“Yes,” I answered. “I kept getting crank calls. In fact, I may throw my phone away.”
“It is important that you can be reached at all times,” advised Major Lopez. “What if General Daly wanted to talk to you?”
“There is no one I want to talk to,” I said. “No one.”
“Too bad, you have a phone call,” said Major Lopez, handing me his phone. “It’s Danny Grant. He wants to talk to you about terms for the release of Phil Coen.”
“What are you?” I asked, placing the phone on my desk and spinning it. “My personal secretary?”
“Just take the call so we can get Coen back,” insisted Major Lopez. “Grant will only talk to you.”
“Forget it,” I said. “I don’t want Coen back. Coen represents everything we should have left back on Old Earth. Coen is a weak, big-mouthed, hair-spray-using, soccer-playing, sissy piece of left-wing shit. Hell, he’s probably even a democrat. I say let Grant keep him. They deserve each other.”
“Coen is a civilian,” said Major Lopez.
“Exactly,” I replied “So we agree?”
“No,” said Major Lopez. “And I don’t think he’s a democrat either. Coen represents the reason our founding fathers fought in La Revolucion of 1776. Coen’s big mouth represents freedom.”
“Oh, good grief,” I said, exasperated. “Your conquistador ancestors you always brag about would roll over in their graves if they heard you spout that drivel. Cortez would have killed Coen long ago.”
“It’s not drivel,” said Major Lopez. “Maybe I’ve overstated my family tree just a bit. Maybe my ancestors came to America just like everyone else, wanting freedom. The good news is, they hit the jackpot and got it! Now our job is to keep the dream going.”
“Excuse me if I remain cynical,” I said. “I’m hearing all these lofty platitudes from someone who takes money from the spiders?”
Major Lopez instinctively reached for his pistol, his temper boiling over. Then he obviously thought better of it. Glancing out at Sergeant Green and other legionnaires, he closed the door to my inner office. “I have always said I am a conquistador, from a proud family of conquistadors,” explained Major Lopez. “I never said I was perfect. Do you think Cortez or Columbus were perfect?”
“Whatever,” I answered.
“Just take the phone call,” repeated Major Lopez. “Besides, if you get Coen back alive, you will probably get promoted to general. I might even make colonel. How cool would that be?”
I picked up the phone. “What?” I asked. “After that speech you gave on TV, I would have thought you would want a direct line to the President by now. What do you want with me?”
“You sound stressed,” said Danny Grant. “And well you should be. The whole world is watching. I am upping my ransom demand to fifty million dollars. I want half put in a Coleopteran Federation bank account, and the rest in cash.”
“You are going to go live with the beetles?” I asked. “You deserve that.”
“Where I decide to live is my own concern,” responded Grant, irritated. “You will pay the fifty million or I will start mailing Coen to you in pieces. Think of the bad press.”
“It’s not going to happen,” I said. “You can send him FedEx, for all I care. Paying ransom is against USGF policy. I have no control over that. I have to follow the rules. Sorry, but the United States Galactic Federation does not negotiate with terrorists. It never has.”
“Do not quote USGF policy to me!” said Grant. “I don’t give a rip about USGF policy. Everyone else will pay. You will be my bag boy sent to fetch my money.”
“I don’t think you quite realize what you have done to yourself. I am turning the dogs loose on you. You have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The whole galaxy wants to kill you, and it will get worse if you murder Coen.”
“I’m so scared!” Grant laughed. “The whole galaxy has always conspired against me and wanted to kill me.”
“No, actually that is not true. Before this, you were just a mere pimple on the ass of society, that we could have popped and wiped away with toilet paper. We could have flushed you at any time. Now, you are Public Enemy Number One.”
“You shot me in the head!” shouted Grant. “No one has given me any breaks.”
“You got lucky,” I said. “Most people don’t get a second chance. But you pissed your luck away, and now your luck has run out. It’s not just the Legion and the Empire that want you dead. The United States of New Colorado and the Free Spider Republic want to kill you, too. There will be no more safe houses for you to seek refuge. Your closest allies will turn you in for the reward money. Even that fool at the county jail who sold you that handcuff key has turned against you.”
“Mad Dog?” asked Grant. “Mad Dog snitched? No way.”
“By the way, the Coleopteran Federation regrets to inform you that your banking privileges have been denied,” I added. “Do you have a backpack you can carry your millions in?”
“Just get my money!” demanded Grant, disconnecting.
* * * * *
“That didn’t go so well,” commented Acosta. “Did we ask for too much money? Maybe 27.5 million is more reasonable?”
Grant looked over at Robert Acosta, and shrugged. “Did I screw up, Bob? If you could turn back the clock and undo everything I’ve done, would you?”
“Do you mean like daylight savings time?” asked Acosta.
I’m surrounded by idiots, thought Grant. “Do you think kidnapping Coen on TV was a good idea?”
“It was kind of cool when you said our names on TV,” Lydia piped up.
“Yeah, but now everyone wants to kill us,” Acosta added. “I’m on America’s Most Wanted, right along with you, Danny. My mom is mortified about what the neighbors will think.”
“But it would be good to have all that money,” argued Grant.
“What good is the money, if every facial-recognition surveillance camera on the planet is looking for us? I am going to need that much money to pay for plastic surgery, just so I can go outside. I can’t even buy a taco at Taco Bell without being spotted.”
“You needed plastic surgery anyhow. And zit-remover.”
“You joke, and it’s good you can still do so,” said Acosta. “But seriously, we have a real problem. We need to cut a deal.”
“But what about the ause?” demanded Grant.
“Cause? What cause?”
“Independence?”
“You and me aren’t revolutionaries. We’re criminals, and proud of it. Have you gone delusional?”
“I think I have,” replied Grant, giving the matter some thought. “Wow, what have I done? You’re a good man, Bob. I value your opinion. What should we do?”
“You are asking me for my opinion?” asked Acosta. “You’re the boss. You think I am an idiot. Remember?”
“I have never called you an idiot.”
“No, not out loud. But you have thought it. It shows on your face. That is even worse.”
“I’m sorry. You are not an idiot. You either, Lydia.”
“Gee thanks,” said Lydia. “I suppose we could go back into the import-export business. And I still have my nursing license.”
“What about Coen?” asked Grant. “What do we do with Coen?”
“Ask Coen to drop charges in exchange for letting him go,” suggested Acosta. “Amnesty. He’ll go for it.”
“But I broke his nose,” said Grant. “His cameraman doesn’t look too good either. Do you think they’re still upset at me?”
“Coen is a TV reporter,” explained Lydia. “You will be giving him an exclusive on the crime of the century, with himself at center stage. It’s an offer he can’t refuse.”
“How about we just ask for the half million dollars they promised Lydia in the first place?” suggested Acosta. “Or maybe we can file a lawsuit against the satellite and cable TV stations for her fee.”
Idiots, thought Grant again, smiling. “Maybe. You file a lawsuit if you want to, but I�
�m going back into the bank-robbing business. If things work out, I still might be able to give Czerinski some payback. Okay, it’s a done deal. We will release Coen.”
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Chapter 12
Major Lopez visited Guido at the New Gobi City border crossing checkpoint. He found Guido standing in the shade of an Arthropodan Marine Corps armored car parked where his guard shack used to be. Guido had stuck a ‘For Sale by Owner’ sign on the corner of the windshield.
“Where did you get the spider armored car?” asked Major Lopez. “Tell me it’s not stolen. I might believe you.”
“It’s probably not stolen,” said Guido. “The spider commander lost it betting on the Super Bowl.”
“Can he do that?” asked Major Lopez.
“I guess,” said Guido. “There it is. Mr. Bonanno gave to me as a late Christmas bonus. How cool is that?”
“This isn’t kosher,” replied Major Lopez. “Maybe you should throw a camouflage net over it, or park it somewhere else.”
Major Lopez walked around the armored car, inspecting it for damage, kicking the tires. The vehicle bristled with guns and cannon. “Are these missiles armed?”
“Of course they’re armed,” answered Guido. “This bad boy is ready for immediate action.”
“How much do you want for it?” asked Major Lopez. “Keep in mind I’m seeing a lot of dents. It looks like it got raked by Legion 50-cal machine gun bullets.”
“That just goes to show how durable it is,” haggled Guido. “I need at least one hundred thousand dollars.”
“I’ll give you five thousand dollars,” offered Major Lopez.
“What do you want with a spider armored car? Don’t you have enough armored vehicles at the motor pool?”
“I need it to protect my hacienda from bandits. Well?”
“I need at least fifty thousand dollars to break even,” insisted Guido. “But because you are a special friend and an officer, I’ll let it go for forty-five thousand dollars.”
“Is the air-conditioning unit operational? What kind of mileage does it get?”
“Get real. Of course the air-conditioning works. Spider techs pored over this slightly used armored car, checking out all its systems, before Mr. Bonanno took possession.”
“Are you sure it’s not stolen? I won’t pay that much for an armored car I can’t get clear title to.”
Guido shrugged. “I don’t have a paper title. The spider commander insisted everything be verbal.”
“I’ll bet. I heard you cut off the spider commander’s line of credit. That’s not very nice, especially with baseball season upon us.”
“The spider commander is a deadbeat,” explained Guido. “He owes everyone from here to New Memphis. That, and he always pays late.”
“I want you to restore the spider commander’s credit,” suggested Major Lopez.
“So, that is why you came out here on such a hot day,” said Guido. “Why are you interested in the spider commander’s gambling debts?”
“Colonel Czerinski asked me to talk to you about it. He’s the one who is interested.”
“It’s out of my hands,” insisted Guido. “Mr. Bonanno personally cut him off for late payment.”
Major Lopez immediately phoned Bonanno & Associates in New Memphis. A secretary put him through to Mr. Bonanno. “Good morning,” said Major Lopez, cheerfully. “Nice day isn’t it?”
“It was until you called,” replied Mr. Bonanno. “What’s wrong? The Legion doesn’t call me just to discuss the weather.”
“I just called to say, ‘How ya doin?’” said Major Lopez. “And to ask you for a favor.”
“I’m not whacking anyone for you,” said Mr. Bonanno. “We don’t do that anymore. My whole business has gone corporate. We’re legit now.”
“Don’t worry,” said Major Lopez. “I don’t want anyone whacked. Yet.”
“That’s good,” said Mr. Bonanno, still irritated. “This had better not be a shakedown, either. Colonel Czerinski allows me to do business in New Gobi City through Guido. Everyone is already getting a cut. I can’t afford any more.”
“All I want from you is to restore the New Gobi spider commander’s line of credit for sports betting,” explained Major Lopez. “Can you do that?”
“That’s all you want?” asked Mr. Bonanno. “Sure, no problem. I’m always willing to do the Legion a favor. You know that. Goodwill between friends is important to me. But first, tell me why. I don’t want to be a part of any blackmail scheme unless I get a cut. I don’t need the hassle of upsetting the Arthropodan authorities.”
“I am Colonel Czerinski’s military intelligence officer,” said Major Lopez. “It is my job to exploit the spiders’ weaknesses anywhere I can. Don’t worry. For now, I am just interested in creating an ongoing distraction for the spider commander. I don’t even know what I’ll do with it.”
“Are you going to buy his markers?” asked Mr. Bonanno. “This could be very expensive.”
“You’re the loan shark,” responded Major Lopez. “That’s your thing.”
“The spider commander is a bad credit risk, but most gamblers are,” commented Mr. Bonanno. “The problem is that when he loses, he not only pays late, he also starts throwing his weight around. It’s a nuisance. He’s the one who approves some of my business permits.”
“The Legion approves business permits, too,” said Major Lopez. “I owe you a favor for doing this. Don’t think I won’t show my appreciation.”
“You have a deal,” agreed Mr. Bonanno. “Speaking of showing your appreciation, how about letting me open a new casino in Gila City? That place is really growing. The business opportunities in Gila City are unlimited.”
“No,” replied Major Lopez. “Colonel Czerinski won’t allow that.”
“Czerinski just wants to start up his own casino in Gila City,” complained Mr. Bonanno. “I know the score. It’s not fair. I’ve seen what he’s done with the Blind Tiger Tavern and Casino in New Gobi City. Carrying the spider commander’s debt could get expensive. I need to be compensated. At least work with me on this a little. Let me do some bookie business in Gila City.”
“Okay,” relented Major Lopez. “Set something up through Guido. You’re right. Goodwill is important for me too. I’ll get Colonel Czerinski to approve limited sports betting at the border crossing checkpoint.” Major Lopez disconnected. He turned his attention to Guido, who had been listening with interest.
“That’s all well and good,” said Guido. “But when do I get my new guard shack?”
“The building supplies requisition needs to be approved,” explained Major Lopez. “There’s a lot of red tape involved because of the new anti-theft regulations. There’s just so much corruption out here on the frontier.”
“Who approves the requisition?” asked Guido. “Maybe I can talk to him to speed things up.”
“Me,” answered Major Lopez. “I’ll give you seven thousand dollars for the armored car, and not a penny more.”
“You are a thief and a rip-off artist,” accused Guido. “I’ll sell it for twenty thousand dollars as a personal favor, but this is the last time I let you steal from me. And I want construction on my new guard shack to begin today!”
“Agreed,” replied Major Lopez. “I want those Arthropodan unit numbers painted over with Legion desert brown, and I want the serial numbers ground off and changed before I take possession.”
“Is everyone on this planet paranoid and distrusting?” asked Guido.
“Yes.”
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Chapter 13
The spider commander met with scientists at a top-secret Intelligentsia base in a remote part of the New Gobi Desert. The facility was rumored to be a code-breaking and communications monitoring center. The base bristled with antennas and radar dishes pointed skyward. The arrays emitted a constant hum that gave the spider commander a headache.
“You were asked to meet with us because we are about to implement Project Mind To
uch,” advised the lead scientist, during introductions as they shook claws. “Being that this facility is located in your military sector, you are ultimately responsible for security during implementation.”
“Mind Touch?” asked the spider commander. “Whose mind are you going to touch?”
“The human pestilence of course,” answered the scientist. “We are going to send pulsed energy into the ionosphere. Pulses will bounce back down to the planet’s surface on the human pestilence side, zapping them all. We believe we can influence human pestilence behavior on a grand scale with Project Mind Touch.”
“Influence human behavior to do what?” asked the spider commander. “Can you exterminate them?”
“Nothing so drastic,” replied the scientist. “Unless they go crazy and kill themselves. Depending on the frequency and power, pulsed energy can cause human depression, docility, or aggression.”
“The human pestilence are erratic enough without you fools messing with their minds,” commented the spider commander. “Has the governor authorized this folly?”
“I assure you this is not folly,” argued the scientist. “Intelligentsia & State Security is funding our project. Human mind control has been given priority at the highest level.”
“Then why isn’t a representative from the Intelligentsia here to see this thing work?” asked the spider commander. “I know why! The reason is that they do not want to be blamed if it fails. Does the Emperor know of this?”
“I assume so,” said the scientist.
“This project might backfire and really piss off the United States Galactic Federation,” commented the spider commander. “Zapping the human pestilence might even be considered an act of war.”
“I’m not concerned with politics,” said the scientist. “However, the human pestilence will never know they have been targeted. The impact of the pulsed energy will be too subtle for their weak minds to detect.”
Enemies Page 6
