The Privateer

by Zellmann, William

  Cale and Zant’s more realistic expectations led to some serious disagreements between Cale and Dee. Cale tried repeatedly to warn Dee, but it is often almost impossible to overcome the illusions created by fiction.

  Cale had received his docking instructions and was about to sign off from Freehold Control when Zant cut in “One moment, please,” he requested. The man on the screen paused. “Yes?” he replied.

  “It’s been some time since I visited Freehold,” he began. “Is Shorty’s still in business?”

  The man smiled. “Sure is. The whole place would probably have to shut down if Shorty’s did. If you’d like, I can connect you so you can make an appointment.”

  Zant’s answering smile was broad and genuine. “An appointment? Sounds like Shorty’s has gone big time.”

  “Naw, not really,” the man replied easily. “But they’re sure busy these days. Hold on.”

  After a moment, a small, bald man appeared on the screen, his expressions harried and irritated. “Yes? What is it?”

  Zant’s smile faded to one both formal and cold. “Good day to you, sire. My name is Zant Jenfu. I represent the Lady Delilah Raum of Faith.” His tone perfectly matched the cold formality of his smile. “We are aboard her yacht, Cheetah, and are approaching Freehold. My Lady wishes to complete some business on Freehold, and finds we have need of your services. I should like to schedule an appointment to discuss it.” Cale suppressed a laugh. Zant was giving a perfect impression of the haughty factotum of a wealthy dowager.

  The man on the screen straightened, and his irritated scowl disappeared. They arranged an appointment for an hour after their scheduled docking time. As they signed off, both Cale and Dee dissolved into gales of laughter.

  “You sounded just like Gotroy, my father’s secretary,” Dee said in an admiring tone once she’d regained her composure.

  “Yes,” Cale asked, “and if she’s Lady Delilah, who am I?”

  Zant’s normal broad grin reappeared. “Why, you’re her personal yacht skipper and bodyguard. Y’see,” he continued, “I realized that jabbo from Control might just listen in to see if he could learn anything saleable. It was a perfect chance to get some rumors started. Now, everyone will hear about the rich Lady comin’ aboard. It’ll give us a legitimate reason to have a fortune in jewels, and it might help keep us out of trouble. Face it,” He shrugged, “Raum is a big name on Faith. Are you sure you don't mind us usin’ it, Dee?”

  Dee shrugged, a bitter expression crossing her face. “No, I don’t mind. Why not? It is my name. My father has dishonored it much more than I ever could.”

  Zant nodded. “Okay, then here’s what we’ll do. It’s no use trying to be inconspicuous, so let’s go with the plan and be as conspicuous as hell. Dee, you’ll need one of your fancy outfits from Angeles. Cale and I can get away with wearing shipsuits, and we’ll both wear blasters in open holsters. When we board the station, Dee will walk in front, and we will follow behind, doing our best bodyguard act.” He turned to Cale. “I said ‘act’, but don’t doubt it’ll be for real. There are some real lowlifes on Freehold. I hope you can really use a blaster.”

  “What about me?” Dee protested. “I’ve got a bag that’s just the right size for a blaster, and I’m better with one than Cale is!”

  Zant cocked an eyebrow at Cale, who shrugged. “She’s certainly had more formal training than I have.”

  “Conspicuous as hell” certainly described the trio that disembarked from Cheetah. Dee wore a famous Angeles designer’s interpretation of a shipsuit in shimmering aqua. It featured a detachable, flaring, multilayered skirt in rainbow toile, and a flowing waist-length cape in bold pink. The clutch bag she carried vaguely resembled the common utility bag often attached to the waist of a shipsuit, but of course, it matched the shimmering aqua of the suit itself. Her deck slippers were festooned with stones that sent flickers of reflected light in all directions. Dee had commissioned the designer to provide her with several outfits that would be as comfortable as a shipsuit, but “less drab.” She’d almost refused to pay for the eye-popping outfit, but the hurt expression on the designer’s face when she collapsed in hysterical laughter at the sight of the thing had made her feel guilty enough to accept it, though she cancelled the rest of the order. She’d almost thrown the thing away, but now she decided that if Zant wanted ‘conspicuous’, conspicuous he would get. Besides, the garish thing would distract watchers from noticing that her right hand was inside the bag, on the grip of the blaster it contained. Certainly few that saw them paid much attention to the two men following this apparition in plain shipsuits with hands on holstered blasters.

  Shorty’s occupied an entire corridor block of the massive planetoid. Armed guard stations were located at each end of the corridor, along with obvious security cameras and less obvious automated weapons systems. The guards were barely successful in keeping straight faces at the sight of Dee’s outfit, but they passed the trio through efficiently, escorting them to the unadorned metal door that was the only break in the corridor’s metal surface. The guard’s hand scan caused the door to slide silently aside, revealing a surprisingly small, neat office. An ordinary office desk faced four plain office chairs. Behind the desk, the same small man they’d seen on the screen looked up and stared at the bright vision entering his drab office.

  Apparently oblivious, Dee made a grand entrance, flowing into the office and standing a moment until the hurrying Cale hastily wiped off the least disreputable of the chairs and slid it beneath her. She raised an eyebrow archly, and simply stared at the man while Zant and Cale slipped into flanking chairs.

  Zant noisily cleared his throat, and the man tore his eyes from Dee’s garish glory and shifted them to Zant, who was sitting bolt upright, head high, looking down his nose. “I am Zant Jenfu,” he announced in sonorous tones, “It is my honor to present my Lady, the honorable Delilah Raum of Faith. Are you the proprietor of this establishment?”

  The man’s eyes drifted back to Dee, who merely raised an eyebrow. His eyes suddenly widened and he leapt to his feet. He cleared his throat noisily. “Ah, yes, ah, of course.” He began, then paused and collected himself “I’m, ah, Hern Jarnett. Yes, I am the proprietor, and I will be delighted serve the lady. How may I be of service?” By the time he finished speaking, he was once again in control, and he resumed his seat.

  His last question had been addressed to Dee, but it was Zant who replied. “My lady is travelling in this sector. We have come to this . . . place to convert a significant amount of diamonds to a more . . . useful currency. We have been informed that the safest way to do this is to deposit the diamonds with you.”

  The bald head bobbed. “Exactly. Exactly right. Unfortunately, Freehold is cursed with a number of disreputables. Shorty’s has the reputation, if I do say so myself, as the only safe way to deal high-value shipments here.” The pride in his voice was obvious. He rubbed his hands together. “Now,” he continued, “just how large a sum are we discussing?”

  Zant retrieved a black felt bag from his utility pouch. “Two thousand carats of flawless white diamonds of two to five carat weight.”

  Jarnett’s eyebrows rose. “Did you say two thousand carats?”

  Zant nodded. “Yes. Would you care to explain the procedure here?”

  Jarnett’s manner warmed considerably. “Of course, of course. I will examine the merchandise. Once I have verified the information, I will issue you a deposit certificate with an exact description, and the scanner results for each stone. You will take the deposit certificate with you in your dealings here; it will verify the actual merchandise that is available. Once a deal is struck, since you are unknown here I expect the dealer will require you to accompany him here to verify the availability and perform the actual exchange.”

  The small man hesitated, and then continued. “In view of the values involved in this transaction, I might recommend that you procure the services of an additional local bodyguard to accompany you in your dealings and bac
k to your ship. Escorts can even be arranged to the local jump point, if desired.” He retrieved a jeweler’s scanner from a drawer in the desk, and spread a black cloth on the desktop.

  Zant shook his head. “I doubt that will be necessary. However, could you provide us with the name of a reliable local bodyguard service, just in case?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Jarnett replied in a distracted tone. He spilled the contents of Zant’s bag onto the black cloth, gasping as the pile of glittering stones reflected the room’s light. He carefully examined Zant’s empty bag, and then propped it open on one corner of the black cloth. One by one, he slid the stones under the scanner. As each stone was scanned and weighed, he returned it to Zant’s bag. No one spoke; no one dared break the little man’s obsessive concentration. Finally, the last stone was run through the scanner. Jarnett pressed the button that produced a report of each stone, and then pressed it again for a second copy. With carefully exaggerated movements to assure his visitors that no sleight-of-hand was taking place, Jarnett closed the bag, and placed a sealing strip around its top.

  Finally, he sat back with a sigh. “Six hundred twenty-eight stones, of weights from 2.16 carats to 5.08 carats, all flawless blue-white, totaling two thousand thirty-six carats,” he said in a hushed tone. “My Lady, I am honored. I have rarely seen such a collection.”

  Cale was surprised. “Then you have seen others as large?”

  “Only one larger,” Jarnett replied with a strained smile, “and the stones were not as fine, and the collection itself was of, shall we say, doubtful origin.” Somehow, Dee gained the impression that Jarnett’s smile was almost as rare.

  Zant pulled a comp pad from his tunic. “I know that business contacts are essential to doing business here, sire Jarnette,” he said, “but I haven’t had business contact with Freehold in more than twenty years. Would you do me the honor of looking at this list and telling me how many, if any, are still doing business here?”

  Jarnette nodded and took the pad. After a moment another of his wintry smiles rose. “It has indeed been some time, sire Jenfu. Three of these people are dead, and four of the others moved on some years ago. In fact, the only person on this list that I know to still be aboard is Rin Tenkin, and he is retired.” He shrugged and handed back the pad. “He may still be able to provide an introduction. You might check at the Skull. They may know how to reach him.”

  He handed a crystal containing one copy of the list from the scanner to Dee, along with a simple receipt bearing a hologram of the stones scattered on the black cloth. “My lady, this crystal, and this receipt are as valuable as the stones themselves. They are the only acceptable way to retrieve them. Please be very careful. The stones will be given to whoever presents the receipt and the crystal. If you trade them for gold, say, or Alliance credits, you may be given similar documents. Upon presentation, you will be given whatever they represent.” He rose, and walked around the desk, taking Dee’s hand to lift her gently from her chair. “As I mentioned, since you and your men are not known here, whoever you deal with may require you to accompany him here to retrieve the stones. Your own presence will not be required, my lady, as long as one or both of your men, here, can represent you. I’m afraid you may find the residents of Freehold somewhat uncouth and uncivilized.”

  Dee smiled and spoke for the first time. “Your courtesy is appreciated, sire Jarnett, and your civility does you credit. You have my thanks for both your advice and your services.”

  Another of his half-smiles and a small bow rewarded her. When he turned to Zant, the smile was gone. “I regret, sire Jenfu, that Shorty’s is not an altruistic organization. The fee for our services is a flat one thousand Alliance credits, or the equivalent in readily convertible currencies.” That information had been shown on the station web, so they were prepared. Zant gave the little man most of Cale’s remaining Angeles crowns and Jarnett bowed Dee out, ignoring the men once he had received his payment.

  Once out of Shorty’s, both Zant and Cale urged Dee to return to Cheetah, arguing that in her outlandish garb was far too conspicuous, and that the two men in their shipsuits would be better able to do business. Unsurprisingly, Dee disagreed. Her main point was that while the diamonds were safely stashed, the receipt that could get them handed over to the bearer was not, and could not be stashed. “I’m a third blaster,” she maintained, “and more importantly, in this getup I’m a blaster that the bad guys won’t be expecting. Besides, the Skull is the kind of place I came here to see, and I’m damned well going to see it, even in this circus costume!”

  Chapter 9

  The Skull was a large and raucous bar not far from Cheetah’s berth. A large open area housed a small dance floor and a host of tables scattered about. Loud music blasted from strategically placed speakers. Around the edge were a series of triangular niches and a few convex mirrored surfaces. As soon as they entered, Cale pulled Zant and Dee back out of the entrance.

  “We can’t accomplish anything in there,” he said, “it’s too loud to talk, and security would be impossible.” He nodded toward a small, seemingly quiet restaurant nearby. “Much as I hate to split our forces, I think Zant should go into the Skull to find his contact, and Dee and I should wait in the restaurant.”

  Zant shook his head. “We should stay together. Besides, you saw the triangular niches around the edge of the main room. Well, they are really booths, and they’re all equipped with privacy screens and hush fields. That’s what the mirrored things are – privacy screens. You can see out, but nobody can see in. A lot of business gets done there. Tell you what,” he continued, “We’ll go in and escort the queen, here, to a private domain. You engage the privacy screen and hush field, and the two of you can have your blasters already out while I go up to the bar to find out about old Rin.”

  Cale was still reluctant, but let himself be convinced. He and Zant crowded against Dee’s back as they entered, and the tight triangle edged toward an empty booth, hands on blasters and heads swiveling, scanning for threats. Dee was fascinated. This was the Den of Iniquity she had expected, and the clientele certainly fit the image. Revealingly clothed and barely-clothed women smiled temptingly at bearded leather-clad men who swilled beer and galk, while others sat at the bar and tried to tempt newcomers. The threesome garnered plenty of strange looks and more than a few snickers, but they soon slid into the vacant booth. Dee gave a sigh of relief as the hush circuit cut off the raucous noise outside. A slight darkening of the view showed that Zant had engaged the privacy screen,

  “Okay,” he said, “You two keep your blasters in your hands and your eyes open. That privacy screen is just that; it’s not any kind of shield. If you see trouble coming, you can just shoot through it.” He grinned. “But don’t shoot a waiter, okay?”

  Before they could answer, he demonstrated by walking through the privacy screen, and headed for the bar. Cale and Dee held their blasters in their hands, and kept their eyes scanning for trouble, although Dee’s bright eyes showed her excitement at finally seeing her ‘den of iniquity’. After a few minutes, Zant headed back in their direction with a tray of drinks. Again, he walked through the screen.

  He slid onto the padded bench seat, setting the tray on the table. “The bartender says Rin comes in here every day at 17 like clockwork. A waitress says the same. He has a favorite booth, and gets himself quietly flashed every day. Since we just have to wait . . .” he checked his ring watch, “twenty mins, I bought the drinks to keep the waiters from bothering us. Don’t drink them. The bartender turned his back while he mixed them, and I have no reason to trust him.”

  They spent most of the next twenty mins teasing Dee about her taste in clothing, while simultaneously scanning for threats. Finally, Zant saw a familiar figure enter the bar and head for his preferred booth. He hurried to intercept the older man and guide him to their booth instead.

  Rin Tenkin had once been tall and thin. Now, he was tall and emaciated. He wore his white hair trimmed short in spacer fashion. H
is sallow, puffy complexion and the tremors in his hands revealed his current preoccupation. Though he seemed sober now, there was no doubt that was a temporary situation.

  The bleary eyes surveyed them, and a twinkle in his eyes and a twitchy half-smile showed that at least he was sober enough to appreciate Dee’s costume. He started to reach a shaky hand for one of their drinks, but was stopped by Zant’s hand on his wrist.

  “Not yet,” Zant said. “Business first, and then you can have them all.”

  “Zant Jenfu,” Tenkin said in a gravelly voice. “I thought you were dead long ago. Where’ve you been?”

  Zant grinned. “Been out of circulation for awhile, Rin” he replied.

  A flicker of interest showed in the bleary eyes. “Oh, yeah? Planetary rest cure?”

  Zant chuckled. “Naw, nothin’ like that. I been pioneering. Found out I kinda liked woods runnin’.” He sobered. “Okay, business. Me and my friends, here, need to do some business. Are you still connected enough to give us an introduction?”

  The old man frowned. “Could be. Depends on the kind of business. It’d have to be an old timer. I’ve been out of the business for quite a while, now.”

  Zant frowned. It was obvious he really didn’t want to trust the old man.

  Tenkin looked puzzled for a moment, and then suddenly, he grinned, and Cale could see a little of the man he had been. “Don’t worry, Zant,” he said. “I know I’m an old drunk, but don’t forget, I’ve been conditioned. Years ago, it was, but that don’t matter. Conditioning is for life. I can’t spill business info. Even if it’s not legal business.”

  Zant relaxed and his normal grin resurfaced. “No worries there. It’s legal. All right, we want to sell diamonds for Alliance credits.”

  Tenkin frowned. “Must be a big lot to bring you way out here for a legal sale. Hmmm. Lessee. Since it’s a legal deal, I might be able to hook you up with Res Selton. He’s a factor for several big jewel outfits. At least he was.” He took his comp pad out and keyed a long sequence.