by Eric Thomson
The clicking of high heels on polished marble died away when Cortez stopped to stare at the silent chief of security, a hulking man as muscular and square-faced as she was svelte. His shiny, pale dome glistened with perspiration, as did his upper lip. She had been raging ever since the last of the shaken, and in some cases, terrified guests left after giving their testimony to the Constabulary investigators.
“I can’t tell you more than what you already know, Eva. Not until my people finish searching the far end of the glen. A trained sniper with a railgun capable of firing darts at almost ten times the speed of sound could easily find a hide beyond our perimeter. In the hands of an expert, maximum range is dictated by the quality of the optics used, and I say optics because we would have detected active target acquisition. The killer went strictly low tech to stay invisible. Our security perimeter registered the power spike when he fired, nothing more, and it was so brief the sensors weren’t able to triangulate. This guy’s a pro.”
“Guy? Why couldn’t it be a woman?”
“I meant guy in the generic, Eva. Don’t hassle me because of my choice of words. Not today.” Piet Yorik squeezed the bridge of his nose to disguise his increasing irritation with Eva’s temper. The conversation had been spinning in circles ever since they found themselves alone. “This was a well-planned and executed hit. I’m ready to bet my next year’s pay the Constabulary won’t catch him — or her.”
“Was it personal or political?”
“How the hell should I know, Eva? Gustav’s habits made him personal enemies all over the place. Could be one of them decided enough was enough. I warned the both of you this could happen if he didn’t put a brake on his appetites. But railgun firing pros like our sniper, they’re expensive, much too expensive for folks holding a personal grudge against Gustav. For one thing, I’ve never heard of any on Mission Colony, so he, or she, is almost certainly an offworlder, which ups the cost even more.”
“Political, then.” Cortez resumed her pacing, and Yorik winced as the click of heels once more assaulted his ears. “The cabrons running this place have access to that kind of money. It’ll make tossing the colonial administration out on its ass that much sweeter. Do you think they got wind of our timeline and that’s why they killed Gustav? To stop the inevitable?”
Yorik let out an audible sigh. “I’m not the one to answer that question, Eva. Ask the Collective’s governing council.”
She whirled around and speared him with furious eyes.
“Those incompetent fools? People who actually believe the radical bullshit we’re peddling? Please. I’m asking for your opinion.”
“Okay. You want my opinion. Here it is. Whoever put the hit on Gustav isn’t local. As I said several times in the last hour, the sniper is a consummate pro. An incredibly expensive pro. You need serious money to hire someone like that, and you need contacts to find him. I can’t think of anyone in the colonial administration with the right connections or enough guts.”
“If not a local, then who?”
“Stop asking me questions I’m unable to answer, Eva. Gustav’s ambitions were bigger than Mission Colony. Perhaps he fell afoul of people with a reach that encompasses the entire damn Rim Sector if not the Commonwealth itself and we don’t know about it. You of all people should remember how secretive he was. Just look at how he kept almost everyone out of the talks with this Democratic Stars Alliance.”
“Then what happens now? Do I spend the rest of my own life waiting for a railgun-equipped pro to turn my head into a pink mist?”
Yorik answered with a weary shrug.
“There’s no point in dwelling on it at the moment. Instead, you need to think about asserting control over the Collective before nightfall. One or two of the governing council idiots might think their time to lead has come. Leave the investigation to the Constabulary. Assistant Commissioner Bujold will make sure her people do a thorough job while seeing that Gustav’s secrets are buried with him.”
A smile briefly lit up Cortez’s face. “I know she will.”
“Which means we need not worry. I suggest you declare yourself Gustav’s heir and concentrate on picking up the talks with Mannsbach.”
“Unlike Gustav, I remain unconvinced we should hitch our fortunes to a group no one knew of until a few months ago.”
“That’s because you’re not aware of certain things yet, Eva.”
“Then make me aware.” She stopped to face him again.
“I watched Gustav’s back during every meeting with the DSA man. He wanted no one else with him. I didn’t actually sit in on the discussions, but Gustav told me enough afterward to understand what they’re offering is a shortcut to your ambitions.”
“What sort of shortcut?”
“One that’ll make our beloved colonial administration beg the Freedom Collective to form this star system’s next government.”
A finely arched eyebrow crept up. “Oh?”
Yorik suddenly tilted his head to one side in the unmistakable gesture of an earbug wearer receiving a call. He raised his right hand to still her next words.
“This is Yorik.”
After almost a minute, he asked the unseen caller, “And you’re sure they’re legit?” Another pause, followed by a grunt and a frown. “Okay. Let me speak with Eva and get back to you.” His head returned to the vertical. “That was Osric. Another DSA emissary came out of the woodwork not long after he told Mannsbach about Gustav’s assassination. A Sherri Zadeck. She was with a gorilla by the name Corbin, last name unknown. This Zadeck claims to be Mannsbach’s boss, and she said considering this morning’s events, she’s taking over the talks about our merger with the DSA.”
Lines creased Eva’s smooth forehead. “Sounds strange. Her name is new to you, right?”
He nodded.
“First time I’m aware of this Zadeck’s existence.”
“What do you think?”
“She knew where to find Osric, she knows about Gustav’s negotiations with the DSA, most importantly, she knows about the gift Mannsbach gave Gustav, meaning—”
“What gift?”
“That’s what I was about to tell you when Osric called. Only Mannsbach, Gustav, and I are aware of its existence.”
“Which indicates Zadeck’s legit.”
“Could be.” A dubious expression creased Yorik’s face. “But a new actor appearing out of nowhere hours after a pro whacks Gustav? In any case, she’d like to meet with you, and she seems worried about who’s in control of the gift.”
“Do you think I should? And will you tell me about this damned gift before I reach down your throat and yank out the answer?”
Yorik raised both hands in a restraining gesture.
“Relax, Eva. We’ll take this one step at a time. Things are moving too fast for my taste, and that means they could spiral out of control. Let me think for a moment.”
She scowled at him, lips compressed into a fine line.
“Okay,” he said a few moments later. “First, the gift. Mannsbach brought us a kilo of the most potent conventional explosive ever invented. It’s called Mayhem - MAximum Yield High Explosive Mixture. He said one kilo is enough to take out the government precinct and part of downtown Ventano. It’s so highly classified by the Fleet, even most members of the Armed Services don’t know about it.”
“One kilo to take out downtown? Bullshit, Piet. A kilo of fissile material, maybe, but a sub-nuclear compound?”
“No bull, Eva. Remember the day before yesterday, when Gustav and I took the aircar for a run to your family’s unexploited claim in the Cabrera Range?”
“Sure.”
“Mannsbach came with us. He scraped a few grams of the stuff from that kilo block and stuck it against a detonator. Congratulations, the Cortez family now has a new clearing at the bottom of the Vittoria valley. You might remember I don’t impress easily, but I was impressed when I saw the explosion. And a little scared. The thought of a radical organization like the DSA owning enoug
h Mayhem to give it out in kilo blocks on spec as a recruiting bonus terrifies me when I think of how hard it must be to steal from the Fleet. These are serious folks with the sort of reach that keeps counterintelligence analysts awake at night.”
A thoughtful expression replaced her earlier frown.
“Why do I get the feeling if we don’t join this DSA, they’ll simply take back their gift and find more willing partners? Perhaps they might even help those more willing partners sideline the Freedom Collective.”
“Because you’re no dummy, Eva. And the idea they might recover the Mayhem if we back away from the deal speaks to there being more DSA members than just Mannsbach on the planet. It makes sense they’d send someone like the gorilla Osric mentioned, for instance. But I think it might be a justifiable breach of our agreement to keep radio silence if I called Alek to obtain corroboration on his boss taking over.”
She chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds.
“Wouldn’t Zadeck perceive that as insulting?”
“I’m sure she understands the concept of trust but verify. Considering the turmoil we’re experiencing... For what it’s worth, Osric gave me a pretty good description of them.”
Cortez squared her shoulders.
“Do it.”
She went over to a set of French doors overlooking the patio where, a few hours earlier, someone had assassinated her husband. The mansion’s cleaning droids had done an excellent job scrubbing away every last trace of blood and gore after the Constabulary’s crime scene investigators finished their work.
But her mind’s eye still saw everything as it was in those awful moments after Gustav’s head vanished in a bloody haze, and the formless rage flowing through her veins flared up again. How dare they — whoever that might be — kill him and upset their plans? She promised herself to find the perpetrators and exact a vengeance so awful it would cement her place as the Collective’s supreme leader, and Mission Colony’s next first minister.
“He’s not answering,” Yorik said, snapping Eva back to reality. She turned to face him. “But his communicator is live.”
“Perhaps Zadeck ordered him to avoid speaking with us now she’s assumed the lead.”
“Could be.”
“You sounded a little funny there for a moment, Piet. What gives?”
“I can’t shake the fact Zadeck’s sudden appearance, hours after Gustav’s death, is somehow not quite right.”
“Yet if Alek Mannsbach isn’t willing or able to speak with us anymore, I see little choice but to meet with her. The sooner, the better, in fact.”
“Any preference where? Gustav used the beach house.”
“Here. I don’t want to drive all the way out there today. Besides, nosy neighbors can’t see who is coming and going here.”
“Or coming and not going?” A knowing smirk lit up Yorik’s face. “Maybe you should invite Zadeck for the evening meal.”
“Good idea.”
He pulled a communicator from his pocket and stroked its screen. Moments later, he said, “Sera Sherri Zadeck? My name is Piet Yorik. I was the late Gustav Kerlin’s security chief, a role I now carry out for his widow Eva Cortez.” Yorik paused. “Yes, Sera Zadeck, a tragedy, but you’re correct. Life and the movement must go on. We can mourn after freeing Mission Colony from the plutocratic oppressors.”
He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Osric Floros tells me you wish to meet with Eva.” Pause. “Indeed. Eva would like to invite you and your associate to dine with her tonight at the country house.” Pause. “She’ll be glad to hear it. At eighteen hundred hours? Great. I’ll send the coordinates momentarily and tell my people to expect you and Ser Peel. Until then. Goodbye.”
Yorik tucked away his communicator.
“Done.”
“What did she sound like?”
“A woman. Low voice, almost husky. Pleasant, but with a hint of steel.” He shrugged. “Hardly enough to form an opinion.”
A discreet knock on the door still Cortez’s reply. “Come,” she said instead.
One of Yorik’s men, a younger copy of the security chief, just as bald and barrel-shaped, stepped in. He carried a shimmering pack in his right hand, one Yorik immediately recognized as covered by a chameleon camouflage exterior.
“We found a faint track at the far end of the glen, a little over a kilometer away, where the trees close in and followed it over into the next hollow. It led to where a small ground car, probably a two-person speeder, was hidden at some point earlier today.” He held up the bag. “Someone tucked this under a bush. There’s a ghillie suit and a railgun inside. A seven-millimeter Falkenberg Longbow Mark Five with a Hammer Optics high-powered scope. Top of the line stuff, boss. Worth almost thirty thousand creds on the legal side, a hundred thousand on the black market. It has to be our sniper’s weapon. No one throws away something like that because they’re too tired to carry it.”
Yorik pointed at a sideboard.
“Lay everything out for me.”
— Six —
“We’ll need a fresh rental car,” Talyn said after shutting off her communicator.
“That’s what I figured.” He nodded at a passing bus. “Public transit doesn’t quite make it out that far, and definitely not up the road to Kerlin’s private retreat. Or rather Cortez’s now. It’ll be interesting to study my hide from the target’s perspective.”
“We should also buy more appropriate clothes. Or at least I should.” She swept her hands along the front of her loose tunic. “This hardly screams senior DSA emissary.”
“While my getup screams bodyguard to a senior DSA emissary?”
She glanced at him and made a face.
“I suppose not. Rental car, clothes shopping, then back to the safe house.”
Less than two hours later, Decker and Talyn, wearing elegant but understated dark business suits, pulled up to the country house’s front gate. A pair of toughs in black tactical wear carrying plasma carbines stepped out into the roadway. One kept them covered with his weapon not entirely aimed at their vehicle’s windshield while the other cautiously approached the left side, motioning at Zack to lower his window.
“Sherri Zadeck and Corbin Peel to see Eva Cortez.”
“You got ID?”
Decker held out a pair of wafers for the guard to scan. Once the man did so, he lowered his head and took a good look at Talyn.
“Are you armed?”
“Of course. These are dangerous times. Sera Zadeck and I each carry a blaster and a bladed weapon as your sensor no doubt told you just now.”
The guard straightened and walked away while muttering in a voice too low for the Marine’s ears. After a moment, he turned to his comrade and pointed at the gate. It slid aside soundlessly and the guard waved them through without another word.
“Want to bet they’ll ask for our weapons at the big house, boss?” Decker asked as they wound their way along a narrow lane cutting through dense native vegetation, conscious that many eyes and ears were following their progress.
“No bets, Corbin. And try to remember I prefer you call me by my name. Boss is so—”
“Reactionary?” He grinned at her. “Retrograde? Retarded?”
“Enough.” She raised a restraining hand. “Try to keep your dubious sense of humor under control once we arrive. I doubt Eva Cortez and her people are in a mood to jest after what happened.”
“You won’t hear a wrong word out of me, Sherri.”
“I’d better not. It’s important we convince Cortez to follow Kerlin’s lead and join the Alliance. Ah!”
They emerged from the primeval forest into the glen Decker knew from its opposite end. The country house, a stone-clad, copper-roofed manor in everything but name sat in the center of a sculpted, park-like landscape littered with the color of native flowers, grasses, and shrubs.
Another guard, in the same black tactical getup as his colleagues, stood by the open front door and waved at them to park beside a luxury all-terrain speeder
to the left of the broad stone steps. No sooner did they climb out of the car that a man almost Decker’s size and wearing a suit eerily like his came out of the mansion.
“Sera Zadeck, Ser Peel, on behalf of Eva Cortez, welcome. I’m Piet Yorik, the head of security.” He offered his hand to each of them in turn, testing Decker’s grip for a few seconds before a fleeting smile crossed his lips. “I understand you carry sidearms.”
“We do,” Talyn replied.
“I’d be grateful if you left them at the guard desk immediately to your right upon entering. You’re perfectly safe on this estate and Eva would rather only my men carry weapons after what happened this morning. Besides, I doubt the murderer will be back for an encore.”
“How’s that?” Decker asked as they followed him up the steps and into a high-ceilinged entrance hall paneled in various shades of wood.
Yorik gave him a sly glance over his shoulder.
“You’ll see in a moment, Ser Peel. Kim here will take good care of your blasters and blades.” He gestured at the guard sitting behind a console surrounded by video displays.
Decker’s blaster earned wide-eyed stares from Kim and his boss. The latter let out a low whistle. “What the hell is that?”
“Shrehari, re-chambered for standard-issue fifteen millimeter disks.” He popped out the magazine and power pack, and handed them, along with the now safe gun to Kim. Then, the Marine produced his dagger from the forearm sheath, flipped it, and presented the hilt to the guard still admiring the heavy alien weapon.
“Isn’t that a Pathfinder knife?” Yorik asked, eyes narrowing with obvious suspicion.
Decker gave him a pleasant smile.
“Sure. Since you recognized my little friend, does that mean you were in the Corps?”
“Army. I was in the military police for twenty years before moving to the private sector. You?”
“I also did twenty but in the Corps, five as a Pathfinder before joining the dark side.”
“Hence the war trophy blaster.”
“Yep. Taken from the cold dead hand of a Shrehari corsair who forgot to duck.”
“Impressive.”
