by Ward Wagher
“What are you thinking, Daph?” Frank said.
“I would like to enter them into my portable terminal for analysis.”
“There would not be time for you to do that unless we left you here for a couple of days.”
She chewed on a thumbnail for a moment. “Could I schedule a trip down here and bring a clerk with me? We could take two or three days and get it knocked out, I’ll bet.”
“That would be better, I think,” Wendy said. “We can make arrangements with Mayor Mittal for guesting and then maybe you can do a complete audit of the village books while you are here.”
“I do not remember the last time that was done,” Mittal said. “However, we are prepared for an audit any time.”
“I think,” Frank said, “we could do a quick audit of this year’s receipts. You say you cross check by the traffic crossing the bridge here?”
“Yes, Sir. This is just about the only way to get cargo across the river. There is a ford about twenty miles downstream, but there are no roads that way to speak of. Looking at all factors, it is cheaper to pay the toll to get across the bridge. I can show the ladies the books. Looking at this year’s take should not require much time.”
“I appreciate it.” Frank said. “Now, I need some information on the toll collectors at both ends. I need your unvarnished opinion”
“I do not know them well,” the mayor said. “They have been in place since before I was the mayor. Neither has allowed me any information about their activities. When I inquired about the reduction in tolls, they told me to mind my own business. In rather strong terms, too.”
Frank nodded. “Just to confirm, the collector for the eastern marches is Hercules Jones, correct?”
“Ah, yes. Herc Jones. He’s in his fifties. Big man. I have heard he is violent.”
“Okay, and Oscar Zydowisc is the guy on the western border.”
“Yes, Sir. He’s a skinny little guy. Reminds me of a snake. He is rumored to have killed people, but nobody has ever come out and accused him of anything.”
Frank looked at Ciera. “Hai, looks like we got our work cut out for us here.”
Ciera raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile. “What do you mean we?”
“Oh shut up.”
Mittal’s smile became a trifle fixed until he decided Frank and Hai were simply tormenting each other. He then chuckled. “Yes. Well. What else can I help you folks with?”
“Do you have any suggestions for replacements for the toll collectors?” Frank had folded his arms and leaned back against one of the tables in the courtroom.
“Oh dear. Yes, I suppose you are right. They need to be replaced. However, they will be dreadfully unhappy.”
Frank shrugged. “I was unhappy when we discovered the problems with the tolls. I can probably live with their being unhappy. It sort of happens when you get caught with your hand in the till.”
“All the same,” the mayor said, “You need to be prepared for them to react violently. The amounts they appear to be skimming from the tolls are significant.”
“And if you think about it, we are only counting the through traffic,” Daphne said. “There has got to be traffic which peels off to the surrounding villages near the border.”
“There is that,” Mittal said. “Please be very careful, Margrave. There has been a certain lack of law in these parts for the past twenty years. Reestablishing order could be difficult.”
“This place seems quiet enough,” Frank said.
“It is. But the Council and I keep a close eye on things. There are bands of robbers roaming the lower valley, but they usually leave us alone.”
“That says something about your success,” Frank said. “But back to my question; can you recommend anyone to replace the toll collectors?”
The mayor started wringing his hands. “I really do not know. Well, yes, there are several trustworthy people here who could do the job, but I am concerned about the danger. I do not think you can do this without getting some kind of a response.”
“Response from who?”
“The current collectors for one. I agree they need to be pulled away from the trough, but they won’t go willingly.”
“I think while Wendy and Daphne look at the books I want to wander down to the bridge.”
“Very well, Sir. Would you like me to accompany you, or stay here and help the ladies?”
“Why not stay here. I want them to get done as rapidly as possible. We have a lot to do today.”
Frank, Hai and Smith & Jones walked back out and headed for the river. One of the guards stayed with the women, the other followed.
“Sarge, you have been quiet,” Frank said. “What are you thinking?”
“I keep wondering if our friend the mayor is getting a payoff from the other toll collectors,” Smith said. He has been sending the money regularly, but he only said something about the skimming when we confronted him about it.”
“I thought about that too,” Frank said. “Hai?”
The oriental shook his head. “I cannot get a read on him. Either he is being completely honest, or he is very, very good.”
“But he has been sending the money. I think we will give him the benefit of the doubt. We cannot throw everybody out. My feeling is that he will behave, knowing Daphne is keeping an eye on him.”
“What do you think about his fears?” Frank asked.
“The man has a point,” Smith said. “If we could put a squad at each end of the turnpike to support the toll collector, we might be okay. But I suspect the rest of the people in the area are not necessarily on our side.”
“Good point, Cedric,” Ciera said, “a Catch-22.”
“Thanks Hai,” Frank said. “I love you too.”
“And the real question, Frank, is whether you can afford two squads in the toll collection effort out of the current revenues? And that includes road repairs.”
“As usual, you go to the nub of the matter. I do not know. But I don’t think we have a choice. If we are going to make a go of this province, we cannot afford to ignore the entire southern region.”
“A thousand cuts,” Hai said.
“Exactly. I am not prepared to say the duke has a hand in this, but it wouldn’t surprise me. If he gets smart he could keep bleeding me until I have to give up.”
“The good news is he hasn’t shown himself to be that smart,” Smith said.
“You have a gift of understatement,” Ciera said.
“This is going to require more thought,” Frank said.
They stepped to the side of the street as a heavily laden wagon, pulled by eight horses, rumbled past.
“Some solid traffic, there,” Ciera said. “Do you know how the tolls are calculated?”
“Pretty simple, really,” Frank said. “It is based upon the number of draft animals for the wagons, and the number of axles for powered vehicles. There was some documentation about it on the computer at the keep.”
“There has got to be a wide variation in the weights,” Ciera said.
“True, but the scheme is easy to understand and hard to cheat.”
The stone bridge over the Moody was built with two arches. The arches met on a small island of rock in the middle of the river. It was obviously not new, but was well kept up and showed signs of recent maintenance. The toll booth was on the east side of the bridge, probably from a desire to keep it near the village. However, the village was beginning to spread out along both sides of the river.
“Nice little bridge,” Ciera said. “It would be tough to demo.”
“We are not going to demo the bridge, Hai.”
“Oh, I know that, Frank. But think of the challenge.”
Smith snorted. “If you want that kind of a challenge, just start thinking of a certain keep in Cambridge, or maybe Castle Paravel.”
“That’s enough,” Frank said. “We need to protect this bridge. I would like to think about purchasing a grader to work the turnpike. If the road is better, we might
get more traffic, hence revenue. And it might be cheaper in the long run.”
“Good roads are always cheaper in the long run,” Smith said. “Besides, Harmon Eckert would love a new toy.”
“I don’t know why we should bother,” Ciera said. “It won’t be that long before the cargo starts moving on air-lorries.”
“I give it ten years, at least,” Smith said. “There is just no money to invest in something like that. Wagons and horses are primitive, but they are cheap on this world. And, we can support that infrastructure.”
Frank stepped up on to the bridge to examine it closer. “I’m impressed. Somebody did some sterling work on this thing. This country really is a jewel, you know.
“Needs a whole lot of polishing, Skipper,” Smith said.
“That’s why you get paid the big Centaurans, Sarge.”
Smith snorted, but said nothing.
“Okay, let’s head back. I believe the mayor said something about lunch.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Two weeks later the shuttle was heading south again, this time heavily loaded. Frank and Wendy were this time accompanied by Major Boodles, Sergeants Smith & Jones, and eighteen retired soldiers from the regiment. Boodles was careful to call them reservists, but all were in their fifties and sixties.
I hope we can do what we need to do without bloodshed, Frank thought. These people with me do not deserve to catch a bullet in their retirement years.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Wendy smiled over at him.
Frank raised an eyebrow. “I was wondering how I could have managed to leave you back at the village.”
“Right. Nice try. One place is as risky as another on this planet.”
“I don’t know, sweetheart, the village is pretty quiet now.”
“Yeah, and I could fall down a well too.”
Frank just shook his head. Both were wearing body armor, and Wendy carried her trademark MP22. Frank wondered what the soldiers thought of Wendy's desire to play soldier. The troop was also armored and armed. Despite Boodles modesty about his combat skills, he had them well prepared. Along the center of the craft, between where the troops sat facing each other, Boodles had loaded everything they would need for an extended stay at the toll stations.
Frank and the major had formulated a plan to rotate people through the stations every two weeks. Each rotation would see a third of the troops move. This would give them a rest period back at the base, but would also prevent knowledge of the stations from evaporating with each change.
“Have you figured out what you forgot, Major?” Frank asked with a grin.
Smith leaned forward. “The major forgets nothing. When he says we’re ready, by golly we’re ready.”
Boodles rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushion along the wall. “If we pushed Smith out the hatch, we would discover I forgot the drop gear.”
He waited for the laughter to die down. “In that case it would be a small price to pay to get our inventories up to date.”
“You wouldn’t think it so funny if that had happened to you,” Smith said.
“Are you saying it happened to you?” Wendy asked.
“Look out Wen,” Frank said, “there’s a hook in there somewhere.”
“No, no. Actually happened to me one time.”
Frank stared at him for a few moments. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
“We were on Sabinhorst doing counter-insurgency in the tropics. You remember that place, Major. Anyway we were cruising along at about five-K feet with the rear hatch open. It was always hot there. I was standing in the hatch watching the jungle go by. Jones,” he grimaced at the other sergeant, “snapped a line on my combat harness when I wasn’t paying attention, and then pushed me out of the shuttle.”
One of the troop, who was carefully eavesdropping on the conversation started snorting and guffawing.
Smith looked over at him. “Be careful, Corporal. You can be replaced.”
The corporal was still laughing. “I saw Jones push him out of the bus. I couldn’t believe it. I nearly died. Then I saw the line spinning off the spool.”
Jones said nothing, but smiled in enjoyment at the story.
“So the line goes taut when I’m about 150 feet out – and that wasn’t any fun either. When you’re not expecting it, various body parts can get caught in the wrong places.”
“Painful?” Frank asked.
“In that situation the choices are it hurts or it really hurts. In this case it really hurt. And here I am spinning around in the slipstream and with every revolution I get a glimpse of a row of smiling faces looking out the back of the shuttle.”
“I cannot believe somebody could be so cruel as to do something like that,” Wendy said. “That is not even funny!”
“I didn’t think it was very funny myself at the time,” Smith said. “Fortunately they pulled me in before I barfed myself to death.”
“Was it motion sickness or fright?” Frank said.
“Yes. I had ejecta out of every body opening, I think.”
The corporal started laughing again. “I don’t think I ever saw the sergeant so mad. Even Jones was starting to look nervous.”
Smith looked over at the corporal. “Keep it up.”
“I suppose they concluded your heart was in good shape,” Frank said.
Wendy cuffed Frank on the back of the head. “Frank!”
Jones started laughing quietly. “Proved it was possible not to die o’fright.”
“Not quite. I still have nightmares about it.” Smith shook his head. “We used to pull some wild things on each other, but that one probably topped them all. After that Jones and I landed in front of the colonel’s desk. The practical jokes stopped after that. I never did get even with him. Yet.”
“One of the colonel’s patented tirades?” Frank said with a smile.
“Don’t you know it. I once saw an old vid about Hitler; showed one of his screaming fits. Reminded me of the colonel.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“That would have been more than my life was worth.”
The alert buzz sounded from the speaker, followed by the pilot’s voice. “Two minutes, people.”
“Hercules Jones?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Frank Nyman, the margrave.”
The big man unfolded himself from the chair, where he was sitting in front of the toll station. He folded his hands together and raised his eyes heavenward. “Well, glory be. Our new boss.”
“Up until just this moment,” Frank said. “But no longer.”
“Oh, are you leaving us? Prolly lucky you ain’t leaving on a slab, like your brother.”
He advanced on Frank. He stood nearly a foot taller.
“Big bugger,” Jones commented under his breath.
Frank held his hand at his side, palm out, facing back, to hold up the troop. “What I am saying, Herc, is you are done as of right now. We can do this the easy way. I’ll let you pack up and clear town.”
“What’s the hard way?”
“You go with the clothes on your back. Nothing else.”
“I don’t think I like them terms, Mister Margrave. Me an’ the boys don’t think we want to do that.” He raised his voice on the last statement.
A group of rough looking people had been easing closer and now they closed in. “I think you and yours need to hop on that shuttle and go someplace else.”
The regimental troops now had guns in their hands. “Three to one, but we got the guns,” the corporal said. “No big problem, Sir.” Wendy had her MP22 out too.
“If you want to do it this way, Herc, it makes my life easier in the long run,” Frank said. “Your call.”
Hercules Jones sneered at Frank. “If you didn’t have the people and the guns, you wouldn’t stand up to me.”
“Ya really think so?” He tossed his gun to one of the troopers and shrugged his way out of the ballistic armor. “Let’s have it out,
big boy.”
Without a word, Hercules spit out his toothpick and flipped his knife into the ground. He took a step towards Frank. Quick as a striking cobra, Frank slammed his fist deep into Hercules’ stomach. The monster bent over as the breath whooshed out of him. Frank brought his knee up into his face. The toll collector toppled over backwards.
