At last he’d found the matching encoding on a message in the buffer. Now the hard part was to delve into the satellite’s computer and retrieve from its memory a copy of the complete transmission. After a quick search through the files he finally found the errant message. Stephen stood and stretched, rolled his shoulders, and then sat back down.
He studied the copy. It was missing his buffer piece, and when he attached it, the message was complete. Now all he had to do was finish decoding the rest of the message. That would only take time. He had the first piece cracked easily. The message would tell him from where it was sent, the exact console it was received at, and who had sent it.
After several hours of decoding, he put the final transmutation into place. As the message opened he cried out, “Got it!”
He tapped at the keys and began to read the message. “Shit.” It came out as a low, soft hiss.
It all fell into place.
How do you bring illegal items in and out of secured space? All exports were checked prior to departure here on New Commonwealth and then inspected again before they entered the space around the planet they were bound for by the planet’s import inspectors. Inspectors docked with every ship carrying cargo and ran an inspection to see if the manifests matched. Two checks to get around. If they were really looking hard, they’d make you open a few containers to prove it.
You could smuggle them on an unlicensed transport and hope to evade the inspectors, landing somewhere undetected on the planet’s surface, but it was extremely difficult. All space traffic was monitored closely. You could bribe a shipping official and have them shipped under false names. It was good only on one end. If you had a contact on both ends, you could doctor the manifests and pass them through. However, there was still a risk you’d be caught. People always talked, there were surprise inspections, and there were leaks. This was too important to risk that method.
How could you insure they wouldn’t be stopped, boarded, and searched? No ship was above the law, except an official courier ship. They had diplomatic immunity. Stopping one could lead to an interplanetary situation, not wanted in the already fragile peace between planets.
Courier ships were small, not meant to carry a large amount of cargo. However, over the course of time, a small bundle at a time, it could be done. If someone had the patience, it was perfect. Stephen couldn’t think of any force other than the planet’s own military had the right to stop a courier ship. You could start an interplanetary war over something like it. He rubbed his face with his hands and reread the message.
The courier would carry the diplomatic pouch to and from the embassy. In the pouch would be the schematics for the weapon, smuggled off-planet to Century IV. Also, the ship would carry some small amount of the fuel for the weapon. His message was only a week old. How long had they been working on this? How many shipments had already been made? And when were the schematics going to be sent? Stephen was sure he might never know the answers to his questions, unless he found the sender.
By breaking the encoding, he found out where it was coming from, and where it was bound, but not the specific who. The message had been sent from the Century IV embassy on New Commonwealth to the embassy on Century IV. Finding the exact person this came from and who it went to would be difficult. Stephen didn’t have the security clearance for it. He’d have to get it first, and then identify the console it was sent to.
Putting a trace on the console would be the easy part. He could hack in and leave a duplicating program on the console. When a transmission was made from the console, it would also send a duplicate to him, without anyone knowing. He would receive a complete record of every transmission from that console, enough evidence he hoped to convince anyone steps should be taken.
The two planets had been allies in the last Ottoman War and were currently trading partners with an open exchange of people and goods. It was obvious why they wanted to build it here. Century IV didn’t have the technology for it. They would have to smuggle all the equipment and supplies to R & D the weapon, build it, or several of them, and create the fuel for it, from New Commonwealth, to be used on Century IV.
But why would they build this weapon, and who were they planning to use it on?
•●•
Jonathan dressed as Diane cleared away the remains of their late breakfast. They’d eaten at the small table in her bedroom, she wrapped in her robe, he in a large towel wrapped around his waist. Jonathan had eaten ravenously, and Diane merely nibbled on some toast and bacon. After eating, he dressed slowly. He didn’t put on his jacket and left his shirt out of his dress pants, opting for a more casual look. His shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and his sleeves were turned up. Even dressed this way and unshaven, to Diane he looked very handsome.
He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and nuzzled the back of her neck. She leaned into him and put her arms over his and hugged him back.
“I don’t want to go,” he said simply.
“But you need to go home,” she answered back.
“Yes, I need to go home.” He sighed and held her, still not releasing her. She enjoyed it for a moment and then dropped her arms. He released her and stood back. She turned to him and smiled.
“What do we do now? I’ve been quite compromised.” Her voice teased as her gaze searched his. He touched her face with his hand, and his mouth set.
“I suppose you’ll just have to marry me.” He put his hand under her chin and raised her head up toward his.
“Why Ambassador Butler, I hardly know you.” She laughed. The man was mad, wasn’t he?
“And I hardly know you, but what I do know is no one, not since Elaine, has made me feel the way you do. Made me want to love again.” He kissed her, making her knees weak and her heart pound. “Don’t you feel it? This power between us?” Another nip to her lips and she’d give in.
“Yes, I feel it, but why does it mean marriage?” She’d been on her own for so long, never dreaming this would come her way.
“Why not? As you said, we can’t just be lovers. It’s too much of a scandal here.” He tightened his grip on her. “And I’m already addicted to you. Being without you is not an option.”
“What would the children say?”
“I have a feeling they’d both be happy for us.” He pulled away, frowning. “But I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?” He strode over to the door. “Forgive me. I presumed too much.”
Diane’s heart caught in her throat. He’d leave, walk out the door, and the sense of loss hit her hard in the stomach. In this moment she didn’t care what anyone said or thought.
“Your presumption was correct. There is something wonderful between us, and I don’t want to lose it. I haven’t felt like this in long years. Don’t go.” She rushed to the door and leaned against it, looking up into his face. “Ask me again.”
He gazed down into her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Will you marry me?”
“Yes, I think I will.” She smiled softly. Happiness broke over his face; then he leaned in and kissed her. He slipped his hand under her robe and claimed her breast, as his tongue claimed her mouth, and she melted into him.
“Make whatever arrangements you want, Diane. I’m at your command.” He stepped away, and she opened the door and let him out.
Lady Diane Brandon pulled her robe around her and turned back to her bedroom. Her maid stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide and mouth open. Their gazes met and Diane smiled shyly. Her maid smiled, placed her finger to her lips signaling her silence, and went back into the kitchen.
“Hold my calls for the rest of the morning, Marta,” Diane called out to the maid and hurried into her bedroom and closed the door. She flung herself on the bed, snatched up a pillow, and screamed into it, kicking her feet as if she were a schoolgirl with a crush. It was terribly undignified, acting this way.
It was all Jonathan’s fault for making her feel this way again.
•●•
Bret
t and the duke strolled down the street for three blocks, then turned, and headed north. The restaurant was located on this street, only two blocks away. As they walked, she tried to explain the basic rules of poker. He caught on quickly, but there was no better way to know if you understood than playing a game.
They decided they would enlist Blalock into their fold to fill out the table. Brett suggested the driver be brought in to make a foursome when they passed a small shop. Brett stopped and looked into the window. It was filled with all sorts of different cigars.
“Duke, do you know if Stephen smokes cigars?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, he does, or he used to at one time. I remember him going through a phase, I believe, and smoking something. Perhaps it was a pipe, but I do think I remember it being cigars, because he would try to cage some of mine.” The duke stepped inside, and she followed.
The store was larger than it looked, going very far back into the building. At the very end was a large glassed-in room holding most of the cigars. They asked the sales clerk about the cigars, and as they were getting a lecture, Brett heard the shop door open, and she briefly glanced up.
A nondescript man entered and looked around. He stayed at the front of the shop, looking at merchandise in a glass counter, occasionally looking back at them. She took notice of him and filed it away, an old security habit of hers, and then focused back on the sales clerk and the suggestions he made. She picked out six different cigars for Stephen to try, and the clerk took them to the front to wrap them up. The other man slipped out of the door without speaking to the clerk and walked away.
Brett, her small package in hand, and the duke left the shop and reached the café. It was charming, with a seating area outside on the wide walkway. The tables were topped by multicolored umbrellas and covered in matching tablecloths. They asked for an outside table and were led to one near the window of the restaurant.
They could see inside the restaurant and still enjoy the lovely day. As Brett and the duke poured over the menu, the man she noticed from the cigar shop took a table inside the café. Brett watched him sit down through the glass window and frowned.
“What’s the frown about, Brett?” the duke asked. “Not happy with the menu? We could try another place, if you wish.”
“Not at all. You’ll think I’m being silly, but it’s just I noticed the man from the cigar shop took a table inside. It’s probably nothing, just a coincidence.”
“Well, this is a very popular place in this neighborhood.” The old man shrugged.
“Of course, that’s it.” She smiled and turned her attention back to their conversation.
They ate their lunch and chatted about the wedding. The duke embarrassed her with personal questions about she and Stephen, and she teased him back. Brett had grown very fond of the old gentleman and wished she could give him what he was longing for, the precious great-grandchildren he’d spoken about.
He wanted them to start their family right away and told her he expected her to be pregnant soon after the wedding.
She countered not if they wanted to enjoy being together without her hugely pregnant or having screaming babies pulling at them. In the end, she promised to begin trying to start their family at the end of their first year of marriage. It was not a big concession. She and Stephen had already talked about it, but she let the duke think he had won.
Then there was the number of children to be discussed, and they argued back and forth over whether it would be three or four. The duke of course tried to lobby her for two boys, two girls, and suggested she use one of the many methods to insure the sex of the baby. She promised him, as she had promised Stephen, the first would be a son. Duke Brandon beamed at her, and it touched her when he took her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it. The duke paid the bill and they left, retracing the way they had come.
Brett and the duke walked two blocks and stood at the corner waiting for the light to signal them to cross. They were so lost in their conversation, Brett didn’t realize until that moment she’d left her package of cigars on the table.
“Oh, damn! The cigars!” Brett huffed. “I should go back for them.” The old duke nodded, and they turned back toward the restaurant.
Just as they started across the street, a large car stopped, blocking their way. They tried to go around it, but without warning, a man stood behind them, trapping them between the car and himself.
“Don’t say anything or do anything, just get in the car.”
Brett spun around and saw the Taser the man held pointed at the duke. It was the man from the cigar shop. She mentally kicked herself for ignoring all her instincts and swore she wouldn’t let it happen again. If there was a next time, and by the hard cold look in the man’s eyes, there might not be.
“What the hell is going on?” The duke tried to resist, but the man opened the door and pushed the Taser into the back of Brett’s head. “A head shot will kill at this close range.”
The duke nodded, and he and Brett climbed into the back of the car, with the man climbing in beside them. Brett’s mind started churning. This was a snatch, no doubt about it, but which of them was the target and why? The man had been following them all along, just waiting for his chance. He had an accomplice, the large man driving the car. The car windows mirrored, and they took off.
•●•
The waiter from the restaurant ran down the street, cigars in hand, but he saw them get into the back of the car pulled over for them and gave up. He stopped, bent over to catch his breath, and then turned around and headed back to the café. When he arrived, he went to the back and spoke to the manager, who assured him as soon as the people realized they had left the package they would call and claim it. The manager put it in his drawer for safekeeping.
•●•
The man with the Taser tossed them two handkerchiefs. “Put those on.” The duke fumbled with his, and the man roughly turned him and tied it on. Brett tied hers on, and the man checked to see if they were tight.
“Put your hands out,” he commanded. They extended their arms, and the man first tied Brett’s hands at the wrist with plasticote binders, and then secured the duke. After tugging on the binders to check them he said, “Now, don’t say a word until I tell you.” Then he settled back into the seat and remained quiet.
Brett tried to keep track of where they turned, but they drove for a long time and made so many turns she gave up. Eventually they slowed down, and she heard a garage door open, and the car entered and headed down. Underground parking. Were they still in the city? What is this about? She wished she could talk to the duke, to find out what he knew. She was pretty sure this wasn’t about her, but it could be about her father. This could be an attempt to get to him through her. It was bad enough, but to drag an old man into this mess really pissed her off.
And pissing off a former United Earth Marine was not smart.
•●•
The duke pressed back into the seat, his mind racing to the only conclusion he could come to…the disk. It had to be the disk. Nothing he had been involved with of late would rate this type of action, except the antimatter weapon. Now that was get-yourself-killed stuff. Damn, why did they have to drag Brett into this?
He silently prayed for Stephen to forgive him for involving Brett in whatever this was, and he prayed for God to keep anything from happened to her.
The door to the car opened, and they were pulled out. Their footsteps echoed on the concrete of the garage. The driver took the duke, and the other man took Brett and led them to a door. He heard it open, and then they were told to watch it, because they had to go down some steps.
•●•
Brett counted the steps, fourteen in all, and then they walked down a narrow hall. Her shoulders brushed the sides, and another door opened, and she and the duke were pushed into a room. She knew it was large from the echoing steps, and because she counted twenty steps to walk across it to another door.
The door
creaked open. They were herded through it and into a smaller room.
Their captors yanked off the blindfolds, and Brett blinked as she tried to refocus her vision. Two chairs sat under a halogen bulb fixed to the ceiling, but other than that, the room was empty. Next to her, the duke blinked and rubbed his cuffed hands over his eyes. Other than being a bit disorientated, he appeared fine.
The larger man dragged a chair to the side and motioned for the duke to sit. He took his seat, and the man tied him to the chair using plastic cording. The smaller man motioned with the Taser for Brett to sit in the other chair/ She did and he tied her into it as her mind raced to figure a way out of this.
But as long as she was bound, and the man had a weapon, and the duke was in danger, there was nothing she could do. Perhaps the opportunity would come, and when it did, she swore she’d be ready to do whatever it took to get them free.
Their chairs faced each other across perhaps ten feet. Brett and the duke looked at each other, trying to read minds, but the guilty look on the duke’s face told Brett he knew why they were there after all.
Neither of them had been gagged, so Brett guessed the men wanted them to talk. She took a deep breath, straining against the ropes unnoticed, but they were tight. They hadn’t secured her feet, or the duke’s, so she put the advantage away for later use. These guys were careless and had underestimated their captives.
An amateur mistake.
“Now, Duke Brandon, we need to talk,” the smaller man said. He turned to the larger man and shrugged. “What do you think? He looks kind of frail. Can you work him?”
The larger man walked around the duke, assessing him, and then shook his head. “No, I can definitely break him too easily.” He turned to Brett. “It’ll have to be her.” His expression, a sort of longing, made Brett’s stomach roll. The bastard was going to enjoy this.
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