Clan and Conscience

by Tracy St. John

  Urt was telling him that a judge had sprung Jol—and that Axter was indeed every bit as decent as Jol had suspected.

  Jol smiled coldly. A judge in the pay of the territory’s criminal organization. Talu hadn’t been kidding about the kind of people financing Urt’s bid and how far their reach might extend.

  He sensed the vessel move. They were taking off to parts unknown. Jol acted unconcerned as he asked, “Do you need my home address?”

  Urt poured them glasses of expensive bohut. “The day is young and we have much to discuss. Lovely fireworks at Itga, by the way. I hear it took the entirety of the director’s office out.”

  “But not the director himself. Fate does love Dramok Ospar.” Jol sipped his drink and marveled at its smoothness.

  “So it would seem,” Urt agreed. “But no matter, not if you share the material you said you would.”

  “Despite my failure to kill your rival? I didn’t think that matter would be forgiven.”

  “Your endeavor satisfies my associates that you made a determined try. The financial offer for the data we want stands, along with any further legal representation that stems from your big bang.”

  Jol considered. He’d missed in his effort to murder Ospar. He’d been worried he’d not get the chance to take Urt up on the espionage angle of his treachery.

  The syndicate must have been sure that Itga would win the Eruz contract. There was no other reason to reward failure in this instance.

  At least the organization knew how to operate in its own best interests. With the files Jol had downloaded from Itga, he’d make Syodab happy after all. Used the right way, the material he’d gathered would give Urt all he needed to yank Eruz out of Ospar’s hands.

  Jol had another taste of the bohut. It was the best money could buy, a mere fragment of the syndicate’s ill-gotten fortune that had lured Urt into its grasp. With the kind of funds they’d offered Jol for the files he’d taken from his previous employer, the Nobek would be able to buy plenty of his own fine liquor. Maybe a chauffeured shuttle similar to Urt’s as well, with the softest leather seating, marble-topped table, and luxury appointments as far as the eye could see.

  All Jol had to do was sell the information and his soul. With the taste of the bohut lingering like a lover’s kiss on his tongue, Jol raised his glass to Urt. “Allow me to be the first to offer congratulations on your winning bid for the Eruz mountain range.”

  Urt laughed and refilled both their glasses to the brims, his eyes shining with triumph.

  Let the good times roll, Jol thought.

  Chapter 13

  “That bastard Jol! He gave Urt inside information!”

  A month had passed since the last attempt on Ospar’s life. He’d experienced a tangle of emotional turmoil in that time, much of it being hurt. A loss in confidence in himself. Confusion. Anger. Even hope that somehow Jol would show his seeming treachery had not been such.

  However, the news that afternoon cleared the muddle in an instant of white-hot rage. It should have felt wonderful with its cleansing tide. Unfortunately, it meant professional loss as huge as the personal injury.

  Ospar stomped up and down between the models in his uncles’ office, raging in impotent fury. “If that bastard showed his face right now, I’d tear it off with my bare hands! That—that—”

  The stream of profanity leveled on the absent Jol made Nobek Dowet stare at Ospar with open respect. Meanwhile, the shock on Sallid and Tebrok’s expressions faded as they came to grips with losing the Eruz contract to Pladon.

  Meanwhile, Sallid caressed the model of the planned mines of the mountain range they had coveted for so long. The grief on his expression was akin to that of losing a loved one.

  At the overt tragic look, Nobek Dowet’s impressed expression over Ospar’s cursing skills shifted to discomfort. It was obvious that the hard-edged warrior would have preferred to slink away from what should have been a private moment as the family absorbed the terrible turn of events.

  Sallid turned the pained countenance to his growling nephew. “I don’t suppose we have any hope of proving corporate espionage?”

  Tebrok looked as if he’d aged a decade within a few minutes. “Doubtful. I’m certain Pladon officials purged any evidence of wrongdoing.”

  Ospar snarled, “It’s the only explanation. Every researcher who backed Itga as having the most favorable environment and economic outlook changed their reports just in time for the board’s findings. Numbers they gave us were changed to support Pladon.” His voice raised in a shout. “That gurluck Jol told Urt who to talk to, and the syndicate paid them off!”

  “Or threatened them. Or both.” Tebrok’s tone was heavy with defeat.

  Ospar wanted to hunt Jol down. He could have committed murder in that moment. Hatred dripped in his brain like poison, ate at his heart like acid.

  He’d held out a sad little fantasy that Jol hadn’t been behind the yanar attack. That the Nobek’s promise to protect him had been sincere. That he’d stayed away because of the shame of being accused.

  Now the truth wouldn’t be denied. Just Ospar and his uncles had possessed access to all those reports, each coming from a separate logistical entity. The only other people who could have gotten hold of them were the aides to the owners and director. Sallid and Tebrok’s aides were old friends and beyond reproach. Ospar would have trusted Emano to keep his secrets to the grave.

  Which left Jol. It would have been easy for the former bodyguard and computer expert to get to Ospar’s programs, to nab those files. He’d stolen the information and Eruz on the behalf of Pladon. And he’d tried to execute Ospar.

  The man was vile. A true villain. He’d brought on a nightmare that Ospar couldn’t hope to wake up from.

  “If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll destroy him,” the Dramok vowed.

  “He’s not worth it.” Sallid tried to find the positive in a bleak situation. “At least you’re safe. Urt won. He and his backers have no reason to resort to violence against you any longer.”

  “That pleasure is all mine.” Ospar clenched his fists. “Nobek Dowet, thank you for keeping an eye on me. I appreciate your service, and you will be amply rewarded for it. You can report to your usual duty station again.”

  Ospar didn’t wait for the Nobek’s reaction to the abrupt dismissal. He stormed out of his uncles’ office, unable to watch them suffer the awful disappointment of his failure to guarantee their company’s success.

  Itga wasn’t in ruins, not by a longshot, but it would undergo a major change with the setback. Layoffs. An uncertain future. A hole in its operations as gaping as where Ospar’s office had once been.

  Boiling with hatred, Ospar went to the shuttle bay. He couldn’t remain at work. Not with all his plans in shambles. He’d gone from an impressive collection of wins and a few insubstantial failures to a colossal disaster. And all because of that bastard Jol.

  He was nearing his vehicle when someone called from behind him. “Director.”

  Ospar might have ignored the summons, except he recognized the voice. How could he not, when all his thoughts centered on Jol? He twisted to face Talu, who was still supposed to be on voluntary leave.

  The head of security had nothing to do with his son’s abhorrent actions. It was still hard not to fling himself at the man, to abuse him with a torrent of fists. Such was his perfect loathing for anything to do with the treacherous bastard who had ruined Ospar’s life.

  Perhaps Talu recognized how close to the edge Ospar was. He didn’t come any closer than the several yards that separated them. His voice was quiet, as if trying to soothe a dangerous beast. “I heard about the Eruz contract.”

  Ospar shook with fury. “Your son,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Yes. The attempt on your life and his theft of Itga’s files are the tip of the iceberg, however. You need to hear all of it, and then we need to act. Will you let me speak?”

  Ospar sta
red at him, wondering at the man’s assertions. And, strangely enough, wondering if he understood what Ospar had shared with Jol. If he guessed what Ospar had felt for his spawn.

  It doesn’t matter. All I have left for Jol is abhorrence. If he lay bleeding to death at my feet, begging for help, I’d laugh. Perhaps the father he betrayed feels the same way. Maybe we can both be avenged.

  “I’ll listen to what you have to say,” he told Talu.

  * * * *

  Ospar showed up at Pladon in a state of rage, hurling epithets at the security guards manning the entrance from the shuttle bay. Even so, the Nobeks handled him with the same professional cordiality as they had on the other occasion he’d shown up. When he demanded to see Dramok Urt at that instant, they summoned an escort. Four security guards led the livid Dramok to the office of Pladon’s owner.

  It wasn’t Urt who grabbed Ospar’s attention, however. Nor the mural on the ceiling. Even the formerly hidden model of the Eruz range, no longer hidden behind a jeweled screen, failed to hold his interest.

  Seeing Jol standing behind Urt hit Ospar like a fist to the gut. With effort, he dragged his gaze from Jol’s burning stare to snarl at Urt.

  “I guess your financial minders are pretty damned happy with your new friend there, seeing how he gave you the inside story. That’s espionage and it’s illegal.”

  Jol started to come around Urt’s hover chair. “Allow me to remove this puffed-up boy from your presence, Dramok Urt.”

  Urt waved the Nobek back to his place. “Ospar’s tantrums are entertaining. Who cares what he thinks, when he has no proof?”

  Nobek Lano, looming on one side of Urt and Jol, put a hand on the blaster he wore on his hip. “He also has no bodyguard to remind him of his stupidity. Or is someone going to burst in here to yank you out by your leash as Jol did before?”

  Ospar sneered. “Do you think any of you scare me?”

  Jol’s narrow gaze was fiery hot with threat. “We should. You should be very, very afraid.” He showed his fangs.

  At any other moment, Ospar would have been terrified at the display. Jol hadn’t lost an iota of menace in the month since the Dramok had seen him last. However, Ospar was furious that he’d been cheated by the syndicate. The crime organization had their hooks in plenty of the territory’s business—but they’d come after Itga. They’d threatened the business Ospar’s uncles had built from the ground up. The business Ospar had helped to grow, guaranteeing the livelihoods of so many men and their clans. They’d tried to use Jol to kill him. Worst of all, they’d made Ospar doubt everything he’d counted as important.

  He threw down the gauntlet. “You shouldn’t have sold your puppet strings to Syodab Syndicate, Urt. They are not going to be happy with you when the deal for Eruz falls through.”

  “And why would that happen?” His rival snorted.

  “Because one of the logistics companies we used, which Syodab intimidated and bribed, was a dummy account. I always set up a fake resource in case of espionage, with its contact person being a member of my own staff.”

  Urt’s smug demeanor wavered. “Ronka shit. Don’t bluff me, Ospar.”

  “My employee representing the fake firm recorded the com received from Dramok Adoga. Your personal attorney, Urt. Would you like to hear a copy of that recording?”

  He had his handheld cued up and ready to go. It did indeed contain a recording, provided to him by Talu. He played it.

  The man identified as Adoga had a clear, smooth voice, easily understood. “It’s your call on whether or not you wish to alter the report. If I don’t hear from you by this time tomorrow, I’ll assume the answer is no. In that case, instead of the amount I named being deposited into your bank account, you will be visited by some of Dramok Urt’s associates. I assure you, their terms are nowhere as pleasant as mine…and far more permanent in nature.”

  “That’s enough for now,” Ospar said, abruptly cheerful at Urt’s look of horror. “Be assured, the rest of the recording is far more telling than that tidbit.”

  Ospar turned his smug sneer to Jol. “We have the evidence of Pladon’s treachery. Espionage is easily proven. Eruz will go to Itga, and you’ll go to a prison camp for trying to kill me.”

  Jol was livid with feral emotion. “Give Ospar to me! I’ll shut him up for good!”

  Nobek Picona snarled at him. “This is a matter for the syndicate. Not you. You haven’t proven your worth to us yet. Stay here and don’t let Urt go missing.” He flashed as a black blur, moving from Urt’s side to confront Ospar in the space of less than a breath. His blaster mashed against the tip of Ospar’s nose.

  Urt jumped to his feet, but cringed when Lano muttered a warning. As he sank into his chair again, he whimpered, “This isn’t necessary, is it? Ospar isn’t a fool. He’ll make a deal.”

  Picona stared at his captive. “Unless he’s already reported it to the authorities.”

  Ospar smirked. “Eruz is outside the Wenza Territory. That makes this affair a matter for Global Security. You should have stuck to your own backyard.”

  “And you should have kept your ass in Itga.” Lano joined them, snapping cuffs on Ospar. “Immobilize at subject’s side.”

  As Jol looked on with a stormy expression, Ospar told the frightened Urt, “Nice friends you’ve made, Dramok. How long do you think your bosses at Syodab will let you live when this is exposed and their investment turns to dust?”

  Picona threw a punch. Ospar had expected it. He managed to jerk in time to avoid the brute’s full strength. He still saw stars and staggered when his knees tried to buckle. He steadied himself through sheer force of will.

  Lano glanced at Urt. “I suggest you make a personal report to our employer, Dramok. Things might go better for you if you do.” He snickered. “Or maybe not. Ospar is a loudmouthed idiot, but a few truths came out of that hole in his face.”

  Ospar stole a glance at Jol, wondering how his former bodyguard was taking all the revelations. Damn if the Nobek wasn’t almost purple with rage. He shook with restrained violence.

  Picona moved the blaster barrel to Ospar’s temple. He pressed the weapon painfully against the Dramok’s skull. “We’re going out, Director. And if you entertain any ideas about talking to the fine people we pass on the way to your shuttle, they’ll see how you look headless just before we get rid of them too.” When Ospar growled at him, Picona laughed. “Yeah, I heard you had a misguided sense of respect for the lives of others.”

  “Let’s go,” Lano said, his impatience obvious. “I have a feeling we’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do afterward, and I don’t want to miss the fights tonight. I’ve put a shitload of money on the champ.”

  Ospar stole a final glance at the Nobek standing behind a visibly shaking Urt. Jol glared, his fierce stare the last thing Ospar saw before he was marched out of the office.

  Lano shoved Ospar through Pladon’s industrial-silvered corridors. Picona didn’t bother to hide the fact that he held a blaster to Ospar’s head. The staff members who saw the bizarre procession gave wide-eyed looks, then scurried out of sight like terrified children. Ospar saw there was no help coming from any of them.

  He had the notion that when—or if—his body was found, every one of them would deny he’d been seen in the corporate headquarters. Even the regular company guards made themselves scarce as Ospar was forced to the shuttle bay. Their obvious shame was not enough to convince them to challenge what amounted to a march to execution.

  Lano rammed Ospar between the shoulder blades, pushing him towards his vessel. “Nice shuttle, Dramok. Too bad it’s doomed to crash with you in it.”

  “Then I have nothing to lose, do I?” Ospar twisted about, lowering his head and driving it into the Nobek’s gut. With his arms immobilized by the cuffs and Picona holding the blaster on him, it was his only real move.

  Unfortunately, Lano wore a flexible armored piece beneath his sleeveless shirt. Ospar’s surprise attack had little effect on the Nobek, and his own head wasn�
��t too happy about being a battering ram. He felt the thud of contact all the way to his toes. Splintering shards of pain ran jagged paths from the top of his skull as he staggered in a drunken circle.

  His vision teetering, Ospar stumbled straight into Lano’s punch. The violent blow knocked him to the floor. More pain, and his vision grayed out for a second.

  No time to faint. Got to move. Ospar tried to climb to his feet and run. His legs tangled together, and he flopped on the ground instead. A dim part of him wondered how ludicrous he appeared. It had not received the memo that this was a life-and-death situation, dignity be damned.

  The air filled with the shoo-whup sounds of a blaster going off, once, twice. Ospar curled himself into a ball, though the reasonable part of his mind told him if the blaster had been for him, he wouldn’t have heard the reports.

  My backup has arrived. It took him long enough.

  The next instant, Jol kneeled over him, springing the cuffs from his wrists. Lano and Picona’s bodies lay behind him. “Nice to see you using your head for something worthwhile for a change,” the Nobek growled. He yanked Ospar to his feet. “Come on. We have to get out of here before more syndicate assholes show up.”

  “Tell me you found the evidence your father said you came for. Otherwise, this secret agent shit you’re pulling is a damned good reason for me to kick your ass. Hell, I might kick your ass whether you found the proof or not.”

  Ospar laid into Jol as the Nobek shoved him into his shuttle. However, he didn’t protest being pushed or when his former guard jumped into the pilot’s spot. Ospar sat next to him and triggered the safety harnesses for them both.

  “Damned straight I got it. But what in the fuck did Talu send you in for? Or did you act like an idiot again and show up on your own?”

  The shuttle lifted from the ground. It turned, Jol swinging it towards the opening that led out of Pladon. As they rotated, the window vid display showed a dozen guards racing into the bay, blasters in hand.