BALT IS WAITING for us inside. Ostensibly just chatting with Ted, he is sitting close enough to the gate to have overheard everything. He stands up, planting himself in a chest-out stance as he sizes up Axiom’s representatives.
“Hello!” Blue Tie calls to him with a wave. In the lobby’s harsh fluorescent lights, I notice that Blue Tie and Black Tie are also wearing makeup, though it’s subtler than Yellow’s. Just a light coat of foundation and a dusting of anti-shine, protection from the unforgiving lens of some imaginary TV camera. “We represent the Goldman Dome branch of the Axiom Group,” Blue Tie says. “We’re here to complete the merger.”
“Captain Balt,” he says warily, and offers a palm. “Representing Twenty-One Cock Street and the surrounding block.”
“He’s not a captain,” Rosso sighs. “And it’s not Cock Street.”
Blue Tie doesn’t exactly reject the handshake, but he evades it, exchanging it for solid eye contact and a firm nod. “Relying on elected representatives in such desperate times may be a risky indulgence,” he says through a friendly grin.
“But we look forward to exploring many variations of civil government with you in the future,” Yellow Tie says. She scans Balt from the boots up, and her voice adopts a slightly higher, more girlish pitch. “You seem well-equipped for leadership.” Her smile is not quite professional anymore. “I’m sure your people are already utilising your full potential?”
“Not exactly,” Balt grunts. He looks off-balance, unsure where to direct his bluster.
“The Axiom Group always recognises potential,” she says, and the seriousness of her words clashes with her coquettish tone. “In these uncertain times, we understand the value of personal conviction. If your enclave does choose to cooperate with us, rest assured we can find a place for a man like you to shine.” Her lips are so red they seem to throb. “I look forward to seeing your capabilities.”
She returns her attention to Rosso, and whatever she just extended to Balt coils back into her. Her voice resumes its pristine professionalism. “Would it be all right with you if the captain gave our assistants a brief tour while we discuss the merger?”
“A tour,” Rosso repeats.
“We’d like to make a cursory assessment of your enclave’s assets so that we can better define the terms of our merger. Would that be all right with you?”
Rosso looks at the two assistants. He looks at Yellow Tie. “No. I don’t think it would.”
Her eyebrows rise. “I don’t understand.”
It’s the first thing she’s said that I believe. She is reading from a flowchart and it lacks a branch for refusal.
“With all due respect,” Rosso says in a carefully neutral tone, “we’re not in the habit of giving ‘tours’ to agents of foreign militia groups. You haven’t even given us your names.”
Yellow Tie stabilises her fluctuating smile. “If you’re concerned that we’re here to learn your weaknesses, let me assure you there is nothing so complex at play. Your enclave is a sports arena. There are no weaknesses because there are no strengths. You’re simply people in a box.” She grins warmly.
“The Axiom Group has no interest in invasions,” Blue Tie says. “Invasions waste resources and create dangerous tensions within the conglomerate. We prefer to be embraced willingly.”
Rosso’s face is stony. “The Axiom I remember was not so cautious in its expansion. I seem to recall it eating up half of New York and proclaiming itself the new US government before God and a dozen armies decided otherwise.”
“Mistakes were made,” Blue Tie says with the same grave nod he offered the first time Rosso brought up their history. “Our organisation was passionate, and this led to immoderation. But much has changed. We have developed sustainable strategies for effective interaction with a diverse public.”
“We are here to prove our value to you,” Yellow Tie says with doe-eyed sincerity. “We are here to help.”
Black Tie says nothing.
Rosso looks at me again, and again I have nothing to offer but my vague, inarticulate apprehension. The truth is, Yellow Tie is right. There are no secrets here for spies to steal. No access codes or defence strategies. Just twenty thousand scared and hungry people packed into houses made of trash. But Rosso has to draw a line somewhere.
“Your assistants are welcome to stay and assist with our negotiations,” he says, forcing a thin smile. “But I’m afraid guided tours are unavailable at this time.”
The pitchmen look at Rosso. The fluorescent lights buzz like beehives. Yellow Tie widens her grin to show teeth. “I’m glad we were able to reach an effective compromise.” Her voice reveals no trace of irritation. “May we begin our presentation?”
Rosso indicates a nearby eatery table. “Have a seat.”
Blue Tie regards the table, then the sunny passageway to the stadium’s interior. “We would prefer a more secure location.”
Rosso spreads his hands. “I’m afraid this is as secure as it gets around here. As you so rightly pointed out, we’re just people in a box.”
“Surely you have a space in which to discuss operations away from the ears of citizens.”
“Our former leader built a space like that. We don’t use it anymore. We’ve stopped hiding operations from the people they’ll affect.”