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

by Ward Wagher

  “I understand, Sir,” Schubach said.

  “I really hope you do. At least the meeting wasn't a total loss. The Woogies got their planetary charter and Carlo Roma suffered a major cash infusion.”

  “What was in the boxes, Skipper?”

  “I'll tell you Charlie, and don't go talking about this, but I've never seen so much precious metals and jewels. About three-quarters of the boxes contained bullion – gold, silver and platinum. The rest were various precious stones. Carlo told me he was going to have to be careful about selling it off, for fear of depressing the market.”

  “No wonder Cambaert was so hot and bothered about the cargo,” Schubach said.

  “I don't think Rogers Cambaert really had any idea of what we had aboard. There was probably somewhere between twelve and fifteen billion Centaurans on that pallet.”

  “Seems a lot for just a piece of paper. I don't think I understand what the Woogies are getting for all their trouble.”

  “That, my friend, is a very good question,” Frank said. “I do know, and it's obviously not for dissemination, that Krause and Roma are working some kind of an under-the-table deal to use the money to build and equip a squadron that will be stationed in the Cardiff system.”

  “Squadron?” Schubach asked. “That's enough simoleans for a small navy.”

  “Precisely. I'm sure they are thinking ahead to the breakup of the League.”

  “How do you know all this?” Schubach asked.

  “That's the scary part,” Frank answered. “Krause and Roma had dinner after the meeting and invited me. They talked about a number of things that would get a lot of heads of states' knickers in a twist. And the way they talk, the entire League Council is in their pocket. I mean, it seemed like they were intentionally bringing the subjects up, knowing I was there.”

  “The plot thickens?”

  “Something like that,” Frank said. “Then Krause proceeded to chew me out over the way I was managing things on New Stockholm. The man is just never happy about anything I do.”

  “One thing I learned from being Krause's flag captain is that you can safely ignore the admiral's little tantrums and lectures. Because if you've heard one of his lectures once, you will surely hear it again.”

  “Oh, right. I understand, Charlie. I guess I just get annoyed when he acts as though I'm still working for him.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes, I'm annoyed!”

  “No, Frank, are you still working for him?”

  “Of course...” Frank started to respond heatedly and then stopped. “It sure seems like it, doesn't it?”

  “They're playing a deep game, aren't they?” Schubach asked.

  “Absolutely, Charlie. Krause's mission in life is to protect humanity from the Centaurans. It appears he has enlisted Carlo Roma in his crusade.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  Frank sighed, and shook his head. “I have no idea. There is no doubt he has been manipulating me. It makes me mad, but I'm not really in a position where I can tell him to take a jump at the proverbial flying donut. You know the kind of assets he has helped me acquire, right? Don't you suppose he can make those ships disappear just as fast if I don't keep playing along with him?”

  “I see what you mean, Skipper.”

  “I've probably told you too much, Charlie. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about what we've just been discussing.”

  “Of course, Skipper.”

  “Now, if I can just figure out a way for you to grow up in the meetings. At least the Woogies were remarkably patient.”

  “Sooozie wants me to take her shopping tomorrow.”

  Frank put his hand on his forehead. “For the love of...”

  “Don't you think it's a good idea, Skipper?”

  “Frank.”

  “Frank. I really like the Woogies, Sir.”

  “I guess you can't get into trouble any deeper than you have already,” Frank said. “I've got to quit treating you like a child, no matter how you act.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Don't thank me, Charlie. I just insulted you.”

  “Okay, Ski... Frank. Just one other thing. Sooozie said something about you needing a Redeemer. Is that a financial thing, or something?”

  Frank groaned. “No. Sooozie was trying to talk religion.”

  “You're kidding. You have got to be kidding! A Woogie?” And Charles Schubach dissolved into laughter once again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rogers Cambaert sat in the furnished apartment at Bergsman Base on Luna. While the three room apartment was comfortable, even luxurious, the guard at the door turned it into a prison. During his week's stay, an anonymous, silent Navy spaceman brought meals three times per day. The sixty year old commander initially took long showers and slept as much as possible to bank his sleep.

  Cambaert had long experience with slaking the boredom of long voyages. He did not have access to any communications channels, but the library was available. Out of habit, he spent the time catching up on his various technical specialties. After a week, he was getting distinctly impatient. He recognized the challenges facing him after the incident with Forsythia, but he had patrons supporting him, and this would limit the problem to a small setback.

  A sharp two-knock on the door and a Navy officer opened the door and stepped in.

  “Commander Cambaert? I'm Lieutenant Edmundo Rubio. The JAG has appointed me to represent you, Sir.”

  “A court-martial?” Cambaert said incredulously. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Admiral Critzman has issued the finding from the Naval Investigative Service, and the court will be impaneled in two weeks.”

  “Clive Critzman?”

  “I believe that is Admiral Critzman's first name, Sir. I have the chip here if you would like to review it in your reader.”

  “Lieutenant, do you know who I am?” Cambaert asked.

  “Yes, Sir. You are Commander Rogers Cambaert. You are a forty year veteran of the League Navy. You are being charged with conspiracy, and attempted piracy.”

  “You are being insolent, Lieutenant. I ask you again: do you know who I am?”

  The lieutenant cocked his head and studied Cambaert coldly. “If you are asking if I know who your patron is, then the answer is yes. Your patron is Laura Frasch, the CEO of South Atlantic, Limited...”

  “Then surely you know that this insulting and the indictment will not be allowed to stand,” Cambaert interrupted. In fact, I expect to be in contact with a representative of Laura at any time.”

  Rubio cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Sir. I must be very honest with you.”

  Cambaert had been pacing the room; he stopped, and placed his hands on his hips as he faced Rubio. “I expect you to be honest, Lieutenant. However, I will tolerate no more insolence.”

  “Very well, Commander. Admiral Critzman has been in contact with Ms. Frasch over the past week. There was agreement between all concerned that this matter could not be swept under the rug. Furthermore, Admiral Critzman and Ms. Frasch agreed that I should be appointed defense counsel for you.”

  “This is just purely unacceptable,” Cambaert shouted. “They have no right to subject me to this circus.”

  “To the contrary, Sir. With Ms. Frasch as your patron, the Navy and the JAG have tolerated any number of irregularities over the course of your career. Unfortunately, in this instance, you succeeded in making enemies of several well-placed individuals. This in addition to activities that go beyond the pale.”

  “Oh, come on, Lieutenant,” Cambaert replied, “this was all a misunderstanding in the first place. I acted on bad information and the roof caved in on me. I was simply trying to do my job. Why should anyone get excited about that?”

  “You still do not understand, do you?” Rubio asked. “You attempted to hijack one of Frank Nyman's ships. Not only is Captain Nyman well-placed, but he was aboard and witnessed the events.”

  “My information was tha
t Nyman was smuggling. I was obligated to investigate. Besides, if Nyman was so important, why is he not still in the Navy, anyway?”

  “And you will have an opportunity to present that in court, and I hope for your sake you can identify your source. As far as Nyman is concerned, he is not only close to Admiral Krause, but he has Carlo Roma actively working in his behalf.”

  The blood drained from Cambaert's face. He stumbled back and sat down hard on the sofa.

  “So, you see Commander, while you have a powerful patron, she is not interested in antagonizing the most powerful individual in the Merchants and Manufacturers League.”

  Cambaert moaned. “I am in trouble. I knew Nyman didn't like me when we first spoke. I never dreamed he would engineer something like this against me. And he and his friends are now rolling over a gentle lady who has been like a mother to me.”

  Rubio stepped forward and sat down in the chair across from Cambaert. “While we are being honest, Commander, the reason you are still alive is because Carlo Roma believes in the rule of law. Not only that, but the Woogies, who owned the cargo you tried to heist, insisted on a fair trial. Ms. Frasch has washed her hands of you. She suggested to Admiral Critzman that she would have no objections if you were quietly taken out and shot.”

  “You cannot be serious. Aunt Laura loves me. I'm her heir. She would never suggest anything like that. I insist on being allowed to speak with her. In fact, I insist on being given com access. It's illegal the way you are holding me here.”

  “I can request the guard be removed, Commander,” Rubio said.

  “Then make it so, Lieutenant. It's time we get things back on track.”

  “And then, when you walk out of here, your life span will be measured in minutes, perhaps hours.”

  “Surely, you cannot be serious.”

  “You are repeating yourself, Commander. I can outline several scenarios for you. One, if you walk out of here now, you will be killed. Two, you can keep playing the fool, and the court-martial will certainly vote to convict, and you will likely be executed. Third, you can accept me as your counsel and there is a small chance I can secure an acquittal.”

  Cambaert stared at Rubio for a full minute. “How do I know you are even telling me the truth?” he asked. “I've had no other contact since I was locked up in here.”

  “You don't,” came the flat response. “I've given you the options. Make your decision.”

  § § §

  “Tell me once again why I'm doing this,” Frank Nyman said, as the Navy Shuttle he was riding in angled down for a landing in Buenos Aires.

  “First of all as a favor to Carlo and me,” Admiral Krause said. “Plus she owns one-hundred percent of a major manufacturer, who might steer some business your way.”

  “Okay,” Frank sighed. “Always happy to troll for business. I'm still not comfortable around the hoi polloi.”

  “If Nyman Trans-Space is going anywhere, you'd better get comfortable with it, Frank.”

  Frank looked out the viewport of the shuttle as it descended steeply from orbit. “Remind me again, how many countries in South America?”

  Willard Krause chuckled. “Currently one, Frank. It's called United South America.”

  “Is that this week?” Frank asked.

  “Just about. The continent has united and fallen apart again exactly six times in the past four-hundred years. I counted.”

  “It amazes me how the people on this planet seem so intent on killing each other,” Frank said. “The only place I know of that comes anywhere close is Addison's Planet.”

  “That's an accurate assessment,” Krause said. “It mystifies me that the Centaurans are so interested in it. Earth is essentially ungovernable.”

  “Why is that, Admiral? Does anybody have any theories?”

  “The only one that makes any sense is taught by the Christians and the Jews. That the planet will be in a state constant conflict until God personally comes down out of heaven and takes over.”

  Frank stared at Krause with his mouth open. “Give me a break, Admiral.”

  “I didn't say I believed it,” Krause replied. “I just said it's the only theory that makes any sense at all. The Woogies believe that too, by the way.”

  “I'm just glad you haven't descended into that insanity,” Frank said. “I can't seem to escape from having the odd individual walk up to me to talk to me about my soul, anytime day or night.”

  “Sounds annoying.”

  “You have no idea.”

  The conversation subsided as the shuttle flared into a landing at the small base maintained by the League Navy in the suburbs of Buenos Aires. Frank and Krause transferred to an aircar which flew them to the north side of the city where they set down on a landing pad on a forty acre estate.

  Admiral Krause stepped out of the aircar first, and carefully placed his hat on his head. Frank was dressed in standard business dress for Earth, which he thought looked remarkably like that worn by that ancient monster Mao.

  They were met at the landing pad by Edith Strossner, Laura Frasch's executive secretary. The tall regal looking woman with iron grey hair was also dressed in business fashion, although with a feminine cut.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to Laura Frasch's home. If you will come with me, please.”

  Krause and Frank nodded, then followed her to the mansion. The new smell was evident as they walked in through the patio doors.

  “This is very nice,” Krause said. “Has it recently been completed?”

  “Oh yes,” Strossner said. “Ms. Frasch decided to locate closer to the corporate headquarters.”

  Frank nodded, but said nothing, as they followed her through the house. She stopped before a set of double doors, and knocked twice before opening one.

  “Ms. Frasch, Admiral Krause and Mr. Nyman to see you.”

  She stepped into the room and stood to the side so the two men could enter. Once they walked through, she stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her.

  “Welcome to Buenos Aires, Gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to visit me.” The tiny white-haired woman stepped from behind a desk and walked up to them.

  “An honor to meet you,” Frank said.

  “Nice to see you again, Laura,” Krause said.

  “Please. Have a seat.” She led them to an alcove in the office where two sofas sat at right angles with a square coffee table in the middle.

  As they sat down, the door to the office opened again, and a butler walked in with a tray. He sat it on the coffee table and withdrew.

  Frasch carefully poured coffee for the two men, and then poured a cup for herself.

  “Now, then, let me tell you the agenda for the meeting. I do not like to waste time in fencing contests. Those years are behind me, I'm afraid. First of all, I wish to discuss my wayward nephew, Rogers Cambaert.”

  “Cambaert is your nephew?” Frank blurted out.

  “Yes, he is,” Krause said. “Laura, I thought you had discussed the disposition of the case with Carlo and Clive Critzman.”

  “Oh, we did, and I am not attempting an end-run here, Willard. I will fully accept the verdict of the court. I am not happy about what happened, but unfortunately Rogers is going to have to finally accept the consequences of his actions. I will do my weeping in private.”

  “Then... what...” Krause said haltingly.

  “I am concerned about what might happen if the court is unable to convict. The young lieutenant, who has been assigned to defend my nephew, told me that although the circumstantial evidence is strong, he believes it is possible to go for an acquittal. He is obligated to try.”

  “I can assure you,” Krause said, “that even if he wins acquittal, he will be drummed out of the Navy. I probably should not tell you this, but the Commission had decided to ask for his resignation before all this blew up.”

  “I did not know that,” she said. “Why was I not told?”

  “I do not know, Laura,” Krause said. “The Navy Commission generally rep
orts significant personnel issues to the League Council. Especially when it involves people with... connections.”

  Frasch snorted. “I appreciate your delicacy, Willard. As I am on the Naval Governance Committee of the Council, this is something I should have been told about. I believe I need to quietly ask some questions.”

  Krause nodded. “Back to the subject at hand, what is your concern about an acquittal?”

  “It is precisely this, gentlemen: the father of my nephew, who was married to my sister, was a kleptomaniac, and a liar. Unfortunately Rogers is very much like his father. I love Rogers dearly, but I cannot allow him anywhere near my businesses. I had hoped he would perform acceptably in a Naval career, and maybe even develop some character. Well, we were wrong about that, weren't we?”

  Frank raised an eyebrow, and Krause nodded.

  “I have made a decision to create a trust that will give Rogers a reasonable income for the rest of his life. However, my estate will not go to him. He has somehow come to the belief that he is my heir, but, to be honest, I have never seriously considered that.”

  “I can understand that,” Krause said, “but how does that involve us?”

  “At whatever point he walks free, if that happens, he cannot be allowed anywhere near me or my operations. Not only is he a peculator, but he is also a creditable con man. He could do incredible damage to my operations.”

  “Let me give that some thought, Laura,” Krause said. “I understand your concerns. We have a few weeks to solve this problem.”

  “Is there a real chance that he will be executed?” motherly concern clearly showed on her face.

  “I have to be honest with you, Laura, it is very possible. We have a major problem with piracy right now, and there is not a lot of interest in showing them mercy when they're caught.”