The Final Battle by Graham Sharp Paul Page A

story’s already been retracted—needless to say, that’s seen by some as part of the government’s cover-up—and Ferrero and Diouf are going to sue for defamation. But that still leaves people wondering if they’ll ever get the truth. Was the president bribed by the Hammers? Did Ferrero blackmail her into abandoning all her principles? And if Diouf wasn’t bribed or blackmailed, then why did she go against all her principles and allow your execution to go ahead? Not that it matters, not now. We’ve got what we need. We’ve turned you from villain to victim, and the process has seriously undermined Ferrero’s credibility, so much so that the average Fed now thinks her appeasement of the Hammers will come back and bite the Federated Worlds in the ass. They don’t know how, they don’t know when, but they think it will. And that’s the environment we need to support what we’re trying to do here.”
    Michael shook his head. “That’s really … I was about to say clever, but maybe evil would be a better word.”
    “I prefer to call it a work of genius,” Jaruzelska said with a touch of smugness.
    “Maybe it was,” Michael snapped. Jaruzelska’s conceit angered him, and it showed. “I understand why it had to be done, but from where I’m sitting, it looks much more like a work of bloody-minded torture. I thought I was about to be executed. You could have told me it was all an elaborate hoax. You should have!”
    “But we did,” Jaruzelska protested. “We made sure Colonel Kallewi told you.”
    “Hah!” Michael snorted with derision. “That was way too late. By then I wanted to believe what she was saying, but I couldn’t. When they strapped me down, I knew for a fact that I was about to die. Didn’t matter what anyone had said. I thought they were just trying to make things easier.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jaruzelska said, her voice soft, “really I am.”
    “You damn well ought to be. You should have told me sooner. And there’s one more thing you should know.”
    “Oh?”
    “I got a message from Chief Councillor Polk.”
    “From Polk?” Jaruzelska’s stared at Michael, eyes wide with disbelief. “How could you?”
    “One of the guards smuggled it in. I wish I could show it to you, but it was one of those damn one-time messages.”
    “What did it say?”
    “That Polk had authorized my old friend Colonel Hartspring to set up a team to snatch Anna; Team Victor he’s called it, and that’s a v for ‘vengeance’ in case you’re wondering.”
    “I remember Hartspring,” Jaruzelska said, “but why would they do that?”
    “Polk was happy that I was to be executed, but not that happy. If he couldn’t have me killed his way, then he wanted to me to die knowing that Hartspring was going after Anna, knowing what would happen to her once Hartspring got his hands on her, and—” Michael broke off, unable to speak anymore.
    “Oh, Michael,” Jaruzelska whispered; she stretched out her hand to take his. “We had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us?”
    “What difference would it have made?” Michael said. “I’ll tell you: none. After all, what was I? Just another pawn in the game.”
    “We should have told you earlier,” Jaruzelska conceded, “but the group was concerned it would take the edge off what had to be the performance of your life. I’m sorry, but there was a lot at stake, and before you ask, your parents—”
    “Shit! I’d forgotten. They think I’m dead! Anna too.”
    “I’m sorry about Anna. There’s no way we can tell her what’s really going on, but your folks are both in on the conspiracy, have been for a while now, so don’t worry.”
    Michael’s head went down; he was quiet for good minute. “I don’t think there’s much to be gained in going over this anymore,” he said at last, looking up. “What’s done is done. All that matters to me now is making sure Anna is alive and stays that way. Well, that and hunting down Polk and Hartspring and killing