"But the decisions are made on the battlefield, not in the conference rooms."
"I know," said Peter. "That's why we should work together."
"I can't think why," said Bean. "The one thing I asked you forinformation about where Petra is-you tried to sell me instead of just giving it to me. Doesn't sound like you want an ally. Sounds like you want a customer."
"Boys," said Sister Carlotta. "Bickering isn't how this is going to work."
"If it's going to work," said Peter, "it's going to work however Bean and I make it work. Between us."
Sister Carlotta stopped cold, grabbed Peter's shoulder, and drew him close. "Get this straight right now, you arrogant twit. You're not the only brilliant person in the world, and you're far from being the only one who thinks he pulls all the strings. Until you have the courage to come out from behind the veil of these ersatz personalities, you don't have much to offer those of us who are working in the real world."
"Don't ever touch me like that again," said Peter.
"Oh, the personage is sacred?" said Sister Carlotta. "You really do live on Planet Peter, don't you?"
Bean interrupted before Peter could answer the bitch. "Look, we gave you everything we had on Ender's jeesh, no strings attached."
"And I used it. I got most of them out, and pretty damn fast, too."
"But not the one who sent the message," said Bean. "I want Petra."
"And I want world peace," said Peter. "You think too small."
"I may think too small for you," said Bean, "but you think too small for me. Playing your little computer games, juggling stories back and forth-well, my friend trusted me and asked me for help. She was trapped with a psychopathic killer and she doesn't have anyone but me who cares a rat's ass what happens to her."
"She has her family," murmured Sister Carlotta. Peter was pleased to learn that she corrected Bean, too. An all-purpose bitch.
"You want to save the world, but you're going to have to do it one battle at a time, one country at a time. And you need people like me, who get our hands dirty," said Bean.
"Oh, spare me your delusions," said Peter. "You're a little boy in hiding."
"I'm a general who's between armies," said Bean. "If I weren't, you wouldn't be talking to me."
"And you want an army so you can go rescue Petra," said Peter.
"So she's alive?"
"How would I know?"
"I don't know how you'd know. But you know more than you're telling me, and if you don't give me what you have, right now, you arrogant oomay, I'm done with you, I'll leave you here playing your little net games, and go find somebody who's not afraid to come out of Mama's house and take some risks."
Peter was almost blind with rage. For a moment.
And then he calmed himself, forced himself to stand outside the situation. What was Bean showing him? That he cared more for personal loyalty than for longterm strategy. That was dangerous, but not fatal. And it gave Peter leverage, knowing what Bean cared about more than personal advancement.
"What I know about Petra," said Peter, "is that when Achilles disappeared, so did she. My sources inside Russia tell me that the only liberation team that was interfered with was the one rescuing her. The driver, a bodyguard, and the team leader were shot dead. There was no evidence that Petra was injured, though they know she was present for one of the killings."
"How do they know?" asked Bean.
"The spatter pattern from a head shot had been blocked in a silhouette about her size on the inside wall of the van. She was covered with the man's blood. But there was no blood from her body."
"They know more than that."
"A small private jet, which once belonged to a crimelord but was confiscated and used by the intelligence service that sponsored Achilles, took off from a nearby airfield and flew, after a refueling stop, to India. One of the airport maintenance personnel said that it looked to him like a honeymoon trip. Just the pilot and the young couple. But no luggage."
"So he has her with him," said Bean.
"In India," said Sister Carlotta.
"And my sources in India have gone silent," said Peter.
"Dead?" asked Bean.
"No, just careful," said Peter. "The most populous country on Earth. Ancient enmities. A chip on the national shoulder from being treated like a secondclass country by everyone."