Shadow of Freedom

He met her eyes levelly, refusing to flinch, letting her see the unbroken rock of his defiance.

And she laughed.

“Oh, very good, Mr. Hongbo!” She shook her head. “You actually sound as if you believe a single syllable you just said. That’s amazing.”

“I beg your pardon?” he repeated as icily as he could. Which, to be honest, wasn’t particularly icy at all. Her obvious amusement did not bode well.

“Yes, I’m sure you do. Beg my pardon, I mean.” She smiled cheerfully. “Not too surprising for someone in your position. I’m pretty sure your superiors back in Old Chicago aren’t going to be very happy with you or with Commissioner Verrocchio. No matter what else happens, they’re bound to scapegoat the two of you, even for the things that weren’t your fault. Of course, at the moment I haven’t found anything that wasn’t your fault, but I’m sure if we keep looking long enough we’ll find someone else who screwed up almost as egregiously as you guys. I’m not a big fan of kicking someone when she’s down, but the truth is that you and the Commissioner have shown an absolutely incredible talent for backing the wrong horse.”

Hongbo felt himself wilt in his chair and forced his spine to stiffen. He managed to maintain eye contact, but he knew his effort to project defiance wasn’t fooling her any more than it was fooling him.

“The two of you have made one…questionable decision after another from the moment you climbed into bed with Manpower and Technodyne and encouraged President Tyler in his little adventure in Talbott,” she pointed out. “And that business with Admiral Byng and New Tuscany.” She shook her head again. “Not the most shining moment of your career in public service, I’m afraid.”

“I have no idea what you think you’re talking about, Admiral,” Hongbo retorted. “Admiral Byng, as you’re very well aware, was a Battle Fleet officer operating under the authority of his own orders, not that of the Madras Sector’s civilian officials.”

“Oh?” She seemed to glance past him, making him acutely aware of the Marine master sergeant standing respectfully against the cabin bulkhead behind him. “So you’re telling me you didn’t deliberately encourage Admiral Byng’s natural aggressiveness and arrogance in order to get him to New Tuscany?”

“I most certainly did not!” Hongbo snapped.

“And I take it you’re also telling me you weren’t being influenced by people like Valery Ottweiler or Aldona Anisimovna when you encouraged—or didn’t, as the case may be—Admiral Byng and Admiral Crandall?”

“What? How dare you suggest anything of the sort!”

“It’s not hard,” she said mildly. “I open my mouth and the words come out. It’s even easier when I’m pretty sure I’m being accurate. So, are you going to answer my question?”

“I was never unduly or improperly influenced by anyone—and especially not by the individuals you’ve just mentioned—in the discharge of my responsibilities!”

“Well, that’s certainly a clear enough statement,” she said. Her eyes refocused on his face, and she smiled again.

“The reason I asked those questions,” she continued, “is that we’ve found records of over a dozen private meetings between you and Mr. Ottweiler since that whole business with Monica blew up. Given the degree of tension between the Star Empire and Mesa—and Manpower and Technodyne’s demonstrated involvement with Monica—the number and frequency of those meetings inevitably leads us to wonder about the extent to which your own actions and the advice you gave Commissioner Verrocchio might have been influenced. I’m sure once we’ve cracked the encryption on your personal files—by the way, my people tell me it’s a very good security package; congratulations—we’ll have a much better picture of exactly what went on. A more fully developed one, I mean.” She gave him yet another of those smiles, this one almost whimsical. “I’m afraid Commissioner Verrocchio’s security wasn’t quite as good as yours. We’ve gotten very good access on his side, although I am looking forward to seeing how the view from your side of the hill, as it were, meshes with his.”

Hongbo kept his eyes from narrowing, but his brain raced. Was she telling him the truth when she implied they hadn’t gotten access to his files yet? He could readily believe they’d cracked Verrocchio’s already; the other man’s approach to security had been as slovenly as his approach to anything else. But if all they had was the official, open record—which would have included his appointments calendar—and Verrocchio’s private files, then Gold Peak actually knew very little, whatever she might suspect. Verrocchio certainly didn’t have anything in written or recorded form from him that would indicate he’d been anything except a conduit for Ottweiler. And Ottweiler, as an accredited diplomat, had every right to be talking to Verrocchio or Hongbo.