A12 Who Can Own the Stars?

by Mackey Chandler

  The usually poker-faced Chen was not doing a very good job of being the inscrutable spymaster today. He looked sheepish. Heather wondered if he’d really screwed something up before he ever spoke.

  “Ma’am, you made a note to charge our commercial news monitoring services with keeping a watch for any public statements by your former resident Linda Pennington.”

  Heather was enjoying Chen’s discomfort, which wasn’t nice, but she couldn’t resist tweaking him a little more.

  “Ahhh… Has she realized how good she had it here and come to the realization her return to the Slum Ball was ill-advised? Is she now pining to return?”

  “Not exactly,” Chen said, blinking rapidly and looking even more distressed. “She seems to have gotten a position with the Bureau of Labor Allocation. But I’d say from long personal experience that she is probably funded and assigned there from one of the many specialized propaganda shops under Homeland Security. I’ll just leave the video link here. I expect they will probably have her make the circuit of the various talk shows and approved political webcasts. I’ll put any new speaking engagements in your regular report, but since this is a new thing, I wanted to make you aware of it.”

  “Thank you, Chen. I appreciate your diligence. I’ll text you any questions,” Heather said and disconnected. She saw his face relax a little once he knew they were done, just an instant before the camera cut off.

  Heather rinsed out her oatmeal bowl, leaving it for her housekeeper to deal with later, topped off her coffee, and returned to watch the video. If she didn’t stop and look at it now, she’d be thinking about it all day. It would irritate her a dozen times imagining it before she ever watched it.

  “What You Should Know” with John Foster as a webcast was very simply done. There were no fancy animated titles. The trend right now was to try to look more like an amateur production because people didn’t trust slick big-money shows.

  The set was extremely simple too. It either really was Foster’s home which was the standard for talk shows now, or a set meant to convey that. There was a low granite slab table with an electronic remote and a coffee mug behind a leather sofa long enough to seat four or five. The view was across the sofa and table at an angle so you saw out glass doors to the left and a wall of bookcases to the right behind the host and guest.

  Considering how most people lived in North America now the scene implied Foster was of considerable means and connections, thus his opinion was to be taken seriously. The view out the glass was a long downhill lawn between big trees to a boathouse and dock. The bookshelves that ran to the ceiling had books, but also spaces for a pair of Chinese vases, a bust of some man Heather didn’t know, and a discontinued Waterford bowl that was a museum piece now. Heather knew it was worth at least a half-million USNA dollars if it was real. The whole effect was all so tasteful and expensive it was like a get rich quick infomercial. The only thing missing was an expensive car on a long curving driveway outside. The boathouse served that same function a little less blatantly.

  John Foster was at the far end of the sofa but turned away a little so you could see his reactions to his guest. He could still turn his head easily and address his audience. He was casually dressed in khaki slacks with cuffs, argyle socks, and soft loafers. His windowpane shirt was long-sleeved and buttoned at the neck as had become required by right-thinking North Americans in the last few months.

  He was at the full opposite end of the sofa from Linda Pennington. Just sitting on the same sofa with her was as much intimacy as public morals allowed now. Sitting close enough contact might occur would have been frowned on.

  Heather might not have recognized Linda now if she’d walked past her in the corridors. She had to have a wig on because her hair hadn’t had time to grow that long. She looked really good for a middle-aged Earthie with no life extension. She had on full-face makeup that almost nobody wore on Home. Even so, Heather was pretty sure she had software enhancement running to make her look a good ten or fifteen years younger. She had no idea if John Foster needed that.

  Linda was dressed as modestly as Foster or more so. Besides a long pleated skirt and boots that covered her legs well above her hem, she had on a little jacket over a long-sleeved blouse that hid her figure. If the blouse showed any neck it was hidden behind a big silk scarf artfully knotted.

  Linda described her time on Home as terrifying. She claimed to be in fear every time she had to leave their apartment because about half the people in the public corridors appeared to be armed. She was skillful in emoting with a contorted face. Foster hardly had to say anything to launch Linda on lengthy responses. It was scripted, but she seemed able to deliver it extemporaneously.

  That didn’t surprise Heather. Linda was skilled at creating a narrative in her mind and was the sort who had no trouble believing her own story once created. It didn’t have the sound of reading it and she didn’t look like she was reading. Foster just nodded a lot and likely did read his part.

  She broke down and cried when she spoke of being reduced to working as a cleaning lady at a night club. The show was aimed at a different demographic and unconcerned about offending any cleaning ladies. Indeed the point seemed to be that there was an oppressed underclass among the spacers. It amused Heather to think the obvious inference that their cleaning ladies might be an oppressed underclass in a menial job would never occur to them.

  It was interesting she said nothing about her ex, Mo. Heather had to wonder if she would bring him up another time. That seemed a risky thing to bring up with a very conservative North American public. She did mention both her children were beguiled by the permissive atmosphere on Home and allowed to assume adult privileges long before she thought them ready. She said child labor was a horrid step back to times best forgotten. She said there were no public schools as if that meant there were no schools.

  Linda certainly seemed to have improved her station in life. She was dressed well and being presented to the public as a spoks. Doing this sort of show every few days certainly beat a daily shift of vacuuming and wiping down banquettes.

  The script visited all the usual talking points about spacers and avoided any positive aspects that might appeal to the public. It struck Heather that they didn’t touch upon Life Extension Therapy at all. It made her wonder if the Earthies had lost the battle on that with their public and were no longer trying to convince them that dying young was a patriotic duty and sign of righteousness.

  Heather wondered if she should make Mo aware of this, but decided against it. She was after all Mo’s ex-wife. It wasn’t like anything the woman could do now would impact him on the Moon. He certainly didn’t need to be convinced he’d done the right thing in divorcing her. All it could do would be bring to mind hurtful things better forgotten.

  Suddenly she realized why Chen was uncomfortable making this report to her and felt a flash of belated sympathy. This report was of no more real benefit to her than it would be to Mo. It just reminded her of Linda’s irrational accusations and the fact she’d passed on the opportunity to shoot her for her insolence while the woman stood before her justice.

  Chen just didn’t have her opportunity to refrain from passing it along since he was their employee and specifically charged with telling her. In her mind, there had been a small nagging worry that the woman could do something damaging to them. Now, seeing the silly propaganda show, she wondered why she’d thought that. These productions had nothing to do with harming them and everything to do with protecting the ruling class below from their own people.

  Chapter 10

  “He’s dirty,” Otis Duggan said. “The trouble is, he is smart, really good at hiding the dirt, and at using every legal trick of endless Earth law to excuse what isn’t hidden.”

  Jan Hagen sat holding his chin and tapping his lips with a finger-tip.

  “Give me some specific examples I can tell Chen so we can estimate what would be involved to deliver hard proof to Irwin.”

  “Proof a Euro
pean court would recognize, or proof Irwin would accept?” Otis asked.

  “Let’s say Irwin first. I expect he’d have a much lower threshold of proof,” Jan said.

  “OK, as an example, most high-level crooks get implicated by their subordinates. If the people in their own office don’t become afraid and turn them in, they are at least turned against their master by the prosecution and compelled to testify,” Otis said.

  Jan nodded that he was in agreement, and following that.

  “I think both of the officials working under his direct control in the central bank and his secretary have no idea at all Colombe is robbing the institution. He met with an official of the Persian Central Bank at a restaurant two days ago and we managed to fly a recording bug under their table. Later after they were gone, we recovered it to an agent sent in to have a meal there. Their conversation was entirely innocuous. They talked about the food, they talked in generalities about the difficulties of working around the Americans. The Persian resents that they are so inhibited by what he calls a failed state. Colombe poked fun at his own European Union with a particular dislike for the Italians.

  “However, it did not escape our attention that Colombe’s driver, who is a Russian national, did not wait for him or remain with their car for security. Colombe could call for a car but the one from the bank would have a driver assigned for a pool of a half dozen at random. He maintains a car and driver even though he sometimes took the other bank-provided car to work. The driver ordered up an automated car from a local service and left with a member of the Persian’s security detail. They went to a park, went for a leisurely stroll together in a cell phone hush field, and ordered an auto-cab from a different company to take them back to the restaurant. When they got back and the security fellow rejoined the Persians, they all immediately left.”

  “Almost as if the subordinates were the ones actually doing business,” Jan said.

  “Colombe also has a gardener who walks around the estate supervising two hands-on gardeners but never seems to get his hands dirty. Our observer says he’s certain from the way he walks and moves and adjusts his clothing that he is armed. Also, while Colombe has a cleaning maid and cook, it is his gardener who lives in.” Otis said.

  ‘This is unusual,” Jan said, “most greedy people wish to hire those who will conspire with them, but want the corporation or the state to cover paying them. If they are drawing a full salary then he doesn’t have to share nearly as much of their ill-gotten gains with them, just sweeten the pot as it were. So he is paying at least two full-time employees for his own purposes. That’s dangerously smart.”

  “We think his wife is involved too, but she is even more mysterious. We’ve expended more resources on her and found out nothing.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve gone to this much trouble,” Jan admitted. “We didn’t cap the number of agents used or how many grams committed but people usually come back and ask for permission to keep expanding an investigation.”

  “I know you haven’t been working with Chen that long,” Otis said. “I’m not being insubordinate, but we’ve never seen Chen draw back from anything April ordered. This may be for Irwin, but it has always worked out that when April instigates an investigation, we end up finding a half dozen related things we are really happy to know for every case we’ve solved for her.”

  “Hmmm… having dealt with her before, this doesn’t surprise me. I’m certainly not telling you to pull back just yet.”

  “Chen says you have European assets just like he has Asian. Do you have anything to share to help us narrow down what we look at?”

  “I don’t want to narrow you down. If I have other assets, you may assume they are haring off in other directions and that suites me just fine. The only things that occur to me are to suggest you find out more about the gardener and check out the driver and his history in greater detail. He may be a handler working Colombe for the Russians.”

  The look on Otis’ face said that the idea shocked him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t control his face. He chose not to with Jan. It was a form of honesty. They’d just assumed Colombe was the principal miscreant, and not being managed by anyone else.

  “I’ll look into that,” Otis promised and Jan just nodded before he disconnected.

  Jan had been surprised too but didn’t feel he owed Otis that kind of honesty. It would have caused him to alter his priorities if he’d shown surprise that the Persians were involved. He called Chen amused at the new direction he’d be able to suggest.

  “Chen? Jan here,” he texted. “You once mentioned Huian having contacts in the hawala system. If you can, structure a general inquiry about our target Colombe to avoid conflicts, perhaps to ask if we should do business with him. It would at least tell us if he is engaged in that world. I’ve been advised he is in contact with the Persian Central Bank, but I doubt they would be as open to questions about him.”

  Well, isn’t that interesting? Chen thought, smiling. He never expected to use Huian as an intelligence asset. He’d see if she could extract that information, but he wouldn’t use her blind. He’d let her know it was for an intelligence case and that she should not damage her valuable relationship with Myat to further a case.

  “Dear wife, come talk to me when you have a moment,” he called around the screen that separated his work area.

  * * *

  Irwin Hall and Eddie Persico appeared in a call to Jeff. The window with Irwin had the little star in the corner so he had initiated the call. Irwin looked happy to the point of smugness so Jeff didn’t brace himself for bad news for a change.

  “I just wanted to let both of you know in the last three days we’ve sold or gotten solid leases for every cubic meter of spun cubic in Beta,” Irwin said.

  “Wow, that’s a couple of months ahead of your best projection,” Jeff said.

  “Indeed. We are even covered if someone doesn’t forward payment and withdraws. We now have a waiting list of people and firms wanting space,” Irwin said. “I made no announcement, but it appears people spread the word around that most of the cubic was spoken for and it precipitated a rush for the last few units.”

  “Does that change our construction schedule?” Eddie wanted to know.

  “Not for the basic structure,” Irwin said. “The materials and fabrication are already reserved as far ahead as services are available. I can speed up the interior detailing and finishing a bit since we’re ahead of projections for income. I just have one buyer I expect to be excluded for prime one g cubic. I expect it will be no problem to replace him given the response we just got.”

  Jeff said nothing. When Irwin used their intelligence resources it didn’t matter through which of them it was requested, all three shared any results.

  Eddie perked up suddenly and looked at them intensely. “Do you then project we will be getting an income stream earlier than we anticipated?”

  “Yes, you will be getting several Solar a month starting next month instead of three or four months from now,” Irwin said. “I can ask accounting for an exact number.”

  “No need. I’ve been keeping my money active and tied up to the last centum,” he revealed. “I haven’t allowed myself any personal extravagance. Would the Private Bank write me a mortgage for that cubic if it comes open? I’d ask a zero down fifty-year loan with no prepayment penalty. The cubic should secure it since there is such demand. If you insist, I can offer other collateral.”

  “If it starts paying, it is yours at four-point-seven percent interest.” Irwin offered.

  “That’s not bad, considering I’m partially paying myself interest,” Eddie said.

  “Yes, it’s likely around three percent when everything balances,” Irwin agreed. “Are you going to open a business office?”

  “No, I intend to stay virtual like Jeff,” Eddie said. “I want an actual decent volume to live in where I don’t have to hang my kitchen chairs and table up to fold the sofa down and watch the screen. I might even have an actual
shower stall, where I don’t have to sit on the toilet lid.”

  “Are you in a single?” Jeff asked. He’d never stuck his nose in Eddie’s private life. Eddie had never invited him to his home, but then neither had Jeff invited him.

  “The smallest,” Eddie said, “but at least I own it. I’ll keep it for when I overnight on Home. I suspect it will still get used because I have so much business here.”

  “It isn’t going to drop in value,” Irwin assured him.

  “If it doesn’t work out for Beta, I’ll get myself in a position to buy something when we start construction on Gamma,” Eddie vowed.

  That’s what Irwin liked about Eddie. They didn’t have the first ring closed on Beta and he was looking ahead at Gamma. He had boundless optimism.

  * * *

  When their expeditionary force returned to Mr. Mast’s place, his house-sitter had several messages waiting for him. One he passed along to Vic. It was from the fellow running the radio net, Ted Foster.

  Mr. Foy

  I’m told you have purchased a satellite phone. If you wish to call in messages to be added at the end of our news broadcast or any other service call me at 011-8812-1257-6871. If you wish to know the other satellite phone users in our six-county area, I maintain a list, but getting it requires allowing me to publish your number to the others on the list. I have a policy that if I have complaints of anyone making frivolous calls running up other people’s phone bills, I will publicly remove them from the list and block them on my phone.

  If you wish any sort of a brief biography or business description attached to your listing that is a no-fee option but limited to three hundred words.

  It is well known I have a sat phone and I understand if you do not want this published. I do have problems with numerous requests to make calls for people to search for family and others whose fate is unknown. I found out early on that most of these searches return out of service messages and are pointless. It may seem heartless, but I advise you to refuse most charity calls and charge sufficiently for other calls to cover your expenses or people will take advantage of you.