by M J Gauntlet
Zax swallowed hard as he looked up to see Rodger still watching him and not the skyway. Zax realized what a precarious position he was in. All Rodger had to do was to raise the partition, effectively sealing him in, and take him to the nearest police station. Zax opened his mouth to explain, but Rodger raised his hand stopping the flood of words.
“Relax, Zax,” he said mildly. “I’m not going to turn you in. I must say that when I first saw that fax story, right after I dropped you off at Momma Pearl’s, it gave me quite a turn. I immediately called her to see if she was alright and told her what I had read. I also told her that I was going to the authorities, but she stopped me right away. She said, she knew a good boy when she saw one and to mind my own business. I relaxed once I heard her say that. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Mamma Pearl’s got a way about her, and when she says that a person is ‘good’ then there is no argument about it, they are!”
Zax was only half relieved by Rodger’s statement. He found that he was saddened and dismayed by what others who knew him, like Jinn and Omar, were now thinking about him. Wanting to desperately to contact them both and tell them that he was innocent, he also knew that such an act would probably bring more misfortune to them.
“…and boy was I glad I listened.” Zax had been lost in his own thoughts and had only heard the back half of Rodger’s comment.
“I’m sorry, Rodger what were you saying?” Zax queried, trying to focus on what the cabbie was saying.
“I said…I’m glad that I listened to Momma Pearl and didn’t call the cops.” Grabbing something off the front seat, Rodger placed it into Zax’s now limp fingers. It was a second fax sheet. Taking it in his hands he read the headline as this sheet was set in motion.
“UPDATE ON THE MURDER IN PLEX’S 3RD WARD”
The headline screamed.
“The metropolitan police have released new information on the killing of an Imperial Bank executive at her 3rd ward apartment. According to the authorities, the police have slain two suspects in the murder of Lauria Talbot, the Imperial Bank manager. In the early hours of this Firstday, the police cornered two individuals who were captured on image recorders leaving the Seaview apartment complex just minutes after the Lauria Talbot’s time of death. When confronted by the police, the two men staged a running gun battle from an air lorry using the same type of weapon that was used on the victim. Jewelry belonging to the victim was found in their possession and bloodstains matching the victim were discovered on their clothing. The gun battle resulted in minor injuries to two officers and the destruction of a police skimmer that was used to ram the vehicle the assailants were using. In a side note... The police have announced that they are no longer seeking the person whose picture was released and was earlier identified as a possible suspect…In other news around Plex, the…”
“See what I told ya,” Rodger said, looking back at Zax, “Momma Pearl is always right about a person. She has a feel for such things.”
“Thank you for showing me the faxes, although it might have been better if you had shown me the last one first,” Zax responded, with a shaky smile and a feeling of relief about the feelings of those who knew him. Something else Rodger said, peaked Zax’s curiosity.
“Rodger, this is the second time you’ve referred to Ava, as ‘Momma Pearl”, why is that?”
“Oh, didn’t she tell ya?” Rodger said, eyebrows moving up in surprise. “I’m her son, of course.” Zax looked baffled at the statement, remembering Ava’s palm tat, and Rodger’s backhand one. Seeing the confused look on Zax’s face, Rodger laughed loudly.
“I’m her adopted son. As a matter of fact, I’m just one of her adopted children. Momma has about six under her wings now. I say about because I bet that the next time I see her, she would have pulled in another one,” he said, shaking his head.
Zax nodded his head in understanding, settled back and began to think furiously about the two fax headlines. If what Lieutenant Fuller had told him was true, then the police have known all along that I was innocent in Lauria’s murder but were under pressure from the ISB to issue a misleading statement to the faxes as an excuse for my capture. If that were true…why the sudden switch?
Thinking back to what the old data cube revealed, things were beginning to make sense. It was obvious that the ISB wanted him to relax and feel as though the pressure was off. Zax knew that the moment he poked his nose out into the open, they would snatch him up like pseudo grunion on one of Bright’s western hemisphere beaches. The second fax now sent a chill down his spine, greater than the first one did. It could mean that the ISB may have a clue as to what he is carrying. The thought galvanized him into initiating the plan he, up till now, had tentatively wanted to put into action. But after reading the two faxes and realizing what they meant, any future he might have on Bright was now shattered beyond recovery.
“Rodger, I have what may seem like an odd request,” he said, as Rodger was turning his seat around. “Can you take me to a fair, but not so reputable land agent? I need someone that doesn’t necessarily keep exact records of transactions. You get my drift?”
“Hmmm…sure Zax, I think I know just the guy,” Rodger said thoughtfully. Rising the taxi up into the express air lanes, he banked the aircar sharply to his left towards the first setting sun, invoking a series of horn blasts from outraged drivers.
Thirty minutes later, the skycab came to a halt and swooped down on the walkway outside of a seven-story building.
“Here you are, Zax. The man you want has an office on the fourth floor, it’s called Baran Land Development. The name of the man you want to speak to is Elmo Cray. When they ask if you have an appointment say, ‘no, but he comes highly recommended by friends in high places.’ Rodger instructed. Then with a stern stare he added, “A word of advice, Elmo is fair but tough! Be careful or you might end up losing your new clothes.”
“Thanks a lot Rodger,” Zax said, then hesitated before leaving the car. “I hate to ask you wait because I have no idea how long this will take, and I don’t want you to lose any fares, but if you could…”
“No worries, Zax, I’ll hang around. It’s probably safer for me if I don’t pick up a fare in this neighborhood, if you know what I mean.”
Zax scrutinized his surroundings and nodded his understanding, the last time he was in a neighborhood this rundown was at the offices of the late Alicia Wilkerson Esq.
Entering the building Zax noticed that despite its outward appearance, it was equipped with an updated gravlift tube with a call box in the wall next to it. Walking up to the box, he keyed the flat panel marked ‘Baran Land Development’ and waited.
“Baran Land Development, how can I help you?” a human sounding voice inquired.
“I would like to see a Mr. Cray, please,” he replied. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but he comes recommended by friends in high places and I have an urgent land matter I wish to discuss with him.” There was a moment of silence, then the voice came back.
“Very well, the lift will bring you straight to the fourth-floor offices. Follow the floor indicator to Mr. Cray’s office. Who should I say is calling?” Zax hesitated for a moment, then figured what the hell. “Tell him it is Grayson, Zaxxion Grayson.”
The door to the tube slid around and Zax entered. The tube’s floor rose and within a few seconds, it deposited him at the fourth-floor office. As he exited, a pulsating dashed line appeared at his feet, leading off to the right. Looking around as he followed the lights, Zax could see no other people. There was no sign of the pleasant voiced receptionist. Making sure he kept the blinking indicator lights in sight, Zax soon found himself at the threshold of Cray’s office. Approaching the portal, the door slid aside, and he walked in. For the third time in as many days, Zax found himself awed by a room. It looked like something from an old Victorian Tri-D drama. There were overstuffed chairs and candles that shed a flickering light on a huge wooden desk. The man behind the desk looked so emaciated, it appe
ared that the faint breeze from the air acclimatizing unit would carry him away. The thin man rose from behind the huge desk, his balding plate reflecting the flickering candlelight, and extended his hand tattooed on the back, for Zax to grasp. Zax hesitated, afraid that a firm handshake would break bones, then was pleasantly surprised when the man’s grasp was like iron. Looking down at the man, Zax was reminded of a picture he once saw of a Terrian bird called a chicken, beaklike nose, and all.
“Hello, you must be Zaxxion Grayson, I am Elmo Cray, land agent. Would you like a seat?” Zax looked around in confusion, for there were no chairs in the room other than Cray’s. Mr. Cray reached over to his desk and pushed a button. Just in front of Zax, an overstuffed chair rose out of the floor, facing the enormous desk. The land agent smiled, then gestured for Zax to take a seat. As Zax was sitting down, Cray sat down behind the desk and turned on a holographic projection, which consisted solely of rapidly changing numbers that flashed through the space in front of him.
“Please pardon the theatrics but I just love to put on a big, impressive show for new clients. It makes them feel like they are getting their money’s worth. I bet you are wondering where the honey voice receptionist is. Well, she is in one of those boxes over in the corner,” he said, pointing towards the stacked planetary web servers, blinking against the left wall. “It is the latest in automated employees. They cost a lot initially, but they don’t take kaffee breaks or call in sick.”
The late Ms. Wilkerson could have taught him a thing or two about automation and holographic projections. Zax thought. Pretty soon they won’t need people at all. All the while Elmo Cray had been talking to Zax, his eyes never left the dancing numbers in front of them.
“First, before we get down to business, how is the delightful Mrs. Pearl? I’ve asked her to marry me several times, but she always rebuffs my advances,” he finished saying with a pout, never turning his eyes from the projection.
“Er…she’s doing just fine,” Zax replied.
“Is she still doing that spooky mind reading thing?” Cray asked and broke out into a big smile as he glanced up for a split second, to see the surprised look on Zax’s face.
“I see by the look on your face, she is. I still don’t see how she knows things; she just does. I’ve told her a thousand times that with her talent and my business sense that within a year or two, we could own this planet. She just laughs and calls me a ‘carpetbagger’, whatever that is, and refuses my pleas.
“Anyway… enough chit chat, let us get down to business. What can I do for you Messer Zaxxion Alexander Grayson?”
Startled, Zax realized that he had not given Cray his full name. Seeing the startled look on Zax’s face, Cray held up his hand to halt the obvious question.
“Look, Messer Grayson. I’m in the land shuffling business. The only reason people come to an agent like myself is to either sell or buy their LAG positions in the lottery. Time is precious in these matters, so I do not waste it. The moment you gave me your name over the intercom, I ran a search through the LAG database. There were three other Graysons on planet, besides yourself, that were due for land allocation in the next five years. Checking the image through the camera got me nowhere, that’s an excellent image scrambler you have there by the way, so I simply checked your vital statistics when you entered the gravlift. When I compared that data with those of the other two Graysons, I was able to identify you. Once I did that, all I needed to do was look up your full name, position in the LAG, and any other information that I deemed pertinent. I am guessing that you are either planning to go off planet soon, or are in desperate need of units, or both. So, let us not beat around the planet, eh? What can I do for you?
Clearing his throat, Zax sat back into the overstuffed chair slightly abashed. Rodger was right. Elmo Cray was sharp! He was going to have to watch this shrewd, little, chicken man very carefully. Gathering his wits, Zax began to explain what he wanted.
“Messer Cray, I am here to offer you my slot in the upcoming LAG, for a reasonable price that is,” he said firmly.
“Let us make sure that we understand each other Messer Grayson. You are willing to defer your land allotment for the next ten planetary years, and to have me broker your upcoming spot to persons unknown, who would then be able to use that allocated spot for their chance at random assignment. Is that correct?” Cray said formally. From the way the summation was phrased, Zax was pretty sure this conversation was being recorded. Land ‘arrangements’ of this type, while not illegal, were under tight control by both the planetary government and the Empire.
While it was true that land titles could never be sold or traded, the chance at receiving a title could. It was possible to defer one’s entrance into the LAG in ten-year blocks of time. A person could forgo participation in any upcoming land grant, but technically, his slot could not be directly given to another person. That is where the land agents like Cray came in. Land agents are employed by clients who wish to change their position in the LAG to a more favorable one, by purchasing the chance from other individuals and submitting their name in that spot. The catch was that the individual giving up the allotment could not be connected to the receiver in any way. If any connection was discovered, then both individuals would be barred from the LAG for no less than twenty planetary years, which was about twenty-five T-years.
“Yes, sir that is correct. I, Zaxxion Alexander Grayson, am willing to defer my entrance in the upcoming Land Allocation Grant for a period time equaling ten Bright years. This is, of course, if you, as the client land agent, will advance me an agreed upon sum of eunits that have been approved by the planetary government of Bright for handling my request. If so, I will then authorize the documents affirming my intention of deferring my land allotment for the stipulated time,” Zax replied, equally formally for the recorder. “Now there is a separate matter for which I need your advice.” By saying this, Zax had just given Cray the clue to switch off the recorder so that the real negotiations could begin. Right on cue, Cray reached a hand over the top of his desk and pressed a button.
“Both the imagers and recorders are now registering a bogus conversation over current land prices. Ok, Messer Grayson what is your asking price for this deferment?
“Ten thousand Imperial eunits.” Zax said bluntly.
“Ten thousand?!” said Elmo Cray, as his chicken eyebrows fluttered as though they were going to leave his face and fly around the room. “Look Messer Grayson, you seem to have me confused with the Imperial Bank! I am sorry, but you are wasting my time. If you would follow the arrow back to the lift tube, it will take you back to the fairyland you have emerged from. Good day to you sir!” With a wave of dismissal, he turned back to looking at his projected screen, not bothering to look up as Zax rose out of the chair. Shrugging, Zax walked towards the door.
“You know, of course, that your figure is quite unreasonable,” Elmo Cray said softly, as Zax was just about to the activate the door panel.
“Yes, of course I do,” Zax said calmly, his palm poised just above the door plate, “just as I know that you realize that I will simply go to another agent and ask them for slightly less. I will continue to follow that course of action until I reach a figure and an agent who will meet my true price. I see no reason why that broker shouldn’t be you, but unless I hear a counteroffer, I will continue on with my original plan of action.”
“Ok, ok, young man, come back and sit down. Let us stop fencing. I will offer you two thousand for your slot.”
Zax removed his hand from the door panel, but did not step back into the room. “Now who is being ridiculous? Look…I have already been to the LAG office and have seen what probable sections of the lottery my slot will fall in, and the available plots that are obtainable for those sections. As you have obviously been scanning the LAG board, then you realize that over one-third of the plots are good and one sixth of them are prime. Which means that you will be able to broker my slot for at least fifteen thousand, so let’s stop trying to fo
ol each other, alright?”
“Ahh…I see that I may have underestimated you, Messer Grayson (gone was the ‘young man’ and ‘fella’). Please have a seat so we can work out the details, eh?”
An hour later, Zax left the office of Elmo Cray with seven thousand two hundred Imperial units on a new pre- paid e-disk. The original price was eight thousand five hundred, but Zax had offered Cray an extra thousand two hundred eunits to be held in escrow, with the stipulation that Cray would receive the units if he didn’t register the transaction for the next four days. Touching Rodger’s calling card, he saw that the location of his cab was registered as being above his current location, probably on the roof of the building. When Zax walked out to the street, the cab rapidly descended and Zax entered and sat down. Reaching through the open partition, he handed Rodger five eunit chits, worth one hundred units each.
“This is for you, Rodger,” Zax said, to the stunned driver. “For all your help, and for believing in Momma Pearl’s intuition about me. Please don’t bother to thank me; I just hope that no misfortune befalls you because of me. Now could you take me to the robohostel nearest the Plex spaceport?”
During the entire trip to the robohostel Rodger tried to talk him into returning to Mrs. Pearl’s establishment, but Zax was adamant. With the taxi hovering at the door of the robohostel, Rodger tired one more time to discourage him from staying there.
