by Jan Domagala
When he received no contact from his team, he had to figure the worst. Waiting at the rendezvous point at the other side of Haven, he learned of the failure through the local news report of an accident that had occurred on the road to the resort. The local Constabulary presumed: the three dead men found at the scene had been killed by rival gangs and an investigation was underway. He knew at once that Col Sec had doctored that statement having pulled a few strings with the Constabulary.
Although the failure was no fault of his, he knew it would be viewed as such due to his choice of agents.
There was nothing he could do but wait for further instructions. Having driven past the villa and finding it deserted, he knew Stryder had gone to ground and would be more than a little difficult to find, especially as Col Sec would be keeping a close guard on him. They might have even taken him off world; there was no way of knowing.
So he decided to concentrate on the second portion of his cover story, relax, take in some sun and behave like a tourist. Enjoy it while he could for he knew it could not last.
STRYDER DROVE THE CIV Champion farther up into the hills overlooking Haven down below on the coast. Hardy had picked up her things from her rental car on the way and sat back with no idea where he was taking her and with no other recourse than to sit back and enjoy the ride.
“Where are we going?” Hardy asked after half an hour of driving. Stryder had been quiet the entire time and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was concentrating on driving the large ATV or because he was working on some strategy.
“As you probably know, all Confederation worlds have safe locations which only certain personnel get to know about,” he replied.
“You’re referring to the Col Sec safe house.”
“Yes, there are four on Celeron, two in Jacksonville and two in Jamestown.”
“We’re going to one of those?”
“Yes, for tonight, until I can think this through.”
“So that’s your secret place; why didn’t you tell Sinclair?”
“Because I honestly expected to be on the run and didn’t want him to know I’d be using Col Sec facilities.”
“But with the nanochip tracer he’d have known anyway.”
“Yes, but by the time he’d sent anyone there I’d have gone.”
“That was your plan?” Hardy said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Don’t start, I’m making this up as I go,” Stryder countered.
Hardy just shook her head, “We’re doomed.”
Stryder glanced across at her then concentrated on getting them to the safe house. Not far now, he thought.
By the time they reached Jacksonville it was getting dark. The safe house was in a quiet district on the outskirts of the main metropolis. All the houses were well tended in that neighbourhood and had sufficient space around them so that they were not overlooked on either side. Privacy was the watchword there and it seemed everyone who lived there observed it.
There were no families, no children running around playing in the street, which also meant no prying eyes from inquisitive youngsters. The owners of each property, mostly business people, young professionals or military types, had all been checked out by Col Sec before a decision was made to use the property, to ensure they would most likely keep themselves to themselves.
When Stryder drove up to the large wrought iron gates barring the driveway, he operated the remote code through his NI, activating the lock mechanism. The gates swung open allowing access to the tree-lined driveway.
The house was visible in the distance at the end of the driveway and, as the gates closed behind them, Hardy noticed the surveillance cameras sitting atop the gateposts.
“Bit obvious, aren’t they?” she pointed out.
“They’re for show, everyone here has them. The real surveillance equipment you can’t see,” Stryder explained as he drove up to the house.
All the security measures were set on auto and once the gates had been activated by the correct code they became active. The car was scanned as soon it entered through the gates and the details such as DNA, vital signs, retina patterns, dental records and the like were checked against those on file. If they hadn’t been recognised they would’ve been neutralised before they had reached the house.
“This is gorgeous,” Hardy commented as they pulled up in front of the house. It was a large, detached building built to resemble a Georgian style house from Earth’s history. Three stone steps led up to the front door, which was flanked by two stone columns. From outside it looked to have two large windows on the ground floor and the same on the upper floor. As they got out of the car she asked, “What about security?”
“We were subjected to a full body scan when we came through the gates. We’d be unconscious by now if we hadn’t been recognised and probably in custody. The Constabulary have an understanding with Col Sec. If anyone did manage to get inside, the security would neutralise them and immediately send out an alert to the Constabulary who have a special unit standing by at all times. They would hold whoever it was until someone from Col Sec arrived to take control,” Stryder explained. “Come on grab your things, let’s get changed,” he added.
Hardy looked at him slightly puzzled. “Excuse me?” she said.
“I’ve got an idea,” was all he said as he grabbed his travel grip.
“Would you like to elaborate a little more please?”
“Let’s get changed, I’ll explain on the way,” he said cryptically.
“On the way to where, exactly?” she said trying to pin him down.
“Why, I’m taking you to dinner, of course,” he said as he left her by the ATV looking confused. At the doorway to the house, he turned back to her as she stood looking at him and said, “Well, are you coming or not?”
CAPTAIN PAVEL NORSKY was in his room in the small hotel in Haven just finishing his shower when his NI tingled. He wrapped a towel around himself and padded through to his bedroom, his feet leaving wet footprints across the carpet and said, “Yes.”
“Good evening Captain. I trust I find you well,” Nokorovic said.
“Yes, sir,” Norsky replied as, even though they were of equal rank, Nokorovic’s post as General Solon’s aide afforded him a certain amount of authority.
“I have something that might prove useful in locating Captain Stryder and his companion. I have the codes that will enable you to access the satellite tracking of the implanted nanochips in every Recon Delta Marine. Use this wisely Captain and handle this personally. There can be no more slip-ups. Do I make myself clear? I am sending you the codes now,” Nokorovic said. He felt he’d made his point by the tone of his voice alone and before Norsky could reply had terminated the contact.
Norsky stood there waiting as the codes came through entrusting them to memory, something all soldiers learned in basic training. When there is no time or way to write down codes or instructions you had to learn how to memorise things immediately, it was literally the difference between life and death and he knew exactly what Nokorovic had meant. If he failed to capture Stryder this time, it was his head on the block.
Still, now he had an edge, he would be able to locate him and plan his capture. It shouldn’t be too difficult.
Reaching for his bag he took out his remote computer terminal. Normally to access a satellite he would use his NI, but for this he would need to cover his tracks and consequently would need a bit more power.
Before long he had logged onto the network, re-routing his signal through various relay points to disguise it and was about to enter the codes.
“Okay Stryder, let’s see what you and your lady friend are up to tonight,” he said in anticipation.
AS STRYDER AND HARDY got back in the ATV, each having freshened up with a shower and a change of clothes, Hardy said, “Well, are you going to tell me where we’re going to dinner or should I guess? If you’d given me more time and warning I could’ve dressed a bit better.”
“There’s a little cl
ub I know. It’s owned by Abraham Bane, probably the biggest gangster in Jacksonville,” explained Stryder.
“Oh, if I’d known we were going upmarket I’d have brought my best cocktail dress,” Hardy said sarcastically. She was dressed in a plain white blouse over which she wore a dark blue trouser suit finished off with a pair of black high heels. A simple gold necklace with a matching bracelet, were the only accessories to her outfit. With her face freshly made up and her sleek hair down to her shoulders she looked stunning and Stryder had a hard job keeping his eyes off her and on the road ahead.
To accompany her he wore a white shirt and black tie over which he wore a tailored black suit. The comment she made raised a thought, which he quickly suppressed. He couldn’t allow those kinds of thoughts to distract him from what he knew he must do. He said, “You look gorgeous just the way you are.”
She smiled then turned her head to look out the side window. “So should I be worried, should I be carrying?” she said.
“No, we’re just going to talk. I only want to find out if Bane knows of anyone recruiting muscle,” Stryder replied.
“And what if he doesn’t want to tell you?”
“We’ll just have to persuade him.”
“And how do you intend to do that with only two pistols?”
“Two pistols?”
“Yes, I brought my Sig,” she said reaching behind to retrieve her pistol from where it had been secreted in the waistband of her trousers in the small of her back. “And I presume you brought yours too,” she added replacing the Sig.
“I never saw that when you got in the ATV,” he said.
“If you’d taken your eyes off my ass long enough you might have,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Oh really,” he said.
“Really,” she said smiling. “So Kurt, you think I look gorgeous?” she added and in spite of everything, he found himself smiling at her playfulness in the midst of danger. He found it refreshing and realised that he quite liked her, which could become a problem later. He had to stay detached from any personal involvement with her, with anyone, until he had sorted out what the changes he had undergone meant for his future.
“You’ll do, but let’s concentrate on what’s ahead,” he said finally.
“Just what is ahead? Presumably you’ve thought this through. You’ve studied the layout of this club. You know where all the exits are, what the security’s like and how many of the opposition we’re likely to find there,” she said and waited for a response. “Oh my God, you haven’t thought this through at all, have you? You are making this up as you go along aren’t you? I thought you were joking when you said it earlier, but you weren’t, were you?” she said in exasperation.
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll all work out fine, trust me.”
“Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice going up an octave.
“Take it steady now. We’re just going to go there, be nice, have something to eat, ask a few questions then leave, okay? Easy, right? No worries,” Stryder said, his voice low and calm.
“Oh easy, yeah, easy? You think you can just waltz into a club, walk right up to the owner and ask him if he knows of anyone hiring any muscle?” she said her voice still at a high pitch.
“Why not?” Stryder asked seriously.
“Oh, this I just have to see. In fact if I wasn’t actually going to be there, I’d pay money to see this,” she said finally, her voice returning to normal.
“There you go then, you should thank me. I’ve just saved you some money and got you ringside seats,” Stryder said keeping a straight face.
Hardy looked across at him and for a moment couldn’t make up her mind if he was joking or serious until she caught the mischievous glint in his eye.
She suddenly found herself laughing in spite of her exasperation, and said, “Oh you’re a funny guy. If nothing else, this should prove to be a night I won’t forget in a hurry.”
“I know how to show a lady a good time,” Stryder said smiling.
“Yea, well let’s not go doing anything stupid to get ourselves killed ’eh? I’ve got a feeling we won’t get much chance to enjoy this dinner date and I’m not going to let a little something like you getting yourself killed get you out of taking me for dinner. You got that soldier?” she said, the last four words delivered like a mock drill sergeant.
“Copy that, sir,” Stryder replied, saluting.
12
Norsky had entered the codes into his computer, giving him access to the Col Sec satellite. Within seconds he had the locations of each and every Recon Delta man or woman on the planet. The number was staggering, he had no idea there were so many stationed there.
It took some time to scroll through all of them until he found the one he wanted – Stryder. He was still with the woman Hardy and they were on the move.
The detail from the satellite was impressive and he couldn’t help being a little amazed. It gave clear visual representation of their real time locations and when he saw where they were, his blood ran cold.
The Golden Palace was owned by Abraham Bane and it was Bane who had given him the name of the gangster Alexander Brown, supplier of the ill-fated team hired to get Stryder.
Why were they at that particular club? Did Stryder know he’d been there, was he looking for him? Was his cover about to be blown?
When he’d got his breathing under control once more, he tried to reason it through. It was safe to assume that Stryder knew those guys were local guns for hire. It was also safe to assume that he knew they must have been recruited, and it was a well-known fact that nothing happened on Celeron without Abraham Bane knowing about it. Would Bane know who he was? Doubtful, but he could tell Stryder what he looked like and no doubt the club was full of monitors that would have recorded their meeting. As much as he’d disliked the idea, he’d had to agree to the meeting, as Bane never made a deal unless it was face to face. How had he explained it? Oh yes, if the deal went south he would know who to come looking for.
Was Stryder there to ask Bane who those goons worked for? Possibly.
Would Bane tell him? Doubtful, but could he take that risk?
He had to do something, but what? Then an idea began to form in his mind.
It was well known in gangland circles that Alexander Brown coveted Bane’s position as top dog in the underworld. He would probably embrace any chance to usurp him and the loss of five of his men might be just the incentive required for what he had in mind.
Through his NI he contacted Brown.
GENERAL SINCLAIR WAS just about to go to dinner at his hotel when his NI tingled. His Interface automatically informed him that it was an encoded transmission.
“Go ahead,” he said, the NI automatically encoding his reply.
“Captain Reynolds here, sir,” came the reply. Reynolds was in command of the Col Sec starship on which Sinclair had arrived and which was in orbit around the planet.
“What is it Captain?”
“Sir, we’ve been monitoring comm chatter and it seems that someone has accessed one of the communication satellites but not the civilian ones, this was a Col Sec satellite, sir.”
“That’s not too unusual. As you know we’ve quite a contingent of Marines planet side, so I assume there’s something more.”
“Sir, whoever it was covered their tracks which means it was unauthorised. They input the Recon Delta codes. They now know where all the Recon Delta Marines are on Celeron, sir, but they concentrated on just one.”
“Captain Stryder,” Sinclair said, his blood running cold.
“Yes sir, but it also means no Recon Delta Marine is safe anywhere. Someone’s just painted a bull’s eye on every one of them.”
“I’m aware of that Captain. This is one monumental mess. How the hell did this happen? How did they get hold of those codes in the first place?” Sinclair said, his anger flaring but keeping his voice under control. “Captain, I need whoever you have available from Recon Delta immediately. It woul
d take those already on the ground too long to get in place, your people can get there quicker by shuttle. Stryder is going to need serious back-up and I can’t rely on the local Constabulary being up to the task,” he added as he thought through the problem at hand.
“Aye sir, I’ll send the best we have.”
“Order them to Captain Stryder’s location, I’ll meet them there personally,” Sinclair said. Then he broke the connection.
This was dreadful. How in the entire galaxy had the Alliance got hold of those codes? They were supposed to be the one item in Col Sec security that was inviolate and yet, somehow, someone had got hold of them. The two main questions he needed answers to were, ‘who?’ and ‘how?’ The ‘why?’ was obvious, the ‘how’ would become clear too, once they learn the ‘who’.
That would have to wait though, for the time being they had more pressing matters to attend to, like keeping Stryder alive.
STRYDER AND HARDY FOUND the club with no problems. The Golden Palace was lit up like a Christmas tree with flashing lights around the doors and windows and the club’s name on the front, high above the entrance in letters three feet high.
“Tasteful, I must say,” Hardy said as they approached the entrance.
Stryder said, “Abraham Bane was never known for his subtlety.”
“Seeing this it’s no wonder why,” she added.
A doorman, a well-muscled individual who looked like he’d been carved out of solid rock, showed them in. Once inside they were shown to a table by the Maître d’. The interior decor was a little more understated than the exterior appearance. The lighting was subdued with wall lights giving off just enough illumination for the customers to see what they were doing. The floor was home grown oak panelled and the large bar ran the entire length of the room. Tables were dotted around and a dance floor was over on the opposite side to the bar, situated just before a modest stage where a small band accompanied a young woman singing. All in all quite tastefully done, they both thought as they walked to their table.
