Cassandra Kresnov 04: 23 Years on Fire by Joel Shepherd

deal?”
    “Eduardo,” said Singh from his command chair. He hadn’t been on the FSA raid and was pissed about it, but he was senior SWAT team leader these days, Vanessa’s old job, and Tanusha couldn’t afford to have all of its senior SWAT officers offworld at once. Sandy hooked into the flyer’s network and found tacnet already up, coordinating with several other units about a park in Montoya. One of them had a visual.
    Imagery blurred before her eyes as she changed resolutions and zoomed. Then resolved upon a man, in plain shirt and cargo pants, sitting on a park bench. At three-fifteen in the morning, in the dim glow of a park light, with no one else around. Sandy checked the visual match, but there was no mistaking it—the man’s face was the same as Mustafa had shown her in the data package. He wasn’t active on the net, so they couldn’t check his uplink patterns . . . likely they’d be impenetrable anyway, League GIs normally were. But it could only be him.
    “Not exactly inconspicuous, is he?” Sandy observed. “How was he acquired?”
    Singh shrugged. “Montoya’s a high security zone. You sit alone on a park bench at three a.m. long enough, someone will scan you and see if you match a database. He did.”
    “Hmm,” said Sandy. SWAT Two were still looking bleary-eyed, a few yawning, so they’d all been woken and assembled—SWAT worked on a roster, so squads knew if it was their turn to be on call, but still it took some time. Maybe a half hour to get everyone here. She’d taken ten minutes, so they’d waited twenty before calling her. Once Eduardo had been IDed, SWAT would have been called immediately. “So he can’t have been there more than . . . forty-five minutes?”
    “I was thinking a trap,” said Singh. In monotone, because it was that obvious, but procedures said you had to be absolutely clear in prep.
    “Hmm,” said Sandy. Navcomp said they’d be there in three minutes. “Have we got a sniper scan?”
    Vision flashed up, a full graphic of the park and neighbouring buildings. The only possible sniper vantages were covered and cleared—there were enough cameras around to do that thoroughly. It was possible Eduardo had support hidden in the buildings, but if they made a sudden move there’d be warning. Warning for someone who moved as fast as she did, at least.
    “Not much of a trap,” Singh admitted. “I suppose you want to take this?” With resignation.
    “Sorry, Arvid. I really think I should.”
    They landed on a tower a kilometer away, and a police car was waiting to speed her to the park. She got out at a secluded corner and walked. Tanushan parks were lush and green, fragrant with tropical vegetation. Trees dripped with recent rain as she walked a main path. Puddles reflected dim city light. Insects fluttered around park lights. Bunbuns and native possums crawled in the trees. On combat reflex, it was a lot of distraction, sharp motions that made her eyes jump from one potential target to the next. GIs weren’t really designed for natural environments. On combat exercise in Callay’s wild forests she was forever within milliseconds of assassinating cute and furry animals left and right. The little buggers kept surprising her.
    Eduardo saw her coming. He couldn’t miss her, since they were the only two people in the park. His hands were visible, elbows hooked over the seatback. Sandy’s belt holster was closer. He’d know what she was, watching her approach. GIs could usually recognise each other just by walk or stance, sometimes right down to the designation.
    Sandy walked to the bench by Eduardo’s side. The bench was wet, so she touched the evaporator on the seatback, and watched the moisture steam and vanish. Then she sat.
    “I’ve been told your name’s Eduardo,” she said. “I’m Commander Kresnov.” Eduardo wasn’t really looking at her. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. He was good looking, like most GIs. Tanned skin, dark hair