Deadly Voyage (Logan Ryvenbark's Saga Book 1)

by Lavina Giamusso

  “The fate of the original Berowle tablets has always been shadowed in mystery. You know, if I was starting a religion, I would not misplace the foundation documents. But those things always seem to disappear. Ever notice that?”

  “I really haven’t studied religions.” Mavers said.

  “Anyway, the Three Apostles never were clear on what happened to the tablets. Kargar believers always wondered if they were still around, maybe in the desert, maybe some other place. Naturally it’s been a subject of great interest.”

  The waiter returned and sat down a plate. The steak looked delicious. Slippery Ed rattled few more background details. He leaned over the table again, and pointed to his human dinner companion.

  “As it turns out, the silver tablets have been discovered by that man over there, Dr. Asterman Luddick, a credential and extremely respected academic and archaeologist known on a number of planets.”

  Mavers could barely make out the faces of the men at the other table. But as he stared through the smoky haze, a neuron flashed a memory into consciousness. He cut into his steak.

  “That’s a little strange. The respected academic looks amazingly like Tellie Engeder. I bumped into him about two years ago. He was trying the Omega Con on a few good-hearted people on Gallos.”

  Slippery Ed almost swallowed his tongue. He gulped and eased back into the burgundy cushion in the booth. The mustache bristled.

  “Tellie mentioned someone spoiled his game on Gallos. That was you?”

  “None other. Those people on Gallos were so nice I didn’t want to see them taken advantage of. He would have left them bankrupt. The scheme was rather ingenious. He was trying to hook in a whole town.”

  Slippery Ed’s voice became a growl. “Doesn’t that Knight in Shining Armor thing cramp your style from time to time?”

  Mavers smiled and shook his head. “No, not really.”

  “Jimmy, why don’t you convert? They’d appreciate that White Knight thing on Kargar.” He pointed again at his companions. “The man sitting closest to us is not going to go bankrupt. His name is Willisford Terk and he is one of the richest people on the planet. He’s also a devout believer in his religion and a church deacon.”

  “So how do you plan to get some of his money into your wallet?”

  “Because the writing on the tablets is somewhat different than what’s in all the Kargar Holy Scripture. There are some troubling, really troubling passages, on those tablets. They would call into question the most deeply held values of 90 percent of the people on this planet. It would shake their faith to the core.”

  Slippery Ed gave his White Shark smile. It could be awesome and frightening at the same time. “But the beautiful part is that we admit the tablets may be fake. We have legitimate concerns about accuracy. As professionals with an ethical code.”

  Mavers choked and laughed, interrupting the flow of words from Foner. He coughed and sputtered a few times before grabbing his drink. He washed down the derision.

  “Funny, Jimmy. Real funny.” Foner looked indignant. It slowed down his syllables. He enunciated slowly and clearly. “As professionals, we have told the good deacon and his friends that we have serious concerns about the validity of the tablets. Even so, we are ready to present our findings to the proper scientific authorities. Of course, there will be the resultant publicity.”

  “So how did you two fake all those tablets?”

  “Let’s not get into details.”

  “I’m still not understanding how you make money from this.”

  Slippery Ed transformed his features into his funeral director look. “Because, although it grieves us, we are considering selling the tablets to Deacon Terk and his friends. They would, of course, keep them hidden or destroy them. Dr. Luddick would like to remain on Kargar to continue his research but, alas, his mother contracted the Nelvian virus from a recent trip to that planet. And, as everyone knows, recuperation is long and expensive. Dr. Luddick is compelled to return home and help her through this medical emergency.”

  “So how much are they paying for this?”

  “Twenty-five million dollars.”

  The glass almost slipped from Mavers’ hand.

  “Why are they paying that much for bogus tablets? Even if you start sending out press releases galore, eventually scientists will prove they’re fake.”

  “Yes, but that might take weeks, and more likely, months. Perhaps years. During that time there will be loads of negative publicity calling the religion into question. Hundreds of news stories and television broadcasts when we break the news, informing ninety percent of the population that their faith is faulty. Deacon Terk doesn’t want that. Even if eventually the tablets are proven false, tens of millions of people may be heartbroken and wander away from the faith. Who knows how many people will lose their souls and go to hell? This preys on Deacon Terk’s conscience. He would worry about only one lost soul. If only ten percent of believers broke from the faith, that’s 25 million souls. We’re offering a dollar a soul. Souls must be worth at least a buck apiece.”

  “Sometimes a lot less, depending on the soul.”

  “OK, I don’t need your moral approval. I just need you to stay out of it. We can give you a cut.”

  “I don’t want your money. It’s none of my business.”

  “Good. You’re a pal, Jimmy.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m not your pal. And if you get me irritated I might go to the police. My name isn’t Jimmy.”

  “Jim. James.” he said quickly.

  Mavers nodded. “As I said, it’s none of my business.”

  Something quick, dark and menacing danced across Slippery Ed’s eyes. Because Foner often lied, he didn’t trust the word of anyone else. If he were in Mavers’ place, Foner would run to Terk and reveal the scam. The deacon would save $25 million and would probably show his appreciation in fiscal ways. Mavers knew Foner would have a tough time thinking anyone would not head for Terk with $25 million at stake. Foner jerked a bit, shaking as if ants were inside his shirt biting him.

  “Do we have anything more to discuss?” Mavers asked.

  Slippery Ed didn’t answer immediately. He just glared at Mavers for a long time with the dark, menacing gaze.

  “No… I guess not.” he said.

  “Then, so long.”

  Foner stood up and walked uneasily back to his companions. For the first time, Mavers regretted the Kargans did not allow guns on their planet. There were any number of planets where he carried. It went with the profession. He was a gambler, not a Sunday school teacher. It occurred to Mavers that Slippery Ed, not having the ethics of most Kargars, might want to remove the possible obstacle to $25 million. There was only one way to do that, and it involved a eulogy and flowers.

  There were amazing chefs on Kargar, but he didn’t enjoy his dinner.

  After finishing breakfast the next morning, Mavers sipped coffee and was glad the tournament would not start until the next day. As expected, the night had not been restful.

  “James Mavers! Fancy seeing you here.”

  He looked up and saw the smiling, red-haired lady standing next to the table. The gorgeous purple dress attracted attention from across the room. The blue diamond necklace she wore sparkled. She sat down at his table.

  “Geneva, how are you?”

  “Doing well, and by the end of the tournament I expect to be doing a lot better.”

  “That’s my hope too.” he said.

  “It’s not a hope, honey. With me it’s a sure thing.” Geneva pointed toward another part of the hotel. “I was going to drop in on the opening ceremonies. The hotel is welcoming all the visitors this morning. Care to join me?”

  “Love to.”

  When he stood up, she hooked her arm around his. The two strolled through the lobby and into one of the welcoming rooms. A quartet played classical music in the center of the room. Men and women mulled around sipping drinks or talking. Mavers recognized a number of the participants. Each year the tour
nament invited 100 players. Automatic invitations were extended to the top 25 players of the previous year. He had never placed out of the top 25; although one year he did come in at a lowly 19th. The previous year he had come in sixth. Not first place, but high enough to win a considerable amount of money. Geneva had placed third. She was aiming higher this year.

  Geneva patted his arm, then pointed to a man on the other side of the room. “There’s Larson. I didn’t know if he’d make it this year.”

  Mavers nodded. Larson Mattison was the grand old man in the world of gambling. A lean man with the face of a sly wolf, Larson always played an honest game.

  “Jim, let’s go over and say hello.”

  “Of course.”

  A uniformed man, tall with a stern face and black hair, stepped in front of them. The gold badge looked impressive on the blue police uniform. A thin black strap, attached to his holster, went up his chest and around his back. Civilians did not carry guns on Kargar. Many police did not either. He had to be in an elite squad. The man gave off an aura of full-flavored professionalism. Knowledgeable. Competent. Dangerous. But he flashed a friendly smile.

  “Ma’am, I am Captain Wilders. Why don’t you go over and say hello to your friend? I need a few words with Mr. Mavers here. He will join you shortly.”

  Mavers nodded to Geneva. She released his arm and walked away.

  “We don’t usually see a uniformed policeman, captain.” Mavers said.

  “We try to be low-key, but we are around at gatherings such as this. Just in case. After all, the room is filled with off-worlders.” he said.

  “That’s true. You can’t be too careful.”

  “No, especially since many off-worlders do not share our sense of peace. Do you realize Kargar has the lowest crime rate in the galaxy?”

  “I’m aware of that. That’s one of the reasons it’s such a pleasant planet. It’s something you should put on the tourist brochures. But why did you want to talk to me, captain?”

  Mavers couldn’t really tell if Capt. Norton smiled or frowned. There was a glint of suspicion in his gaze but he spoke in a cordial tone.

  “We investigate the background of all players in the annual game. We’ll be very happy when it concludes three years from now, but until then we are cautious.”

  “Cautious?” “Yes. It’s an embarrassment to some Kargars that the planet hosts a poker tournament. But when the state church bought the hotel and the extensive property holdings of the agonistic former owner, he insisted the tournament continue for at least a quarter century. He was an avid poker fan. In three years, the 25-year limit will run out. The previous owner had passed away shortly after selling, but the Kargars didn’t renege on the deal. When the Kargars gave their word, it was as good as gold.”

  “When your background was checked, there was a red flag.” the captain said.

  “Oh, must be a mistake. I’m a real nice guy, and I have a clean police record.”

  “But eight months ago you killed a man on Ramus.”

  “He drew first, captain. He was a bad poker player, a cranky competitor and a bad shot. It was self-defense.”

  “Was he trying to kill you because of a gambling disagreement?”

  Mavers nodded. “He was losing and thought I was cheating. I don’t have to cheat. I never have. The police investigation wasn’t time consuming. The case was cut-and-dried. He drew first, but I shot first.”

  “You are not carrying here, are you?”

  Mavers shook his head and opened his coat. “No.”

  “Just wanted to check. At times players try to bring in outlawed items.”

  “Not me, captain. I have full confidence in the Kargar authorities.”

  “I will accept your word Mr. Mavers. We keep all the games honest. We like to keep everything honest on Kargar.” He emphasized the “everything” then handed Mavers a card. “This has my direct number. In our background investigation of players there were a number with unsavory pasts, so we did not allow them on the planet. But you have a reputation of an honest man. So if you see anything or know of anything that looks suspicious you will let me know, correct?”

  “I will. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets anyway.”

  “Then I shall let you return to your charming companion.”

  “You’re a gentleman and a scholar, captain.”

  “And a very good police officer.” He smiled again but gave Mavers a wary look. “Do not forget that.”

  Mavers watched the captain walk off and talk to another guest. He wondered if the police had a few undercover agents in the crowd. After all, the games would be a den of iniquity in a peaceful paradise. They’d want to keep a very close eye on off-worlders, Mavers thought, on the off chance they might corrupt some of the populace. Although Mavers didn’t think there was a high probability of that. In his brief encounters with young Kargars he had perceived they were darn near incorruptible. Alas, he couldn't say the same for all off-worlders.

  He spent the afternoon and most of the evening viewing the limited sights of the city. Then he checked the poker lists. Of the other five names who’d be at his table he vaguely knew two of them. They were average players, nothing more. His hotel room was spacious, with a huge bed in the second room and a large, comfortable chair in the sitting room. But he found a surprise when he turned on the light.

  A smiling, slender gentleman sat on the chair, holding a small, but very ugly gun. A second gun jammed into the small of Mavers’ back and a huge hand grabbed his shoulder. The gorilla hustled him over to the sofa in front of the chair. He holstered his gun and sat down, turning sideways so he could face Mavers. His left arm was slung over the back of the sofa. The guy had to be six-six at least, with a chest that body builders would envy. His hand was almost twice the size of Mavers’ poker playing hand. His friend, who still had his gun in his hand, looked friendlier. Mavers pointed to the weapon.

  “You know those things are illegal on Kargar?”

  The line sparked laughter from him. “You hear that, Bruno? Illegal? Guess we’ll have to go down to the nearest police station, drop off our guns and give ourselves up.”

  Bruno had a nasty, guttural laugh. At least he had a sense of humor.

  The first man holstered his weapon. “Mr. Mavers. Last night you were seen having a discussion with a Dr. Jalrick. What would a low-life gambler have to talk about with a prominent historian?”

  “I really object to the term low-life.”

  “What were your topics of conversations with Dr. Jalrick?”

  “Why do you care?”

  His smile transformed into a snarl, lips back, showing a sharp incisor on the left side of his mouth. In a second the smile came back and he spoke with a jovial tone.

  “Perhaps I need to clarify our little talk. This is not a two-way question and answer session. We will be asking the questions and you will answer. But to show we are reasonable, yet also very serious, I will tell you that there are some ongoing and very disturbing rumors about Dr. Jalrick and Dr. Luddick. They have tried to keep their conversations secret, but you can’t stop whispers, can you? It is rumored that whatever discoveries they have made could destroy our religion, so naturally some believers are very upset.”

  “I know nothing about any rumors.” Mavers said.

  “We have answered your question.” He dropped his tone. His next words carried a dangerous edge. “Now you will answer ours. If you don’t, my associate will hammer his fist into your face. One solid punch from him would break your jaw and a few other bones, too. So it’s your turn to carry the conversation.”