by Jim Fogarty
* * * *
Just the four of us were left alive. Grim. The entire crew of the Silver Dollar had been killed just like Carlisle, double tapped up close with a small caliber weapon, probably a silenced body pistol. The only one missing was Bakku, the gunnery chief. According to the posted roster Bakku had bridge duty. And the bridge was buttoned up tight. We couldn't get in. Sandy found the case under the sheets with Carlisle. No surprise his Nibs would keep it close to him. We sat around the dining table in the lounge with the case resting square in the center. “Analysis?” I asked to no one in particular, but the Professor knew I was talking to him.
“Not good, Sully,” he said. “We're still alive.”
“I don't see being alive as a major drawback, Professor,” growled Emmett Rayburn. He was a thug, but he was my thug. Rayburn was the first associate in DL Security, the firm I started after mustering out of the Corps. Angry was his normal state, but right now he was the kind of angry that would only be abated by strangling the life out of Bakku once we got on the bridge.
“The Professor's right, Rayburn,” piped in Sandy. “Whoever killed the crew could have-- should have killed us too.” Sandy Parkinson, my systems expert, knew her way around electronics and computers better than anyone I'd ever met. I hired her on the night I caught her breaking into my supposedly secure offices to steal a copy of a proposal I planned to submit for a large security job. The lady was a gifted industrial spy. DL didn't land the job, too big for my firm anyway, but we landed a much better asset in her.
“No, Parkinson, they need us to be alive. We've been set up. We couldn't be the patsy if we're dead. We're not part of the ship's crew, just a small independent security company. We have no ties to the ship or the client. We're the most likely suspects,” the Professor said. “We all woke with headaches. It is clear we've been dosed. Maybe by an aerosol in the ventilation. They waited to the last night before down jump when we would be the least on guard.”
“Who set us up? Bakku?” Rayburn said. “I got some TDX in my kit. We'll set a breaching charge and take care of that bastard.”
“My guess is that Bakku is already dead and whoever set us up wants us to blow the bridge.”
“We're in J-Space, Professor,” said Rayburn incredulously, “Even I know there's no getting off in J-Space. We don't down jump for half an hour. We just searched the boat. He killed 'em and wants to make a deal with the pirates himself. He's a double crosser. It has to be Bakku. There ain't nobody else on the ship.”
“That's the mystery now. Isn't it?”
“If Bakku is dead then it has to be one of us,” said Rayburn quickly glancing around at the team.
“Infighting is another thing they're counting on. Whoever planned this made a big mistake and left us alive. This job was sketchy from the get go, but the money was too good,” I said. “Sorry I got you stuck in this mess.”
“But the old lady hired you herself, didn't she?” asked Sandy. “I thought this was on the up and up. Are you sure it was the Marquesa?”
“Yes, I'm sure. We've kept in touch ever since I helped her out with that situation with her great grand nephew. It's always a smart play to keep on the good side of the richest person in the sector.” Smith General Transport was getting hit hard by a band of pirates operating throughout the subsector, costing them big. Even for a company worth multi-trillions, losses had to be minimized. Dealing directly with the pirates was strictly illegal. Going through back channels, a deal was struck and a meeting arranged. On paper nothing lead back to SGT. Although he was a distant cousin to the Marquesa, Carlisle had retired from the family business long ago. The Dollar was registered as an independent, and all of her crew had no official ties to Smith. All we had to do was accompany Carlisle to his meeting with the pirate commander and act as body guards. Simple. Piracy was just like any other business, only maybe more honest. And if they could get a score and not face any risk they would jump at it. SGT and the pirate faction would sign an accord and for a 50 MegaCredit payout Smith could ply the subsector trade routes in peace. DL Security would get paid 50K for what amounted to a 2 jump cruise on a luxury yacht. The only downside was putting up with Carlisle.
“OK we've got half an hour till we exit J-Space. That means we have half an hour to catch the killer, get back the 50 mil and make the deal with the pirates. If they show up and don't find a payday they won't like it. It would be long odds indeed if they don't just kill us and take the ship.”
“But how do you know the money's not in the case? It's still intact. This is a premium security sealed hard case. Any tampering and the contents get fried.”
“The money's gone, but if we're lucky the accord they were supposed to sign is still in there. Sandy, get your tools. You and the Professor open this case. Emmett, get down to engineering and bring back a cutter. We're going to the bridge.