The Mountains of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 1)

by Ward Wagher

  Smith grinned. “Look on the bright side, Sir. With those holes in your pockets, you will, at least, have something to play with.”

  “Screw you, Smith,” Frank laughed. He flicked his wrist and sent the remains of the coffee over the wall. “Sometime after breakfast I plan to visit the village and get to know the folks there.”

  “I will come with you, Sir, and detail a couple of the local guards too.”

  “Sounds good, Sarge. Thanks.”

  When Frank walked into the small downstairs dining room, Wendy was peering morosely into her cup of coffee. “Night too short for you Wen?”

  “I don’t know how you manage to be so perky this morning. I assure you, Sir, murder is not far from my mind. Any willing victim will do.”

  “I learned it during my Navy days, Love. Never let your subordinates realize you are running on low accumulators.”

  Two stewards marched into the dining room carrying large round trays on their shoulders. Mrs. Marsden followed them. “Michael, put your tray on the buffet table by the wall. Vlad, yours goes on the center of the dining table. Be careful not to impale yourself on that coffee pot.”

  “This would be breakfast, Mrs. Marsden?” Frank said.

  “That it would, indeed, Lord Nyman. I fixed a bit of several things since I have not had the opportunity to adjudge your tastes.”

  “This smells heavenly, Mrs. Marsden,” Wendy said. “I’m sure we will enjoy it.”

  Mrs. Marsden sniffed as if to say, don’t you dare not enjoy it.

  “Back to the kitchen, Vlad,” she said. Then she pointed at Michael and pointed at the tray on the buffet. He looked stupidly at the tray and comprehension dawned.

  He pulled a coffee carafe from the tray and replaced the one sitting on the table. “Some more coffee, Sir, Ma’am?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Frank said. “And the missus clearly needs some fortifying.”

  “Of course, Sir.” His hand shook slightly – the carafe was very full. He managed to pour full cups for both without spilling. “Would there be anything else, Sir?”

  “That will be all for now. Thank-you Michael,” Frank said.

  Mrs. Marsden pointed at the wall. Michael set the carafe down and backed against the wall.

  “Really, Mrs. Marsden, we can serve ourselves,” Wendy said.

  “We couldn’t even consider that, Ma’am,” Marsden replied. “There are forms to be observed.”

  Frank crooked an eyebrow at Wendy.

  “Shut-up, Frank. I’m not ready for this on three hours of sleep.”

  “Perhaps the margravine would prefer to retire for a little longer this morning,” Mrs. Marsden said.

  “No!”

  Frank’s eyebrow raised again and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “I am very sorry, Mrs. Marsden, for being snippy this morning,” Wendy said. “But there is too much to do for me to sleep in.”

  “Mr. Blakely sleeps in most every morning, Ma’am.”

  “Does he now?” The gleam appeared in Wendy’s eyes. “Well, as you can see, Mr. Nyman and I are early risers. Not necessarily by choice.”

  “Very well, Ma’am. But I could have one of the maids make up the bed for you.”

  Wendy stared into her coffee cup. “I don’t need this right now.”

  Frank got up and walked over to Mrs. Marsden. He put his hand on her shoulder and began guiding her from the room. “Perhaps you might be more circumspect by retiring to the kitchen for a while. Milady tends to resemble something rabid until she has her third or fourth cup of coffee in the morning.”

  “I heard that, Frank!”

  Frank walked back into the dining room and looked at Michael. He swung his head in the direction of the door. Michael took advantage of the guidance to scamper out of the room.

  “Now you can glower in solitude, my dear.”

  “Frank, I swear, one of these days…”

  Frank walked back over to the table and sat down. “Hand me the platter of bacon, my dear. I wanted to talk about our plans for today and it doesn’t need to get out onto the village gossip circuit.”

  She glared at him. “Well, I find it convenient not to have witnesses to murder.”

  “I love it when you’re perky.”

  She lifted a corner of her lip and gave him a snarl, although her eyes were twinkling. She began working on her breakfast.

  “What I thought, Wendy, was to get some sense of the desires of the villagers. If we were to stay on here, we would have to expect a lot out of the Montorans.”

  “They seemed glad enough to see us when we walked through yesterday.”

  “Will they still be glad when we put them to work finishing the village and turning this area into a park? Most people are happy to let someone else do the heavy lifting.”

  “What else is there for them to do?”

  “In this place,” Frank said, “they likely fall back on subsistence agriculture. I would guess they run some livestock – cattle or sheep – and take care of large gardens. With the condition of the roads, probably not a lot of cash flows through here.”

  “Unfortunately that is all too common in the human settled universe.”

  Frank nodded. “The amount of time and money to properly civilize a new planet is routinely underestimated. I mean, look at this planet for example. Sir Robert poured his entire fortune into this venture and didn’t quite get there. And he had a lot more coin to play with than we.”

  “So you are saying we cannot afford it, Frank?”

  “Jury is still out, Precious. If we can convince the residents to put some sweat equity into the place, there might be a chance. We would have to upgrade the landing field before we could think about applying for a charter to allow planet-bound shuttles to land here.”

  “You are thinking we could get the tourists to come here directly, then?”

  “Trying to get a road through to Cambridge is out of the question. We don’t have the funds and I am pretty sure the duke doesn’t either.”

  “Will the duke allow us to do the upgrades to the field?” she asked.

  “That, my Dear, is the question of the hour. At some point I am going to have to pay the duke a visit. We will not be able to accomplish anything without at least tacit consent from him.”

  “That is if we survive the experience.”

  “Oh, I fully intend we do that. We still do not know who was behind the murders, but the duke has got to be the prime suspect. I am hoping to develop some more information here before venturing into Cambridge. I think Hai will find out something sooner or later.”

  “We have dealt with some unsavory characters in the years we trundled Forsythia around, but I do not think anyone was seriously out to kill us.” She pondered the depths of her coffee cup. “Kind of a novel experience.”

  Frank finished his breakfast and slid his plate back. “I know you are very nervous about all this…”

  “And you are not?” Wendy tapped him on the arm as she spoke.

  “Let me finish, my Dear. I am nervous too. But knowing someone is out to kill us gives us a big advantage. Essentially we take the war to them before they can act.”

  “Assuming we know who they are.”

  “Right,” he said. “Now, go ahead and eat. It is going to be a long day.” He leaned back in the chair and sipped his coffee.

  The rumble of an aircraft passing overhead filtered into the keep. Wendy looked up. “Do you suppose that is Hai already?”

  “I don’t know,” he pushed his chair back from the table. “We had better get somebody up to the pad to see.”

  Frank walked out into the courtyard where he met Smith. “Skipper, I sent one of the local guards up to see who just arrived.”

  “Can you trust him?”

  “I’m not worried about trust,” he said, “rather his ability to slip through the woods. He assured me he is silent as a ghost in the forest. “

  “The ghost of an elephant?”

  “I guess we�
��ll find out.”

  “Keep a watch, then,” Frank realized he was betraying his nervousness.

  “Of course, Sir.”

  Frank walked back into the dining room. Wendy had opened his porta-comp and was browsing through the files. She looked up when he walked in. ”There is a lot of material here.”

  “Tell me about it. I spent most of the night looking through it. I thought you were looking at it while I was sleeping.”

  “I was. But there is still a lot of stuff here.”

  “I’m counting on you sniffing out anything that doesn’t make sense. You’re much better on the business side, than I.”

  “I know.”

  Daphne stumbled into the dining room wearing yesterday’s slacks and sweatshirt.. “Did I hear an aircraft? Is Hai back?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “I have somebody going out to check. Have some breakfast, Daphne.”

  Frank walked back outside. He climbed up to the allure and stood beside Smith. “Anything yet?”

  “No, Sir. I have posted any of the guard currently awake. If we see anything amiss, I think we can roust everyone else in short order.”

  “Where is Jones?”

  “I sent him off to bed a little while ago. We cannot afford to run ourselves down.”

  “I appreciate your careful management of resources, Cedric. I expect Wendy and I will run ourselves into the ground over the next few days. Some of us need to remain sharp.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The two men leaned against the battlements briefly. Then Frank began pacing back and forth along the allure. Smith pulled out a cigarette and puffed it alight. He seemed content to lean against the wall and watch the world move by.

  Twenty minutes later Smith spoke quietly. “Skipper.”

  Frank turned and walked quickly back to Smith, and looked out over the village. A small electric truck moved along the path into the village. Three people were riding in the cab. The bed seemed full of boxes. Smith snapped a magnifier to his face.

  “Okay, we have Commander Ciera along with our guard. I do not know the other.”

  “Do they look under duress?”

  “No, but that does not necessarily mean anything.”

  “Instruct one of the guards stand in the center of the drawbridge and have them stop there.”

  “Right.” Smith turned and looked towards one of the guards on the battlements. He crooked a finger and the guard trotted over to him.

  Nice to see the locals recognize who the professionals are, Frank thought.

  “Stop the vehicle on the drawbridge,” Smith said. “We will ask the commander and our guard to walk into the keep.”

  The guard looked puzzled.

  “I want to make sure our people don’t have guns at their back, soldier.”

  “Oh. Right, Sir.” He trotted away and down the stairs.

  “A little slow, but a good lad, I think,” Smith said.

  Wendy slid up next to Frank and handed him his pistol. She was carrying her MP22.

  “Oh, thanks, Wen.”

  “Are we expecting trouble?” She brushed her hair back from her eyes as she peered over the battlements.

  “Always. But I don’t think Hai would let himself get into this kind of a position. We just want to be careful.”

  Frank turned to look as Gerard Blakely and Eden Prary walked from the stair tower. Daphne followed them. “You up Gerry? Someone told me you like to sleep in.”

  The subsonic rumble of laugher escaped from Eden.

  “Uh, I prefer to work late, Sir. Perhaps I can change my schedule if you prefer.”

  “No, that’s all right,” Frank said. “I’m just pulling your chain. I heard you were up most of the night.”

  “We have company?” Eden rumbled.

  “Commander Ciera has returned. We are watching to make sure things are as they should be.”

  Prary looked out at the electric truck winding its way through the village. He then nodded and walked closer to the battlement. “Under the circumstances a little caution is good.”

  The vehicle was almost soundless as it rolled over the bridge and up the stone paved road to the keep. Frank reached for the magnifier from Smith and studied the passengers.

  “I think we are okay,” he said. “Let’s see what happens.”

  The guard marched out to the center of the drawbridge. He stopped at attention and imperiously held a hand up, palm outward. The vehicle rolled to a stop. The guard walked over to the truck and leaned over to speak to Ciera. He then straightened and stepped back. Ciera and the Montoran guard climbed out of the vehicle and walked through the portcullis. Smith slipped away and trotted down the stairs.

  Smith and Ciera conferred in the courtyard briefly. Smith turned to the guard and gave instructions. The guard trotted back to the drawbridge. Smith looked up to the Nymans and nodded. Frank and Wendy moved to the stair tower as the little truck eased into the courtyard.

  Chapter Ten

  “I suppose I should put first things first,” Hai Ciera said with a grimace. “This is Justin Vos, the owner of the Cambridge Starport FBO.”

  Frank turned to the tall and unhappy looking red-headed man. “Frank Nyman, and this is my wife Wendy. I cannot tell you how distressed we are at the deaths of your employees.”

  Vos shook Frank’s hand. He shook his head. “It is just unbelievable. When Mr. Ciera told me last night, it was a terrible shock. Those two pilots were with me since I started the business fifteen years ago. They both have wives and children. I promised them a relatively low risk job after they mustered out of the Navy.”

  “We feel responsible for what happened.”

  “How could you? I mean, I recognize bad things can happen even on Hepplewhite. But being shot out of the sky? It’s a wonder you weren’t all killed. I have a responsibility for the safe transport of my passengers. I cannot blame you in the least.”

  “Nevertheless, we would like to contribute to a fund for the families,” Frank said. “It’s only right.”

  “That is much appreciated,” Vos said. “I carry insurance on my pilots as well as the craft, so the families will be well funded.”

  Frank nodded. “Please, at your earliest opportunity, let me know how to contribute. It’s the least we can do.”

  Vos looked at the ground. “I’m still in shock over this. I came out to make sure the passengers were okay. I understand you had a couple of pilots in your group and they were able to set you down safely.”

  “That’s correct. It got a bit hairy there for a bit.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Did you see what it was shooting at you?”

  “No, we did not,” Frank said. “This was so unexpected the event was over before any of us realized what happened. If it was another aircraft, I don’t understand why whoever it was didn’t finish us off.”

  “We can be thankful they didn’t,” Vos said.

  “True, although it didn’t do your pilots any good.”

  Vos shook his head. “I don’t want you to think I’m philosophical about this, because it really hurts. But, sometimes God decides to just reach out and take someone. It is inexplicable and it hurts. But I’ve learned not to waste my time complaining to God about it.”

  Frank looked at Vos carefully. “You’re more sanguine about this than I. I wish I had your level of comfort.”

  “What is your background, Mr. Nyman?” Vos asked.

  “Twenty years Navy and the last twenty running a freighter.”

  “And you can’t tell me you never had those times when you were face to face with your mortality and you didn’t think about God?”

  Nyman laughed. “Let me tell you, I had numerous times when the wheels came off. But for sure I didn’t have time to think about God. I was very focused on saving my ship and my crew, not to mention my own skin.”

  “I’d like to talk to you about that sometime,” Vos said.

  Frank nodded and turned to Ciera. “Looks like you were able to work on
my shopping list somewhat?”

  Ciera nodded. “Mr. Vos brought a cargo shuttle in with a team to make repairs on the damaged bird. I was able to talk him into letting me load a few things.”

  “Is the vehicle ours?”

  “Yes, Captain. I found most of what you wanted. Plus, I found a gearbox for the hydro-plant. With a little effort, we can get the lights back on. Plus some more comm equipment.”