Night Traveller

by L. V. Lloyd

  There were about a dozen boxes and crates in the cargo hold all containing various ore samples, so either the ship had been doubling as a miner as well as a fighter or else it had been hijacked already loaded. A search for the owner of T-113 Comet revealed that the ship was currently registered to Ardrossan Enterprises, a small company whose chairperson was listed as T. Smith, business address in Kapunda. To Mike’s complete lack of surprise, there was no residential address listed for the company or its chair. A quick scan revealed a long list of T. Smiths in the nearby quadrant, there were over fifty on Burra alone, not that Mike would have wagered more than a shrug of his shoulders that T. Smith was the owner’s real name. It would be interesting to see if, after he declared his intention to confiscate the ship for salvage, anyone came forward to claim it.

  It cost a lot of money to operate an armed ship. It cost a lot of money to hire three assassins. Come to think of it, hiring an armed escort could hardly be cheap either. There was no way this was a casual crime or even a random hit. Unless he missed his guess, he had stumbled into something big. Somebody with serious resources behind him, or her, was out to get Jian Chang.

  In Mike’s opinion, the whole setup smelled to high heaven. Who exactly was Chang? Why was he travelling under an assumed name? It was hardly the action of a legitimate businessman. What had he been doing on Asra and who had he been meeting? And, perhaps even more importantly as far as he was concerned, how deeply were Callan and Dane involved in the whole mess?

  Chapter Nine

  Lieutenant Oliver frowned at the man sitting opposite him in the tiny office. He was sitting forward, elbows resting on the desk, strong square hands clasped together, trying to convey his willingness to give the Lieutenant all the help he could. A lock of purple hair kept falling across his hazel eyes and every so often he would flick it back with an unconscious movement of his right hand. This morning he was clad in a white shirt on top of pale blue jeans. Although it failed completely to resemble formal wear, Mike recognised that Callan had made an effort to dress more appropriately for the interview. At least this shirt wasn’t transparent, although... He realised he was staring at the Governor’s well-muscled chest instead of his face and glanced up hastily, frowning even harder.

  “You really expect me to believe you have no idea of your client’s identity?”

  Callan nodded earnestly. “It’s the truth, Lieutenant. The contract was all done via wristcom, there was no need to meet the client in person. As long as I have the details of the ship to be escorted, and the account is valid for the credit transfer, that’s all I need. In the case of a straight forward escort job, who or even what is inside the ship is none of my business. It’s not unusual, believe me.”

  As plausible as the denial sounded, Mike was sure Callan knew more than he was saying. Still, there wasn’t much he could do about it. The man was the Governor after all, he could hardly call him a liar to his face. Dane was waiting outside in the Patrol Station reception room to see him next, perhaps he’d get more out of him. Yeah, right.

  Not that Mike was giving up, he still had a couple of leads to follow; the identities of the four dead men should be coming through soon, and there was always the chance someone would make an appearance to claim the ship before he turned it into salvage at the end of the thirty days’ notice. One thing was certain however, he wasn’t holding his breath waiting for “Jian Chang” to contact him about making a statement.

  He stood up, ending the interview. “Thank you for your assistance, Governor,” he kept his voice formal. “I’ll see Trenwith now, if you wouldn’t mind sending him in.”

  For a second, Callan looked as if he was going to say something else, his lips had started a small smile, but he took his cue from the Lieutenant’s brisk manner and rose as well. “Of course, Lieutenant.” He went out and a few seconds later Dane came in.

  Mike blinked for a second at the transformation. Dane’s hair was now a silky pale blond, emphasising the blueness of his eyes and making his features look finer, delicate even. He had a straight nose, thin, well-shaped lips and small ears. More than several years younger than Callan if he was any judge, shorter and more slightly built, neat and elegant, in contrast to Callan’s larger-than-life exuberance. Mike studied him in silence for a moment as the other man seated himself. Dane had chosen to attend the interview in the dark green uniform that all AISS staff wore when on duty. He was all sober professionalism today, all signs of mischief carefully suppressed. He looked up and held Mike’s gaze.

  “How can I help you, Lieutenant?”

  Mike dropped his eyes first. Why was he having so much difficulty this morning concentrating on the task at hand? He cleared his throat. “You can start by telling me what happened after you left us yesterday.”

  As Mike had feared, Dane was unable, or unwilling, to tell him anything he didn’t already know, other than the fact that the Sprite had still been on Kapunda when he returned to Asra. A quick check with the Kapunda port authorities revealed that the Sprite was part of a commercial fleet belonging to KowLoon Enterprises and regularly available for hire. In fact, it had already been hired out by Ser Keating of the Tinto mining company, for a return trip to Asra that very day. Naturally, it was fully sanitised between each charter. So much for that possible line of enquiry.

  Eventually he let Dane go and stood up and stretched for a moment, annoyed that his eyes had followed him out the door. He really liked that new look... but he couldn’t afford to drop his guard on his personal feelings, not even for an instant. That would only lead to a mess at best, at worst, professional suicide.

  Mike sat down again and opened up his console unit to check on the latest news. Hopefully, there would be something about the four dead men he had in storage that would keep him focussed. He had to concentrate on his job, he couldn’t afford to get personally involved with either Callan or Dane, especially when he suspected that both of them were mixed up in his investigations. Patrol Ethics 101. He couldn’t even be friends, let alone think of anything more.

  He sighed unconsciously, this celibacy stint was starting to wear thin. Maybe he should take a trip to Capella. He could do with a visit to the All Stars, have a couple of drinks off duty and pick up a cute stranger for the night. Someone that he could just have sex with and never have to see again. He sighed a second time and ran his fingers through his hair, he feared it was going to be a long and lonely twelve months.

  Ser Keating rubbed the tight spot between his eyebrows and sat back in his chair. His quick thinking last night had solved one problem but that didn’t hide the fact that the whole situation yesterday had very nearly blown up in his face. Tinto might be the second biggest mining company on Asra, but it was a small player when it came to mixing with the big boys on Burra.

  Poseidon was the biggest company on both planets and was the sole owner-operator of a large processing plant on Burra just outside Kapunda. Only Lophat, the second largest mining company was big enough to also own and operate its own processor, the rest had to make do with sharing three independently owned plants at various locations around the planet. As one of the smaller companies, Tinto was well down the food chain when it came to prime time use of facilities and the best locations. Tinto tended to find itself all too often left with using the processor in the worst location and paying for it accordingly. If the deal he was working on came off, however, all that might change.

  Jian Chang paced up and down the floor in front of his desk, unable to settle. He must have been crazy to have risked going in person but at the time he had thought it was the right thing to do. A deal of this nature needed the personal touch. He had very nearly been killed. If it hadn’t been for Callan’s crew he would have been.

  The war had suddenly got very personal. Someone was going to have to pay.

  Chapter Ten

  “Do you think he believed us?” Dane Trenwith stood behind Callan, looking down at the top of his head as he sat behind his desk. He began to knead Callan’s sh
oulders, releasing the tension in those tight muscles. Callan closed his eyes for a second, savouring the attention, then opened them reluctantly.

  “No, I don’t think he did. He’s nobody’s fool. We’ll have to be careful.”

  Dane slipped his hands down inside Callan’s shirt so he could touch his bare skin and continued the massage, rubbing and squeezing Callan’s shoulders, digging out the knots.

  “He’s pretty hot though, don’t you think? I thought I might try my luck, see if I can turn him to the dark side.” Dane paused speaking, waiting for Callan’s reaction. His probing fingers caught the sudden slight tension that his eyes couldn’t see. There was a small silence.

  “You think he’s an om, then?”

  “I’d bet on it, the way he was looking at me this morning.”

  “Ah.” Callan took the opportunity to change his position slightly in the chair. That was so not what he had wanted to hear. “I didn’t think you liked him, he’s not your usual sort.” His tone was carefully light, faintly questioning.

  “It’s true he’s way more serious than I usually go for, intense even, but maybe that’s part of the challenge. Persuading him to let go and be wild could be a lot of fun.”

  Callan swallowed. The image that conjured up had the blood rushing straight to his lap, but he didn’t want it to be Dane who brought out the hidden passion in Mike. He wanted that pleasure for himself. He knew Dane well enough to know that any hint of interest on his part would be enough to turn the whole thing into a competition. Dane was very competitive when it came to a contest between them over lovers, and what was worse, he usually won.

  Callan forced himself to relax and answer lightly, as if it didn’t matter. “I honestly don’t think he’ll risk getting involved with anyone, but good luck anyway. Just be careful though,” he couldn’t help adding. “Remember who he is.”

  Out of sight behind his back, Dane hid his disappointment. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d been hoping for.

  Mike Oliver sat in front of his console unit. As he had hoped, the information about his four dead men had come through. Nathan Bailey was a freelance pilot with a history of only slightly shady jobs and he was well known to the officials at Kapunda spaceport—it appeared he’d simply made a bad decision in choosing his last assignment. The other three men were another matter. Xiang Yuan was on the Patrol’s wanted list for piracy, and both Otto Bauer and Tony Reid were still under investigation for the murder of a businessman on Burra last year. Unfortunately, all three men appeared to be available for hire to the highest bidder; there were no known ties to any particular gang or employer.

  Mike flicked across to check the latest news from Capella. The deputy Governor of Moonta was now under arrest for tax evasion, two men had been found dead in the back streets of Kapunda under suspicious circumstances, and more illegal diamonds had surfaced in Wallaroo.

  He had a closer look at the story from Kapunda, checking all the TriVid versions before accessing the official Patrol reports. It only took him a second to discover the case was not currently considered a Patrol matter. It was being investigated by the police, a Captain Pat Spier being the chief investigating officer. He thought for a minute. There was nothing obvious connecting the two cases but nevertheless his instinct told him there was something there. It was too much of a coincidence surely, that the very next day after the failed attack on the Sprite, two more men should be found dead.

  It was worth investigating further, in any event. He forwarded Captain Spier a copy of the information he had just received about his four bodies, along with a request for access to any further information she might have about her two victims. Hopefully, they could work together on this.

  Jian Chang sat with pursed lips, alone at his desk. He hadn’t intended for the two men to die in his territory. Not that they hadn’t deserved it, but unfortunately corpses had a bad habit of attracting unwanted attention. Now he had police swarming all over the area he worked in. Next time, if there was a next time, he would have to make it clear that when he asked for a “tidy disposal” he meant take the targets somewhere a long way away. Preferably where they wouldn’t be found at all, not stuff them in a nearby rubbish bin.

  He sighed and poured himself a small glass of Orion brandy, already thinking about his next move.

  Streets away, his rival Mo Khan, was coldly furious. Not only had his highly priced assassins utterly failed to complete the job, but they had lost him an expensive ship in the process, worth several million credits. Reluctantly, he decided that it would be foolish to attempt to reclaim the ship, he couldn’t risk any leads back to him. Even if he reported it stolen, it would turn a highly unwelcome spotlight on him and his affairs.

  And to top it off, despite his efforts at subterfuge by hiring men with whom he had no previous ties, Jian Chang evidently had no doubts about who had been behind the attack and had lost no time in hitting back. Khan had lost two men overnight. One of the men, Denny Yokami, had been the very henchman he had ordered to set up the hit. In one way, he felt it served Yokami right for failing but he should have been the man to make the decision, not his rival.

  Khan’s first reaction to the news had been to order a hit on three of Chang’s men in retaliation but luckily he had made himself stop and think first. Did he really want to escalate this into an all out gang war? Well yes, he did, but not by killing each other off in a messy blood bath. No, that would be not only dangerous but foolish. A random attack by pirates which happened to result in the death of his chief rival was one thing, he could have swept in and taken over a large part of Chang’s territory while his underlings were still in shock, but a series of hits and counter hits would be more likely to destroy both of them.

  Khan focussed again on the man seated opposite, waiting in wary silence for his orders. Khan knew many men made the foolish mistake of underestimating him, short and slightly built as he was, with dark hair greying at the temples, but Cutter Levi was not one of them.

  “It’s his eyes,” he’d once overheard Levi telling a new recruit. “Khan’s lips might be smiling but don’t look at them, look at his eyes. Cold and ruthless. Deadly.” Khan had been rather pleased with the assessment.

  Khan placed both hands flat on his desk. “We need to be clever about this,” he told Levi. “The last thing we want is to attract the Patrol’s attention and have them moving in and imposing martial law, which they’ll do if they think we’ve started an all out gang war. It’s bad enough having the police investigating. We’ll bide our time, let them think it’s just an isolated case of murder, and in the meantime we’ll take Chang down in a way he’ll never suspect.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I honestly don’t think he’ll risk getting involved with anyone but good luck anyway. Just be careful though, remember who he is,” Callan remembered saying to Dane, just yesterday in fact, and yet here he was, standing outside the door to Mike’s small apartment. At night. In his sexiest outfit. Totally not taking his own advice.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about the man. Something about him had all his senses quivering, he was pretty sure it was simply a case of lust at first sight, but what if it wasn’t? He didn’t know whether their differences in outlook would be an insurmountable barrier to anything more than a brief fling but he wanted to find out. Which meant—he needed to stake his claim before Dane made his own move on the man.

  Callan had changed his clothes three times before finally deciding what to wear. He had started off with a pair of clean jeans and a denim jacket, but that was too casual. Next he had tried his most conservative outfit, black trousers and a sky blue shirt with long sleeves and was nearly out the door when he changed his mind again. What was the point in trying to be conservative? He might as well try and act straight. No, best to be true to himself.

  He stepped into the dark purple shimmer pants and slipped into the flimsiest of transparent silvery shirts, pulling on the silver sleeveless waistcoat which went over the top, opening in a wid
e vee from his throat to his navel. He brushed his hair until it shone, carefully allowing a few locks to fall forward into his eyes. Soft black leather boots completed the outfit and he was ready to go. He was as hot as he was going to get. If this didn’t work, he promised himself he’d back off, believe that Mike seriously wasn’t interested in him.

  He hesitated outside the door, suddenly nervous, gearing himself up for the rejection the logical part of his brain expected. It was evening—the settlement clothed in the dim light simulating night time—but still bright enough to see the access pad on the door in front of him. He took a deep breath, brushed his wristcom over the pad and waited. And waited. Either Mike was ignoring him or he wasn’t there.

  Callan smiled wryly at himself. He hadn’t expected that Mike would be out, not given the severe lack of social life he’d observed. He wasn’t working late in the station, he knew, he’d checked before coming around the side to his apartment. Maybe Mike was out patrolling the streets. Maybe he’d gone out to dinner, sick of cooking for himself, maybe... Callan made himself stop speculating. It wasn’t helping, it wasn’t bringing Mike to his front door any sooner.

  Callan was too wound up to simply turn around and go back home. Seeing he was all dressed up, he should go and have a drink or two at the Rising Sun and have a chat to Serra Yoshida, he hadn’t seen her for a few days.

  Maybe he would find Mike there, relaxing after work. The thought popped into his mind before he could help it.