Taya was staring at Mikal curiously as he put the “handy off-world gadget” back into his pocket. She had been unable to follow any of the conversation, but it was clear that Mikal had been communicating with someone, in some manner. And he was pleased with the news, whatever it was.
“You’re obviously not a Waywardian,” the young woman said. “What sort of magic did you just perform? Talk to Kati?”
Mikal shook his head.
“No, not Kati. This lady is a Waywardian, a marvellous, no-nonsense woman from the Continent Nord. Married to a politician, and quite the politician in her own right, too. I’ll tell you what she managed to pull off this morning, but not quite yet.
“I was about to explain what I’m up to, here on Wayward, when we were interrupted, wasn’t I?”
At Taya’s nod he explained about Gorsh’s slavery business, and how it had been his job to chase the man down and put a stop to his doings.
“We succeeded in doing that,” he said. “Some Team members chased him into space; what the exact results of that endeavour are, I’m still waiting to hear, but I do know that they were not good for Gorsh. While waiting for these Team members to return and give a proper report, the rest of us came here to Suderie to fetch a group of slaves which Gorsh had rented to a local merchant.”
“The children, of course,” Taya said. “As soon as you said that you were from off-world, I thought of the boys. They’re definitely not locals, and Yaroli did rent ‘their services’ which is the way he put it. He was coy about who the Nordlander merchant to whom he was paying the money was—even I didn’t know his name. He blacked it out on my copies of the financial statements, which I thought pretty strange, but, hey, he’s the boss, and I’m just a lowly employee.”
She grinned.
“So lowly, that Lara is my direct overseer. Which is slightly embarrassing. But, of course it would have been this Gorsh; Tarig and Yaroli were recently celebrating because they’d heard that their hand-knotter provider had come to a bad end, and would not be collecting monthly rents any more. I admit that I did wonder whether or not someone would come looking for the children; it didn’t seem right that they would simply stay here and keep on working to keep Yaroli and Tarig in mistresses, while never going to school or getting to play with other children.”
“Trouble is, we didn’t know what people’s attitudes to Yaroli’s—and Gorsh’s—ways of doing business were here in Suderie,” Mikal said. “Kati and Max Lordz came here earlier, before we had dealt with Gorsh, to check out the situation, and we’re tossed out on their ear from Yaroli’s when Kati’s little friend, Lume, recognized her. And then she was kidnapped by Gorsh on their way back North, so, obviously, someone informed the Slaver about her whereabouts.”
“You mean Captain Katerina is your Kati?” Taya absolutely beamed, as Mikal nodded. “I could tell that she was enjoying watching Sieur Lordz play the uptight nobleman when they came here. I had the sneaking suspicion that they would have had a good laugh about it afterwards—well, maybe they didn’t get a chance to, since Tarig threw them out after the work room incident.”
“Do you think that Yaroli will fight very hard to keep the boys, once it’s made clear to him that The Federation wants them to be freed?” Mikal asked. “The truth is that we don’t have much physical force to throw into this, though, I suppose that I could call for a Torrones war ship to back me up, if things get really sticky. However, it was decided that we would try to do what needed to be done on Wayward without involving any military personnel, since generally Waywardians are considered to be peace-loving people. We’ve been depending on the locals a lot, and so far, they have come through in spades.”
“Yaroli has been getting cooperation from certain quarters by paying bribes,” Taya said in a low voice. “I’ve been on the job long enough to have come to understand that when the outlays from the fund labelled ‘Miscellaneous’ are larger than the payments for office supplies or the snack fund would warrant, someone is getting paid for services that Yaroli does not want to itemize. There have been an inordinate number of those lately.”
“Do you know to whom the money has been going?” Mikal asked.
Taya shook her head.
“That’s the beauty of the ‘Miscellaneous’ file, from the bosses’ viewpoint. The sums are recorded, and therefore kept on the books, but there are no accompanying explanations, or names. Anyone asks questions, oh, well, that’s all just miscellaneous expenses; could be anything that is considered necessary for running the business.
“But, I’m not an idiot, and I have overheard Tarig, for one, saying that sometimes bribes are just the cost of doing business.”
“Well, perhaps the other members of the Team are having more success finding out who is being paid off to overlook whatever. Would it be possible for you to make a list of these miscellaneous amounts that have been paid out, let’s say, since Yaroli’s went into the hand-knotting business? If I could correlate them with what the other Team members tell me, we might come up with something useful.”
“I don’t see why not,” Taya answered. “Lara has no idea what it is that I do; some writing down of figures and taking the paper home with me would not be worth her notice. But I’d have to be able to get them to you, somehow.”
“How late is this place open?” Mikal asked.
“Until ten in the evening. The food is good, so they get a fair bit of evening trade—late diners, couples on dates, and so forth. Granted the location isn’t the greatest, but the monorail trams are convenient, and people do use them, to go out at night.”
“I was thinking of that.” Mikal smiled. “The convenience of the tram system, that is. I could support your future in-laws’ business by bringing my Team here for a late dinner, and you could join us if that would be convenient. I’d get the list of the miscellaneous expenses, and you would get to meet the group that is out to take Yaroli’s band of hand-knotters away from him.”
“Fantastic.” Taya’s return smile was brilliant. “How many people would that be—you may approximate if you need to? I’ll pass the reservation on to Luco; he’ll be off by then, but he’ll give the word to the next shift.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The first step that Karn Gurt and Nabbish took was to obtain from the City Directory a chart detailing the structure of the Suderie Civic Officialdom. They spent a few minutes with the chart spread between them on a convenient picnic table, and studied it, before tackling the Civic Offices.
“They do have a Master Law Enforcer,” Nabbish said, after a moment or two. “He’s got some sub-departments under him—it’s hard to tell which one applies to our case.”
“And there’s someone termed The Commercial Overseer,” Karn added. “Looks like both of those report directly to the Mayor, with no levels of bureaucracy in between. They’re probably the two we ought to have a go at, try to pump them for information. Though, possibly, they’re the ones Yaroli would have tried to bribe, or at least cozy up to, when he expanded his business with Gorsh’s child slaves.”
“So we’ll have to tread carefully,” Nabbish agreed. “Find out, if possible, if any bribes did come their way to persuade them to turn a blind eye to the exploitation of children.”
“We should probably split up,” Karn suggested. “We can get things done faster that way. You take on the Master Law Enforcer, since you have the responsibility for law enforcement on Continent Nord. I’ll check out this Commercial Overseer character, and find out what someone like that really does. See if he knows what’s going on—is he looking through his fingers at Yaroli’s practises, or is Yaroli sidestepping rules and regulations without his knowledge?
“If it sounds like we’re getting stonewalled, we can then insist on seeing the Mayor.”
His face broke into a grin.
“We should take a page out of Max’s book when we go into the front offices of these civic officials. Put on the haughtiest face you can, and make the most of your credentials as a Co
ntinent Nord Government representative. Don’t let any secretary shunt you aside to wait, but insist on seeing the boss as soon as is at all possible.”
“Well,” Nabbish began, a little uneasily. “I’m not sure that I can do the haughty nearly as well as Max can. I’m more of an everyman’s protector, myself. But I’m not a pushover, as you know, Karn, so I presume that I can manage to get an audience with the Master Law Enforcer, one way or another.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Karn responded. “And Cassi would laugh at me doing the Old Family routine, I well know. But she’s not here, and the word is that these Sudlanders envy the North for the titles and such, which we consider so silly and outdated. So, if it helps our case, I’m perfectly prepared to look down my nose at any number of perfectly nice people.”
On that note they finished off the tea they had bought at a street-side stall, and folded up their chart. Nabbish took it, and stuck it into his tunic pocket, thinking that it might come in handy with the Master Law Enforcer. A little knowledge of the bureaucracy could go a long way, when it came to navigating the front office gatekeepers. Karn wouldn’t need it, since the Commercial Overseer apparently had the much smaller staff.
*****
As it turned out, Nabbish had no trouble getting in to see the Master Law Enforcer of Suderie. He introduced himself as the Continent Nord Great Council Member in charge of Law Enforcement to the man behind the front counter at the Civic Law Enforcement Office, and explained that he wanted to speak with the Master Law Enforcer about a “problem that should be of concern to the people of Suderie”. He showed his badge of office, and apparently that was all that it took. The greying man to whom he spoke, looked at the badge, nodded, and hurried off into the back, with a request that Nabbish wait a moment.
Nabbish did so, looking around him at the men and women coming and going, or busy, behind desks, working at something or other. The atmosphere was much like the one in his department in Strone, and he began to feel more comfortable.
“Would you like to follow me, sir?”
The counter man had returned, and was looking at him invitingly. He had opened the gate which separated the two sides of the counter, and with thanks, Nabbish entered the inner sanctum. The inner offices seemed even busier than the front one had been. That did not surprise Nabbish, since Suderie was a fair-sized city, easily as big, probably bigger, than Strone. Workers were walking from office to office, sometimes consulting with one another in the hallways, scrutinizing papers and notebooks as they did so.
Yet, inside the premises of The Master Law Enforcer all this hustle and bustle suddenly vanished. His guide ushered Nabbish into a large, carpeted reception area, empty except for a number of comfortable chairs, several potted plants, and a smiling, comely young woman seated behind a wooden desk. There was a large, impressive window on one wall.
“This guy has one hell of a fancy corner office,” he muttered under his breath, a touch envious. His official quarters in Strone were much more modest, and he was the Law Enforcer for the whole of Continent Nord! But then, Marna Naez didn’t have an office this impressive, and she was the President of the Continent Nord! These Suderian officials clearly were ostentatious. He wondered about that. Officials who liked fancy offices sometimes liked to have a bit of money cross their palms.
Part of him, though, wished that his tunic and pants, (the best he owned), were cut of more expensive cloth, and had been tailored for him, instead of bought by his wife from a stall’s supply of ready-mades. Normally he didn’t care about such things, but this office made him feel self-conscious. But he supposed that was the point of the fancy digs, so he straightened his shoulders, and bucked up his self-esteem as he walked over to the receptionist.
“Would you be good enough, Nordlander Citizen Nabbish, to seat yourself in one of the chairs for a few moments?” the woman asked him, politely. “Master Law Enforcer has another petitioner with him right now. But he should be almost finished; I don’t think that you’ll be kept waiting long.”
“Certainly.”
Nabbish nodded and chose a seat which allowed him a view of most of the room, including both doors. He was glad that the girl had been instructed to not use the term “Sieur” in addressing him; he hated having to correct Southerners who insisted on misusing it.
No-one else entered the office from the busy areas while Nabbish patiently waited the minutes that it took for the inner office door to open. He was rather surprised by this; much had been going on out there, and his own experience of running the Law Enforcement Office of the Continent Nord was that he was being constantly consulted about various matters while he was on the job. It seemed strange for the Master Law Enforcer to be so isolated.
Then two well-fed gentlemen exited the inner office. They seemed to be on the best of terms, laughing together. They were both excellent specimens of the Waywardian type of humanity; sturdy, olive-skinned, round-faced, and with lots of black hair which showed no signs of thinning although both fellows were easily middle-aged, maybe past. No mixing with the off-word humanity was apparent, and, very likely, no long stretches of space-travel in the family backgrounds, to sap the genetic vitality. As specimens, they ought to have made Nabbish proud of his planet’s heritage. So why was he less easy than ever, watching them ignore everything around them, including him, while one walked the other to the door leading outside?
Then it came, as one was wishing the other good-bye, and good fortune, at the door.
“It was good to see you, Merchant Yaroli,” he said heartily. “I will certainly instruct my underlings to not interfere with your business, and to do the best they can for you.”
Nabbish’s stomach took a turn.
Yaroli! Yaroli had just been making sure that the Suderie Law Enforcement would not mess with his establishment! And with his stable of child hand-knotters! Suderie’s well-housed Master Law Enforcer was probably taking bribes in return for instructing the officials in his chain of command to look the other way when it came to this business of child slaves!
While the Master Law Enforcer spoke with the receptionist, Nabbish did some quick thinking. What would Federation Agent Mikal r’ma Trodden do in this situation? He would keep his real reason for having come here to himself, Nabbish decided, and try to find out as much as he could about what was going on by acting hearty, and asking questions pertaining to the issue but not revealing his true interest. Hmm. How to go about it? Well, Continent Nord did have a new Government, replacing an old, corrupt one; it would make sense if he was trolling about for information on what sort of laws the Suderians were enforcing, and how they were doing it. An information gathering trip, that’s what he was on, oh yes! What a fortunate thing that he had not told the receptionist his precise purpose in wanting to speak with the Master Law Enforcer! He could do this, oh yes! His opponent was a well-fed fool, if he was taking bribes, and Nabbish had been watching a Federation Agent operate!
He put on a hail-fellow, well-met face when the Master Law Enforcer turned to him.
“Ah yes,” said the man, looking him over, eyebrows slightly raised. “You’re the Great Council Member in Charge of Law Enforcement on the Continent Nord, no?”
He paused, for effect, Nabbish supposed. Suddenly Nabbish was proud of his off-the-rack clothes, and what amounted to a less-than-perfect Waywardian look. The man in front of him was slick, and very well-dressed, clearly one to glory in his own self-importance. He, on the other hand, was a man of the people, busy organizing a law enforcement system that would work for the least and the most, alike, among the Nordlanders. He had no reason to feel inferior in the face of the display surrounding him.
“My receptionist tells me that you wanted to consult me about a problem that had arisen?” The man’s eyebrows were up. “A problem that has arisen here in Suderie, or something happening on the Nord, and about which you would like my expert opinion?”
“Oh it’s more the latter, my good Master Law Enforcer—I just realized I hadn’t g
otten your name. Mine’s Nabbish, although I’m sure your receptionist already informed you of that.”
“Oh, I’m Muggs.” The Master Law Enforcer sounded a bit petulant, as he well should have, Nabbish thought, suppressing a smile; the name may have fit the man, but it did not fit the image he was busy projecting.
Muggs recovered quickly, and gestured towards the door of his inner office.
“Well, if you’d like my expert opinion about law enforcement—anything at all on the subject,” he said grandly, “let us go into my sanctuary and discuss whatever is on your mind.”
He turned to the receptionist as he opened the door.
“Stacy, will you fetch us a tray of tea and tidbits; this may take a while.”
“Yes, it might,” Nabbish agreed heartily. “We were having rather a problem on the Continent Nord. You see, a Slaver had put up operations in the city of Salamanka while the Continent still was run by the old Council of Families—corruption, you understand—and although we’ve managed to get rid of him, thanks to some good off-world friends of ours, there’s still the aftermath to be dealt with. I wondered what you think....”
The door shut behind him. Stacy sighed, and got up to go and fetch the tray Muggs wanted. She rather liked the looks of the Nordlander Law Enforcer, and could not quite understand why he wanted Muggs’ opinion about anything. Nabbish looked like he was much more capable and smart, as well as less pretentious than Muggs.
*****
Meanwhile Sieur Karn Gurt was having a fruitful discussion with the Commercial Overseer, named Mortacks. Karn had used his Nordlander noble identity to gain entry into Mortacks’ presence, snickering to himself the whole time, as the office staff had bustled about him, offering him tea, and ringing their boss to let him know of the Sieur’s unannounced arrival. The boss had quickly agreed to see him, making it clear that he was willing to give Sieur Gurt as much of his time as necessary. The Sieur had expressed his gratitude, although noticing that there was not exactly a line-up of people on the premises, waiting for an audience. However, Mortacks no doubt had other work to do besides meeting with people, so the lack of petitioners—or whatever—meant nothing.
Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers Page 72
