Star Risk - 02 Scoundrel Worlds (23 page)

BOOK: Star Risk - 02 Scoundrel Worlds
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Reynard made a point of encountering a man named Faraon. He was a ranking leader of the Universalists, and, more importantly, the man who wanted to be Universalist party leader and then premier, but had lost to Ladier in a vicious bit of in-party righting that included party brawling and rumored blackmail.

It took almost a week to arrange a meeting, since neither Reynard nor Faraon trusted the other.

It was finally agreed upon to take a small dining room at Tournelle's. Remembering the bugs that Star Risk had found, Reynard proposed they sweep the room before the meet. Faraon grudgingly agreed, and specified that a team of specialists from his own party team up with Star Risk.

Reynard worried about this, until von Baldur reassured him there would be no problems with a Universalist bug. "Nor," he added, "will you have to worry about not having a record of the meet later."

The Universalists were awestruck by Grok, and very impressed with King's expertise, especially when she pointed out the two windows in the dining room, and then explicated.

"Now," she said, "I'm sure you're aware a window has certain resonances when sound impacts it, and a proper parabolic microphone can pick up and translate those almost as well as if the mike were in the room."

"We are," the leader of the Universalists sniffed. "A very ancient device. We Dampierians may be on the fringes of civilization, but we're not isolated."

"My apologies," Jasmine said hastily. "I didn't mean to offend. Here's my countermeasure."

Both windows were covered with a thin, clear film.

"This gives us dead air between the room and the window glass, so whatever's said in the room stays there."

She and Grok then made sure they were completely open about searching the room with the Universalists. They found two bugs.

One was very ancient, that might have been planted a century earlier. The other was fairly modern, hidden in a wall cavity behind a screwed-down portrait of the restaurant's founder, who had an expression like someone who'd just learned his refrigerators had seized.

"Yours?" King asked.

The others shook their heads.

She took out that bug's power supply, then said, "Perhaps one of L'Pellerin's."

Grok took it, crushed it underfoot.

From then until the meet, a Universalist and a Star Risk guard stayed in the room. There was a last-minute attempt by one of the waiters to put a vase of flowers in the room. It, of course, had a microphone.

Rather than destroy it, King took it back to the mansion. After Reynard and Faraon arrived at Tournelle's, she fed that microphone a series of speeches by the two men made on the floor of Parliament.

Both politicians arrived with armed guards and were searched for body wires. Neither wore one, and pretended mild offense at the search.

The transcript of Ladier's letters and a copy of the fiche were removed from Reynard's briefcase, the briefcase was taken away in case it had a built-in mike, and the two men went into the room.

Grok waited a few moments for the amenities to be exchanged and any further sweeps made.

Then he put power on to the window films King had installed, just enough to activate them as a pair of large, high-resolution vibration-sensitive microphones. The microphones fed into a transmitter hidden in the frame of that portrait of Tournelle's first patron. The bug that King had "found" in the wall behind it had, of course, been a quite successful mask that Jasmine had planted earlier.

Then Grok turned on the recorder, and started making notes of what was going on in the nearby room.

reynard: And so, my friend, to work. This may be thirsty business. There's an excellent forty-five Hico, already opened and breathing on the sideboard, if you'd care to try it. Or there's vintage cognac, which I prefer. If you wish something else, I'll send for a barman.

faraon: I do not consider you a friend, Mr. Reynard. And I'll not drink until whatever mysterious business is complete, not wanting fuddled wits.

reynard: Your option.

Sound of the clink of a glass against a bottle, the splash of cognac, and then the rustle of papers.

reynard: My business is simple. I want to give you, without strings, a transcript of the letters between Hyla Adrianopole and Premier Ladier. These are the ones Adrianopole shot Editor Fall for. I understand she's claiming innocence, and the right for a woman to defend her reputation. These transcripts say her motives might well be otherwise.

faraon: How were they obtained?

reynard: I have not inquired into that, nor should you. You'll note these letters have yet to be introduced in the trial of Miss Adrianopole. I think you will see the reasons as you read. The letters contain confessional material from Premier Ladier that I think you�and all Dampier�should know about what I am afraid comes perilously close to treason.

faraon: I think, as usual, Reynard, you are making grandiose statements that the truth seldom bears out.

reynard (clearly enjoying himself): Read for yourself. And I assume that if you still doubt the veracity of these transcripts you can manage to get a copy of what the court is holding that I personally doubt will ever appear in open court.

Now the rustle of paper, and a very long silence, broken twice by Faraon's inaudible mutter, then a whispered "Dear God."

reynard: Interesting, aren't they?

faraon (in a broken voice): I know� Ladier has said privately that he wants� wants to keep all channels of communication open with Torguth, to ensure peace. But�

Another long silence.

faraon: I'll have a glass of the cognac, if you please.

reynard: Of course.

The clink of glasses and a bottle.

faraon: Assuming this information is genuine� I hardly know what to say.

reynard: You don't need to say anything. I have faith enough in your probity that I know you� and the other uncorrupted members of your party� will do the right thing.

faraon (weakly): If these letters are genuine�

reynard: They are. You may apply whatever tests you want, and seek whatever verification you need.

faraon: What is your price for this?

reynard: The price is very expensive. You may have the papers for free, since I want my beloved Dampier, and those citizens of the Belfort Worlds, to live in peace, and I want a government, whether it is mine, yours or someone else's, that is aware of the constant threat Torguth poses; a government that will stand firm, bold, and confident against them, and take whatever measures may prove necessary to maintain not just the peace, but the current relationship we have with Torguth.

faraon: Yes� yes. I must think about this� consult my colleagues. If you'll forgive me� I really must leave.

reynard: Take good care. My friend.

Again the rustling of papers, and the door opening and closing. Then Reynard's low chuckle as he pours himself another drink.

reynard: Not bad. Not bad at all.

It took two weeks, and then an emergency plenary session of Parliament was called by the Honorable Faraon. All five members of Star Risk attended, even though Goodnight grumbled about how badly politics bored him.

Premier Ladier, a chubby, normally cheery man, now looking sadly perplexed, opened the session, and Faraon asked for the floor.

His speech was very succinct, as aides went down the aisles, giving copies of the transcript to all members, not only the Universalists.

"If the honorable members will take a moment to peruse the documents I've had handed out," Faraon said, "you shall see the reason I now call, even though my own party heads the current government, for a vote of �no confidence.' "

Ladier sputtered.

"And I further call for elections to be set as quickly as possible, so the ship of state will not continue its rudderless course onto the rocks."

The vote, held about an hour later, was 358-16, the sixteen being either diehards or slow readers, Riss thought.

Ladier looked as if he'd been sandbagged.

There was a riotous party at Tournelle's that night, with very, very tight security provided by Star Risk operatives.

Star Risk held a private party in an upstairs dining room, while the Independents rioted happily in the public rooms below. Reynard joined them for a few minutes.

"I do love it," Reynard chortled. "Ladier's famous for backstabbing� that's how he took out Faraon three years ago. Now it's become his turn. It's a new dawn for me� for us."

"So what comes next?" Grok asked.

"The Universalists will no doubt caucus," Reynard said, "and Premier Ladier will have his wilderness years begin. The election for party head will go, without any doubt, to Faraon. I can beat him like a drum.

"So in the general election, my Independents will be returned to power. The other, minor parties owe me full well.

"This means Maen Sufyerd will be returned to Montrois, and I will force a measure through Parliament giving him a civilian retrial. Within a year, he'll be a free man.

"You've done wondrous well, ladies and gentlemen of Star Risk. May I toast your abilities."

Von Baldur got to his feet. "You might wish to hold that toast for a minute. I have a question. You said Sufyerd could be free in a year. The election is three months distant.

"What is to prevent Ladier�and the certain person we are seeking, the Torguth high-level agent who remains on the loose�from arranging for Sufyerd's immediate execution?"

Reynard's face fell. "Nothing," he said softly. "Except public opprobrium."

"And that won't mean a damned thing to a corpse," Goodnight said.

"Nor to his family," Riss added.

"No," Reynard agreed, his joy a bit vanished.

"Jasmine, did you arrange for certain supplies, as I requested this afternoon?"

"I did," King said. "They were immediately available, and are on the way. They should arrive in a day, two at the most."

The Star Risk operatives looked at each other.

"Fine," Riss said, "let's go get Maen."

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FORTY-THREE � ^ � An excerpt from a holo, distributed by the Torguth Ministry of Truth:

video: A long shot of a formation of warships passing close by an orbital station. Fade through to:

Close, a stern-looking man in a bemedaled uniform, sitting in an office. There are official-looking books, two flag stands, holo cases, and starship models on the shelves behind him.

audio over: We welcome Fleet Admiral Garad.

garad: It is my pleasure to be able to show the men and women of Torguth some of their Imperial Navy's might, and prove that Torguth has nothing to fear from its enemies, or potential enemies.

Your Navy stands firm on the frontiers, not only protecting the Torguth Worlds, but our immigrants to other systems, such as the Belfort Worlds, who have been woefully discriminated against by the illegitimate Damperian occupiers.

Mobs of degenerate Dampierians have continually attacked our immigrants, and the Dampierian authorities refuse to take action.

Be warned, Dampier!

In the event of continued foreign persecution of these immigrants, we of the navy shall be the first to fight, to defend our women and children. No matter what has happened in the past, the future is ours.

Some of our secret weapons I cannot show you, for fear of informing the enemy of our strengths. But you will see enough to make your hearts pound more heartily, and for you to lose any fears you might have of the past's repetition.

First we shall examine our fleet escorts, those small but strong-thewed craft that patrol our frontiers, and would be the first to encounter any surprise attacks�

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FORTY-FOUR � ^ � Two days before the rescue attempt of Sufyerd was to be mounted, Fra Diavolo and a rather severe-faced woman arrived at the mansion.

M'chel greeted them, and Diavolo told her that she was unquestionably the most beautiful thing around and he'd love to dally with her, but he, or rather his companion, had business with von Baldur.

"You owe me money," the woman said without preamble when Friedrich entered the operations room.

"I do?" von Baldur said, having no idea who the woman was, then it suddenly came back to him.

She was the second agent on Torguth whom he'd contacted, asking for the Torguth maneuver specifics in the scheduled war games off Belfort.

"Oh yes."

"I was in the Caf�f Dawn Delights as scheduled," she said. "You were not. I had� and have� the information you wanted."

"I unfortunately became entangled in difficulties, and had to precipitately leave the planet. But I agree, I owe you money," von Baldur said, still not sure what he was going to do with the details on the war games.

"My friend here," Diavolo explained, "had an application in to visit to the Alliance Worlds her parents came from that was finally approved, for some unknown reason."

"Hardly unknown," the woman sniffed. "After some unknown Dampierian agent murdered someone, and eluded the hue and cry, things became somewhat warm in the bureau I worked in. I think I might have fallen under suspicion, since I was the only one in it who wasn't fourth or more generation Torguth.

"So someone in Torguth Counter Intelligence decided to give me some running room to see where I'd go. Naturally, I was to be closely followed, and if it turned out I was working for someone other than the Mother Worlds, action would be taken.

"I broke contact with my ever-so-clever followers, jumped passage three times before I� but you aren't concerned with that," the woman broke off. She took out a small fiche.

"I plan to settle here on Montrois, which I understand is expensive. I also plan to be utterly invisible, which I know is also expensive."

Von Baldur took the fiche. "You shall find me more than generous."

"And you will find me more than grateful."

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FORTY-FIVE � ^ � The guards at Fortress Pignole had gotten so used to Jasmine's visits to Maen Sufyerd they no longer made her use the secure visitor's room, since she always had reams of paper to pass across for Sufyerd to sign, although they still thoroughly searched her person and possessions.

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