The Snows of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 3)

by Ward Wagher

  Okay, Cedric. You win. Hand me that room service menu."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sergeant Smith walked into the central sitting room of the hotel suite, where Frank was working on breakfast. He had his portable comp term at his side as he ate.

  “Where's Jones?” he asked.

  Frank shrugged. “Out scouting, I guess. Have something to eat. I ordered plenty.”

  Smith walked over to a portable buffet and examined the array of foods. “Thanks, Skipper. Sleep okay?”

  “As well as I'm capable of.” I do wish I could get a complete night's sleep. “Just trying to lay out a plan for the day's activities.”

  “Is establishing a base of operations in that plan somewhere?”

  “Oh, yes. I seem to be creating a long list,” Frank smiled. “I wish I had brought along somebody from Montora to help. But Franklin needs all the help he can get.”

  “Do you have any contacts at all here, Skipper?” Smith asked.

  “There's a chandler here I've dealt with a couple of times when we came through with Forsythia. I'll probably go see him first.”

  “I'm a little nervous about security, Skipper.”

  “You and me both, Cedric. If there are too many of those roadblocks around, we'll lose all our ready cash. We need to find out how they target their victims. We've got to fade into the background here as soon as possible.”

  “How about if I send out Jones while I go with you to your meetings.”

  “Like he's doing now?” Frank asked.

  “Right. He's far better at picking up on the local environment than I.”

  “Whatever your other faults, Cedric, and they legion, you are about as good at assimilating local environments as I have ever seen.”

  “Thanks, I guess, Skipper. Do you want me to call the chandler and set up an appointment?”

  Frank considered for a moment before answering. “Naaah, I'll call him myself. If you call, Liston will think I'm putting on airs.”

  “Why should we lie to him, Skipper?”

  “Shut up, Smith!”

  “Right, Sir.”

  While Frank busied himself with his breakfast, Smith pulled out his comp term, connected to the local net, and surveyed real estate and business openings. He often felt one could pick up as much about the local scene this way as about anything else.

  Presently Frank slid his plate away and pulled out his pocket com. He searched through the voluminous contact list and selected the one he was looking for.

  “Liston and Company Chandlers; may I help you?” came the female voice.

  “This is Frank Nyman. Is George available?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Nyman. Just one moment, please.”

  In less than ten seconds George Liston snagged the connection.

  “When did you wash up here, Frank?” he asked.

  “Got in yesterday. Thought maybe I'd come see you, if you could spare a few minutes.”

  “Sure can. Charlie Schubach came through about six weeks ago with Forsythia. He told me you were over on Hepplewhite.”

  “A long story, George, and not really pleasant. When would you like me to drop by?”

  “How does 10 o'clock sound? We can talk a bit and then have a lunch.”

  “Sounds good, thanks, George. I'll see you at 10. By the way, how does one avoid the impromptu toll booths around here?”

  After a brief pause Liston swore. “How much did they get you for?”

  “Couple big-C's and change. I was annoyed.”

  “They should know better. Okay, I don't have much influence here, but let me make a couple calls.”

  “Don't stick your neck out on my account, George. I have a couple of employees with me who are itching to manage the situation.”

  “You don't want them to do that, Frank. All the street life here is in one pocket or the other. Most of them are not very smart. The normal solution to a problem is to escalate.”

  “Gotcha, George. We'll just figure out how to keep a low profile.”

  “They usually leave the locals alone, but tourists coming out of the airport are fair game.”

  “That was sort of what I assumed,” Frank said. “Well, that's a problem for another day.”

  “Indeed. I'll expect you at ten-hundred, then.”

  “Thanks, George,” Frank said before disconnecting.

  “10 o'clock then, Skipper?” Smith asked.

  “Yes. And he suggested we avoid anything provocative with the local riffraff.”

  Smith just raised an eyebrow.

  “He said they love to escalate.”

  “Be pretty hard to escalate if you're dead,” the sergeant said.

  “Smith.”

  “I read you, Skipper. We'll behave.”

  “See that you do, Sarge. We start knocking heads and Willard Krause will pay us a visit. I've had about all I can stand of him for one lifetime.” And I've got to quit taking it out on Cedric. I don't have enough friends that I can afford to be a jerk.

  Smith nodded. “I've been scanning the local net. I didn't have a chance to get a download before we came out here. I guess your priorities are to find a place to live and an office.”

  “Probably in that order, Cedric. Maybe have Jones poke around and eliminate the poor candidates. I can't start hiring employees without an office.”

  “Will do, Skipper.”

  “Thanks, Cedric.”

  The sergeant nodded.

  “And sorry for yelling at you.”

  “Think nothing of it, Skipper.”

  § § §

  “Always an honor to have you drop in, Captain,” George Liston said.

  Liston was of medium height, stocky and bald. The fringe of hair around his pate was gray. The merchant had a ready smile.

  “Thanks for taking the time to see me, George. And you keep forgetting to call me Frank.”

  “Oh, I haven't forgotten,” again that friendly smile. “I just feel like I need to show you some respect.”

  “'Steeth, George! You're ten years older than I am.”

  “Yes, but you are a Navy Captain. That's an accomplishment. I just muddle around and sell goods to starships.”

  “Reserve Captain, George.”

  “Well, come into my office. Will you drink some coffee? And this is?” he asked, looking at Smith.

  “Coffee would be fine. While the food was fine, even excellent at the hotel, they don't know how to make good coffee. And this is Sergeant Cedric Smith. I guess you could call him my minder.”

  “So, Sergeant Cedric Smith, would you drink a cup of coffee?” Liston asked.

  “I believe I would,” Smith responded.

  “Liston pointed to the office girl. “Maggie, would you be so kind as to get these gentlemen coffee?”

  “Sure thing, George.” Maggie was small, dark haired, and elfin; age indeterminate.

  Frank followed Liston into his office. Smith pulled the door closed and stood outside.

  Maggie busied herself with the coffee maker.

  “Feel free to take a load off,” she said to Smith.

  “I wouldn't want to take over somebody's desk,” he replied.

  “Ha! I'm the only one in the office. Grab a chair.”

  Smith nodded and moved over to one of the desks and slipped into the chair.

  “George told me your boss had been here a few times before. He thinks highly of him.”

  “A lot of people think highly of him,” Smith replied. “Probably more than he thinks of himself.”

  “Well, George is good people too. He and his wife Pamela take good care of me. Good man to work for.”

  “Your boss gives good first impressions, anyway,” Smith said.

  In the inner office, Liston waved Frank into a chair. “Could I talk you into dinner with me 'un Pamela?”

  “Probably,” Frank said. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

  “It's nothing. I know you'd do the same. And where is your lovely wife?”

  Frank fro
wned and looked down at his side. He looked up again at Liston. “She's dead, George.”

  Liston suddenly leaned back in his chair and crossed himself. “Oh, Frank! I am so sorry. I didn't know. Whatever happened?”

  “It was just a bad situation all around, George. I took over the Margraviate of Montora on Hepplewhite after my brother and his wife were killed. The short story is that the planetary Duke was about nine-tenths around the bend and managed to get Wendy killed.”

  “I can't believe something like that could happen. Wendy was...” he paused, searching for the word. “...was so real. How long has it been, Frank?”

  “About four months.” Plus forever.

  “Oh, my. Pamela will be devastated. She loved Wendy.”

  “Everybody loved Wendy,” Frank said. He felt a wave of sorrow wash over him again. I loved Wendy. God, what will I ever do without her?

  Liston looked at him as he pondered what to say. “There's probably nothing I can say that would help, Frank. But, if I can do anything, please let me know.”

  “George, I appreciate that. You're a good friend. The end of the story is that I left the lands in the care of my son, Franklin; I don't think you've met him. I'm going to focus on the shipping business for a while. I decided to base my operations out of New Stockholm.”

  “So you will be here more or less permanently?”

  “So it seems. That's one of the reasons I came to see you.”

  “What can I help you with?”

  The door opened and Maggie slipped in with two cups of coffee. “Here you go, gents.”

  She slipped out just as quietly.

  Frank took a sip of the coffee. “This is really good, George.”

  “Maggie is good at most anything she does, but she excels at coffee. The wife and I often invite her to dinner just to get her to brew a pot for us.”

  “Don't let her out of your sight, then George. I might be tempted to hire her.”

  Liston laughed. “Good luck on that. She's been with us two years and says she never wants to leave.”

  “You can't be that nice.”

  “I know I'm not that nice. But I do treat my employees better than just about anyone else in Gustav.”

  “Tell me about that, George.” Frank said.

  “This ought to be a nice place, Frank.”

  “Other than the so-called toll booths, it seems like a nice place. The town is clean and quiet.”

  “And it's sewn up by people with their hands out. I'm paying taxes to two different groups; protection money, really.”

  “Two? How do they avoid turf wars?”

  “It's funny, really,” Liston said. “The local crime lord collects money as insurance,” he held his fingers up in quote marks. “Then the head of the University here collects money for the upkeep of the school and the town. Between them they get us for about twenty percent of income. It's not horrendous, but it is a bit unpredictable.”

  “And you put up with it?” Frank asked.

  Liston shrugged. “I make a good living here, and they leave me alone. Besides, where else could I go? It looks like you came out of a worse mess. There's problems all over. Let's not even talk about Earth.”

  “What about Earth, George?”

  “Everybody knows the Centaurans are going to attack; and soon, too.”

  “Everybody doesn't know that,” Frank said.

  “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that? I know you're tight with the Admiralty. What do they say?”

  “They pretty much assume it's going to happen too.”

  “You see? The whole human occupied sector of the galaxy is getting ready to go up in flames.”

  “I honestly don't think so.”

  “Come on, Frank, don't tell me that.”

  “Look, it takes a huge amount of resources to subdue a planet. It's taken the Centaurans twelve years to get Tau Ceti pacified, and I would hesitate to call it that. They can probably occupy the high orbitals over Earth, but there's no way they can control one or two billion people with what they've got.”

  “So why does everybody keep talking about it like it's already happened?”

  Frank sipped his coffee and looked around the room. Liston's office had clearly been decorated by his wife. The pastel colors and flowered curtains were not something he thought George would have picked.

  “The conventional wisdom says the Centaurans will grab Earth,” Frank said. “I've always been suspicious of the conventional wisdom.”

  “Okay, I take your point,” Liston said. “But what do you suggest I do about Gustav? I've got all my eggs in one basket here.”

  Frank sipped on his coffee again. I don't know what business I have giving this man advice. I haven't done too well at managing my own life. “George, if you're doing okay here, then it wouldn't be wise for me to suggest you do anything else at the moment.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Me? I'm going to open an office, hire some people, and keep my head down. That's what the admiral told me to do.”

  “Krause?”

  “Yes. You know him?”

  “I know of him,” Liston said. “I've heard he thinks of himself as the elder statesman out here.”

  “Sounds like you've just about got him pegged,” Frank said.

  “So he really is a statesman?”

  Frank grinned. “No. He just thinks he is.”

  “Gotcha. Actually, it was probably a good time for you to wash up here. The property prices are decent right now.”

  “I need to find a place to live. I probably should just rent some office space to work out of.”

  “I've got more space here than I know what to do with,” Liston said. “Maybe we can work something out.”

  “Thanks, George. If I wouldn't be in the way.”

  “No, I'm glad to have you. Makes me look more prosperous. The customers walk into a building full of people, they think it's a big operation.”

  “Let me think about it. I've got one of my men out looking at properties.”

  Liston said. “I'm trying to save you money.”

  “Just keep your hand out of my pocket, George.”

  Liston laughed. “You'd go out and pay full boat on a place just to avoid letting me do you a favor, wouldn't you?”

  “It's not like that.”

  “The heck, you say. People who know you say you don't do anything for free...”

  “And you don't either...”

  “Let me finish, Frank. For sure you don't seem to want to owe any favors either.”

  “Come on, George. I want to keep you as a friend. I think it's better for us to do business at more of an arm's length. If we were in each other's laps, I think we'd have trouble.”

  “I wouldn't let you sit on my lap,” Liston smirked.

  “Right. You know what I'm talking about. You and I are probably too much alike,” Frank said.

  “That's why I don't let Pamela involve herself in the business here, Frank. We're too much alike.”

  “God, how I wish I had kept Wendy home.” And it's too late now, old buddy, isn't it?

  Liston watched as Frank's face dissolved into ineffable sadness. He shook his head. “Gosh, I'm sorry, man. I mean, the thought of losing Pamela terrifies me. I cannot imagine.”

  “You're right, George. I couldn't imagine. It was my worst nightmare come to life. It's like looking down and seeing your right arm suddenly missing from the shoulder down.”

  Liston jumped out of his chair and walked around the desk to where Frank sat. “Can I get you a drink, or something?”

  “No. Thanks, George. I'm afraid if I started, I would crawl into a bottle.”

  “Can you even talk about it?”

  “I haven't been able,” Frank said. “I was there when it happened. I never felt so helpless in my life. I just couldn't bring myself to believe it. I kept waiting to wake up.” Frank swallowed a sob. “I still can't wake up.”

  “Take it easy, Frank. I know ther
e's nothing I can say that would help, but you know we're pulling for you.”

  “Thanks, George. Well, I've got to quit wasting your time.”

  Liston gave a crooked smile. “If I thought you were wasting my time, I'd pitch you out of here.”

  Frank stood up. “I can take the hint.”

  “Dinner sometime?” Liston asked.

  “Sure. You have my com code?”

  “Yep. Let me talk to Pamela. I'm know she will want to see you.”

  “Thanks again George,” Frank said as he opened the office door. “Let's make tracks, Cedric.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The part of Gustav ringing the harbor was called the Old Town. While the climate around Gustav was subtropical, it resembled a jungle environment nearer the shore. The placid oceans of New Stockholm generated very little surf, so there was no beach. The jungle grew right to the water's edge. While downtown Gustav was located on higher ground, the Old Town was situated in the swamps, and the motionless water lay a mere six inches below the walks.

  “You alright, Skipper?” Smith asked as they walked along the boardwalk that wound its way alongside a canal.

  “Yeah. Liston wanted to talk about Wendy. I was dumb enough to agree. Still tough.” Will the pain never end?

  Smith shook his head as they walked, but could think of nothing to say.

  “This place is... interesting,” Frank said. “What was Jones thinking?”

  “I know what you mean, Sir. But, this is where the real business gets done around here.”

  “He figured that out, did he?”

  “Yep. The politics around here are kind of screwy.”

  “What kind of screwy, Cedric?”

  “As far as we can tell, the two main political parties are different crime syndicates. Seems they take turns emptying the treasury.”

  “That's not exactly how Liston explained it. He said it was the local criminals and the local University splitting the take.”

  “Like I said, Skipper - screwy.”

  Frank snorted. “You wouldn't know that to look at the place. It's quiet and seems prosperous.”

  “Definitely odd.”

  “So what did Jones scope out?”