“We need to infiltrate HO. And Zetto appears to be our best chance.”
Ron’s words appeared on my comm. “Can’t we turn anybody?”
“Do you know anyone in the HO organization? Got anyone in mind?”
He paused before shaking his head. “Just wonderin’. What about Deeter?”
“Find out what you can about Room 43 at Harper. Who rented it, et cetera.”
“Vincent is better at that.”
Might as well use the best brains I had on my team for hacking.
“You’re right. Give it to him.”
I opened my file on Zetto and studied it. My man lived alone in an apartment here in Zor and was an admitted introvert. He had no known girlfriends and considered himself asexual. As in not interested in sex.
For a moment, I wondered about that.
How could the man not enjoy the thrill of sex?
I thought his devotion to electronics came before that. He got more of a thrill tracing comm tags, a thrill that lasted days. Sex came a distance second.
He had taken part in special ops before and said he liked the sense of danger. That reminded me of Ron’s getting a thrill out of B&E ops.
The real question remained. Could he go undercover in HO and pretend to be an alien hater?
#
Ash Getner sat at his desk behind the window in a gray business suit and white shirt.
He studied Alena’s last name of Dani on the roster of those who had landed at the Zor-Franken Airport. He received a list, with photos, on all the people who came to York. With his two artificial legs, he was the half-man half-machine head of the York Security Agency, or YSA for short. He considered himself the master spy on York.
“Where have I seen that name before?”
Then it hit him.
“Ah ha! The spy.”
To make sure no one could detect conversations by vibrations of the glass of the window, he had installed double panes with six random noise generators around the edges broadcasting into the space between the panes of the bullet proof glass.
He could change the blinds covering the window to allow light in whenever he wished to gaze out, but he seldom did that for fear that someone might take a shot at him through the window. To reduce the chance of that happening, he had the double panes offset so his image wouldn’t coincide with what appeared on the outside. A shooter would miss.
The side walls had thick insulation to deaden the sounds of conversations. To reduce the chance of them being used by anyone who wished to eavesdrop, he had rented the adjacent rooms, one for storage and the other for a bathroom off his office. He didn’t want to use a public restroom. Too risky.
He also used the space above and below his office for his pseudo-firm, Rossan Export-Imports, Ltd.
The walls of his office held photos of politicians and himself. He was most proud of the photo of the current Prime Minister Pierre Klava shaking hands with him in front of the flag of York. For security purposes, he preferred to use his monitor for displaying any images from the Net rather than use the wall opposite his desk. On that wall rested landscape images of York, something peaceful to calm his nerves. Being the head of YSA provided plenty of stress.
With a few right-eye blinks he went to the background file on Jake Dani but saw no reference to a daughter.
Could they be related?
Next he checked the interviews of witnesses to the explosion. Sure enough, there stood the name Ralph Snyder. But the photo yelled out at Getner. This was Jake Dani, the BIS spy. He had come to the airport to pick up his daughter Alena, accompanied her mother, Ebonta Snyder.
Getner leaned back in his tall black office chair.
Well, well, well. Has Fortune smiled on me or what?
He knew Jake was a spy for BIS but the real question became were this Ebonta Snyder and Alena Dani also spies? Since Alena was only twenty years old, she seemed too young.
He checked his databases for Ebonta Snyder but couldn’t find anything. Puzzled, he checked her photo image from the airport records. In ten seconds, his computer found a match from his private files.
Well, well. If it isn’t Leanna Stone.
With a few taps on his keyboard he brought up the information on her. She came to Rossa a year ago and was married to Vincent Stone. That name Getner knew. The artificial limb guy. Getner’s own legs had been replaced just four years ago with a pair from Stone Industries. Naturally the head of YSA had used another name on his visit to Earth to have his legs upgraded to the newer model from Stone. Vincent Stone was a genius and got artificial limbs after his own legs became useless from a car accident.
Hmm, could Vincent Stone be a BIS agent too?
There was no quick way to find out. The display of information on his monitor gave no hint of Stone’s being a Binger or part-Binger. Everybody in the Earth-based American CIA and the Rossan-based YSA knew of Berry Dani’s recruitment of every Binger he could get his paws on into the Binger Intelligence Service. Getner wouldn’t be surprised if Berry Dani resorted to blackmail. He knew he would in the same circumstances.
Getner spent the next fifteen minutes revising his plans on how to use this new information.
He made a mental note to ask for more money at his next session in front of the Senate Committee on Security. Conservative people were more willing to spend money on espionage and the military. He looked forward to reaping the rewards of his helping Coocher and HO.
Ash Getner was the son of Ashton Stephen “Steve” Getner, a wealthy industrialist from Cleveland in the State of Ohio in the United States on Earth. His mother, Mary Love Beadley was a hard driving woman. She had been a beauty in her youth, and the elder Getner and she had found each other to be complimentary in needs and resources. Her family had lots of money, which Steve used to launch his companies. A genius, Steve built an industry around making computer parts used by hundreds of millions. Steve and Mary had two children and when the young sister, Louella Getner developed brain cancer at age ten and died a year later, they focused their attention on young Ash.
Mary molded the personality of Ash, driving him on to succeed at any cost. She was a sociopath in that she couldn’t feel others’ emotional pain—physical or emotional.
Young Getner graduated from Yale summa cum laude and went directly into the American CIA. Being only five feet seven and a frail youth, he tried harder in everything. After one drunken party, he crashed his motorcycle and ended up with paralysis of both legs. His father poured money and time into helping his son become whole again.
Being full of ambition fueled by his parents, Ash made a decision that changed his life. Getting around on useless legs with the aid of half-crutches wouldn't do for a man with ambition, so Ash had elected to have his legs amputated and replaced with not two but four artificial ones. Since four would be noticed, he didn't bother to make them look like human legs and chose a metallic appearance. It was impossible to knock him over and he could flaunt his uniqueness. He had also chosen to have longer legs so he could tower over everyone else at seven feet.
Four legs soon became a handicap, however, since any presence in public drew attention, which the CIA frowned upon. So he returned to Stone Industries to get the newest model of two legs. But he had liked being taller than everyone else, so he chose legs that would put his height at six feet even.
When the York Security Agency formed in 2100, Ash migrated at the age of 38 to Rossa on a First Class ticket, courtesy of his wealthy parents. There he grew the agency.
Six years later, with a black budget rumored to be over fifty million sols, Ash preferred to keep a low profile. He rented space outside the federal building under the name of Rossan Exports-Imports, Ltd.
Today, Getner made the first of several moves to expand his empire. Then he called in his top field guy, Ben Portal.
#
Ben was a big man, six four and two hundred and sixty pounds. He worked out to keep in excellent shape. He spent another half hour each day at a shooting
range and took pride in being the top field operations man on the planet. Or so said Getner on many occasions.
Ben entered the outer office of Rossan Imports-Exports.
Getner's assistant, Shirley, recognized him. “Please take a seat, sir. He'll be available shortly.”
A scan showed he was the only one other than Shirley in the office. She wore a light blue top with long sleeves. He wished he could get a glimpse of her legs but they were hidden behind the front of her desk.
He took a chair without arms since he hated to squeeze between the arms of the others. Today he wore a gray suit jacket and slacks. His shirt was a pale yellow with wide lapels, which he thought would help him fit right in with current fashions.
She stared into space as she said, “Mr. Portal is here, sir.”
Portal figured she was wearing an earpiece inside her ear cavity. Ten seconds later, she looked at him and pointed with her hand that he was to go through the double doors.
Ben rose to his feet and made his way into the inner office. Once inside, he first noticed the blinding light from the windows with his boss silhouetted against the light, standing his full height of six feet.
Getner motioned with his head that Portal was to sit.
Then his boss told him his newest assignment.
Chapter 6
At six o’clock I put the evening news on my office wall. Channel One often had something interesting. And having another chance to watch Sheila Fish was always a pleasure.
Sheila said on my screen, “We now take you to the Zor-Franken Airport.”
The scene changed to show police preventing gawkers from getting closer. I recognized the mezzanine. The camera view zoomed in on a man and a woman hanging from an overhead rail. Signs of “Binger” hung from each of their necks. The reporter then showed the mug shot of another man in Satchel Prison who was killed because he was a suspected Binger. I didn’t recognize any of them but all three had large skeletal frames.
When I read the subtitles, I thought of my brother Ken. When I was twelve and lived on Rossa, my brother was falsely arrested for theft and while he waited in jail, several bigots accused him of being a Binger and stabbed him to death.
#
I was in class when my Dad burst through door. He scanned the room and when he saw me, he rushed up to my desk and said, “Come on. We’re going home.”
I didn’t know what to do. I looked down at my open book of algebra problems.
“Come on!” my Dad repeated. “No time for that now. We’re going back to Cleveland.”
My teacher riveted her eyes at both of us but didn’t say a word.
Suddenly, my homework didn’t seem so important. My Dad placed his hand on my arm and pulled. I ran to keep up with him as he pulled me by the arm from the classroom, down the hall, and out the front double doors to his car parked on the street outside. He opened the back seat door and shoved me in. I saw Mom in the front but no Ken, my older brother.
“Where’s Kenny?”
That’s when I saw Mom’s face, scrunched up with squinted eyes full of tears.
When Dad got in the driver’s seat, I yelled from the back seat, “Where’s Kenny?”
“Your brother is dead,” he yelled as he closed the door.
Soon the car lurched forward and raced down the street. We stopped only for traffic lights.
At one stop, I uttered, “Kenny is dead?”
Mom nodded and cried some more while burying her face in tissues. I looked to my father’s face in the rear view mirror.
“Ken was murdered in jail,” he said. “Some inmates called him a Binger and stabbed him. I found out an hour ago.” Dad spoke with that don’t-bother-me-with-questions voice. “Now be quiet. Fasten your seat belt.”
I shut up and busied myself with my belt.
Dad replied, “I bought tickets for the airport. We’re going home to pack.”
When we got home, I went upstairs to the room I had shared with my brother in our small two-bedroom apartment. As I laid my only suitcase on my bed and pulled clothes from my dresser, I looked at Kenny’s guitar hanging on the wall. Well did I remember his strumming it as he learned a new song, while studying the sheet music in front of him on the stand. I expected him to walk in the door.
“Hurry up!” yelled my Mom. “We’re almost ready.”
I finished as fast as my little fingers and hands would allow me. All I remembered was it was hot in Cleveland. So I packed some of my summer things. As I struggled to lift and carry the heavy case out of my room, my Dad came up to me and grabbed it. I followed him down the stairs while he lugged two suitcases. Mom followed me with two more.
My parents and I went out the front door. Dad put the cases in the boot of the car while Mom and I opened the side doors and got in.
My father drove faster than I’ve ever seen him. When we got to the Zor-Franken Airport, Mom held my hand tightly as we stood in three separate lines. One to drop off our luggage, another to walk single file through the scanner, and finally to stand in front of Gate 17.
“What about my toys?” I asked Mom.
“We’ll get you some new ones when we get home.”
Something told me to be quiet and not ask questions.
Sitting between Mom and Dad as we waited seemed like forever. I studied both their faces. Mom’s was wet with tears. Dad had his jaw locked tight and stared ahead.
Finally, a man said, “Those with small children may board now.” All three of us got out of our seats and went in the line. Dad went first and presented his comm to the guard and we rushed down the long hallway.
I sat next to Mom on the plane and Dad took another seat several rows behind us. At one point, I looked over the back of my seat and saw him. He waved and blew me a kiss. I returned the air-kiss.
“Fasten your seat belt, Jake,” said Mom.
Hours later, we got off the plane and went inside the humongous terminal at Meda. We ate at a fast food place. I went into the gent’s room with Dad and relieved myself.
Next we stood in line and entered a small room with lots of seats. I put on the seat belt when I saw Mom put on hers, she on my right and Dad on my left.
Fifteen minutes later, we rose up. And up. And up. Outside the few windows I saw clouds as we passed through them. The sky got dark and stars came out. The trip up the Space Elevator took two long hours.
When we slowed, I felt vertigo while my arms floated in front of me. I knew the feeling from my previous journey to Rossa. We were in weightlessness. I followed Dad as we used handrails to make our way forward in the small elevator car and down a hallway.
My parents were by my side all the way.
We finally entered a small cabin and Dad closed the door.
“Are we leaving Kenny?” I asked.
Dad looked at Mom, but she bowed her head and cried. He looked at me.
“Ken is dead. We won’t see him again. You’re all we got now. You’ve got to protect yourself.”
I wanted to enjoy the feeling of weightlessness but Dad’s words kept going through my head. “Ken is dead.”
I grew up a little that day.
#
It took another twenty-four years before I came back to Rossa.
I transmitted a message to Acorn asking him if he knew of any Bingers here other than my team. He replied four hours later, keeping it short to frustrate decoders.
“You are only ones I know, other than twenty on Braco. How is your infiltration?”
Gancha Morentoss was half-Binger and ran the drug rackets in Zor, so I knew his information was out of date. I knew of the small group on the western edge of Braco who were trying to set up a colony for Bingers. I sent back information on Gancha but did not answer his question.
By Saturday, my hearing recovered to almost normal. I still had ringing in my ears but I could understand people when in face to face conversations. When I received a tag, I increased the incoming frequencies by a few decibels on my comm and it helped..
&n
bsp; Being alone in my apartment for days on end stressed me out. I found myself watching the telly more than usual. Coverage of the explosion had passed off the top story. Even the Net showed less interest.
One segment showed MP Guy Coocher.
“We have to have government control of the jump technology. It’s too important for the human race to be left in the control of corporations.”
He meant Space Services, a conglomerate of major corporations. I wondered how the government would do any better.
The news from Earth got more alarming every day. Dale Avan, the lead male anchor from Channel Four reported, “Fighting continued in northern Pakistan after the seizure of the most of the Kashmir state by Indian troops.”
Vids showed artillery firing in the background. Another showed drones engaging in aerial combat with each other in the mountains.
“IIAP, formed by the mergers of Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan waged war with India with no end in sight.” Vids showed the devastated ruins of an unidentified city. “Radiation levels remain high in Mumbai and Karachi. Fortunately, they were the only cities hit with nuclear weapons in this conflict.”
The map changed.
“Meanwhile, the war in eastern Europe continues with Polish troops from NATO reported taking over Brest, Belarus from the Russian Third Army and German and Slovakian troops from NATO taking over Lviv, Ukraine from the Russian Fourth Army. Western Europe and the United States have increased their production of robot soldiers. There are no reports from Moscow. So far there is no progress in peace talks in Geneva.”
A vid showed animated conversations across a large table and both sides shouted.
NATO robotic soldiers had a decided advantage on the battlefield. I suspected they came from America. The robots could not be destroyed by simple gunfire unless hit in a vital spot and were not afraid to charge human soldiers. The most effective strategy was guerrilla warfare, with humans planting bombs wherever robot soldiers traveled. When NATO robots met Russian robots, fighting was fierce.
I grew tired of news of war and changed to Channel One.
Humans Only: A Jake Dani Novel (Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Book 2) Page 4
