Memoirs of a Skeleton Valet

12. Cryptography

A Government Man came to town today. Not APE or more of those military goons. A low-level bureaucrat. His exact title is assistant district administrator, or ADA. His name: Stevens. He wears a blue suit, the shoulders almost right-angle sharp. I like his hat.

The white jeep he drives up in is splattered in mud. Hiding beneath the Rorschach filth on the door is the regime's signature black shield. Our guards stop him at the drawbridge. When he steps out with a clipboard and typewriter case, they send for Ozgreat and Arrow. Luckily, I catch wind of it. I so easily could have been holed up in the cave singing vesti la giubba, and been none the wiser. I get there right as they decide to shoot him.

"Don't kill him!" I yell.

"He was dead when he drove up," Ozgreat says matter of factly. "He just hasn't hit the ground yet."

"No. You mustn't."

"We must. Objective Number One: Delay the regime's knowledge of our operations for as long as possible."

"I agree. But if he disappears, they'll only send another one."

"We'll kill him, too."

"Then it will be all out-war in less than a month," I tell him bitterly.

"You think so soon?" Ozgreat asks me, scratching his chin. "I don't think they'd notice for a year to two."

"I saw commandos in Palmero yesterday."

"You did? First I'm hearing of it."

"It was in my report."

"I don't read those," Ozgreat waves at me. "I'm a warchief. Sterile reports are for bureaucrats like that."

"My reports are not sterile."

"If that's what this is all about, we can talk later. But for now I've got a Regi to waste. Roach? Take aim."

The guard named Roach points a scoped rifle through of a mouse hole in the wall. ADA Stevens is standing twenty yards away, checking his watch.

"He'll never leave Wagonwell," I say.

"Eh?"

"He's our prisoner. We question him, get inside information. He never reports back."

Ozgreat clutches his forehead. "Prisoner or dead body, he isn't leaving this town. So why make it hard on ourselves with an extra mouth to feed? And they'll still send replacements out looking for him anyway. A corpse is much cleaner. Ready, Roach?"

"Ready, Sir."

"I'll guard him personally," I volunteer.

Ozgreat laughed. "A skeleton guarding the dead. That's rich. Is that why you advocate so dearly for the condemned?"

"I don't know. It saved about 300 people last time I tried it."

"300..." Ozgreat repeats distantly. Then he looks at me, then at Arrow, who has her arms crossed and has been content to say nothing this entire time. Ozgreat's face relaxes somewhat, the way a smile relaxes to a frown. I see my chance.

"And if it is a war, we'll need prisoners to exchange, won't we? Hostages? He's a bargaining chip."

"That milquetoast tool out there isn't worth shit to them," Ozgreat mutters.

"Maybe, maybe not," I say. "Maybe he wants to defect. He could help us hit 'em where it hurts. If you kill him, we'll never know."

Ozgreat grumbles, then looks at Arrow. "You're actually ok with this, Priestess?"