Lip reading didn’t give me anything, and it finally occurred to me that they were speaking a minority language. Looked like Dafumish, which unfortunately wasn’t my specialty. Brad had forced me to bone up on it and helped me with the pronunciations, but it seemed impossible to me. My tongue became very uncooperative every time I tried, and I’d only successfully spoken more than one sentence perfectly. I’d been wasted at the time. But my late discovery of what language they spoke had cost me time and information. I had to move soon, or they would spot me.
“Brad, did you see him?” I heard Cecil whisper. I felt the kick of adrenaline and lost all interest in the slave and the salesman. I waved him off and turned my back to Pierre. I had to retreat further, buy another mug of soup, and use it to buy me time to keep an eye on the surroundings.
“Cecil, who did you see? Mike, are you on the line?”
I settled for a slight cough.
“Karlson, I spotted Karlson. Mike, do you have eyeballs on Pierre?” Cecil asked.
“Yes,” I muttered and moved away from the soup stand so I could convey my message more discreetly. In the meantime, my brain worked on putting a face on Karlson, and a name to the face Pierre was talking to. Everything blurred together, but I finally found a place only a few minutes away.
Hell broke loose in Cecil’s end.
“Shit, I’m made. Leaving high ground.”
“Cecil, what is your position?”
“Brad, what’s yours?” I asked while entering a public toilet.
“Tower south, but I’m moving down. What is your position?”
Before I answered, I checked that the two stalls were vacant.
“I’m in the public toilet in the middle of the marketplace. Pierre has company, but I can’t place the guy. They are speaking Dafumish, and I didn’t get to lip read any of it.” While calling in my report, I found my weapon and checked it. Readied, I concealed it again and stepped back into the street.
“Shit, I have to find cover. Leaving the streets,” Cecil whispered. Some time went by while I sauntered through the marketplace with my hands in my pockets—the least threatening body language I could muster. But the adrenaline seemed to burn in my veins. We still didn’t know who’d been Pierre’s backup on Motáll and now we didn’t know how many more there were. I found myself cursing the fact that Brad had given into Cecil’s frustrations and eagerness. We were in danger once again because we lacked crucial information.
“Brad, you there?”
“Yes, I’m... shh... ”
For some time, I only heard Brad’s heavy breathing, and I fought the urge to run to his position.
“Bill? You there?”
“I’m here, and I’ve got nothing. Cecil’s vanished from the grid. Brad’s signal is interrupted. So is yours. What’s interrupting our signal?”
I looked around while trying to seem as casual as any other free human or species on the market. Some place far above me I found the reason for the electrical interference—antennas designed to foil any attempt at fixing the prices across the square. But it shouldn’t interfere with our frequency like that, since it was military grade.
Shit. I wondered whether Pierre knew about the function of these antennas—that they could also interrupt the law or the extended arm of the law by a small adjustment?
“Argh... Mike. It’s a—”
A shot sounded in my earpiece, and it made me jump. I groaned in pain and people turned to stare at me. I pretended to have a headache and looked at my wristwatch to pinpoint the location of my team by locking in on their earpieces, but the interference had knocked out our bearing system, too. Not far away a pack of varanuides got up and looked around, their upper dorsal fins going red—sign of a possible threat. I looked at them discreetly, hoping their highly developed sense of hearing would give me an idea in which direction I should run. But they seemed skeptical, so I pulled out my ID as subtly as possible, and they pointed in a direction.
Without seeing whose attention I’d gotten, I ran as fast as I could in the direction given. My ear was still ringing from the shot, so I tried to cram the earpiece into the other ear—not a good fit.
“Bill, I heard the shot. What’s going on?”
“Mike—has—still—Cecil.”
“Shit!” I snarled and pulled the earpiece out again so I could hear what was happening around me. The smell of gunpowder reached my nose, and I slowed down. The sound of feet made me look up, and I saw Cecil rounding a corner and coming my way.
“Can you get a hold of Bill?” he asked out of breath.
“No, did you hear Brad’s last message? I think—”
“I got it,” he said, looking at me mournfully. “Come on, let’s look.”
Together we searched the end of the street where the smell of gunpowder was strongest. Every nook and cranny of every alley was searched along with dark stairways.
“Here!” Cecil yelled. I ran to his side and looked down the chute he hunched by. Brad was lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the chute, and the coppery tang of blood mixed itself with gunpowder.
“Dammit! How are we going to get him up?”
“Where’s your earpiece?” Cecil asked.
“I took it out. My ear’s ringing so much I’m completely deaf if I have it in,” I said, pulling the piece out from my pocket to show it to him. Cecil looked thoughtful.
“You know, Mike—”
“There you are!” someone yelled. We looked up startled and saw Bill coming our way in a limping run.
Cecil looked around, frantically. “Brad’s been shot, he’s at the bottom of the chute. I’ll run for rope, I’m the fastest right now.”
I nodded, and Cecil set off.
“You all disappeared from the grid somewhere up by the intersection.” Bill pointed. Again, I looked up at the roofs and gables, but I couldn’t find any more antennas. “What happened to Brad?”
“Didn’t you hear it? He yelled something, but I only got fragments. Did you record it?”
“I haven’t had any contact with Brad.”
I looked at him wonderingly. The breach of communication was bullshit! Too bad Jack wasn’t there anymore—he was very competent and could hack almost any frequency.
“Stay here, I’ll jump into the chute and get Brad. Cecil will be here soon. Keep a lookout, okay?”
Bill nodded and sat on the doorstep three doors down while I jumped in.
“Sorry, Brad,” I whispered as I landed on one of his arms, which gave off a crunching sound. Angry voices sounded up above, and I froze with Brad’s body half way lifted from the sludgy debris.
“Show your ID!” yelled a voice I didn’t know.
“Okay, okay.” Bill said. Silence followed before a shot echoed between the buildings. Silent and motionless I waited for the all clear sign, but all I heard was two foreign voices talking.
“We got the limp one, the blond is gone... yes... come on, the others can take care of him.”
I placed Brad’s body silently on the debris again and scooted down to hunch next to him. I was cut off from all communication and was a wanted man. I got comfortable and waited, hoping Cecil would make it back or that he wasn’t stupid enough to get caught looking for me.
I waited until long after dark before I whispered my goodbye to Brad and climbed the chute. I’d expected to have help getting up when Cecil came back so I wouldn’t have to use my friend’s corpse as a ladder.
Bill was lying dead on the step, and the pool of blood revealed the indifference of the people living in the building—footsteps in the not yet coagulated blood let both in and out from the building, so people had walked in his blood shortly after he was dead. It was all dry now.
I said my goodbye and apologized to Bill before I tipped his body down on top of Brad’s. After that, I ran into the nearest alley and took a leak. I didn’t want to do it on Brad, plus I was afraid I’d leave evidence that I’d been there. So I held it. It felt like I had a gallon stored in my bladder,
but I didn’t think I’d had that much soup.
I went to the spaceport, but our ship was gone. I was left behind with two dead teammates and Cecil had vanished.
Brad’s words echoed in my head. “I swear to you, someday Cecil is gonna bail even if he’s on a prowl for a target with a partner.”
But I could hardly believe it. Cecil had to have come back and seen that Bill was dead and I was missing. He wouldn’t want to get noticed in a place where an ambush could be waiting. That was why I hadn’t heard him. That was how it had to be.
Chapter Eleven
The memory of his fallen friends was overpowering Mike, and he stared at the table and not the people listening as he finished his story.
“Cecil later confirmed that he’d come back with equipment and found Bill dead on the step and me missing. It took me a few days to reach him, but I succeeded. Pierre had escaped us again. I didn’t see him again even though I used the waiting for Cecil to look for him.”
“Where does all this stop adding up, considering the information you’ve been given?” Heckman asked.
“There are several things. The missing contact in an area outside the slave market’s zone. Plus, we were running offbeat encryptions. Last, we checked the market, and these encryptions weren’t a part of the scrambled frequencies. But—”
“What about Cecil’s behavior?” Lewis asked.
“He was frustrated and eager beyond usual. His skepticism toward everyone. Bill... Brad cautionary glances at me. Everything is confusing, but considering the chaos we ran into, I’m having trouble piecing it together. I mean, if Cecil really did kill Brad then how could he round the corner and come my—” Mike sighed as a possibility presented itself. “Roper dope.” Heckman looked puzzled. “Boxing, sir. You make your opponent look here, and the uppercut comes from a blind angle.”
Heckman nodded, and a silence dominated the room. Lewis pulled out a memo-pad and activated it before sliding it across the table to Mike.
“When two mercenaries are found in the same chute, the military is called in to investigate.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike said, and speed read the information. It was a list of everything found at the scene. Mike shook his head.
“But I’m a piece of information short—one you can give me,” Lewis said. Mike looked up. “How did you end up as Cecil’s partner again?”
“I called him, remember? So he turned the ship around and came back for me. We hunted Pierre, but agreed that we needed a five-man team again before we dared actually tracking him on planet. He has too many contacts. And as far as I can tell from your list they are heavy hitting, too. I mean, who can get equipment like that? I imagine he hired someone for it.” Mike slid the memo-pad back across the table. Lewis had toyed with it before he looked at Mike grimly—a look Mike knew meant that the summing up of bad news wasn’t done yet.
“So before your team was completed again, you went after other targets? Easier targets that would still get you a good payday?” Lewis asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you ended up in prison. What about Cecil?”
“I shot that kid. I wasn’t about to drag Cecil down. He was smart enough not to point his gun on a kid with that kind of connections,” Mike said angrily.
“Do you know who Carl Claiborne is?” Lewis asked.
“The uncle to the kid I shot.”
“And... other than that, Carl Claiborne is?”
“I don’t know.” Mike threw up his hands in defeat.
“Brother to among none other than Lilith Montgomery. You shot a Leader of the Tribunal’s nephew,” Heckman said. Mike felt hollow and stared wide-eyed at Lewis and Heckman.
“Mrs. Montgomery, of course, prefers this kept secret,” Lewis said. “But where does Pierre fit in?”
“I don’t know,” Mike said.
“You were in the way as the last witness to a spurt. Pierre’s spurt. Cecil and Pierre are partners. That’s how Pierre got to the equipment that could change the frequencies of antennas to scramble even your offbeat frequencies, and Cecil had the chip that could scramble your earpieces. And the necessary access to your equipment to change the chips. That’s how Brad’s position was exposed.”
Lewis must have seen Mike’s confusion because he stopped talking and played a recording instead which confirmed what he was saying. It was a recorded VID-conversation between Pierre, Cecil, and a blond man.
“That’s him! That’s the guy with Pierre as Cecil called in that alarm of tracking Karlson.”
“Mike, that is Karlson. The slave trainer from Panata that Cecil and Pierre collect for,” Lewis said.
“Where did you get this recording? Where did you get this information?”
“The physician, among others,” Lewis finally said. “The physician was a trainer on Panata who got snatched for buying kidnapped beings for training. The fronts’ legal delivery isn’t enough to cover the demand anymore, and the slave trade is expanding explosively. It’s out of control, and the senate has asked us to focus all of our attention on—”
“But Lewis, you can’t win that fight by picking a few off the problem list if it’s become so big—”
“You’re right, Mike. But right now, Cecil, Pierre, and Karlson are at the very top of said problem list. They’re just one of many legs we need to kick out from under that market, but their position means they have the most knowledge. So, we need them alive.”
Mike gaped at Lewis.
“Are you asking me to bring them in?” he asked with a voice dangerously close to breaking.
“Don’t you want to bring in your friends’ killer? A man who was only waiting for the opportunity to kill you, too? He set the trap that got you sent away.” Lewis played another clip.
“Don’t worry, Mike is no longer an issue. We dangled that bait, and he gobbled it! I wonder whether he’ll ever figure out that it wasn’t the kid shooting, but me.” Cecil laughed while Pierre’s more sinister face remained almost motionless on the other screen.
“Don’t let your emotions betray you, Cecil. Remember that he’s been a worthy opponent until now.”
“Either that or the doll-faced boy is lucky. But it’s over now—especially coming from this business and ending up in a medium security prison. I actually expected him to go to a max.”
“Turn it off,” Mike begged, once again staring at the table. Cecil’s scornful voice grew silent, and Mike once again tried to figure out when he’d become such a gullible fool. How could he have overlooked that Cecil wasn’t just angry with Brad, and killed him for it, but that he’d worked with the enemy right under their noses? He should have listened to Brad.
“Do you need some time, Mike?” Heckman asked. Mike looked up and shook his head.
“No, I’ll take the mission!”
“You need to totter your anger first, Mike. Going after them in your current state of mind is a suicide mission that no one will sign up for.”
Mike wanted to roar at Lewis, but he also knew that the man was right.
“Who did you assemble? What team am I going with?” Mike asked once he’d gotten somewhat control of the many mixed feelings—the intense hatred toward the man who’d thrown him to the worst months of fear, pain, and humiliation remained the same, though.
“A bounty hunter. Dave Ratkins,” Heckman said.
“Ratkins?” Mike exclaimed. Lewis and Heckman nodded. “But he works alone.”
“Not this time. You’re his info-bank since you know Cecil—”
“Or so I thought,” Mike muttered.
“Would you please not interrupt me!” Heckman said, and Mike jumped.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“We have to cut a leg on Panata before this goes haywire. Other Spec Edits work at gathering information, but so far Pierre, Cecil, and Karlson are the leg that has to be cut first. Pierre and Cecil are the most important right now. Someone already has eyes on Karlson.”
“Yes, sir. Do you have a profile on Karl
son?”
Heckman found a memo-pad in the stack in front of him and handed one to Mike.
“Memorize the contents because you will never see it again. The same goes for these.” Heckman slid another memo-pad to lie in front of Mike. “Look them both through at your own pace. We meet here tonight where you have three hours to ask relevant questions.”
Mike returned to his chambers, shamefaced. Due to the urgency of the situation and a hit on Cecil’s whereabouts, training had been canceled. Mike didn’t get the pleasure of seeing Harrison prove why he had the higher rank or deserved the respect he got from most of the soldiers after all.
Mike’s thoughts kept going back to Cecil and what his treason had cost him. Even though ideas of revenge kept creeping in, he still managed to collect his thoughts on the task at hand and was able to show up at Heckman’s office that evening well prepared. However, Heckman and Lewis had company. Dave Ratkins had arrived and stood wide and grim and observed Mike, who felt transparent under the man’s weighing glance.
“Well, you certainly weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be partnered with a rookie. Mike Matthews, correct?” Ratkins asked. Ratkins’ expression didn’t vary. Not even his tone of voice revealed whether or not he’d just been sarcastic.
“Dave Ratkins.” Mike nodded a hello at the bounty hunter with the allegedly highest numbers in a decade. The fact that he’d made it to the decade record of bounties collected alone was quite the feat in itself.
They all took a seat and went through the information along with Mike’s earlier recounting. Mike noticed Ratkins’ eyes on him once in a while, but he let it slide.
They both asked questions about the targets, and Mike felt more and more appreciation as the hard and unreadable façade proved to hide intelligence.
“You do know that I have to know more about what happened in Delta, right,” Ratkins said, but Mike thought he saw an apology in the man’s eyes. Mike looked at Lewis who was observing him while running a finger thoughtfully across his chin.
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