by Peter Grant
MEDUSA
Several weeks later, the prime interrogator was seated in a bar on one of the planet’s orbital space stations. It was filled with shipyard workers, celebrating payday and the end of another week’s labor. He listened carefully to their conversation, exchanging cheerful remarks with other drinkers, buying an occasional round for those nearby. His generosity was greatly appreciated, and the snacks he kept ordering were eagerly consumed. Nobody minded his questions. They weren’t very intrusive, and besides, no-one wanted to interrupt the flow of free food and drink. In another bar, a little further down Entertainment Alley, the interrogator’s colleague did the same.
They rendezvoused for lunch the following day. Both were nursing headaches, and postponed conversation until they’d got some food into their stomachs. At last, they pushed back their empty plates.
“What news?” the first asked.
“I showed Colomb’s picture to several shipyard workers. They all recognized her. She came in several months ago, and was modified to look different before she was sold.”
“Who brought her in?”
“They don’t know. They’re never told that, and they never meet the passage crews. One of them said she came from Constanta, but that’s ridiculous. Why would she be taken to an out-of-the-way system like that? There are no pirates there that we know about.”
“Not that we know about, but I learned something that may confirm it. Two new fast freighters came in ahead of Colomb. When I say new, I mean brand-new – straight out of a construction yard at Goheung. They modified them for resale, too. In exchange for all three, they shipped out two smaller fast freighters and another repair ship, bigger and newer than Colomb, but not yet equipped with tools and machinery. Guess where they went?”
“Constanta?”
“You’re learning.”
“Who took the ships?”
“Passage crews took the two freighters – the same ones that delivered the new ships in exchange for them. The repair ship was picked up by the crew that delivered Colomb.”
The men looked at each other expressionlessly. The junior said, carefully, “There’s been no official announcement of any fast freighters being stolen on their delivery voyage. If a company lost them, you’d expect them to be screaming about it. Colomb was under charter to a Callanish consortium that’s opposing Rousay’s application to colonize Mycenae, but the consortium hasn’t said a single word about her loss. Did they also order the freighters? Were their ships deliberately targeted, presumably by Rousay or the New Orkney Enterprise?”
“Possibly. Their silence is certainly deafening. It’s the same with Colomb. Callanish’s System Patrol Service announced she was missing, but very discreetly, as if it didn’t matter. Their news media downplayed it, which can only mean the government there leaned on them to keep it quiet. Her crew didn’t get back until almost four months after she left, but their families weren’t told anything was wrong. When they finally arrived, they were told to tell their families that Colomb had had an accident, and been abandoned in space.”
“If we’d done the job, the crew wouldn’t have got back at all. That was stupid, to release them. Bad security. As for the consortium, and the System Patrol Service… why keep the losses quiet?”
“That, my friend, is a very good question. To help answer it, I want to learn more about the people who brought the ships here, and took the others away. I think they were professionals, who do that sort of thing for a living. There are not many like that, and the crews they hire are never told who they are ultimately working for. Only the boss will know, and maybe a few of his top people. We need to learn his name, and where we can find him; then talk to him, if the brotherhood allows.”
“And if he doesn’t want to talk to us?”
“Then we’ll have to encourage him.”
“And visit Constanta.”
“Agreed. Let’s get to work.”
PATOS
The old man behind the desk listened patiently as his two visitors explained their movements and inquiries over the past half-year. He sipped at a glass of clear liquid from time to time. The bottle of plum rakia next to it, slightly dusty with age, showed its source.
At last the two men finished their report. He nodded approvingly. “You have done well. Get yourselves glasses from the sideboard.” He pushed the bottle toward them. “I must think.”
They glowed with pride. To be offered vintage rakia from this man’s private cellar was a signal honor. They filled their glasses, sipped in silence, and waited.
The man sat quietly for almost a quarter of an hour, fingers steepled together beneath his nose, deep in thought. His eyes were far away, as if he were staring at something only he could see. At last he straightened, and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk.
“So. We found our asteroids missing, and our satellite informed us that a ship with a disguised gravitic drive signature had taken them. We also learned that this Callanish consortium had emplaced its own robotic prospectors, using a ship with a disguised gravitic drive signature. We therefore assumed, at first, that their ship had stolen our asteroids. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“You went to Callanish to confirm that suspicion, but instead found more questions than answers. You decided to pursue them, and after several false starts, ended up at Medusa. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“You learned at Medusa that the Callanish repair ship, Colomb, which we know the consortium there used in the Mycenae system on at least three occasions, had been sold to a local shipyard. You also learned that two brand-new fast freighters had been taken to Medusa shortly before, and sold to the same shipyard. Those freighters had been bought from Kang Industries at Goheung by the Callanish consortium. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“You therefore assumed that the same person or organization was behind the theft of all three ships. You further assumed that the same person or organization exchanged them, plus possibly a sum in cash, for two smaller fast freighters and a larger repair ship. You also assumed that the same passage crews both delivered the stolen ships, and ferried those exchanged for them to their destination. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“You have identified the person who commanded the passage and ferry crews as Frank Haldane, who is said to be based on Skraill and Rousay. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“You have confirmed that at least one of the smaller fast freighters, and the repair ship, are in the Constanta system. They are owned by a Neue Helvetica security company, Hawkwood Corporation. It may be associated in some way with another Neue Helvetica security company, Eufala Corporation, which is under contract to the New Orkney Enterprise to provide unspecified ‘security services’ in the Mycenae system. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“Eufala Corporation has come into possession of several old patrol craft, source unknown, that are being modernized in a shipyard at Constanta. It is sending them to Mycenae as they become available, presumably to patrol the system, and replenishing their supplies through monthly ferry runs using at least one, perhaps two freighters. Correct?”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“Very well. Events have not stood still while we waited for your findings. A second batch of asteroids was stolen, again by a ship using a frequency modulator to disguise its gravitic drive. Since our satellite could not use active sensors for fear of being located, it could not determine any other characteristics of the thieves’ ship. Our next mission to Mycenae did not return. We sent another ship to investigate. It reported finding scattered wreckage and debris among the asteroids where our prospector robots used to be. They have all been either removed, or destroyed by laser cannon. In the light of what you learned, the cannon were probably aboard one of Eufala Corporation’s patrol craft. The same happened to the prospector robots sown by the Callanish consortium, but not to NOE’s. Our ship reported that the
patrol craft are concentrated around Mycenae Primus Four, where NOE has focused its exploration and prospecting activities. They are not – or were not then – patrolling the asteroid belt of Mycenae Secundus, or protecting NOE’s robot prospectors.”
His two listeners sat immobile as they absorbed the news. Their leader said, carefully, “Does this mean we are at war with a rival organization?”
“Probably – but who? It is not necessarily only this security company, or even the New Orkney Enterprise. They may have been motivated to act against us by a rival organization. This is a very complex situation. There is also the question of how much our unknown enemy knows about us. I shall discuss these questions with Agim Nushi. You are to wait until we have reached a decision; then we shall have more work for you.”
“We hear and obey, sir.”
They were summoned back to the office three days later.
“Kostandin,” the older man began, “Vasil speaks well of you. He says you have matured, and have learned to control your previous youthful impatience. He has recommended that you be given your own team, and allowed to operate independently. We have decided to accept his recommendation.”
The younger of the two visitors flushed, glancing sideways at his mentor. “Thank you, Vasil – and thank you, Patriarch.”
“You are to select a team to assist you. Find this Frank Haldane, and question him. We want to know everything he can tell us about the ships he stole, those he ferried, and the people who paid him. Also, see whether he knows anything about either Eufala Corporation or Hawkwood Corporation, and the people behind them. In particular, find out whether any other organization like ours is associated with them, or whether they are acting alone.”
“I hear and obey, Patriarch.”
“Make sure Haldane does not learn anything about us in the process, and ensure he is not able to provide information to anyone else when you finish with him.”
“I hear and obey, Patriarch.”
“Vasil, you will select a new team and go to Constanta. Find out everything you can about Eufala Corporation and Hawkwood Corporation. Do they have the same principals? Are they allied, working together, or are they in fact the same organization? What is their relationship to the New Orkney Enterprise? Are they associated with any organization like ours? Where did they get their patrol craft? How many do they have, and how well are they armed and equipped? How many other vessels do they have? Where, and of what type? Did they destroy our ship in the Mycenae system, and did they recover any survivors or clues that might lead them to us? All these things you must learn. Move slowly and carefully. They must not learn that we know about them.”
“I hear and obey, Patriarch.”
“I am sending a third team to Callanish, and a fourth to Rousay. They will concentrate on the two consortia operating in Mycenae. When we have gathered all the information we can from all four missions, we shall decide what to do next.” He paused. “You had a question, Vasil?”
“Yes, Patriarch. What if I find that there were survivors from our ship? Should I leave them in Eufala’s or Hawkwood’s custody, or silence them?”
“Rescue them if you can, silence them if rescue is impossible, but do not expose yourself to detection in doing so. Also, find out how much they knew. Ordinary spacers could not tell our enemies much. Officers could tell them a lot more. We must know.”
“I hear and obey, Patriarch.”
16
On The Run
SKRAILL
Frank picked up the shrilling comm unit, frowning as he checked the call display. He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. It cost nothing to be courteous, even though Jamshi wasn’t among his most trusted contacts. He clicked the ‘Accept’ button.
“Hello, Jamshi.”
“Frank!” The other man’s voice was hearty, but with an undercurrent of relief. “I’ve been trying to pin you down for days!”
“I don’t normally let people pin me down. What’s up?”
“Ah… there’s a contract come up. I know you and I haven’t worked together, but the guy I usually use isn’t available, and the job’s urgent. It pays well. I need you, Frank.”
“How well?”
“Ah… this is an open line.”
“And I’ve got an open schedule, but only if the money’s right. How well?”
“Ah… let’s just say it’s seven figures.”
“I don’t normally take low-paying jobs like that. Last one cleared me a lot more.” Frank grinned as he said it. He’d been able to stash several million francs in his off-planet ‘retirement fund’ out of the sixty million Eufala had paid him for the freighter job. He and his core people were now enjoying the relative luxury of not having to look for another job in a hurry. They could afford to pick and choose, and live well while they waited.
“Ah… this one might, too, but it depends how fast we can move. The faster you can get there, the more money there is to be made.”
Frank frowned. That made no sense, unless there was a time- and cost-critical cargo on the ship or ships Jamshi was after. Even that was unlikely, since the theft or disappearance of such cargoes tended to attract a whole lot of attention, making their quick disposal very difficult.
“I don’t know. You’re talking big numbers, but without details. What’s going on, Jamshi? You wouldn’t be trying to get me in dutch, so that I attract all the attention while you get away with something else?”
Jamshi’s laughter sounded almost as if he were relieved to hear such suspicions. “Aw, come on, Frank! If I did business like that, no-one would ever trust me again. I know you and I do things differently, and you don’t like some of my methods, but this is quick, easy money. I need your help to get it. In return, I’ll split it with you, straight down the middle. I can’t talk about it on an open circuit. I can tell you more face to face. Can I come around to your place?”
“Hold on a moment.”
Frank muted the conversation and paced back and forth, frowning. He normally didn’t allow outsiders to know where he lived. In fact, come to think of it, how had Jamshi learned his direct comm code? Only his most trusted insiders were supposed to know it.
He lifted the comm unit once more. “I can meet you tomorrow morning. Be at the Café Bosna at nine, and I’ll buy you breakfast.” They’d be out in the open, in a very public place. Jamshi wouldn’t be able to try anything stupid at such a venue.
“Ah… can’t we meet tonight? That would be much more convenient for me – and I’d like to meet somewhere private. Better for security, you know. If your place isn’t convenient, how about my warehouse?”
Frank’s suspicions intensified. He glanced at the time display on the phone. It was thirteen. “I’ll have to check whether I can cancel something else. I’ll call you back in an hour to let you know.”
“All right, but try hard! This is big money, Frank. If you take the job, I’ll even give you the first half-million in cash, tonight, to sweeten the pot.”
Frank knew at once, for sure, that something was wrong. Jamshi had never been known to throw money around like that. He only paid for results. He was notorious for it.
“Wait for my call.”
He cut the circuit, then hurried over to a terminal against the wall. He spoke rapidly, recording a warning message, then dispatched it to everyone in his core team. Those on Skraill would receive it within seconds, and it would reach the others via normal channels in due course. He could only hope that by then, the situation – whatever it was – would have been resolved. If they did not receive a second, stand-down message within twenty-four hours, those on this planet would vanish from their normal haunts, to make for a prearranged rendezvous.
He thought a moment, then checked the contents of the safe concealed in his bedroom. It held identification documents from several planets in different names, a couple of weapons, and a dozen fat wads of high-denomination banknotes in the major interplanetary currencies. Four leather drawstring purses each contained a hundre
d gold taels, round, oval and square, weighing about thirty-seven and a half grams each. He grinned as he hefted one of the purses, blessing the Chinese who’d migrated to the stars and brought their distrust of paper money with them. Gold was good everywhere. That’s why he kept it on hand.
He walked back to the living-room and picked up the comm unit once more. He was going to need help tonight. Time to call in a favor… a big one.
“There are four of Jamshi’s people stationed along the street. One’s behind that tree; a second is pretending to be drunk, lying in front of that advertising hoarding; a third is in the yard of this warehouse, standing between the perimeter wall and the gatehouse; and the fourth is inside the cab of that truck parked at the far end of the road. They’re all armed. Three people went into the warehouse two hours ago, a tall man and two shorter guys. They were all wearing spacer’s coveralls, and all armed. None of their faces is on file in our database, so they’re probably from off-planet.”
Frank snorted. “Sounds like they’re looking for trouble. What were the three who went inside carrying?”
“The leader had a shoulder holster, the second had a gun behind his left hip – probably a southpaw – and the third had one in his right cargo pocket, and another in an ankle holster on his left leg. The leader was carrying a briefcase. We don’t know what’s inside it.”
“All right. Are your toys ready?”
“They sure are. You gave us just enough notice to get everything set up before Jamshi got here and unlocked the place. He’s already inside, with two more of his boys, also all armed.”
“I expected that.”
The man beside him, and six more lounging in the dirty, dusty room in the office section of the derelict warehouse, were wearing plain black coveralls with police flashes on the shoulder. The pulsers at their hips, and the carbines carefully leaned against the walls, were far from merely decorative in purpose. Frank looked at them one by one as he raised a quizzical eyebrow.
