by Peter Grant
“But if he’s in a coma, he can’t confirm I’m his relative, can he? How did my brother – if it’s him – end up in a place like that?”
The nurse shrugged. “Maybe he did someone a favor sometime, and they felt sorry enough for him to pay his monthly bill. Must have been a big favor, though. That place is expensive.”
“Could you help me get in?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Listen, mister, didn’t you hear what I said about security?”
“Yes, but…” He rubbed his fingers together suggestively.
“I don’t know… When did you want to come?”
“How about in the evening, when there’ll be fewer staff to notice me?”
“Maybe I can swap duties with another nurse, and let you in. It’ll take me a couple of days to sort that out, and I’ll need to pay someone to exchange.”
“Of course.” He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and counted out a thousand leitra. Her eyes brightened as he slid it across the table.
“That’ll do it – but what’s in it for me?”
“Ten times that, if everything works.”
“How about half up front? I got expenses too, you know.”
“I don’t have that much with me right now. I can give it to you tomorrow night, if you’ll meet me here at nineteen.”
“All right. I should be able to tell you by then when I’ll be able to let you in.”
As Vasil walked away, he thought, I’ll have to bring the team with me. I’ll silence Pavli and kill the nurse, while they make sure I get in and out without anyone else interfering. This is going to take some careful planning.
The local secretary called through the door, “Boss, Nicolae Albescu is calling.”
Cochrane looked up, suddenly alert. He’d turned to Albescu, a high-level criminal in Constanta’s underworld, to prepare an ‘insurance policy’ in case the Finance and Defense Ministers tried to welsh on their deal with him. He’d had occasional dealings with him since then, often enough to realize Albescu would not call in person unless it was important.
“Thanks, Otilia. Put him through.”
He picked up the desk comm unit as it shrilled. “Hello, Nicolae.”
“Hello, Andrei. Are you well?”
They exchanged pleasantries for a couple of minutes, then his caller got to the point. “Andrei, remember that spacer in a coma?”
“Yes. You helped us find a nursing-home for him.”
It had been just what they needed. Some of Nicolae’s elderly family members lived there. He didn’t want them used as a bargaining counter by his rivals, so he made sure the place was secure, and kept it under close and careful scrutiny. As part of that, he charged Eufala a hefty monthly premium to keep an eye on their prisoner.
“Someone has been asking questions about him. A nurse reported this morning that a man wants to get in to see him, claiming he might be his brother. He gave her a thousand leitra to arrange a shift swap with another nurse, so she can let him in, and promised her ten thousand for her help.”
Cochrane felt suddenly cold as he glanced at the printout on the desk. Frank’s warning, sent via Henry, had reached him only two days before. He said carefully, “Do you think she can go ahead and set that up, so we can be waiting for him? There are questions I need to ask him.”
“I think we can arrange that. Will you use your people, or should I provide you with some of mine?”
“I’ll use mine, thank you, provided you can arrange access for them. It would be helpful if you could have someone liaise with them, to avoid complications.”
“That is easily arranged. There will be no danger to my family?”
“I doubt it. If you’re worried, you can have some of your people stand guard over them. It might be best to move my patient to a different room, further away from your family. Also, I’d like to hire a team of your very best people to follow this stranger, find out where he’s staying, and note anyone else he’s working with. He mustn’t suspect anything, of course. After we’ve dealt with him, I want everything he and his men brought to Constanta. Let me know what I’ll owe you.”
“I will set up all that at once. As for the money, let us see what our expenses amount to when this is over. We’ll settle our accounts then.”
“All right. Please thank the nurse for her help. Tell her I’ll pay her twice what he offered her if we catch him and anyone with him.”
“You are generous, Andrei. I shall get that information to her. She will appreciate it.”
He thought fast as he replaced the comm unit on the desk. Based on what Frank had told Henry, there might be real danger in tackling the ‘visitor’ and anyone he brought along. It would be better to be over- rather than under-gunned for such an encounter. Fortunately, Tom Argyll had more than a little experience in security matters. He’d put together an experienced team to protect company headquarters at Constanta, both in orbit and here on the planet. They would do nicely for this job. It would be a good real-world test of their abilities.
The external lights surrounding the nursing home came to life, banishing the encroaching twilight, brightly illuminating the lawns and gardens. Vasil tensed. That was the signal he’d been waiting for. The nurse would be at the side door in precisely two minutes, to let him in.
He reached for the pen-like comm unit in his chest pocket, and pressed once on the clip. The hidden, miniaturized bud in his left ear brought the sound of two clicks in response. Besnik was in position in front of the nursing home, ready to block the street with his rented van if necessary. A few seconds later, three clicks sounded. That meant Gentius was similarly positioned on the left of the building, where a side road led up to the brow of the hill on which it stood. Shpresa, several blocks away and out of sight of the nursing home, sent four clicks, signaling she was ready to relay communications if necessary.
He reached inside his jacket and loosened his pulser in its shoulder holster, then pulled three hypodermic syringes out of his pocket, glancing at them in a final check. Their pressure chambers were charged with a clear liquid, and their spring-loaded needles safely retracted into their protective housings. When a release catch was pressed, they would flash out into flesh and disgorge their contents automatically. Satisfied, he replaced them before moving out from behind the bushes. Walking slowly, casually, as if he had every right to be there, he sauntered across the grass toward the side door.
The nurse appeared at the glass-paneled door, and waved casually at him as she reached for the handle. Before she could touch it, a voice boomed from a loudspeaker concealed beneath a bush next to the entrance. In perfectly accented Albanian, followed by the same phrase in Galactic Standard English, it commanded, “Mos lëviz! Don’t move!”
In the instant that the words sounded, the nurse threw herself away from the door, and Vasil’s hand swept into his jacket. He drew his pulser in a blindingly fast movement, pumping three rounds through the corridor wall as he spun around. He reacted so quickly that those rising from their places of concealment in and around the garden were caught off-balance, giving him a chance to lunge toward the small gate leading out to the lane. One of the ambush team paid the price for his hesitation as Vasil put two rounds into his chest, the rapid bap-bap of the suppressed pulser sounding loud in the enclosed garden.
The weapons that fired back were not suppressed, and much louder. The last sound Vasil heard was a drumroll of rapid shots. He was hit by eleven projectiles as he fell sideways, including two that went through his skull. He died without hearing two other teams, outside the walls, take down Besnik and Gentius. They, too, did not go quietly; and they, too, died hard. None of the three knew that the shots with which they hit several of their attackers were wasted on their body armor.
The ambushers hastily gathered up their victims and their weapons, stuffed them into their vehicles, and steered all three away at a sedate pace, so as not to alarm passersby with wild driving. Other vehicles collected the rest of the ambush parties, includi
ng four who were cursing volubly at the pain of bead strikes that had broken up against their body armor. They’d be bruised for days… but they were grateful to still be alive, and able to feel the bruises.
By the time the first police vehicles arrived to investigate the shooting, there was no sign that anything untoward had occurred in the garden. Even the blood on the grass had been hastily watered into the soil. The only casualty still on hand was the nurse. She was tucked away out of sight in a dressing station, swearing in pain and sweating with fear as a colleague applied a dressing to a line scored across her skin below her left ribcage. Vasil had come terrifyingly close to punishing her ‘treachery’ by taking her with him.
Later that night, Albescu met with Cochrane at Eufala’s offices. Some of his men carried in suitcases and holdalls filled with clothes, equipment and paraphernalia. “We recovered these things from their rooms, and their bodies. As agreed, we will turn it all over to you.” Albescu handed over three syringes that he’d carried in a transparent bag. “The leader had those in his pocket. I think you should handle them very, very carefully.”
“That’s for sure!” Cochrane agreed fervently. “I’ll send them for analysis. I bet that clear liquid is a fast-acting poison. There was no reason for him to take anything else in there with him.”
“I agree. Also, I think you’ll find the leader’s briefcase particularly interesting.”
Cochrane opened it, to find similar contents to those Frank had discovered at Skraill some weeks before. He mentally compared Frank’s list to the case in front of him as he rifled through it.
“I know what this is. We’ve heard of something similar. Thank you very much.”
“Each man had three sets of identity documents. I presume they are all false.”
“Probably.” Cochrane didn’t enlighten the gangster that he already knew the real names of the three men. During interrogation, Kostandin had revealed them, and Frank had included them in his warning message to Henry Martin. I’m going to have to do something nice for Frank and his people, Cochrane mentally decided. Without their warning, we would have been caught off-guard.
Something was nagging him. He suddenly realized what it was, and looked inquiringly at Albescu. “Didn’t they have any money or convertible assets with them?”
“They did, but I have retained it. I thought I should not ask you to repay my expenses when they were able to cover them instead.”
“Oh. That’s… that’s good of you. Thank you.”
He knew Albescu’s uncharacteristic generosity must mean he’d recovered more money from the three Albanians than he’d expected to get from Hawkwood. However, he would never admit that, and there was nothing Cochrane could do about it. Besides, the intruders’ equipment and documentation were far more important to him than their funds.
“What will you do with the bodies?”
“They are being disposed of as we speak. My people will also see to it that the false identities they used to enter Constanta are recorded as having left the planet, as passengers aboard a freighter on the circle route. We’ll see to it that they are logged as disembarking somewhere else, after which they will simply disappear.”
“How unfortunate for their families.” Cochrane’s voice was dry as dust.
“Indeed. Most sad.” Albescu actually managed to look sorrowful and sympathetic for a moment, before he spoiled it with a cackle of laughter.
As the crime boss left Cochrane’s office, he beckoned one of his bodyguards. In a low voice, he said, “We must ensure that such dangerous intruders have no reason to disturb my relatives again. See to it that the comatose spacer does not live until morning. Leave no traces.”
“Yes, sir. A pillow over the face?”
“I leave the details in your hands.”
“Yes, sir.”
Albescu got into his vehicle, smiling happily. He had placed the good Captain under a further obligation to him; collected a very satisfying sum in hard currency and gold; and disposed of a potential threat to his elderly family members. It had been a productive and fruitful evening.
In her small hotel room, Shpresa packed her bag, shivering with tension. After all the shooting that evening, and her comrades’ failure to call her afterwards, it was obvious something had gone terribly wrong. If they talked, the enemy would come looking for her, too.
She closed her bag and rose to her feet. She would find somewhere else to stay, under another name that she had not yet used on Constanta. As soon as she’d found out more what had happened, she’d leave the planet and report to her superiors. They would have to decide what to do next. She could only hope that they would allow her to be part of avenging her friends.
Tom Argyll asked to see Cochrane the following morning. He found his boss in a somber mood.
“That Albanian spacer died last night,” Cochrane informed him.
“Oh! Ah… that was rather sudden, sir, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. According to his latest medical report, he wasn’t getting better, but he wasn’t getting worse, either. Funny that he should die the same night someone tried to get to him. Oh, well.” Cochrane shrugged. “Speaking of last night, we’ve got some lessons to learn from it, and from events on Skraill a few weeks ago.” In a few succinct sentences, he described what had happened to Frank Haldane and his team.
Argyll nodded. “If Haldane ran into the same kind of professionals we did last night, he’s damned lucky to be alive. I’ve got to say, sir, I’ve never seen anybody move so fast as those three did yesterday. We recorded the whole engagement on our bodycams, and from drones overhead. I’d like to show you the main engagement in the garden, slowed down, with a timer running.”
“Go ahead.”
The Senior Chief called up a file on the tri-dee display and started it running at one-twentieth speed. “Here he is, walking across the garden, sir… Now the announcement starts playing.” He paused the playback. “Watch how he’s moving before the second word is spoken. He had hair-trigger reflexes.”
They watched, almost mesmerized, as Vasil’s gun emerged from his jacket while the nurse was still in mid-air in her dive for cover. He swung it into line and triggered three fast shots, aiming low, trying to hit her body through the wall.
“He was already turning, sir. He fired on the turn, then straightened and hit full stride within two steps, heading for the gate. He hit Sean in the chest as his foot landed from the first step.” They watched as the pulser spat twice. “Notice how the weapon doesn’t jump much at all. He’s got a death grip on it, holding it as steady as if it were in a vise.”
Vasil was already turning the gun to aim for a second member of the team when he jerked suddenly as the first return shot hit him in the right arm. Blood spurted from his head and torso as more shots slammed home. He was clearly dead before he hit the ground.
“Why didn’t he surrender, dammit?” Cochrane raged. “He must have known there was no way out!”
“That’s the thing, sir. He didn’t want to be taken alive. He must have figured it would be better to die, rather than betray his brotherhood’s secrets. He knows how interrogations are done, remember – or, at least, how he used to do them. He might have reckoned it was better to die quickly and cleanly, rather than have his brain fried.”
“I can’t say I’d argue with him about that. All right, Senior Chief, why did you want me to see that?”
“Sir, you just watched the best professional display of reflexive gun handling I’ve ever seen. I trained with our Marines, and worked alongside other armed forces on United Planets expeditionary missions. I’ve never seen anyone react so fast, shoot so well, and so nearly succeed in breaking what I would have sworn was an unbreakable ambush. Sir, we need better training. We need to hire experts as good as he was, and have them train us. The only reason we didn’t lose four people last night was that we wore body armor. If we run into a fight without time to prepare for it, and they’re as good as that lot were last night, we’ll lose people f
or certain, unless we get a whole lot better than we are now, right across the spectrum – marksmanship, tactics, teamwork, the lot.”
Cochrane nodded thoughtfully. “I take your point, particularly because your people are responsible for headquarters security. If the Albanians or anyone else try again, we’re a soft target compared to a warship. Where can we find instructors that good?”
“I don’t know yet, sir, but with your permission, I’m going to find out. It’ll probably cost a lot to get them out here, but I reckon it’ll be worth it. We’ll probably also need better equipment, but I’ll wait for expert advice on what that should be.”
“Do it, Senior Chief. Find those instructors, hire them, and have them advise us on better gear. You’ve got carte blanche and an open budget. Plan on recruiting more people, too, to provide security for off-planet visits as well. I’m thinking at least three twelve-person teams of guards, plus communications, support and other elements. You’re free to vary that according to the advice of your experts. Oh – and another thing. It’ll be good to have those skills for our own defense, but you know the old saying as well as I do.”
“You mean ‘The best form of defense is attack’, sir?”
“That’s right. If we’re going to go to the trouble and expense of importing top instructors, hiring more people, and buying the best gear on the market, let’s form an assault team or two. You never know. We might need to rescue some of our people who’ve been taken prisoner, or take out a nest of enemies who’re planning to attack us, before they can make their move. Plan for that, too, and let me know what it’ll cost. I’ll make the funds available.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d also like permission to pay big annual bonuses for every year without casualties among those we protect. That’ll motivate our people to accept the risks.” Argyll hesitated, and took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing, sir. Those Albanians are ruthless. That interrogation drug that fries a man’s brain? The poison the leader was carrying last night? Those things are typical of them. All three men last night, expecting us to be as ruthless as they are, chose to fight and die rather than surrender. That means, sir, if we want to find out what they’re up to, we’re going to have to knock them out somehow, tie them up, and inject them with truth drugs like their own until we’ve wrung them dry. After that, I guess killing them will be a merciful end. I hate having to suggest that, sir, but I don’t see any other way to handle it.”
