by Peter Grant
The senior man frowned. “They won’t give us the time of day. They’re tight-lipped about their clients, and they’ve got enough influence with politicians, even Ministers of State, that we can’t touch them. You’ll have to get descriptions and comm codes for those new arrivals from the bank.”
“That’ll take time, sir. Devizenbank is almost as bad as those lawyers when it comes to client confidentiality. It’s only because one of our people works for them as a clerk that we found out as much as we did. He doesn’t have access to more information than that.”
“Do your best. We can bring some leverage to bear if we have to. Since Heinrich, whoever he was, and his friends have disappeared, we’ll have to find out why he was so interested in this Vaterland. If he was willing to spend that much for information about it, that argues there’s a lot more than that to be made out of it, particularly if it – or someone hiding behind that company name – stole what Heinrich called ‘billions’, wouldn’t you say?”
The other grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ve done very well, to learn so much in just one night. There’ll be a bonus for your hard work. Where is he?”
“The prisoner is in here, sir.” The man indicated the end office.
They walked in to find Hans-Jurgen, stark naked, strapped to a sturdy wooden chair that was bolted to the floor. His head lolled forward on his chest, eyes closed, tongue protruding from his drooling mouth. Copper spring clips were clamped onto various sensitive parts of his body. Wires led from them to a machine on a nearby desk. His body was soaked with sweat. He’d voided his bladder and bowels repeatedly, and the room stank of urine and feces.
The new arrival wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Knappe!” he barked.
The banker ignored him, or perhaps could not hear him. The executive held up three fingers. A man at the desk adjusted a dial, then pressed a switch. The figure in the chair surged upright, eyes bulging, a shriek of agony wrung from his tortured lips. It went on, and on, and on… until finally the senior man made a cutting motion with his hand. Instantly, the man at the desk released the button. Hans-Jurgen fell forward once more, making a gurgling sound as his scream died away.
At the new arrival’s glance, a guard filled a jug with water from a sink in the corner, then threw it over the prisoner. He blinked, and slowly, painfully raised his head.
“Can you hear me, Knappe?”
“Y…yes…I…can…hear…you.”
“Get this straight, arschloch. As of now, we own you, body and soul. You can forget about Heinrich and his friend. You’re going to do what we tell you, when we tell you to do it, and you’re not going to do a single thing we tell you not to do. That includes gambling. Next time you disobey, we’ll take one of your balls – and we’ll remove it slowly, with a cheese grater. Verstehen sie?”
“J…jawohl.”
“You were off work today, so you won’t have to explain your absence to your employer. We’re going to clean you up, put you back into your clothes, and drive you home. When we get there, we’re going to explain to your wife what’s going to happen to her, and to your son and daughter, if you disobey us again. There are always perverts looking for young boys and girls. Yours will do nicely, if you so much as hesitate when we give you an order. Verstehen sie?”
The man seemed to regain a spark of spirit. “N-not my children! Not – aaaaahhh!” He screamed as the man at the desk touched the button again, briefly. The interrogator nodded his approval, and the other guard threw more water over Hans-Jurgen.
“Ja, Knappe, your children. Their safety is in your hands. For their sake, and your own, and your wife’s, you’d better behave from now on. Verstehen sie?”
Silence, except for heavy, labored breathing, then, “J…jawohl.”
“You’re going back to work tomorrow, while we find out what Heinrich was up to. When we know, we’re going to continue with his project, but for our benefit from now on. You’ll do for us everything you were going to do for him, and more besides. If you screw up once more, you’ll watch while we rape your wife in front of you, then rape you too. Screw up a second time, and we’ll do that to your children in front of both of you, then let them watch as we torture you both to death, before we sell them to off-world brothels. Remember that, because I won’t warn you again!”
He turned on his heel and walked out.
11
Tidings
CONSTANTA
Cochrane stood to welcome Frank Haldane as the Captain strode into his office. “Welcome back! You look like a cat that’s been at the cream.” He offered his hand as he came around his desk.
Frank shook it firmly. “Not the cream, sir – I’ve been at the enemy. We’ve positioned three drones to keep watch over the Brotherhood base. One’s at the galactic west side of the star, one at galactic east, and one at galactic north, all outside the system boundary where we can get at them. They’re set up so each transmits its intelligence every day to the other two, and all three retain it in their memory banks. We need hit only one of them to download it all, then reset them to clear out their memory and start gathering new information for our next visit.”
“Excellent! You’ve done very well.” They settled into armchairs by the window. “Any problems?”
“Just one, sir. Their system surveillance satellite is operational now. That delayed us by several weeks, because we couldn’t use our gravitic drives within its range. We had to creep in under reaction thrusters only, to emplace the drones. Since they don’t radiate in the electromagnetic or gravitic spectrum, the satellite couldn’t detect us, but we moved much more slowly than usual.”
Cochrane grimaced. “I understand. You must have got awfully bored during the weeks of creeping in at a snail’s pace, then creeping out again.”
“Yes, sir. Still, we did it. I’ve left Caracal to keep an eye on the system until relieved, with enough supplies at the rendezvous point to keep her going for three months. We need to send a relief ship soon, though, sir. Caracal’s crew weren’t happy at having to miss the fleshpots of a settled planet for even longer than the rest of us.” They chuckled.
“I’ll send a corvette to relieve her as soon as possible.”
“A corvette will be smaller, sir, and that might be an advantage if they start looking for us. On the other hand, she doesn’t have a frigate’s firepower if she has to defend herself; and she carries less supplies, so she’ll have to be on short rations during those long trips to milk the drones of the intelligence they’ve gathered. She’s also got smaller, less spacious crew quarters, so her people won’t be very comfortable if they’re stuck out there for weeks or months at a time. Some might get a bit stir-crazy, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s a good point, but it can’t be helped for now. I need to keep your frigates together. Something’s coming up that will need all your frigates, and the next two as well, to be fighting fit.”
“Oh?” Frank sat forward eagerly. “What is it, sir?”
“I won’t say more just yet, but you can tell your people it’ll almost certainly involve a fight. I want you to take your division to Barjah. I’ll send orders to Caracal with her relief, to join you there.”
Frank looked disappointed. “My people were looking forward to planetside liberty here, sir. We’ve been out in deep space for almost half a year, after all.”
“You can give them a week here, and promise them extended liberty at Barjah, one ship at a time. Help the local Station Commander to work up the new ships there. The next two frigates, Lynx and Margay, will join your squadron in about four months. I need you to expedite their working-up. If necessary, swap some of their crews for more experienced spacers from your ships to speed up the process. Your division will then be five ships strong. It’s got to be ready for action in not more than six months from this date.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. Are we going to hit the Brotherhood’s base?”
Cochrane hesitated. Frank, like most of his senior officers,
did not yet know about the Big Three’s involvement. Not even he knew what they planned, or their timetable. He temporized, “We can’t make plans in isolation. We have to liaise with others. Only when we know what they’re going to do, and when, and where, can we fill in the gaps and make our own plans. I think we’ll almost certainly hit that base, but there may be other targets too.”
Frank frowned. “Just as long as we don’t divide our forces too much, sir. Those bastards fight too well for us to tackle them in penny packets. They might defeat us in detail.”
“I agree. I’ll do my best to plan along those lines, but as I said, we aren’t the only players. Also, our security contract at Larcuna is about to begin. It needs four corvettes, so they won’t be available for operations against the Brotherhood. I may have to temporarily strip Mycenae, Constanta and Barjah of almost every fighting ship for a short offensive. It’s going to take some careful juggling of our assets.”
“I’ll say, sir! Aren’t we a bit overextended?”
“When haven’t we been?” They exchanged a tight grin. “We’ve coped so far. We’ll just have to go on coping.”
“Who’ll be in local command at Larcuna, sir?”
“I’m giving that to Angus Darroch, and promoting him to Captain.”
“That’s great! He’ll make a good station commanding officer, sir.”
“I think so, too, once he gets used to no longer commanding his own ship, but being in charge of a small squadron.”
Frank made a wry face. “He won’t like it. He was the first CO of our First Corvette Division when it formed, but he was also skipper of his own ship at the time. It’s really something to be almost the monarch of your own little kingdom. Senior, multi-unit command is nice, but it doesn’t have that personal touch of running your own ship.”
Cochrane smiled. “I remember that, too. Still, Angus can’t complain. He’s commanded a corvette and a frigate with us, and killed two Brotherhood destroyers and one of their courier ships. It’s time he moved up. Speaking of that, when you joined us, we agreed that you’d commit to us for a minimum of five years. Do you plan to stay on, or are you wanting to go back to being your own boss?”
Frank shook his head. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t given it much thought, sir. It was nice to have the freedom of my own operation, but Hawkwood’s a great outfit with top-notch people, and it pays very well – much better salaries than usual, and profit share on top.”
“Give it some thought. Once we’ve settled the Brotherhood’s hash, there may be an even more interesting development in the pipeline. If you commit to us for the long term, you’ll have the opportunity to become a shareholder, rather than merely sharing in our profits. There may be a broad stripe in your future, too.” He reached up and touched the insignia of Commodore’s rank on his epaulettes.
Frank grinned. “I suppose you’ll move up to Rear-Admiral then, sir?”
“Perhaps… or I might have another title altogether.”
Frank tried hard to wheedle more information out of him, but Cochrane fended him off with an amused smile. All he would say was, “All in good time.”
Caitlin and Henry arrived the following morning. They sent a warning signal from the system boundary, and headed straight for his office when their ship entered orbit. Cochrane listened intently as they described what they’d learned, and what had happened.
“Where’s Gustav now?”
“He and his people are aboard our courier ship, sir,” Henry replied. “One of them’s his lover, and the other two work for him. They’re good, sir. I worked with Gustav before, when I was operating on my own account. If you need another investigator, one without too many scruples, he’s a good man to have on your side.”
“We can probably use him. Tell me more about the Brotherhood’s gold shipments.”
Caitlin grinned. “We thought that would get your attention, sir.”
They went over the gold shipments to New Skyros and Neue Helvetica, consulting Henry’s previous reports where necessary. At last Cochrane nodded slowly. “I’m going to go with Henry’s description of Mavra as a ‘navigational fig leaf’. We need to find out what that courier ship does when she calls there, and whether her visits are scheduled ahead of time. I can’t spare either of you for that job. D’you think Gustav and his people might be good enough?”
Henry nodded firmly. “Yes, sir. They won’t have local contacts at first, but if we send them there with a convincing cover story about needing to buy supplies for an asteroid mining ship or project, they can ask around. If things look promising, Gustav can leave his people there, pretending to be ‘purchasing agents’ or something like that, while he comes back here to report. He’ll need to buy stuff, though, sir, otherwise his cover will be threadbare.”
“Well, we do use asteroid mining gear and consumables in Mycenae, although all that’s undercover. If Mavra can supply what we need, I don’t mind sending a freighter or courier ship to pick them up, and gather intelligence at the same time. You have Gustav under contract for several more months, right?”
“Yes, sir, but not his people.”
“Ask Gustav what he and they will cost us for a year, including off-planet travel. If you tell me they’re worth the expense, I’ll hire all of them.”
“I think they are, sir.”
“All right. Caitlin, why wouldn’t the Brotherhood simply pay for their new planet in gold? Why bother converting it to francs, and putting it through their bank account?”
“Because the UP won’t accept anything except currency in their escrow account, sir. They’ve been burned too many times by adulterated precious metals. It would take too long and cost too much to assay and authenticate every gold or platinum bar, so they insist on currency only – and they want to see an audit trail to the bank that deposits it, too. No walking in with suitcases full of cash from who knows where.”
“What if an exploration company agreed to accept cash or gold in payment, without going through the UP?”
“Then the UP won’t recognize the transfer of ownership of the planet, and won’t grant it membership. Again, sir, they’ve been burned too often in the past by fraudulent transactions.”
“Hmmm. I can see how that would put a damper on things.” Cochrane thought for a moment. “Henry, you say you saw that courier ship, Szipnij, in orbit at New Skyros?”
“Yes, sir. She’s bigger than most ships of that type – almost a dispatch vessel, rather than a courier.”
“Is her design from a standard class, or a one-off?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I can try to find out.”
“Do that, please, and let me know. In particular, try to get me accurate dimensions and tonnage for her, and the layout of her internal compartments.”
Cochrane saw them out, then called Frank at the resort where he was enjoying some peace and quiet. “There’s been a change of plan,” he said without preamble. “Your frigates will be staying here after all, for at least a few weeks. You can let them give extended liberty to their crews while you work with me. We’ve got to plan a new operation. It may not happen anytime soon, but I want the plan ready and waiting, because if it goes down, we may have very little warning or time to prepare. It’ll be a rather special job, with some unique challenges.”
He could almost hear the gears engage in Frank’s mind. “What sort of challenges, sir?”
“I’ll tell you about them when you get back. Oh – another thing. Your friend Saul, who helped us deal with the Callanish consortium. Is he still out there? Do you think he’d be available to provide a freighter to help with this operation? I don’t know whether we’ll be able to spare one of our own. We’ll need someone we can trust to do as he’s told and keep his mouth shut.”
“I can send word to him, sir, and find out.”
“Do that, then relax and enjoy yourself.”
Next morning, Tom Argyll appeared without an appointment or warning call. “It’s about the prisoners, sir,” he said as he h
urried in. “Mrs. Seljiu’s husband has replied to her last message. It’s a very long reply, and it’s reached us much faster than we would have expected, based on transit time for previous messages from Patos. That made me wonder, so I checked. This one was sent from Neue Helvetica, sir.”
Cochrane frowned. “You’ve deciphered it?”
“Yes, sir – and it’s a lulu! It looks like her husband took your advice to her and ran with it, but in a way we never expected. I’ve sent the clear copy to your mail queue.”
“Thanks. Don’t release it to Mrs. Sejdiu until I tell you. Let me read it first.”
“Aye aye, sir. There’s also a message for you. It came in on the same dispatch vessel from Neue Helvetica. It’s addressed to you personally – an old-fashioned paper letter, marked ‘Personal and Confidential’, with no return address.” He handed over an envelope. “We’ve scanned, sniffed and scoped it. There doesn’t appear to be anything dangerous inside, sir.”
“Well, I’ll be… I can’t remember when I last had one of those. I wonder who it could be? Thanks, Tom.”
Cochrane called up the letter to Jehona Sejdiu first. He blinked in surprise as he read Pal’s account of how he’d taken her warning about the Brotherhood’s parlous future to heart.
I considered Commodore Cochrane’s request. I honor him for being willing to do that much, but it is not enough. We must have a place of our own where we can be safe, where others cannot touch us. I have therefore engineered my election to the Council of the Brotherhood, and proposed that we buy a smaller, cheaper planet than we had planned, so that we can move there as quickly as possible. The Council has approved my proposal, and appointed me to supervise it.
I will be based on Neue Helvetica for at least the next few months, along with Gjerg Hyka, whom you will remember. He will work with me on this project. I hope you can persuade the Commodore to help our people escape there, if it comes to that.
