Broken Wings (John Hardesty Z04 Book 3)

by Clay Moore

  "It's that man in the gray suit! First, he destroys the people I sent to retrieve those luxury grav-cars, and now he's destroyed one of the gang gangs that I was setting up to be our right hand. Was everyone in agreement about the man wearing a gray suit?"

  "Yes, sir. Beyond the gray suit description they could give no inkling as to hair-color, height, even build."

  "Is this a new gang?"

  “I think so, sir. It sure looks like a gang's activity."

  Falstaff could see the consternation on Anton's face. Here was a puzzle for the great man to ponder. Yet, he knew that Anton would fret. A problem that did not solve quickly irritated him.

  "I'll have our agents in the world listening for information about this suited gray man. I'll get information of all kinds. This will produce information overload, but then we might get contradictory information leaving only one unique solution."

  "Yes, yes, do that, Falstaff."

  John woke to the gentlest of touches. He opened his left eye. He saw Oliver kneeling beside his bed ready to duck as he was instructed the previous day. It was such a funny sight to see the station chief of station S on his knees next to his bed. John suddenly opened his eyes wide and sat up in bed. Oliver was flat on the floor. That was when John noticed that Oliver was wearing one of his gray suits.

  John swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Say, that looks good on you."

  "I happen to know a manual tailor who will work when the price is right. He sends solicitations to your tailor. He also wondered why I wanted him to adjust the left armpit. I'm just not comfortable with the 11.5 mm blaster pistol. I guess the 9 mm is the one for me."

  "Whatever you need to do your job. I just need something with more power. The 9 mm feels like a toy blaster. So does the 7.5 mm pocket blaster."

  "The smaller blaster has always felt more comfortable for me. They seem to do the same job."

  "That is correct. I now ask you a question concerning something that to which nobody seems to pay attention. How loud is the report of my weapon versus your weapon?"

  "Yours is quite loud. Damn near splits my eardrum."

  "In a small enclosed space, it might do that. But that sound is carried a long distance. It is very recognizable. I use it to move people out of the way. My blaster also can punch holes in most masonry walls, or set fires to buildings, grav-car's, or even an apartment."

  "I can see how moving people away from the combat area would be a needful thing. It sure worked in the Dragon."

  "Speaking of which, what do you have from your snitches in the population?"

  "Right now the Vox populi senses that one gang shot it out with the Dragon's gang. There are few other theories such as a military unit was dropped on the planet, and they dealt with the Dragon, and my favorite, I think, is that an angel of God dressed in a gray suit came down and passed judgment on the Dragon."

  "Some of that is fairly close to the truth. What are the eyewitnesses saying about the event?"

  "The eyewitnesses that are willing to say something to my snitches only indicate that a man with a gray suit entered the Dragon and started shooting."

  "The gray suit is what caught their eye. Why?"

  Oliver pulled up a chair from the second desk in the recovery room. He spun the chair around with a flourish that indicated he had much practice with the maneuver. Oliver stopped the chair's twirling with the horizontal seat facing him. He straddled the bench and sat down. He crossed his hands on the back of the chair.

  "This is something that I've been having a little discussion with the executives. The majority of people that live in all of these worlds are workaday people. They work in comfortable shirts, comfortable pants, and comfortable boots. The suits would be a good uniform if we were a military unit. Instead, we are supposed to not be visible. Only when we are dealing with other worlds executives, should we be wearing those expensive gray suits."

  "Well said. I'll make sure that A hears about your idea. Do you want credit for it?"

  "I think I do. I'm that much of an iconoclast that they would understand why I said it."

  "I have a starship here. I don't think I'm going to be the last one to have a starship. A likes having highly mobile Z-level agents capable of flying themselves to where they need to go. When I come out of that ship, I can quite easily be wearing my ship clothes."

  "Ship clothes?"

  "Yeah, when I was a normal freighter pilot I wore a golf shirt embroidered with my logo and the name of my ship. I also wore what is called cargo pants by the teens. I can't tell you how convenient it was to put tools in those pockets. I also wore a pair of steel-toed boots. The first few weeks of wearing all of this, and being recently retired, I found myself blouse in my pants into my boots. One of my compatriots asked me what military unit I came from. I look surprised, and he pointed to my bloused pants in my boots."

  Oliver had a rare chuckle at John's admission. The picture in his mind was hilarious. He understood why a recently retired Marine Sergeant major would still blouse his pants and his boots.

  "I want to tell you something. When I wear the gray suit, I think like an executive. The clothing that I wear helps me get into character."

  Oliver started to laugh but stopped in mid-laugh when he saw that John was in earnest. "I thought for a moment there that you were teasing me. What you said was something that a cabaret actor once told me. He said that the costume he would help him get into the character."

  "Good advice for someone in our business. If ever you have to go undercover, you are going to use the skills that actors have to use. Cultivate those friendships. You never know when one of them will be needed."

  Oliver wanted to subject to change, so he changed it himself. "What's next on the agenda?”

  John went over to his suitcases again and brought out his slate. He activated it and then brought up the satellite imagery that showed all four mega-casinos. John shook his head in the effrontery of these people. For mega-casinos that went from 0° to 180° about the planet. They had taken the most critical continent and made it into their image. John pointed to the one on the left, the far west of that continent.

  “This is the Dragon. You can actually see this building from orbit."

  “Where did you get this imagery from? The government here has no resources to get satellite imagery. The mega-casino owners don't want to have to foot the bill."

  "On my way to the planet, I dropped off a small satellite. It'll stay in orbit for another few days. I can have it send the information down to you, or I could let Rosie wash it and then transmitted to you. What would you like?"

  “Man, I wanted some kind of satellite here, and you just drop one in orbit. How much was that satellite?"

  “Not that much. It doesn't have a facility to remain in orbit. It's designed to be more cartography aid. It's something that I'm used to doing if I'm scouting a planet for the Marine Corps. The satellite is so small that it does not show up on any detection systems. After about 30 or 40 four orbits it starts to lose speed. Therefore, it burns up in the atmosphere on its way down."

  “A small satellite would practically burn up. Yes, I will take the predigested information from your ship. This will be the best thing for us, at least in the beginning. You have set for us a rather large task running that mega-casino.”

  "I'm gonna have to get A to get you some more people. You're going to need them to hold the Dragon. You will also need another group to hold something else."

  "The next casino is the Butterfly. Are we taking that?"

  "I don't think I will have to kill people there, but be ready. If Cal Bullon is anything, he is highly intelligent. He has to know that he's next on the list. Do you have a secondary station anywhere near the Butterfly?"

  “My budget is a trickle from Eridani. I do have a few safe-houses, but no actual stations."

  "We are open now for business in the Dragon?”

  “Yes, sir. I found a few employees of the Dragon knocking their knees together in the
first subbasement. I got the two effective cleaning up and told them that all of them still have their jobs. There was such a look of relief on their faces that they are overworked. We were able to open this morning at 0900. At first, it was a mere trickle into the casino. I think we're even busier than the Dragon has ever been."

  "Did you get the dealers, croupiers, and all of the other gaming employees?”

  "Yes, and I've been approached by a bookie organization that would like to open something he called the sports book. He said he wanted to run it as a pari-mutuel for all of the sporting events that they can get a link to. He says that floor has all of the equipment necessary and that he was the contractor to operate that. He was kicked out by the gang when the gang suspected him of skimming off the take.”

  “Skimming off the take? Pari-mutuel doesn't work that way. The casino takes something like a dime for every dollar wagered and keeps that as its own income. The rest of money is then split according to whether you won, or came close. How much is the split?"

  “He started out at- 6040 which he thought we would take since we have the majority. I told him he would take 70-30. He settled for that."

  "How many of the other big casinos have a sports book?"

  “Just the Butterfly."

  “You know the sports book is guaranteed money for the casino. Have you let the world know that it is back in the sporting world?”

  "I pretty much blasted our budget doing it, but I have a song several holo-channels. The has given me worldwide coverage. The bookies moved into the sports book, and it's up and running. He's got some the flat displays showing games on other worlds, and he has Holo for some of the more interesting blood sports games."

  "I believe you have to report income to the Eridani Secret Service at midnight your time. Skim off about three or 4 million credits to get the place up to your specifications and needs."

  "You've heard about that new auditor they have?"

  “You mean Abby?"

  “Yeah.”

  "Just tell her that John told you to do this just this once.”

  "That's right. You were the one that rescued Abby from that crazy billionaire. I read the report. You said that you were captured and placed inside of a pool party from hell."

  "Let's leave it like that. just repeat what I said, and she should go ahead and cover-up that you are short cash.”

  “It just seems so surreal. I am embezzling money for my command."

  “In a rather funny way, you are embezzling money from the ESS to go to the ESS."

  Oliver had a good chuckle. He had a somewhat evil thought. "I wonder what A would say about that?"

  “With the stream of money that's going to be coming into the Eridani Secret Service from the casino, he's not going to say a damn thing. As long as you are keeping the money for use in the station, especially when you are making so much money for that Eridani Secret Service."

  Oliver clicked his tongue and winked his right eye at John.

  “Do you have something in your eye?" asked John.

  "No, I was trying something I used to get the birds."

  "Where Eridani was you born and raised?”

  "Old town sector."

  "That's where you have your English phraseology. By bird, I assume you mean a young lady?"

  Oliver could do nothing but nod his head. He noticed that about John. John could tell where somebody was brought up by how they spoke. It was odd that John did not know old town. Then again John was from Corrigan and not Eridani.

  "I assume that the Butterfly is about 3000 km from here."

  "You would be about right.”

  "Then how do I get to the Butterfly?"

  "Well, you know those five luxury grav cars you brought?”

  John nodded.

  “Well, we came to pick them up. We have those grav-cars here. We got two ready."

  “Are they limos?"

  "Not really. The grav-cars are very posh sports grav-cars. And they are aerodynamic."

  “Max speed?"

  “400 kilometers per hour."

  "That's about a six-hour flight. Does it have adequate fuel load?”

  “Yes, you should be able to fly there and fly back. When you arrive just to make sure that you are fronting our garage door. Will open it at your request. Bring it in and shut it down. In about an hour will be able to refuel it."

  “Okay, I'm going to try something. I'm gonna try to bring Cal Bullon in as an operative, a spy. And you are going to be his handler."

  "How are you going to do that?"

  "I'm gonna try persuasion, and then I'm going to try chemicals.”

  John stood up and walked over to his steamer trunk. On the bottom drawer on the left side of the steamer trunk was a special drawer. He pressed his right finger against that drawer, and it popped open. John pulled the drawer out further. He picked up the needle gun. John ejected the empty needle case. He went through the other needle cases looking for the right chemical. He found it with a bright orange top. Its name was Nordefran. He held up the needle case to the light. There were 30 needles in that case. He inserted the magazine in the bottom of the pistol grip. The needler as it was known in the business did not operate as a standard blaster. It used magnetic selection and chambering of a needle. It had iron sights that you could use to try and put the needle in the correct spot. With Nordefran the needle or what's now a drug that allowed a person to rewrite portions of memory and knowledge. The rewrite was not that complete. It only lasted about a month.

  There was no need to chamber a needle at this time. You only needed to pull the trigger, and the needle would be chambered and fired. John put the needler into his right outer suit jacket pocket.

  "Are you ready," asked Oliver.

  "Yes. I hope you put some rations into the grav-car.”

  “While you were playing around with that needle, I had my boys go ahead and stock to grav-car with everything I thought you might need some refreshment including ammunition."

  John scratched his chin. "I really don't think I Will need more ammunition. The refreshments I definitely will need on the six-hour trip. It is the grav-car ready?”

  "It's in the garage ready for you to take out when you need it. What standard time will it be at the butterfly if I left now?"

  "It's seven in the morning here which makes it eight in the morning there."

  "That'll put it about two. Ullon probably will be in his office at that time. Let's go."

  John patted himself down to make sure that he had all of his tools that he might need. Then he followed Oliver down the corridor were. They reached the landing of the staircase, but they went inside the elevator car instead.

  On the bottom floor, John had time to understand the defensive system that Oliver instituted in the station. All of the radiating hallways from the main door were narrow. Only one minute time could navigate the corridors. This allowed a two-man team to defend the hall that they were assigned to. There were just two radiating hallways, one that went North, and one that went West.