"Are we meeting your sister at the Sun Yat Sen Club?" I asked Harbinger as we strode through the streets. I knew this to be the case. There was no other reason to visit the Arabian District and we were in the Arabian district. The district's unfortunate name came from it's origin being as a breeder of Arabian Horses for the Cavalry.
"Of course we are. Why else does anyone go to the Arabian district? My sister is an officer in the Royal Commission. I think she sleeps at the Sun Yat Sen. I never find her anywhere else."
"You should probably go alone then." I said slowing to a slow march.
He stopped and looked back at me with an expression both confused and compassionate, "Now why would I do that? I just brought you on. Your father indicated to me that you need to get your legs back under you. You need battles you can win, and all that military hoo-rah and so and so."
I stopped and we stood looking at each other in the center of the street, "Mr. Harbinger. You are right that my father wants to help me. But this won't help. I can't go in there."
"Why ever not? My sister wants us to meet her there. It would be quite rude to keep her waiting. I mean she's at least a little rude for always insisting that I visit her and not the reverse, but she's older and trying to win arguments against her is pointless."
"I was discharged. I'm not an officer. I wasn't honorably discharged either. Didn't father explain that? I made more than a few enemies as I left the Forces. I don't have standing at the club. I can't get in. Nobody there is going to vouch for me. Even the ones I saved wouldn't dare jeopardize their careers by vouching for a pariah like me. If you walk in their with me, you basically walking in with a landmine."
"Oh. Yes, when you put it that way, your father did explain it to me," Harbinger said. I straightened my back instinctively to attention, bracing myself for the dismissal.
"I just didn't care." He said with a broad smile. I opened my mouth but found myself without words. Harbinger continued, "I have known your father nearly my entire life. Ask your father about the time he slipped me into the Sun Yat Sen for a, well let's call it a gentleman's party. He hid me in this enormous cake, a very tight fit for me and the young lady already occupying it. Actually you may not want to ask him about that, him being your parent and all that. In either case, I am not a military man. I do not care what kind of discharge that collection of thugs and buffoons gave you. I am a rebel and troublemaker and I always have been. I am not an outcast, because nobody cast me out. I stand in the monsoon because I do not like the crowd under the awning. So let's go horrify them, and offend them and make my sister deal with it. She decided we should meet her at this pretentious horse barn."
I tried to process the flurry of offenses and blasphemies that had just tumbled from Harbinger's lips and only managed to say, "She didn't know about me when she invited you."
Harbinger burst into giggles, "If she didn't then she's losing her touch. There's a fair chance that she had accounted for your presence here before your father decided to ask me to take me on. Now come on, you're a soldier and an officer- in bearing and spirit if not in official standing. Grow a backbone and just think of this as an enemy line you have to break."
I laughed, " So do you have standing in the club?" I asked.
"None whatsoever. I was declared unfit for service during the Banner War due to reasons of mental unfitness. Something about delusions, I don't remember exactly."
I shook my head and smiled in spite of myself, "So a disgraced former officer and an anti-military firebrand are going to waltz into the Sun Yat Sen Social House. Will your sister meet us at the door or send a junior officer to vouch for us?"
"We have a better chance of meeting the Buddha on the road than we do of either of those things happening." He said.
"I am all a goggle. Well fine, let's go. I may as well see how many more bridges I can burn. Why not?"
Harbinger grinned like rabid beaver in a lumber yard, "That's the spirit. Now I know you're trainable."
We continued on towards the club house; myself in silence, Harbinger skipping and twirling a pipe that he had produced from his jacket pocket. The walk up to the front door was crowded with younger officers loitering, smoking, and chatting. I was grateful that I was still wearing my dress uniform. As long as nobody recognized me, I didn't stand out. Harbinger stood out and I found myself slowing a little and letting the distance between us lengthen.
We were stepping under the veranda and heading for the front desk when I felt a hand grasping the crook of my left elbow, " lieutenant Crowe, sir! By the Buddha what are you doing here?" A worried female voice hissed. I turned and saw Sergeant Anne Dunbrook from my old command.
"I'm not your lieutenant anymore Sergeant. I'm not a sir, I'm not anything." I hissed back, "I'm working for a friend of my father. His sister is in the Royal Commission and we're apparently meeting her here. What are you doing here. Non-commissioned officers aren't allowed in the Sun Yat Sen. Who's vouched for you?"
"You're always my lieutenant sir," Dunbrook answered, "And nobody vouched for me. Your replacement has me standing out here like dog tied outside the restaurant while he dallies with some pretty little rich girl, trying to show her how impressive he is. You better watch out sir, you've got enemies. They still haven't cleaned up the rubbish you exposed, sir. Keep your head low."
"Thanks sergeant. That means a lot. But apparently this is my life now. How did I survive to adulthood?"
"You've got Mother Mary guarding your steps, sir. Or I guess the Buddha or some boddisattva, right sir?"
"If you say so. I have to run. My new boss is clinically insane and he just ducked inside." "Good luck sir." Dunbrook said as I ran to catch up with Harbinger as the door closed behind him. So much for keeping my distance.
I stepped into the front room of the Sun Yat Sen Social House, a spacious room built with beautiful exposed sequoia wooden beams and granite bar tops. Harbinger stood beside the concierge desk, although he faced away from it, looking into the club itself. Three attendants stood between Harbinger and the entrance to the club itself, their arms spread to bar him from entering.
"This is ridiculous, "Harbinger said in a tone of mock outrage, "Are we going to do this every time?"
The elderly male attendant in the center, Mr. Crispin answered Harbinger, "Every time you try to enter without membership or a member in good standing to vouch for you." "You know who I am. You know why I'm here. It's no as though I actually want to spend time in this pretentious little horse barn. More importantly, you know who I'm here to see."
I knew Mr. Crispin very well. His name tag read Geoffrey, but I had know him since I was five years old and my father had always insisted that I call him Mr. Crispin. I had kept the habit into adulthood. I liked Mr. Crispin, but he knew who I was. And he must already know what had befallen me. His presence here was not good for our chances. He also wasn't going to let Harbinger fast talk him.
"We cannot let a non-member into the club without the member in good standing present to vouch for you. You are not a member in good standing. And unless the Lieutenant behind you is willing to vouch for you, then I see nobody to vouch for you and no reason to let you in."
I realized in surprise that he Mr. Crispin meant me when he spoke of the lieutenant. Did he not know I had been discharged? Or, did you not care?
"I don't need one of these toy soldiers to vouch for me, "Harbinger hadn't looked back to see to whom Mr. Crispin was referring, in fact Harbinger had begun to sound genuinely agitated, "You know that I'm going to get in. Why do you do this?"
"Because there are rules to be followed. Decorum to be respected. And I do not bend the rules for anyone, least of all somebody with no respect for my rules, my establishment or my decorum. I am only your enemy because you choose to make me your enemy, but if that how you want to interact then I am happy to oblige you. You are not a member, and no member has vouched for your entry."
"I eat here often enough to be a member," Harbinger answered, his voice rising almost to a shout now.
"While true, that is irrelevant to your current situation. I am not making an exception for a walking flatware demolitions expert. I not making an exception and having to responsibility when you accost another a member. Or perform an unwanted exorcism. Or juggle wine glasses or summon demons or whatever else you might decide to do. At this point no impossibility would surprise me. Produce a member to vouch for you or come back when you can do so."
"Freeman," A marble cold female voice said, speaking from within the club house, "I hate having to collect you. Why do you do this? You could have mentioned my name at any point. You didn't."
"I don't need help from the Royal Commission," Harbinger said with a sniff.
"And here I am bailing you out again," A willowy woman Harbinger's age stepped into the entry hall and shook her head. She wore her iron gray hair back in a bun with chopsticks speared through and her skin was pale as an abalone shell. She wore the black dress uniform of the Royal Commission. The attendants nodded silently to her and returned to their posts.
Harbinger turned back and noticed me, then he waved forward and said, "Dahlia Crowe, may I present my sister Major Cassandra Harbinger of Her Majesty's Royal Commission and a constant pain in my sitting muscles."
She looked at me without blinking, her gaze tracked up from my feet to my head and then back down to my feet. She turned back to Harbinger, "She's a better asset that you Freeman. My direct report is here, Lieutenant-Colonel Blackwater. Do not embarrass me. I have recommended you for a matter suited to your bizarre capabilities, but I will see you tried for treason if you embarrass me in front of the Lieutenant-Colonel"
She finished speaking, turned and walked back into the club house without a backward glance. Harbinger looked at me, "That's my sister. What do you think?"
"I think we just met the Buddha on the road."
He grinned in response and jogged after her. I looked towards Mr. Crispin, who nodded at me with a gentle smile. I nodded back and followed after Harbinger and his sister.
As I caught up with harbinger he whispered to me, "Cassie hasn't ever explain her role in the Royal Commission to me. I know it has to do with internal security, but it seems to be as much about public relations as it is legitimate threats to security."
The dining hall was the first room in the club house past the entry hall. The decor of the club house paid homage to the diverse Asian Immigrant culture that served as a prominant part of New Jericho's history. Chinese traditional blue and white porcelain and pottery sat on shelves and tables around the dining hall. Japanese architectural design and wood joining techniques were displayed prominantly in the structures of the building itself. The walls were decorated with painting and calligraphy from Korea and China and Japan as well as from Vietnam and Indonesia and likely others that I hadn't seen or recognized. The place was at once gaudy and respectful, loud and and stately.
I scanned the room, hoping to see nobody else that I knew, or who- more importantly- might know me from my days of service. I spotted a tall gangly man child with a prominant nose and adam's apple with lieutenant's crown on his collar and the silver endless knot design on the shoulder epaulets. He stood next to a dainty young woman, with luxurious blonde hair and a radiant complexion who appeared to be trying to politely laugh at the man child's joke and failing. I shook my head, my command lay in the hands of an idiot wearing an inherited title and no mind to call his own.
The dining hall was empty otherwise, save for a tall slim man of frightening poise and a gentle looking Chinese man in his later years who sat two tables over from Harbinger's sister. The taller man sat in silence, studiously eating steak tartar and smoking a Jakarta black kretek, a brand of Indonesian clove cigarettes that cost more than I made in a month on my military salary. A snifter glass of what I guessed to be whisky sat ignored beside his plate. The man wore the black dress uniform of the Royal Commission festooned with medals and honors, and I thus guessed that this was the Lieutenant-Colonel Blackwater to whom Cassandra Harbinger had referred.His face was narrow and hawk-like with a strange speckled scarring the right side of his face and sharp angular schmisse scar on his right cheek bone that could only have been obtained in a mensur duel with sabers. On the knuckles of the man's right hand were tattooed the letters H-I-J-O, meaning child in Spanish and marking the man as a member or, more likely a former member, of the street gang 'los hijos de la guerra'- the children of war. Many people in the armed forces who were not from military or noble families wore similar tattoos. People often joked that a 'hijo' tattoo was mandatory to obtain admittance to the infantry. His medal and awards will extensive, but I recognized all of them save for two. He wore a a blunt five point gold and silver star with a cavalry officer bearing a shield emblazoned red, white and blue on his left breast. At his side hung an ornate dress saber that was clearly a ceremonial honor, but which I did not recognize. His hair was so white as to be nearly translucent. This stood in contrast to his face which, although tanned and heavily weathered, seemed to place his age no older than mid fifties.
His companion was dressed in a rumpled burgundy suit that was of a style that went out of fashion when I was still a squire. He had a thin crimson neck tie around his neck, but the tie's knot had been loosened quite substantially and hung awkwardly about his throat. The suit was well worn with smooth patches on the elbows poorly patched with suede leather, certainly not a professional patch. He was enjoying a plate of what looked to be Chicken Tika Masala and a glass of what I guessed to be a Wu Li wheat beer. The man's hands were stained with ink and calloused on the heel- an academic who has spent years writing at a desk then. He wore a small pair of reading spectacles, half circles on the bottom of his eye lids. He wore a simple gold band on the third finger of his left hand and I noticed a modest gold chain under the collar of his shirt. His shoes were simple black dress shoes with heavy soles that looked far newer than the shoe leather itself, recently re-soled then- repaired and not replaced.
Cassandra Harbinger stopped an empty table in the corner and sat down. An old fashioned glass rested on the table and she picked up the glass and downed the liquid contents, leaving only the ice, the cherry and the orange slice. The man had not looked up from his meal. Harbinger sat down across from his sister and after a moment I joined them, sitting next to Harbinger and across from his sister. I waited. Cassandra Harbinger said nothing. Harbinger grinned at her and remained silent as well. I watched them and counted to a minute in my mind. Silence. They were playing a game, or involved in some unspoken game of brinksmanship.
"So why did you demand I trek out to your hideaway Cassie?" Harbinger said, and Cassandra smiled slightly.
"You tell me little brother. That is why I throw you the occasional task."
Harbinger nodded, "Fine, I suppose. Where to start. You're nervous, which means that focus of this whole procedure is not loss of life but the embarrassment of the Kingdom or her majesty and likely our reputation abroad. It's a sensitive matter in some way shape or form, as you're usually given a fair bit of leeway and independence. So if you superior is sitting three tables over, checking your hall pass, then this must have somebody above you nervous."
Cassandra frowned, but said nothing.
"Your boss is almost certainly involved, because he has his own specialties relevant to the case. Something involving affairs in the South China Seas if his brand of cigarettes is any indication- although that's admittedly speculation on my part. The idiot boy in the corner is irrelevant I hope."
Cassandra nodded, but my replacement Lieutenant had clearly heard Harbinger. He straightened and glared at Harbinger before stalking over to Harbinger.
"I am an officer in the Armed Forces of New Jericho civilian," He said in the grammar school accent of the elite and expensively educated, "You owe me your respect and your gratitude. I am all that stand between you and the savages of the Canyonlands. The cannibals of those dead cities would swarm across New Jericho if our forces didn't keep them in line."
I clenched my teeth and then shook my head, "But you've never been to the anyonlands, have you little man?" I asked, almost biting the words off as I spoke, "You parents bought you a commission once that actual fighting was done and the lives were lost. Didn't they? You've got not scars, no burns on your hands from gun powder. You're boots have no permanent marks from being actually worn in the field. You uniform is so new and shiny it practically hurts my eyes. Have you ever stood outside a parade ground?"
The lieutenant took a half step back and then looked at me more carefully, "You're the Ashland Pariah aren't you? Dahlia Crowe? Killer of the Training Grounds."
I pursed my lips and suppressed a snarl.
"Who let you in here wearing that uniform? I should strip it off your back."
"Back off child." The tall man in the Royal Uniform stood from his table as he spoke.
The Lieutenant didn't look as he answered, "My rank is lieutenant. You had best use it when you address me."
The man wore no expression as he answered, "Interesting. I hold the rank of Lieutenant as well." He paused, "Lieutenant-Colonel. In her Majesty's Royal Commission, and Her Majesty's personal advisor on the affairs of the Pacific and Indian Oceans. Now take your companion and show her the parade grounds. I'm certain that she'll be very impressed."
The lieutenant turned slowly and open mouthed to face the man.
"Run along child, and let's get a crisp salute for myself, the Major at the table there and her special agents as well."
After a long silent moment, the man snapped off three salutes, his face sour and stiff, and then quickly retreated to the pretty young lady and then out of the dining hall. I looked at Cassandra, and was suddenly aware of the tension in the way she held her head and neck. Harbinger had been right when he said his sister was nervous.
The man sat down at the table beside Cassandra. He didn't smile, "My name is Algernon Blackwater, I believe I have otherwise been well introduced. You are Freeman Harbinger of course, and you are Dahlia Rosella Crowe.”
He paused and looked at me for a moment. I maintained eye contact, having the impression that he was measuring me in some capacity.
Finally he continued, “The Ashland Incident was a travesty, and you were an unfortunate casualty of that debacle. I apologize to you for how the service has treated you.”
I nodded, “Thank you, sir.”
He continued, “The Major indicates that she has the utmost respect for her brother in matters of the sort that stand ahead of us. Her majesty is watching all of us in this matter, trade relations with RROC and the Empire of Hong Kong may be adversely affected if we all of us do not handle things competent. This is Chess. The great game, first played by Egypt and Assyria, then Greece and Persia, then Rome and Carthage, eventually England and the other great powers of Europe, then the United States and the USSR, now it falls to New Jericho and the surviving great nations and empires to play it again. I trust I have your attention?"
Now, I was nervous as well.
Blackwater produced a black lacquered cigarette case and drew out a Jakarta black cigarette and held it out to Harbinger, "Cigarette?"
Harbinger shook his head, "I only smoke occupationally."
Blackwater extended to cigarette towards me, "Ms. Crowe?"
I nodded and took the cigarette, "Thank you, sir. My father would be appalled, but these days it seems a small transgression."
"Life is built from small transgressions." Blackwater said as he extended a lighter and lit the cigarette for me. Input the cigarette to me lips and inhaled. I had never smoked regularly, but a soldier who turned down a cigarette offered by their comrades would have become alienated pretty quickly. The smoke from the cigarette was sweeter and more aromatic than the regular tobacco I had smoked previously, and I took a moment to savour the flavor before exhaling the smoke.
Cassandra looked at Blackwater, "Sir, shall we introduce them to our witness?"
Harbinger smiled, "Yes, I'd love to speak to the Professor."
Blackwater raised an eyebrow slightly, and then motioned for the Chinese gentleman to join us at the table.
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