Dead Men Don't Disco

by Michael Campling

  Brent whistled. “Rawlgeeb, I don’t know whether to be impressed or a little scared of you right now.”

  “Don’t do yourself an injustice,” Rawlgeeb drawled. “I’m sure you can manage both at the same time.” He peered over to the gate. “Here comes our ride.”

  Sure enough, a sleek limousine was cruising up to the main gate, its luxurious curves picked out in the distinctive shade of deep blue that adorned every device created by the GIT. With scarcely a sound, the limo sailed through the gate and glided to a halt beside them.

  “Neat,” Brent said. “It even has a driver.”

  As if hearing his cue, the uniformed chauffeur emerged, marching around the car to hold the door open for them. He nodded politely. “If you’d care to step inside, I’ll take you directly to the VIP lounge. The head of acquisitions will meet you there.”

  “Head of what?” Vince asked, casting a worried glance at Rawlgeeb. “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Rawlgeeb replied, ducking down to climb into the car’s sumptuously upholstered interior. “Mark is an old contact of mine. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “That’s what they said about…pretty much every disaster that ever happened.” Brent grimaced. “We’re all supposed to be reassured, plodding along, hoping for the best. But then, boom! Things go off with a bang in the middle of the night, and the damage is done. You can never trust anyone or anything again.”

  “Are you still bitching about that alarm clock?” Vince asked. “Because if you are, I’ll remind you that it did not go bang. Not by itself anyhow. You shot the damned thing with a pulse pistol, Brent, and it’s about time you got over it.” He headed for the car. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Brent scowled, but he followed Vince inside, sitting in silence for the duration of their rapid ride through the huge compound. He stared out the window as they swept past what appeared to be the building’s front entrance, but before he could get too worried, the car slowed to a gentle halt outside a more modest part of the complex, the driver hopping out to open the car doors.

  “Thanks,” Brent said as he disembarked, but the driver simply nodded before closing the rear door and heading back to his position behind the wheel. “What a swell guy,” Brent said to no one in particular. “To me, he was so much more than a chauffeur, and I’ll always value our time together. Sure, we had our ups and our downs, but I felt like we formed a meaningful relationship that will stay the course.”

  Rawlgeeb studied Brent seriously for a moment. “I’ve often wondered…do you realize that you actually say these things out loud?”

  “He knows all right,” Vince said firmly. “He’s under the impression that he’s amusing. Best to ignore it, and after a while, you can tune out most of it. But never mind about him. Look, someone’s coming. Is this your friend, Rawlgeeb?”

  A tall man in a well-tailored, dark suit emerged from the doorway, his hand raised in a friendly wave.

  “I doubt it,” Rawlgeeb said. “We’ve never actually met, but I’m sure Mr. Halbrook is far too important to come and greet us in person.”

  The man strode up to them, extending his hand for a shake. “Mark Halbrook, and you must be Rawlgeeb. We meet at last.”

  “Ah, hello, Mr. Halbrook,” Rawlgeeb said bashfully, making an awkward attempt to shake his hand. “I wasn’t…that is…” He let out a bark of strained laughter. “Well, it’s so good of you to see us, especially at such short notice. These are my associates, Brent Bolster and Vince Claybourne.”

  “Please, call me Mark,” he said with a smile. “And, you can let go of my hand now, Rawlgeeb, if you don’t mind. That’s a little…a little tight.”

  Rawlgeeb dropped the man’s hand like a hot brick, and after Halbrook had rubbed the life back into his fingers, he shook hands with Brent and Vince. “Welcome to GIT, and more specifically, to the executive hub. We’ll talk inside. There’s a rather nice lounge.”

  Halbrook led the way, marching confidently across the pristine lobby, his heels clicking on the polished marble floor. Rawlgeeb seemed to be taking a keen interest in the potted plants, but though he nodded wisely from time to time, he kept his observations to himself. Thank God for that, Brent thought. If he starts up about potted palms again, I may have to plant one on him. He grinned as he filed this wordplay away in the mental list of phrases headed, Good ways to confuse Rawlgeeb. There were better uses of his time, but he liked to think he was contributing to a long tradition that had existed since some caveman first sent his apprentice to the village elders to ask for a left-handed club. Also, teasing Rawlgeeb was plain good fun.

  “We won’t be disturbed in here,” Halbrook said, holding a glass door open for them, and Brent scanned the room as they stepped inside. The VIP lounge was tastefully decorated in shades of cream and filled with light from the glass wall that looked out onto a neatly manicured lawn. Deep sofas, upholstered in pale gray leather, were arranged in groups around coffee tables of gleaming dark wood, and Halbrook gestured toward the nearest seats. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Refreshments are on the way.”

  “Thanks,” Brent said, dropping into the soft embrace of a sofa. “I like your view, but all that glass! I’d hate to have your carbon bills.”

  “It’s intelli-glass,” Halbrook replied. “It actually generates electricity so carbon credits aren’t a worry. In fact, this compound as a whole is a net exporter of energy. Plus the glass has a few extra features. For example…” He raised his voice and said, “Privacy mode.” Instantly, the light in the room softened as the windows became translucent. “Now, we can talk securely. We can’t be seen, and there’s absolutely no danger of us being overheard.”

  “Cool. What kind of counter-surveillance gear do you have in here?” Vince asked casually as he and Rawlgeeb sat down next to Brent.

  Halbrook’s smile was fixed, but his gaze grew sharper as he turned it on Vince. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Vince replied. “Just curious.”

  “Right.” Halbrook sat down facing them. “You can take it from me, that these premises are secure in every way. So whatever you have for me, Rawlgeeb, no one will know about it except for us.” He leaned forward. “Is it what I think it is? The item we talked about some time ago?”

  Rawlgeeb took his handset from his pocket and laid it carefully on the table, but he did not let go of it. “It’s the latest model. You won’t find anything like it on Earth.”

  Halbrook stretched his fingers toward the device. “May I?”

  “Not yet,” Rawlgeeb said firmly. “It has some counter-intrusion measures of its own. I’ll have to disable them before I hand it over.”

  “Fine.” Halbrook’s tongue darted out between his lips. “However much you want, I’ll arrange it for you. The sky’s the limit.”

  Brent’s eyebrows strapped on their crampons and tackled the difficult ascent toward his hairline. “Mark, remind me to call you the next time I have something to unload. I like the way you negotiate.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” Halbrook shot back, his tone growing more strident. “I mean to have that handset, Rawlgeeb. You know what it could mean for our company. The chipset alone…” He wiped his palm across his brow then slipped his hand inside his jacket, producing a slim pen and a business card. “Listen, how about I write a figure down, and you tell me if it’s okay?”

  “I don’t really want–” Rawlgeeb began, but Brent cut him off.

  “That will be fine, Mark. Just jot it down, and we’ll consider it.”

  “Will we?” Rawlgeeb asked, glaring at Brent.

  “Yes,” Brent stated, adding in an undertone, “We’ll get to the other matter in a second.”

  Halbrook stopped writing and looked up sharply. “What other matter?” He sat back, pocketing his pen. “Is there something you want instead, Rawlgeeb?”

  “It’s okay, keep writing,” Brent said. “Don’t worry about the first digit, just keep adding zeroes until it l
ooks good.”

  But Halbrook’s gaze was fixed on Rawlgeeb. “Tell me. If I can help in any way, you know I’ll do it.”

  Rawlgeeb cast an apologetic glance at Brent then turned his full attention to Halbrook. “There are two things. Firstly, we’d like access to one of your scientists—Doctor Cooper. We’d like to talk to him now, and we’d like to set up an ongoing arrangement whereby he can act as a consultant to assist in our investigations.”

  Halbrook blinked. “You want Cooper? Seriously?”

  Rawlgeeb nodded.

  “But, we have a whole staff of excellent scientists here. I’m sure I could find you someone better.” Halbrook suppressed a chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, Doctor Cooper is gifted in many ways, but he’s the high-strung type. And he keeps getting distracted with all kinds of weird side projects.”

  “That’s what makes him our kind of guy,” Brent put in. “At Bolster’s Investigations, we’re all about valuing creativity. And side projects are pretty much all we have.”

  Vince frowned. “Wouldn’t that make them our main projects?”

  “You see what I mean?” Brent patted Vince on the shoulder. “Thinking outside the box. If we had a job description, that would be on it. Probably on page fifty-three if Rawlgeeb had anything to do with it, but it would be there all right.”

  “As would weird and distracted,” Rawlgeeb said. “And before we get onto side-tracked, can we have Doctor Cooper or not?”

  Halbrook held out his hands, his fingers spread wide. “Please, take him. Today, tomorrow, whenever you want. We’ll need him to keep up with his duties here, but we can work something out. No problem.” He inclined his head toward Rawlgeeb. “But you said you wanted two things.”

  “That’s right,” Rawlgeeb began uncertainly. “But this might take a little more organizing.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’d like…I’d like to get my citizenship back. My Gloabon citizenship. I lost it you see, and then I left The Gamulon before I could try to get it back. It was a foolish mistake, but there it is.”

  Halbrook puffed out his cheeks. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “I could help with the paperwork,” Rawlgeeb said quickly. “I know what to do, but I need someone to act on my behalf–someone with a high rank in the Gloabon Government.”

  “GIT is an Earth institution,” Halbrook said. “I’d like to help, but I don’t see how it could work.”

  “Come off it,” Brent put in. “Even I know that you’re hand in glove with the Gloabons. They let you license their tech, and you pay them handsomely in return. There must be someone’s chain you can yank.”

  Halbrook studied Brent for a moment then looked to Rawlgeeb. “Does he always talk like this?”

  “No,” Rawlgeeb replied with a sigh. “This is one of his better days. But let’s make a deal, Mark.” He pushed the handset across the table. “I’m sure you have high-level contacts in my government. The question is, will you use them to further my cause?”

  Halbrook locked eyes with Rawlgeeb, then his hand darted out to snatch the handset from the table. He held it up, turning it around to admire it from every angle. “I’ll help you, Rawlgeeb. I know exactly who to call. I’ll make it happen.”

  “Good.” Rawlgeeb smiled. “We have a deal. I’ll need the handset for a minute while I make it safe.”

  “Sure.” Reluctantly, Halbrook handed the device back.

  “What about the credits you were offering?” Brent asked hopefully. “Would you care to write a few more figures on that card to sweeten the deal?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Rawlgeeb said. “I wouldn’t feel right about accepting cash in exchange for my handset, and it might jeopardize my application for citizenship.”

  “But, you uncovered the conspiracy with Zorello and his Andelian cronies,” Brent protested. “Your people will accept you with open arms.”

  “You don’t know how it works, Brent.” Rawlgeeb’s fingers darted over his handset’s screen, then he handed the device to Halbrook. “There. It’s safe now. I’ve wiped off all the data, so no one has been compromised, but the hardware and operating system are yours to tinker with as you see fit.”

  Halbrook wrapped his fingers reverently around the handset. “Rawlgeeb, I can’t thank you enough. Listen, if there’s ever anything you need, or anything else that you want to bring me, my door is always open. Please, remember that.”

  “We’re not likely to forget it,” Brent said bitterly. “Could you let me see what you were writing on the card? Could you just…show me the money? I want to know what we lost.”

  Halbrook shook his head. “It was a lot. And when a man like me uses those words, they stand for a very large amount of money. A very large amount indeed.”

  Brent looked down for a moment, then he stood quickly, smiling. “Ah, the hell with it. Easy come, easy go.” He wiped his hands together. “Hey, when we’ve collected the Doc, do we get to ride back out in the limo? If so, can we have the same driver? It would be swell if he’d run us back to the office.”

  Pursing his lips, Halbrook nodded. “Of course. I’ll have Eddie bring the car around.”

  “Excellent.” Brent gestured at Vince and Rawlgeeb to get up. “Come on, guys. Let’s go and meet Eddie. You know how much I look forward to our little chats.”

  They all stood, exchanging awkward handshakes, Halbrook’s cheeks tightening as he took Rawlgeeb’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Rawlgeeb. I’ll call Doctor Cooper now, and he can ride along with you.”

  “Perfect,” Rawlgeeb replied, and when Halbrook led them to the door, they followed in his wake. “I should’ve asked him for one of those palms,” Rawlgeeb muttered to Brent.

  And though Brent had his retort ready, he couldn’t bring himself to use it. He was tempted, instead, to point out to Rawlgeeb that if he’d taken the money, he probably could’ve bought an entire jungle, or possibly a tropical island. But when he thought of all that they’d walked away from, he didn’t have the heart.

  CHAPTER 14

  Earth

  In the coffee house opposite the UN headquarters, Jerry Martellini slumped at his stool by the window and looked up from the dregs of his macchiato. What was next on the menu? He’d been working his way down the bill of fare for the past hour or so, and he was getting heartily sick of it. Oh no, he thought as his eyes alighted on the next item. Iced latte. I hate that shit.

  He stared out the window, gauging the passage of time by the diminishing daylight, and he caught sight of his reflection in the steam-streaked glass. Go home, Jerry, he told himself. You look like hell. But from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a movement near the UN’s door. It’s her! In a second, he was off, sliding from his stool and sprinting for the door. He had his opening lines ready: catch her attention first then set her at mind at ease. The questions would come later.

  Jerry barged across the crowded sidewalk, shouldering his way past women and men alike. His eyes were fixed on his target, a rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. God, he’d thought she was a looker in the vid clip, but in the flesh, she was something else. This is the best goddamned job in the world, Jerry told himself. All he had to do was race across the street, and he’d be close enough to call out to her. The road was jammed with cars, but they were all crawling along at a snail’s pace, drivers fuming behind their wheels. This was almost too easy. Child’s play.

  But as Jerry stepped from the sidewalk, a huge limousine practically mowed him down. The limo dodged through gaps between the slow-moving cars, darting from one lane to another, powering forward as if it had just been carjacked from the Devil himself. “Asshole!” Jerry yelled, raising a fist in rage. But what happened next twisted a knife in his gut.

  The limousine, its blue bodywork flashing in the last of the early evening sun, took an intersection at frightening speed and slued across the street, its wheels screaming over the tarmac as it skidded into a U-turn. Oncoming traffic splayed out in all direc
tions as cars, buses, and trucks swerved to avoid a collision, but the limo drove on. Tires spinning, the car shot toward the UN building, almost clipping the sidewalk, then it ground to a halt, its doors opening.

  Three men dashed from the car. No. Two men and…and a Gloabon! This can’t be happening! They were heading for Maisie Richmond. They were going to snatch her right in front of his eyes. Jerry ran into the road, barely seeing the cars screeching to a standstill inches from him, not hearing the blare of horns nor the yells of anger.

  He gained the other side. He was almost there. “Miss. Richmond,” he called out. “Wait! I can help you!”

  For one moment, her eyes were on him, like dark torches burning into the core of him. And then she looked away, speaking to the Gloabon. No! No! No! She was going with them! Jerry ran harder, pushing through the crowd that had come to stand and stare at the strange scene. “Get out of my way!” Jerry hollered. But Maisie was climbing into the limousine, the others diving in behind her. The limo’s engine revved.

  Jerry changed his course, hurling himself into the road in front of the limo as it started forward. He held his hands out, bracing for the impact, but the car lurched to a stop. Jerry stared through the windshield, taking in the pale faces within, and recognizing most of them from the files Surrana had given him: Bolster, Claybourne, Cooper, and Rawlgeeb. He didn’t know the driver, but the guy was no slouch. The car shot backward, its front wheels whipping around as it skidded into a tight one-eighty turn, then it leaped forward and away, hurtling through the chaotic jumble of vehicles before roaring into the distance.

  “Bastards!” Jerry growled, his fingers forming into fists. He stared after the limo, long after it had disappeared from view, but already, he was composing the story in his mind. He had the material from Surrana, linking the group with Enderley, and now he had the high-speed getaway to give the piece an edge. But there was a new angle that would really make the story come alive: the distinctive limousine had undoubtedly belonged to the Gloabon Institute of Technology. I always knew those bastards were no good, he thought. This is my chance to take them down. But his journalistic instincts cut in. He had no real evidence of the GIT connection; nothing he could make stick. Sure, the high-speed antics in a busy part of town would embarrass the high-ups at GIT, but they could deny all knowledge of it, so it wouldn’t cause them any lasting harm. And they were too big a snake to shake a stick at. If he was going to go after GIT, he’d have to make sure they were in no shape to fight back.