – Send a team up Mount Robson to destroy the WZBN tower. Rick knew that this would be impossible and Rolf would have to report his failure. Will wouldn't bluff. The tower had to be impregnable to any kind of assault that a small team could mount. Hiking any higher than the tree line undetected was inconceivable when Izzy had specifically challenged Zzyk to try.

  Rick took on Zzyk's second assignment – blocking the WZBN's transmissions by attaching program-jamming antennae onto the prison towers of the IOF's western wall. This also had no chance of succeeding. Will's transmission tower was a beast on top of a huge mountain. Any counter transmissions that Zzyk might float up into the air would be too weak to have any effect by the time they were high enough to reach the WZBN signals. However, this project allowed Rick to show initiative, something that he knew his #2 lacked.

  Rick hadn't expressed any doubts to Zzyk about either job, of course. Especially not when he was receiving the assignments while sitting in the chair with explosives a mere three centimeters from his vital organs. Many years ago, a young, strong subordinate had tried to kill Zzyk with his bare hands. Since then, when staff were called in for a private meeting, the security guards placed visitors in The Chair, strapped them in, and exited as quickly as they could in case Zzyk was in one of his moods.

  Today, Zzyk had been in an amiable mood. To Rick's comment that he had stopped the program jamming installations after one day so that he could personally test the effectiveness of the antennae, Zzyk replied simply. "Good idea. They're probably not going to work. It's worth a try. Run the test."

  To Rick's warning that Rolf had returned without achieving their objective and, on top of that, had likely been caught on camera, Zzyk replied, "That was predictable. Did they make it to the tower?"

  "They found signs of booby traps and weapons covering the whole area above the tree-line. Rolf took pictures from the tree-line and retreated."

  "They weren't in uniforms, right?"

  "No. Dressed as tourists as you instructed. Nobody's going to believe that some Albertans are free to wander around and be tourists."

  "Pffft," Zzyk replied. This was the sound that he routinely made to indicate he could care less. "Assuming the jamming of the WZBN signal isn't going to work, and the transmitter seems to be impregnable against conventional weaponry, the most obvious way to stop their broadcasts is to stop the Wilizy. I want a plan for finding their base camp. You have until Tuesday, September 20."

  With that, Zzyk placed his hand under his desktop and pushed the button that unlocked the door and summoned the guards. Another button was there somewhere. One that would take Zzyk's head below the level of the desktop. Even he wouldn't enjoy being spattered by guts, bone fragments and miscellaneous bloody pieces of shredded flesh. Probably.

  Rick had figured that any meeting in that office that lasted longer than 15 minutes was not going to end pleasantly. At least not for the guest. He made it out with five minutes to spare. He had two weeks to devise a plan to find the Wilizy base camp.

  # # # # # # # #

  That Tuesday afternoon, Zzyk went onto the airwaves with his version of the 6 p.m. news. The airwaves being his direct feed into the brain-bands of everyone living within range of his building rooftop transmitters. Zzyk sadly reported that Harold Stanley, a long-time IOF executive with a sterling record of service to the citizens of Alberta, had been found murdered in his bed. Carved onto his cheeks were the letters W and Z – disfigurations that the Wilizy had used in the past to brag about their crimes. Zzyk was at a loss to explain why the Wilizy had performed such an atrocity.

  "I've asked for a full report on Mr. Stanley's murder. I've been told that he was a gentle, kind man. Mr. Stanley was the grandfather of Izzy The Slut who met him by teleconference some months ago. The Slut accused Mr. Stanley of forcing her grandmother into prostitution, a life style that eventually led to her death. The IOF will be holding a state funeral for Mr. Stanley. Citizens who have any knowledge of Izzy The Slut's location are asked to drop into a DPS office and share that information. The DPS is offering a reward of one week with an inactive brain-band for the first conscientious citizen to come forward with news on where The Slut can be found. Don't let this atrocity go unpunished," Zzyk urged. "Bring Izzy The Slut to justice."

  # # # # # # # #

  Early Wednesday morning, Stu messaged Izzy to inform her what the IOF had told the citizens. Some queries had been posted on the WZBN website. "Why did you kill Mr. Stanley?" was the general theme.

  By noon, the Wilizy had posted a reply to Zzyk's charges on their web page. They also broadcasted the reply at the beginning of every broadcast hour that day.

  The Wilizy had nothing to do with Mr. Stanley's death or his disfigurement. Izzy had no hard feelings towards her grandfather and the claim that she vowed to kill him is a lie. The statement that her grandmother was a prostitute and that is why she died is also a lie. A DPS agent killed Izzy's grandmother during a non-violent protest against the IOF many, many years ago.

  # # # # # # # #

  The next morning, Zzyk returned to t
he airwaves to report that The Slut had struck again. This time the victim was a young IOF citizen named Janey, a former dissident who had turned herself into the DPS in an effort to escape The Slut's unwanted attentions. The Slut was Janey's dissident teacher and she visited young naive Janey frequently in her bedroom at night when nobody else was around. Janey was so distraught by what The Slut had forced her to do that she was unable to talk about those incidents with IOF psychological staff. This young innocent girl was found dead in her residence with The Slut's W-Z on her cheeks. Two weeks with an inactive brain-band were offered to any citizen who could help the DPS find where The Slut lived when she wasn't murdering innocent young girls who didn't want to have sex with her.

  # # # # # # # #

  Shortly afterwards, the Wilizy responded with web and broadcast denials.

  The Wilizy deny any involvement in the death and disfigurement of Janey, a young girl Izzy taught in a dissident camp in 2081. Janey lived in a dormitory surrounded by other girls her own age. She was never alone. Izzy did not behave inappropriately with any of her students.

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  Chapter 9

  At 1 p.m. Friday, FF messaged Izzy that he had fleshed out Hank's plan and B.C. was ready to act as soon as the Wilizy gave their approval. FF would then send a message to Zzyk demanding a meeting to discuss the DPS' incursions into B.C./A.N. territory. The message would not refer to the murders or to the personal attacks on Izzy, but Zzyk would recognize that the Wilizy was responding to them through these threats.

  "We'll put a stop to Zzyk's accusations, Izzy," FF assured her. "But, I need the Wilizy's approval to proceed quickly. Zzyk won't stop with two murders."

  # # # # # # # #

  The Wilizy directors and managers met at 3 p.m. in Yolanda and Hank's compound. They chose this new meeting place because Yollie and TG had to stay close to Liset and the ship didn't have the space for large meetings along with roaming infants. Stu participated by video-link. Izzy had called the meeting but turned the chair over immediately to Hank who was the project manager. With her one official duty done, Izzy retreated, red-eyed, to a corner of the living room, sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled her arms tight around herself and began to rock gently back and forth. She did not participate in the meeting other than to raise her hand when votes were called to approve Hank's plan. She did not participate at all in the discussion and subsequent decision to cease placing W-Z letters on the cheeks of defeated soldiers. Doc was also visibly shaken and said little during the meeting.

  After the meeting, the Wilizy tried to comfort Izzy but she only smiled weakly and stayed in her tight ball, now under a heavy blanket in Hank's big arm chair. Yollie invited her to come by on Saturday and suggested a time when Liset would probably be well-behaved. Izzy nodded but gave no other response.

  Will had no idea whatsoever how he could help Izzy. He did agree with everyone else that this week was only the first of Zzyk's responses to his recent defeats. He was now going to take the offensive with a direct attack on the Wilizy's credibility and Izzy's reputation in the eyes of Alberta's citizens. The call for information about Izzy's whereabouts suggested a second line of attack. He was looking for their base camp. Will disappeared into his work room and didn't come out for three days. Wolf kept him supplied with food but couldn't convince him to take even a nap.

  # # # # # # # #

  On Friday night, Zzyk received B.C.'s complaint about DPS forces ignoring border treaties and entering B.C. and Aboriginal Nation territory without permission. B.C. was insisting on a meeting. Zzyk's facial expression would have broken out into a broad smile had his smile muscles not been immobilized by years of disuse. He did clap his hands twice in exquisite enjoyment though.

  # # # # # # # #

  Rick received the summons to appear in Zzyk's chamber of death at 8 a.m. Saturday morning. Rick already knew that his #2 had been responsible for executing Harold Stanley and Janey – his activities were clearly logged in the duty book. Rick also knew what the murders meant for his own future job security. He had nine days to submit a plan that would reveal the Wilizy's lair or his subordinate would enjoy some practice with a mop. Obviously, Zzyk had embarked on his own plan to take revenge on The Slut for defeating him. Rick had not been consulted beforehand and had been cut out of the plan's creation and execution.

  Rick's near imperceptible shoulder check as he entered the private office revealed that Zzyk was alone. He let out a deep breath when the guards escorted him to the chair. Zzyk had to come around his desk and personally place B.C.'s letter into Rick's hands – the chair's restraints made it impossible for Rick to even lean forward.

  "It seems that I hit a nerve," Zzyk smugged after Rick looked up from the letter.

  "You were right that anything that caused Izzy to relive all the hatred that she had experienced growing up would destabilize her," Rick acknowledged. In fact, Rick had proposed that line of attack. Zzyk now believed that it was his own idea.

  "We'll stall a few days before replying to this letter. There are more Wilizy atrocities to come. Your #2 is quite good at his job, isn't he?" Zzyk was quite enjoying this.

  # # # # # # # #

  Saturday at 11 a.m., Izzy left Hank's chair where she had slept through the night and wandered across the grass meadow to Yollie's home. When she heard Liset wailing, "I spilled my potty all over me," she turned around and retreated to the ship where she slipped into her hammock, fully clothed, and pulled a blanket over her head.

  # # # # # # # #

  Rick's second meeting with Zzyk that Saturday took place at 11:30 a.m. in the battle operations office and came with no advance warning. A full complement of military staff was flowing into the command center and the place was buzzing with activity. Zzyk was slumped in his chair, polishing his finger nails – an activity that Zzyk busied himself with whenever he wanted to appear unconcerned.

  "We've had multiple reports of B.C. and Aboriginal personnel massing at multiple spots on the western border," Zzyk informed Rick. "Confirm and report back on the threat levels. I've issued a full military alert but I've been told it will be two hours before we're at combat readiness levels. I'm surprised that little Janey's death could provoke such a response from The Slut. I guess the rumours of the two of them being lovers were true."

  In recent years, Zzyk had become susceptible to believing his own propaganda. He actually believed, for example, that he had been elected to office. Now Zzyk was believing the rumour of The Slut's love for Janey – a rumour that he himself had started less than 24 hours earlier.

  # # # # # # # #

  The sensors in the Wilizy's command center triggered system-wide alarms minutes after Zzyk issued the military alert that would bring the IOF's forces to battle-readiness. Wolf was on duty in the ship and, as required, he attempted to notify the other managers. The Wilizy's Defensive Operations Manager was dealing with a temper tantrum accompanied by strenuously lofted porridge projectiles. The Strategic Operations Manager was in her hammock and was not responding to Doc's attempts to rouse her. The Research and Development Manager was locked in his workroom and wasn't responding to calls. The Wilizy's Computer Manager was trying to calm down the Manager of Defensive Operations who had been the target of the porridge bombardment. So Wolf stayed on duty and received a clear picture of how the IOF army had been trained to respond to an imminent threat that had come without warning. This could become valuable information if the Wilizy ever wanted to completely disable Zzyk's entire armed forces in the first hours of a war.

  # # # # # # # #

  By Saturday evening, Zzyk had downgraded the military alert. Rick had personally flown over some of the potential attacks points, but saw no signs of a military threat. Yes, enemy personnel were by the western wall. But they appeared to be labourers who were camping in the open. No more than twenty men were found at each location. No arms were in sight; no military vehicles; nothing but the four copters that had been used to bring the l
abourers and their equipment to the location and those copters were now parked in the open where they could be destroyed easily.

  "Why are they there?" Zzyk asked Rick.

  "Franklin really wants to have that meeting. It's what I would do to force a meeting. Point out an enemy's vulnerabilities to him and then wait."

  "Our vulnerabilities? We have the superior forces."

  "But they aren't mobile. We can't defend that entire western wall from an attack at one unknown spot. Franklin is pointing that out to us."

  "Recommendation?"

  "Agree to the meeting with Franklin as B.C. has asked. Find out what they want. A meeting can't hurt us and it will give us time to move our own forces into positions near their camps."

  "It would be useful to know if B.C. has returned Franklin to active duty," Zzyk admitted. "Meet Franklin in Surrey in an open area. You're going to be trailed. Stay away from our sleepers."

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  Chapter 10

  Rick was escorted to a clearing in Surrey's Bear Creek Gardens, Tuesday September 13 at 9:55 a.m. It wasn't exactly the open area that Zzyk wanted. Four platoons of men could have been hiding behind the huge trees and flowering bushes that made up one portion of the extensive grounds. After the expected search, Rick was escorted to a wooden bench where he was relieved of his briefcase, shoes, jacket, pinky ring, and anything in his pockets that wasn't made of cloth. He sensed, but couldn't see the cameras trained on the bench. A listening device was probably right under the seat. B.C. had not attempted to hide the security guards. Rick relaxed; it was a pleasant enough place to sit and admire the view. Alberta had no such gardens. In fact, nobody in Alberta grew any flowers, with the exception of dandelions. There was some underground trafficking in dandelion wine. Zzyk ignored it. Impossible to stop, really.

  Rick watched in interest as Franklin approached. The motorized wheel chair stopped a few meters short of his bench. The guards retreated out of hearing. Franklin was a gray man with a fringe of gray hair in a gray suit. His face was sallow as though he had been in a long illness. Franklin extended a hand holding a thick envelope that shook in the non-existent breeze. Rick leaned forward to grasp the envelope and heard 12 clicks of weaponry. He sat back as soon as the transfer was complete. Franklin pulled his hand back to his lap, and then used his other hand to control the shaking.