Rogue-ARC (17 page)

The only positive in all this was that Her Majesty’s intel apparatus were going to be looking for him as well. He could still retire rich, but he had two systems that were harder to operate in, and a slowly closing net. It was in his best interest to sneak off quietly, but I didn’t think he would.

I’d wanted to be in pursuit and out of the system. Instead, I was stuck in low orbit doing searches I knew wouldn’t yield anything.

I told Silver, “My guess is he’ll board back down to the surface and will leave via another route. Or has already.”

“Does that mean we scan another half million passengers?”

“No, because it’s irrelevant. We need to figure where he’s going.”

“What about the DNA traces?”

“They’re going to be on every shuttle. Bet me.”

“No bet,” she said with a shake. “This is tough.”

I half-chuckled.

“This is just warming up.”

She didn’t look happy with that prospect.

They found us what passed as a stationside stateroom. I’m not complaining. It was barely big enough for one, but it was a real bed and had a small shower, just big enough to stand in. We took turns cleaning up. I didn’t want to rest, but needed to, so I lay down to the sighing of the vent. I was fully dressed, next to the wall with the emergency masks. Just in case.

I must have been tired. I wasn’t aware I went to sleep until the captain buzzed me.

I grabbed the phone and activated the earbud.

“Yes.”

“Sir, we’re done. He’s away.”

“How?” I asked as I jerked awake, nervous electric tingles running through my legs.

“One of my troops was found trussed in a locker room. We had to mix patrols, which I warned against from an operational perspective.”

“So he rode down in uniform, unquestioned, with both elements assuming he was with the other.”

“So it seems.”

“How long ago?”

“Twelve hours.”

“Long enough he lifted back on the next shuttle and is now headed out. Or, he found a nice hole groundside. Or, he wants us to think he did, and is already on a flight out. The latter most likely. Can you check each ship as it reaches Jump Point?”

“We can try. I’ll have to run that up the chain, of course. Is it worth it?”

Was it worth it? Would he sneak aboard a station, a military craft, the base on Ness, a research vessel, a cargo craft, a tramp . . . ?

“No, not really,” I said. “You don’t have enough manpower to do it, and there’s no point in a partial job. I’ll tell Her Majesty’s people that.”

“I feel bad about it, sir. We should have checked our own.”

“You did,” I said. “You warned them and they didn’t listen. I’ve seen a lot of that lately.”

I didn’t want to start recriminations. I wanted to pick up a cold trail.

I felt compelled to get a message out to a secure code to Naumann. Randall wasn’t going to search through thousands of messages for this, nor would it tell him anything if he did.

I coded a short update.
I wasn’t going to contact you but things obviously changed. He’s better than I would have expected. He’s had more training. Leads on where appreciated.

I met up with Silver, and we moved to a hotel. We were farther from the operations area of the station, but had more room to lay out equipment. This was a nice area of the station, pretty much hotel quality from axis to rim.

We managed a two-room suite, which took some stress off for a couple of days. That stress was replaced with concern over where Randall was or was going. I had nothing to work with, and just had to wait for responses to my inquiries. However, I did insist on and assist with a search of the station, through every compartment and crawlway. It was dusty, greasy, messy work. Silver got dinged up worse than me. She was younger and more nimble, but less experienced.

Most of the station support had clearly not been touched since last overhaul, if then. A couple of areas might have been hiding places, but could have been used by illicit or playful lovers, juveniles of station staff, or both. DNA traces were insufficient to offer more.

We got sandwiches from a kiosk, and were on our way back to the room when I got a call.

“Jelling,” I answered with my standard cover name.

“Sir, I’m Roger Rothdal with the Royal Security Service. I’ve some intel for you.”

“Really. That’s most welcome. What do you have?”

“A detailed search of Randall’s domiciles yielded little, but there are lingering traces on the hypernodes out of there.”

“Go on,” I said.

“His comm received, and replied, to two messages with a node tag from Mtali, then a third message that he sent out to Mtali the day before he departed.”

“Fantastic. If you find anything else, please let me know.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“That is very helpful information. Thank you.”

I looked at Silver and said, “And that’s why we had preplanned codes we could throw on any third party forum. He’s hindered because at some point he has to communicate with a client, and he can’t do face to face unless he’s on the same planet.”

“So we’re going to Mtali?”

“Right now,” I said.

I went to inquire personally and discreetly about tickets. My phone chimed again. It was a recorded outsystem message from Naumann.

Regarding your inquiry. Subject attended and graduated Cobra Joe Tactical Training four years ago. Information recent due to investigation.

Cobra Joe was one of the best private contractor schools in space. Well, that was truly succulent. I sent a reply.

Subject should have been IDed via DNA or other methods.

This was something we’d have to keep track of internally. Not just Operatives and Blazers, but any vet seeking training and employment like that. Just so we didn’t get blindsided again.

The Caledonian Space Authority could handle reservations for anything. At the desk sat a very nice middle-aged lady. She looked helpful and slightly bored. No one else was around at this time.

“Good day,” I said. “I need to book priority passage for two to Mtali.”

She feigned dramatic bother. “Well, with all the thousands of people swarming to get there, that could be a problem.” She waved and pointed at her screen and pad, bringing up color-coded options.

“Hopefully there’s space,” I said.

“There is. It is a somewhat circuitous route. From here to our Jump Point Two on Royal Spaceways, wait two days, through to Alsace via Terra Nova Lines, wait two more days, then to Mtali on a cargo hauler with a spare stateroom for let, and they’ll even transit you to orbit. You’ll have to book landing there. There is some, but I can’t find a schedule.”

“‘Somewhat circuitous,’” I repeated.

“That’s the fastest route I could find. I don’t think you’ll like the price, either.”

“Try me.”

“Twenty-seven thousand, four hundred sixteen pounds and seven pence, assuming joint occupancy.”

That was borderline rape, but it wasn’t my money, so I said, “That’s within my budget,” and handed over a card.

She hid her surprise well, and I could see her trembling in interest as to what I might be doing going to a remote hellhole.

“Thank you very much,” I said, and left her disappointed.

I find it amusing that Caledonia is a UN nation, but insists on issuing its own currency, which of course is pegged to the UN mark. Still, it’s at least a show of independence.

Silver and I bagged up, loaded out, added some supplies available on station at a stiff premium, even with the government’s official discount, and got ready to travel.

Our departure gate was the far side of the station, and I realized the boosted security was going to be a pain. I’d prefer not to flash the Queen’s paperwork around. We wanted to resume anonymity. I had the captain call ahead on our behalf and ensure our traveling names were starred.

We took the perimeter tram around the skin of the station, past a dizzying twist of stars seen through ports, pillars, shops, gates, the lumps and tangles of intra-system ships and the glare of Caledonia and Ness. I enjoyed the contrast between stark nature and differently stark state-of-the-art tech.

Our shuttle outsystem was the
Mary
. Like most such, she was a combination cargo and passenger craft, with the passengers gravy money. They were the cheapest leg of our trip, the price varying not by distance, but by energy expenditure.

The captain had done his job well.

“Sir, your names are flagged,” the gatekeeper, Jackson, two stripes told us.

“Good,” I said.

“That’s not good, sir,” he said with a half chuckle, half frown. He was wiry and bald and I didn’t detect any humor.

“We’re priority and trying to be discreet about it,” I said softly. “Security matter.”

“It certainly is,” he said. “I’ll have to ask you to step over to the side, please. Someone will be with you in a moment.”

I shrugged and we complied. Whatever silliness it was, I didn’t need a scene.

We waited.

And waited.

I was about to ahem and shuffle for attention when two other costumed clowns appeared, one each male and female took us by an arm each and led us to a back room. They were larger than average but not in bad shape.

“Is there a problem?” I asked reasonably.

We entered the office and I was pushed toward a chair at a table.

“Who are you?” he asked as I sat down. He took the chair across from me. Silver was next to me and the female backup across from her. The chairs were on rails to allow travel, but prevent them slapping around if the station had problems.

“You have my ID.” This was odd.

“I don’t believe this for a second,” he said, waving it. His name was Radernan. Three stripes.

“That’s who I’m traveling as.”

“Exactly. So who are you, really?”

Had he not got the message? Or, had the flag been misread as to offer me lots of special attention? Hell.

“I am not at liberty to discuss that.”

“Sir, do you see this uniform?” He waved a thumb. “That means I get to ask questions, and you are required to give me answers.”

He focused on me to exclusion, ignoring Silver. His assistant did nothing. It wasn’t good cop/bad cop, and wasn’t an attempt to play us off against each other.

I slid the Royal Warrant out of my coat and passed it over.

He snorted.

“Do I look like an idiot? That’s fake.”

“I assure you it’s not.”

“Her Majesty does not hand out writs to foreigners traipsing through the system.”

“As I understand, she doesn’t generally do so at all. You might want to call and verify that.”

“I don’t need to verify that, because it’s fake. Now, you can comply with my very reasonable requests, or you can not be on this flight.”

I’d met my share of petty uniformed thugs before, but this guy didn’t seem to be that way. He seemed pretentious and stupid rather than conceited.

“Sir, I don’t threaten worth a damn. My business is of interest to Her Majesty’s government, is crucial, and you can comply with your own protocols—if that Warrant is fake, you must report it and the Crown will file charges against me—or you can be looking for different employment tomorrow morning.”

“So, why don’t we just sit here for a while until you miss your flight, then we can sit here a little longer until you decide to get smart.”

I raised my eyebrows slightly and tried a different tack.

“May I make a call, then?”

“No.”

“Sir,” I said, “I’ve been very reasonable and tried to answer your questions. I’ve offered documentation and you’ve refused it. What exactly do you want from me?”

“ID, showing who you really are.”

“How will you know it’s not fake?”

How did I know Randall hadn’t set this clown up with a bribe to slow us down?

In any case, we had a finite window to get aboard that ship. I figured we had six minutes to resolve it or a frantic reschedule would have to take place, which would be even more noticeable than our current urgent route.

Given that, I stopped being polite.

My hands were casually on the table edge. I gripped unobtrusively, with just tips and palm, then hooked his chair with my toe and yanked. It had stops, but they were closer in than his guts and ribs. He squeezed against the table and threw his hands down to resist. As he did so, I grabbed his jacket with one hand, floated the other toward his face, and snapped every joint from hip to wrist into it. His nose flattened and exploded in blood and both his eyes blacked and bloodied as well.

His assistant tried to jump back, and fumbled at her weapons while gibbering. She’d just secured her stunner as I came up and spun across the table, banging my knee. I’m not chivalrous, and she was no lady, so I kicked her in the shoulder, tapped her under the chin with my toe just enough to clack her teeth and disorient her, then reached down for a carotid choke that finished her nap in about five seconds.

Silver had come around the table and bound Mister Radernan with his own cuffs against one strut of the chair. She found strapping tape somewhere. Then she started to wrap his head.

“Don’t,” I said. “He might die with his nose clogged, too.”

She nodded, and came over to gag the assistant instead. We lashed her separately, and she looked terrified, then furious, then disgusted as she realized we weren’t going to hurt her further, and were going to leave her lashed.

I carefully closed the door behind us, as I said, “Thanks again, sir. We appreciate your help.” My right knee was swelling and painful by then. Ouch.

Our personal bags were still on a dolly, so I rolled it myself with one hand, letting it take some of my weight, while I called the captain with the other, using hush.

“Incident. May have been a setup or an idiot. Station security is unconscious and angry. Need it squelched.”

He sounded rather miffed himself.

“That’s really not good, sir. I’ll do what I can, but you understand this is going to be a bother.”

“I wish it was avoidable. I greatly appreciate your help, Captain, and I’ve informed Her Majesty of that. I must ring off now.”

“Travel safely.”

“Thank you, sir.”