TW11 The Cleopatra Crisis NEW (17 page)

At night, the streets of Rome were often noisy. Produce and supplies were brought into the city on heavy carts, fights broke out, thieves and cutthroats plied their trade. But some areas of the city were quiet. Marshall moved softly down the graveled paths of the gardens on the banks of the Tiber. It was about three o'clock in the morning and a cool breeze was blowing. He came to a sitting area where a large sundial had been set up and stopped, waiting.

A moment later, someone said his name.

"Simmons?"

Marshall turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows. As the man came closer, he could make him out more clearly. He was dressed incongruously for the time and any Roman seeing him would have puzzled over his strange clothing. The man was wearing a 20th-century three-piece charcoal-gray business suit, with a button-down white shirt and a red silk foulard tie.

His hair was short, dark, and neatly styled. He had a closely trimmed beard that ran along his jawline and there was the faint bulge of a shoulder holster beneath his jacket on the right side.

"I hope this is important, Marshall." he said.

"Steiger's here," Marshall replied.

"Creed Steiger? He's in
Rome
? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You think I'd have sent word to you if I wasn't certain?"

"Is he alone?"

"Yes and no. There's an adjustment team that's been clocked back here and he's technically working with them, but they don't know about it. He's undercover."

"Undercover?" Simmons frowned. "You mean working on his own, independent of the team? That's impossible. Forrester disbanded the old covert field section."

"Yes, that's true, but Steiger's trying to convince him to reinstate it. He's running this one on his own, to prove his point that there's a need for the covert field section. And that it can operate without corruption," he added wryly. "He even wanted me to come back in."

"He still doesn't know you're in the Network?"

"No, he thinks I've simply skipped out to join the Underground and get away from it all. He used some of our old contacts in the Underground to track me down. He wanted me to help him on his mission."

"That's interesting. It could be very useful. What is the mission?"

"A temporal anomaly involving Caesar. There's a chance he may not be assassinated on schedule. They think the S.O.G. might be involved."

"What do you think?"

"I think it's very possible."

"That could make things difficult We can't afford any disruptions."

"Tell me about it. But I also can't afford being busted."

"Is that what he intends to do?"

"He says no. but I don't trust him. He's still playing cowboy, like he always did. Him and his psychotic mentor, Carnehan. He's not convinced the adjustment team can insure that Caesar will get killed on schedule, so he's managed to buddy up to Caesar and get offered a tribuneship with the legions Caesar's planning to take on a campaign to Parthia. That way, if Caesar doesn't die when he's supposed to, Steiger's going to take him out himself during the campaign, just to prove to Forrester that it couldn't have been done without a covert wet work specialist on the scene. If he decided to bring me in, as well, it would be an added bonus for him. They'd interrogate me about my contacts in the Underground and my involvement with the Network would be exposed."

"We can't have that, can we? Where is he?"

"Not so fast. About the contract. It's still on, isn't it?"

"You think we'd cancel it after all that son of a bitch cost us with his damned Internal Security Division? Not bloody likely. You take him out for us and you'll get the money, any way you want it."

"Not me," said Marshall. "No way I'm going up against Steiger by myself. Why do you think I called you?"

"You want to set him up for the hit, that's fine. too."

"I'll still get the money?"

"You'll still get the money. Provided Steiger's dead."

"That adjustment team might complicate things," Marshall said.

"Who are they?"

"Priest. Delaney, and Cross," said Marshall.

"That can't be. Col. Priest is dead."

"Well, he's a pretty lively looking corpse, if you ask me."

"You actually saw him?"

"Only several hours ago."

"You're certain it was Priest?"

"Well, that's who Steiger said it was. I don't know the man, myself, so I suppose it could be someone else. But why would he tell me it was Priest?"

"I don't know. Unless he suspects you and he's planning something."

"I'm sure he doesn't suspect me," Marshall said. "If he knew I was tied up with the Network, you think I'd be here talking to you?"

Simmons hesitated "I don't know." He glanced around cautiously, and his hand went toward his shoulder holster. "You're certain you weren't followed'?"

"I had his wine laced with a sleeping draught." said Marshall. "He'll be out like a light till dawn. You think I'd take any chances with him around?"

"I just don't understand why they'd try to pass someone else off as Col. Priest," Simmons said. "It doesn't make any sense. If he doesn't suspect you, then why would he lie to you?"

"Maybe Col. Priest didn't really die," said Marshall.

"They inscribed his name on the Wall of Honor. Why would they fake his death? Unless. . . ."

"Unless what?"

"Unless Forrester or Steiger are running their own covert operation."

"Then why would they tell me it was Priest? I mean, if they wanted to make it look like he was dead. It makes no sense."

"You're right, it doesn't. At least, not yet. But they're obviously up to something. You're absolutely certain that they don't suspect you?"

Marshall hesitated. "If they did, why wouldn't they have brought me in already?"

"Perhaps to smoke us out."

"Why would they need to? If they knew about me. they could arrest me, clock me back to Plus Time, put me through the wringer, and find out everything I know before the Network even realized that I'd been busted. Then they could simply pick up all my contacts one at a time."

Simmons nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. But the rest of it doesn't. We'll have to be very careful. There's obviously something going on here we don't know about. We'll have to bring some people in."

"What do you want me to do?"

“For the time being, play along. For your sake. Marshall, I hope you're right about their not suspecting you Because we can't afford to have you taken in."

Marshall tensed. "You're saying that if they arrest me, I'm a dead man? You'll have me hit?"

"If they try to arrest you, you know what to do."

"And if I don't you'll do it for me. Is that it'?"

“You know how the game is played. Marshall.”

Marshall sighed. "Shit. So I'm stuck right in the fucking middle."

"It's your own fault for not covering your tracks better. If Steiger knew about your old contacts in the Underground, you should have broken off with them. You have only yourself to blame for allowing him to find you. Incidentally. if you're entertaining any thoughts about taking off again, I wouldn't advise it. Then you'd have both us
and
the T.I.A. looking for you.”

"Hey, I've always done my part. haven't I?” said Marshall. "If I was thinking of going on the lam, would I have sent for you?"

"No. I suppose you wouldn't have."

"Damn right. You guys tried to take Steiger out in Plus Time and you couldn't do it. Well, I'm giving you a chance to hit him when: he won't expect it and I intend to collect on that contract.”

"You do your part and I'll see to it you get the money. But be careful, Marshall. Don't tip him off."

"Don't worry. I know what's at stake."

"Where is Steiger now?"

"Asleep at my house. It would be the perfect time to do it."

Simmons shook his head. "No, not with a potential temporal disruption going down. We simply can't take the chance."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do'?"

"Hang tight and don't lose your cool. I'll bring some people in to cover you. In fact, I'll take charge of this myself. I'd like to see this so-called Col. Priest."

"You know him?"

"We've met. We'll move in close and keep an eye on things. Let Steiger and the adjustment team do what they have to do. Then once the temporal threat is over with, we'll take care of Steiger."

"What about the adjustment team?"

“Do they know about you'!"

"I don't think so. Steiger's playing his own game, close to the vest, as usual."

"Then they may not be a problem. With any luck, we might be able to pull it off without them catching on. But if they get in the way, it'll be just too bad for them."

"So what you're saying is that I'm supposed to hang out in the breeze until Caesar's been assassinated, one way or the other."

"Or until they've neutralized the S.O.G."

Marshall grimaced. "Terrific. So we've got Steiger, the adjustment team, the fucking S.O.G., and me right in the middle of it all, out in the open. Damn it. I want some protection!"

"Take it easy. I said we'd cover you. If they don't suspect you, then all you've got to do is continue to cooperate with them. Long as you don't lose your nerve, you should be okay."

Marshall moistened his lips and nodded. "All right. But if they make a move on me, someone had better be there."

"Don't worry. They will be. I'll be in touch."

Simmons clocked out and disappeared.

Marshall reached into the folds of his toga and took out a pack of cigarettes. Normally. he never took the chance of taking them outside his room, where he could smoke with the door bolted and the wood brazier masking the smell, but his nerves were on edge and he really needed one. As he lit up, carefully hiding the flame with his hand and holding the cigarette with his palm cupped around it, he thought about the laser pistol he had hidden in a secret drawer in his room

The trouble with Roman clothing was that it wouldn't hide it very well. A tunic wouldn't hide it at all, the bulge would be easily detectable beneath the drape of his toga and he couldn't very well walk around wearing a cloak all the time. He'd have to leave it where it was and count on his dagger to protect him, which any Roman male could wear openly without arousing any suspicion. But the thought of going up against Steiger with nothing but a dagger made his stomach churn. He had no doubt what the outcome of that would be. He wouldn't stand a chance unless he took Steiger completely by surprise.

Get him while he's asleep, thought Marshall, and drive the son of a bitch up to the hilt into his kidney. Either that or cut his throat. He looked out over the rippling, moonlit surface of the Tiber and exhaled heavily. He wished there was another way. but there simply wasn't. Steiger had him backed into a corner. Damn cowboy, he thought. This wouldn't have happened if he'd just gone along with the others in the organization. Or if he'd simply kept his mouth shut. But no, he had to get up on his white horse and take on the Network. Had to form the I.S.D. just to clean out all of the so-called "corruption." As if there was any harm in people trying to make a little money on the side.

The agency expected you to risk your life and all you got for your trouble was a lousy government pension. So what was wrong with trying to salt a little away for your retirement? All right, it was illegal, but so what? Everybody always looked the other way. Even the old director had been in on it. But then old man Forrester came in and got all tight-assed about it. Decided to put the Network out of business and bust everyone who was involved, right up to the old director. Jesus. It was his own fault the Network put a contract out on him. People were only trying to protect themselves.

Steiger should have stayed out of it, thought Marshall. He should have just kept his damn mouth shut and stayed out of it. It's not my fault, thought Marshall. He's left me no other choice. It was too bad that Steiger had to die, but there was just no way around it. And if it had to happen, why not collect on the contract, so at least some good would come of it? If not him, somebody else would get it. It might as well be him. You just do the best you can and take what comes, thought Marshall. That's how the game was played.

Drummond and Andell had both hated the idea, as had Travers. They thought it was much too dangerous, but Andre had overruled them, and to their surprise, Priest and Delaney had hacked her up. The timing, they had said, was too good to pass up. They thought it was a chance worth taking. As Drummond and Andell were conducted into Cleopatra's presence, each of them tried to keep his nervousness from showing. If this goes wrong, Andell thought. we could all be dead in the next few minutes.

"Stop! What have you there?"

"A gift from Caesar," said Andell, trying to keep his voice steady. "For Queen Cleopatra."

A tall, well-built man approached them. His head and face were both shaved and he was dressed in Roman style, in an immaculate white toga worn over a gold-embroidered tunic. He was slim, but his muscular definition spoke of a man who was given to sport and exercise rather than luxury. He had, thought Andell, the bearing of a soldier. He frowned as he met Andell’s gaze.

Andell tried to keep his expression neutral. He lowered his eyes. as a slave would be expected to do.

"Have you examined it?" the man asked the two guards who had conducted them inside.

The guard hesitated. "No, Apollodorus. But if it is from Caesar . ."

"Fool!" Apollodorus said. "Set it down at once!"

Suddenly Andell heard a throaty. feminine laugh.

“Apollodorus, do you not recall what day this is?"

Andell glanced up and sucked in his breath sharply. It was his first close glimpse of Cleopatra. Her hair was jet-black, worn in the Egyptian style, long and straight down to her shoulder on the back and sides, in bangs over her forehead. She was a small woman, delicately framed, with a narrow waist, full breasts, and long, shapely legs. The thin, silky white shift she wore was diaphanous and it clearly outlined the lush curves of her body. Her face was sharp-featured, with a graceful, Macedonian beauty and her eyes were dark and striking, outlined in kohl and heavily shadowed.