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

by Ward Wagher

  Frank sighed. “Let me see if I can make things even more clear. I suggest you return to your vehicle and go home. Then spend some time reflecting on whether you really want to mess with Nyman Trans-Space. I will be bringing considerable commerce to New Stockholm. Your legitimate businesses stand to profit greatly – assuming you have any.”

  Chavis stared at Frank. “I think you, perhaps, do not understand me. In fact, I believe we will have to give you some tutoring to improve your understanding.”

  Two of the muscle stepped forward, and Frank held up a hand.

  “What is your first name, Mr. Chavis?”

  “Benjamin. My friends call me Benjie.”

  “Okay, Benjamin. You are in the end-game, and you have one chance remaining. In my business I have to work with a lot of different kinds of organizations. If you want to call my office in the morning, I would be happy to arrange a dinner with you, where we can discuss mutually profitable business arrangements. I believe we are finished here tonight.”

  Chavis looked at him for a moment. “Yes, I believe we are.” He glanced over at one of his guards, and tossed his head toward Frank.

  The two moved towards Frank and the third turned to Gough. Just as quickly, the three slumped to the floor with sleepy darts in them. Smith & Jones slipped into the room holding their dart guns.

  “Is this what you wanted, Skipper?”

  Frank shook his head. “Almost.” He looked at Chavis. “I really hate stupidity.”

  “You won't get away with this,” Chavis said. “You can be sure of that.”

  “Put him down too,” Frank said.

  “Now wait just a minute...” And Chavis dropped to the floor.

  “Take the garbage out, Skipper?” Gough asked.

  Frank nodded. “Yeah. But, don't kill them. Leave them sitting in their ground car somewhere. They'll wake up in the morning in the car and have no idea what happened. Smith & Jones will help. They know what to do.”

  “Begging your pardon, Sir, but wouldn't it be easier just to kill them? They're scum anyway.”

  “It would be easier,” Frank replied, “but I had enough of that on Montora. There's always a residual amnesia when you come off of a sleepy dart. I'm willing to bet they won't quite remember what happened.”

  “They'll be back, eventually,” Gough said.

  “Let us take care of it, Skipper,” Smith said. “Gough's right. These people will keep after us.”

  Frank shook his head slowly. “I hear ya, Cedric. But, I want to retain my supper tonight. Keep'em alive.”

  Smith nodded. “Gotcha, Skipper. Jones and I will get it done.”

  “I think I should go,” Gough said. “I know the town better.”

  “I'm counting on that, Gough. Smith & Jones know what I want.”

  “And leave Jones here,” Gough said, “in case we get other visitors.”

  “Right,” Frank said. “You take care of these.”

  “Leave'em snoozing on a side street somewhere,” Smith said.

  “Right.” Frank turned and quickly walked from the room.

  In a small secure room off the central hallway of the mansion Emily and Stephanie looked at video displays of every area of the house. They were paying close attention to the scene in the reception room.

  “Just like that?” Stephanie asked.

  Emily nodded. “Just like that.”

  “What are they going to do with those goons? They'll be back here again as soon as they wake up.”

  “Maybe not. Are you familiar with the Sleepy Darts?” Emily asked.

  “Oh. Some of the local lowlife use them to catch girls. It gives them a free evening and the girls remember nothing afterwards.”

  “That is terrible,” Emily said. “Has this happened to you?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “Not to this girl. And it never will.”

  “You grew up here, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Than you know the kind of scoundrels that inhabit this town. Whether he wants it or not, Frank Nyman is the new sheriff.” Emily leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I wonder if he realizes what he is in for.”

  Stephanie watched as Smith & Jones, along with Gough Brundage, dragged the inert bodies from the room. “You know, Sergeant Smith told me a little about what happened to Mr. Nyman on Hepplewhite. From what he said, I think Mr. Nyman will do whatever he has to do. And then he will blame himself for it.”

  Emily looked over at Stephanie. “You seem perceptive.”

  “As you said, I grew up here. And you have to grow up fast. My Da was killed before I was born. Ma raised me and kept me out of trouble. But, you know, from what Ma told me about my Da, well, I think he was a lot like Mr. Nyman. I think going to work for him was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “The sergeant told me his wife died on Hepplewhite,” Emily said.

  “She was murdered!”

  “What? How do you know this?”

  “Sergeant Smith likes me. I can get him to tell me things.” Stephanie giggled. “It's one of the things I'm good at.”

  Emily tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand,” she said with a smile. “Just remember this is a dangerous world, and Frank Nyman just made it unpredictable.”

  “Oh, I understand. But what are my choices? There are not enough decent jobs to go around. I'm just glad my Ma knew the Listons so well. I risk my life every day just going to work. Maybe the new sheriff, as you called him, will make this a happier place. And I'm talking too much.”

  Emily chuckled and laid her hand on Stephanie's arm. “Maybe the employees of Nyman Trans-Space here on New Stockholm will be able to help Mr. Nyman make this world a better place. I sure plan to try.”

  “Could you teach me how to use a gun?”

  Emily studied Stephanie for a few moments. “Yes. I suppose I could. I would suggest, however, you not tell anyone I am training you.”

  Stephanie smiled. “Another thing I am really good at is keeping secrets.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was three hours later when Cedric Smith and Gough Brundage arrived back at the house. Jones stepped from the reception area into the foyer as Brundage and Smith walked in the front door. Jones said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow. Smith nodded.

  “All taken care of,” Smith said. “I slipped them a shot of sleepy gas. They'll be good till morning. I assume you changed the code on the gate?”

  “The Commander did.”

  “At least we won't leave the door unlocked for them next time.”

  “Lord, I hate this, Cedric!” Jones growled. “It's Hepplewhite all over again.”

  “At least we didn't kill anybody tonight. I don't know how long that'll last, though.”

  “Not very long, I'll wager,” Jones replied.

  “How's the skipper?” Smith asked.

  “How do you think? He's in the study just staring into space.”

  “Not a pleasant night,” Gough said. “But, still, you got to be practical about things. The only way to be sure of stopping Chavis at this point would be to make him disappear.”

  Emily stepped into the foyer, with Stephanie behind her.

  “Everything go all right, Gough?” she asked.

  He looked at her and nodded, with a grimace. “As well as could be expected, I suppose. With any luck, they'll wake up in the morning with a blinding headache and no memories about the previous night.”

  “So you didn't kill them?” Emily asked. “I'm surprised.”

  “The Skipper said no,” Smith said. “I'm not convinced it was the best decision, but there you are.”

  Gough looked at Stephanie. “I suppose we should be taking you home, young lady.”

  “I asked her to spend the night,” Emily said. “I don't think anyone is in shape to go out again.”

  “I think I'll go check on the skipper,” Smith said. He walked from the room.

  “I'll take the watch,” Jones sai
d as he left the room.

  The Brundages looked at each other.

  “Frank didn't say too much tonight,” Emily said.

  “Smith told me about it,” her husband replied. “Back on Hepplewhite they were trying to keep an insane duke at arm's length. Literally insane. They found out later he had Kinsolver's Disease. He sent in an assassination team. Frank and his people killed or captured every single one of them. He then passed judgment on the surviving members of the team and had them quietly executed.”

  “That's terrible,” Stephanie said. “He shouldn't have had to step outside of the law like that.”

  “Yes it was terrible,” Gough replied. “But it was not extra-legal. As the Margrave, he had the authority to do something like that. It was the only way the skipper could see that would keep the duke in the dark. It worked too.”

  “And now he's repeating it here,” Emily said sadly. “Only this time without the benefit of legal cover. We're going to end up killing some people sooner or later.”

  “Those canal scum wouldn't be missed,” Stephanie said. “We should have plugged them.”

  “Have you killed anyone before, Stephanie?” Gough asked.

  “Umm. No.”

  “Best thing to do is never start.”

  “But we gotta protect ourselves,” she said.

  “I agree, in part,” Emily said. “But each time you do something like this it takes a bit of your humanity away. If Frank keeps this up, he will drive himself insane. And if the local law, such as it is, takes notice, things could get sticky.”

  “That would be only if they found out about it. The only people who would know anything are in this house.”

  “You still don't understand,” Gough said.

  “I can keep my mouth shut,” Stephanie said. “We could have made things a little better in Gustav tonight. Plus, I have no desire to draw attention to myself.”

  “It would happen anyway,” Emily said. “Word gets around.”

  “So what? People would learn to leave us alone.”

  “No, Stephanie,” Emily said. “Admiral Krause sent Frank out here for a reason. I don't know what it is, but I expect there will be killing, and it will get a lot worse. I don't see the end of it.”

  “I think the Admiral is trying to build a bulwark against the Centaurans,” Gough said. “That's the only thing that makes sense. The skipper is just a piece on the chess board.”

  “The Centaurans won't come clear out here,” Stephanie said. “They've got their hands full at Sol and Tau Ceti.”

  “True,” Emily said. “However, all of our culture and economy derives from Earth. If Earth goes, so does the League Navy. We'll be on our own, then, and...” Emily stopped speaking and looked thoughtful.

  “What is it?” Stephanie asked.

  “Something just occurred to me.”

  “Don't leave us hanging.”

  Emily put the tip of an index finger to her lips. “Maybe... I really don't want to talk about it right now, though.”

  “That's not nice,” Stephanie said. “Can't you give us a hint?”

  Gough looked at the younger lady. “If she says she doesn't want to talk about it, you won't pry it out of her. I learned that long ago. Ems, I suppose we should turn in. The sergeants will watch the house for the rest of the night. We will likely have to take over in the morning.”

  Stephanie yawned involuntarily. “You're right. It's 2AM. It is going to be grim in the office tomorrow.”

  Gough snorted. “And the skipper will expect you to be at your desk, bright-eyed, when the doors open.”

  She groaned.

  § § §

  “You okay, Skipper?” Smith stepped into the study. The low light, leather, and dark woods did nothing to soothe Frank's apparent mood.

  “The last time something like this happened, Wendy and I fought over my decision to execute those lawbreakers. It was probably the worst fight we ever had.”

  “You made the right decision then, Skipper. And probably the right decision tonight.”

  Frank looked up from the desk. “We're going to end up killing people, Cedric. I thought we had left all that behind us.”

  “It does seem to follow us around, doesn't it?”

  “I just don't understand this. I mean, Chavis and his buddies would be no great loss to the universe. But I just couldn't bring myself to kill them.”

  “You can't blame yourself, Sir.” Smith said. “I think you did the moral thing. Anything else and you would have been outside of the law, not to mention having it on your conscience.”

  “And should I blame you, Cedric? It's my responsibility, and it's one I don't know how to handle anymore. I'm afraid if I don't stop them, more people I care about will die. I let Wendy get killed on Hepplewhite. Now, who's next?”

  “Listen to me, Skipper! The blame does not fall to you or me. There are evil men out there, and it looks like you and I got elected to do something about it.”

  “That's not the way things work Cedric.”

  “Sir, I refuse to allow either of us to take the blame for the wickedness in men. You've got to get that out of your head. You are not responsible for their poor decisions.”

  “I guarantee Willard Krause will hold us responsible, if things get out of control,” Frank said. “He said as much.”

  “With all due respect, Sir, Admiral Krause is wrong. I think not only are you entitled, but you could get away with telling him to go urinate up a rope. What's he going to do about it anyway?”

  “You don't want to find out, Cedric. The man wields considerable power.”

  “Yes, but he doesn't have the power to make every single individual bow to his wishes.”

  “Jury's still out on that one. Who's minding the store tonight?”

  Smith looked at Frank for nearly thirty seconds before sighing.

  “Jones has the security watch. I'll be patrolling the grounds.”

  “Surely you both don't need to be up all night,” Frank said.

  “Probably not, Skipper, but I don't want to discover I'm behind the curve if we have more visitors.”

  Frank leaned forward and rested his face in his hands. “Alright. Whatever you think, Cedric.”

  “And you ought to get yourself to bed, too, Skipper.”

  Frank looked up again. “What are you? My mother?”

  Smith just looked at him.

  “Alright, alright. I don't know what use it would be, though. I'm not going to sleep anyway.”

  “You got to try,” Smith said quietly.

  “And Smith?”

  “Yes, Skipper?”

  “Thanks, once again. I owe you. For tonight. For your basic sanity.”

  “Just part of the job,” Smith said, as he eased out of the room.

  He walked back to the security room. Jones was watching the monitors.

  “Skipper's not doin' so well, is he?” he asked.

  “Not so's you'd notice. I'm going to walk the ground for a while,” Smith said. “If he doesn't go to bed, let me know.”

  “Right.”

  § § §

  Emily raised herself up on one elbow and looked down at Gough lying beside her. She used her index finger to toy with the pelt on his chest.

  “You haven't changed, you know,” she said.

  “What's that?”

  “A little action and you come back to me all revved up for more.”

  He scowled. “If you were complaining, I wasn't able to hear it through the racket a few minutes ago.”

  She pinched the side of his stomach.

  “Ow! What was that for?” he said sharply.

  “For being a barbarian.”

  “Like I said, I didn't hear any complaints from the lady. What, should we have slept in separate rooms tonight?”

  She snorted. “Of course not. I would've had to come hunt you down, then. The only problem is the night is going to be short enough as it is.”

  “One question did occur to me, Ems,” Gough murm
ured.

  “And what would that be, Snuggles?”

  She gave a short, sharp shriek when he stuck a finger in her ribs. “Be nice, Ems. You had something come to mind earlier that you didn't want to tell the girl about.”

  “That I did. Remember when I told Admiral Krause I was retiring so we could get married?”

  “He was ripped.”

  “That he was, Precious. But what else was significant?”

  “Umm. He cooled down pretty quickly.”

  “That too,” she said. “Remember he suggested a nice retirement spot?”

  Gough was quiet for a few moments before he spoke. “Bingo!”

  “Right,” she said. “Sarah's Star is a nice spot, Emily,” she mimicked.

  “You really do sound like Kreature Krause,” he laughed. “Do you think he was really planning that far ahead?”

  “Well, yes and no,” she said. “I don't think he knew he was sending Frank Nyman out here. We came out here before Frank went to Hepplewhite. But, I do think he has ideas for this sector.”

  “And what should we do about it, sweetheart? You're the strategic thinker in the family.”

  “I don't know for sure what Willard Krause has in mind,” Emily said. “But he thinks big thoughts. And should we support him?”

  “You know I don't trust him,” Gough said. “I don't like him much either.”

  “Same here, baby. But he is doing what he can to save civilization.”

  “Meaning what, then?”

  “That we do our best to support Frank Nyman.”

  Gough snorted.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We're going to do that anyway. Not because of Willard Krause, but because Frank is a decent man. We could throw in with a lot worse.”

  She pondered for a bit. “But we would probably do that anyway.”

  “True,” he said. “So are we done philosophizing for the night?”

  “Yeah. We need to get to sleep.”

  “It hasn't been all that many years since we kept things going all night, Ems.”

  She grinned at him. “Wanna try?”

  § § §

  Stephanie stared morosely into her coffee cup. The golden light of Sarah's Star angled through the windows of the Nyman Trans-Space offices, throwing multicolored spectrums about the room. Frank bounded down the stairs and stopped in front of her desk.