The Red Admiral

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The Red Admiral Page 18

by C. R. Daems


  "Ma'am," Banner and Damon said simultaneously, sporting equal scowls. Banner said nothing more as he handed his tablet to me.

  To: Commander Damon

  Eastar NIA Station Chief

  Copy: Rear Admiral Paulus

  Director, NIA Stations

  Susan Guzman is on Fire Rock and applying for a name change to Krystal Berry. Commissioner Higgins has advised General Petrakov. Please advise.

  From: Commander Taber

  Fire Rock NIA Station Chief.

  Everyone turned to stare at me. I sighed, knowing the unnecessary problems this would create.

  "Banner, send the following message to General Petrakov with copies to Admiral Lulltrel and Commander Taber. Make my title Anna Paulus, UAS Special Agent for the Magic Act Project."

  General Petrakov, you are ordered to place Commissioner Higgins under arrest for sharing P1A information with unauthorized individuals who had no need-to-know access. He is to be relieved of his position as police commissioner and held pending formal charges by me.

  I had barely approved the typed message on Banner's tablet and he had pressed Send when Stamm snorted.

  "Ma'am, Admiral Lulltrel wants to see you for an update when you are available."

  "I hope she has my coffee ready," I quipped as I rose and grabbed my jacket from Banner. When I entered Lulltrel's reception area, Commander Shelden had the door open and an amused smile on his lips.

  "You do know how to get on the admiral's schedule ahead of everyone else."

  "Practice," I said as I passed him, entered her office, and saluted while remaining at attention.

  "Sit, Paulus," she said and came around her desk to join me. As she did, Shelden put two cups on a round coffee table that separated the chairs. "I think I need an update…" She paused when Shelden handed his tablet to her. "Shelden, get Pannell up here immediately." She waved for him to go. "I assume this means General Guzman has been informed. What a cluster fuck this is." She put her hand up to her face and rubbed her forehead. "What do you plan to do, Anna?"

  "My job, ma'am. I'm off to Zaspa. My people and I have a vicious kidnapping ring to destroy. I'm hoping Miss Debbie Thomas, formally Tamatha Naquin from Safe Harbor, can fill in some of our missing pieces and maybe move us a few steps closer to the kidnapping ring's leaders."

  "What about Guzman?" she asked.

  "I won't play favorites and I don't believe Susan would want me to if I would. If the UAS committee thinks I'm wrong, they should remove me from the project. Until then, I will tolerate no interference. I have ninety women depending on the NIA and the local police to destroy this kidnapping sex ring and get them free," I said, hoping Guzman wouldn't push me like Higgins did. I didn't want to hurt anyone or their career.

  * * *

  I had just sat down and was getting ready to call Mother to inform her that I was off to Fire Rock when the door burst open and Stamm was slammed to the floor. General Guzman stood above him with a marine Mfw pointing at him. Then he raised it to point in my direction. "You're going to send a message to whoever you need directing them to save my daughter or I'm going to kill you slowly. A shot to the knee, the elbow, the stomach…"

  I stood and began clapping. "That's brilliant, General Guzman. Scenario one, Colonel Pannell and a horde of marines will burst into the room and kill you. Scenario two, Colonel Pannell and a horde of marines will burst into the room and arrest you and you will spend the rest of your life in Stonewall. In either scenario, Susan remains in the kidnapper's hands." I looked to Stamm, who looked like he was preparing to attack Guzman. "Master Chief!"

  "Yes, ma'am," he replied hesitantly.

  "Close the door on your way out. Tell Colonel Pannell this is a private discussion and I'm not to be disturbed. Then take yourself to the dispensary and get checked out. That's an order, Carl."

  "Yes, ma'am." He rose to his feet a little unsteady, walked to the door, and left, closing it after him.

  "Now, Guzman, put that Mfw down and sit before you destroy your life and your family's. You're in pain and I don't blame you for feeling helpless and wanting to strike out at something, anything. And you see me as the problem–"

  "You are. You could free my daughter—"

  "Yes, you see me as a heartless bitch who is using your daughter to catch the kidnappers and gain glory and fame and another promotion—"

  "That's right!"

  "You don't have a clue, yet you have all the answers. You think you know the pain your daughter is going through. In reality you can't begin to understand—"

  "And you can?"

  "Yes, the heartless bitch can feel Susan's and the other women's pain. When we were chasing the JPU pirates, I was captured by the marines-for-hire and transported to the JPU cruiser, the Shark. They wanted to know what the NIA knew about their operations. When I refused and torture didn't work, the captain let one man rape me every hour. I was there over five days. Every time I was on the verge of dying, they put me in Rejuv. Yes, I understand the pain she and the others are going through and the scars she will carry for the rest of her life. But I also know if she were in this room right now and I offered to free her that she would refuse—"

  "Noooo!" Guzman cried.

  "Sir, they don't have her chained to a bed. She is free and will have many chances to escape. She won't. She is choosing to stay because of fear. They told her what will happen if she tries or if she talks."

  "She would be safe with me…" he said just above a whisper.

  "You think so? It's obvious from what we've learned to date that they have people on every system. Consider what you would do if you knew I would kidnap your young daughter and two sons and sell them into slavery if you refused to do what I asked? Would you risk that I couldn't or wouldn't? And knowing the kidnappers are a very nasty bunch, the women have been threatened with worse threats and have every reason to believe the kidnappers are capable of carrying them out and would. They may even have an example to show them. I don't know the specific threat each woman is under, but it's worse than their compliance." I stopped to let him think about her situation before continuing. "My heart bleeds for these women because I truly understand what they are going through and have a thousand people throughout the UAS working to find and destroy this ring of criminals. But until we do, your daughter and the other eighty-plus women will never be truly free to rebuild their lives."

  "Will Susan be able to…?"

  "If Susan knows you are there when she needs you, she can. She won't want your sympathy or pity or locking her in a cocoon of security, just your support when she asks. I frequently sleep in my mother's bed because of the nightmares. That's what I need so she lets me without stupid comments about how she understands, or I'll get better, or seeing some shrink or anything. I need her, so she's there. During the day I'm functional."

  "Can I help…"

  "Yes, let your senior people know I'm a friend and may need their help," I said, thinking that might make him feel like he was doing something and who knew, I might actually need additional marines.

  "I will. Can I check in with you from time to time?"

  "I promise to keep you up to date, General Guzman. But you must remember this is a P1A project and can't be discussed with anyone who doesn't have a need to know."

  "Thank you, Admiral Paulus, and I apologize for my behavior."

  "Anna, please." I stood and walked to the door with him following. I opened it and saw Pannell and eight marines standing with Mfws drawn. "Thank you, General Guzman; I'll keep in touch."

  He nodded and made his way through them to the elevators.

  "He drew a weapon on you," Pannell said and I felt his urge to arrest Guzman after he shot him.

  "Better a friend than an enemy, Paul. I think you can now count on the entire army and marine core being on call if you need them." I grinned. He let out a sigh but couldn't stop a wry grin.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Star System: Fire Rock – Default Options

  "You all
right, Carl?" I asked when we met in my private office on the Taranis. It was twenty hours later. I had met with Alexa for a lunch and brought her up to date, gone home and packed for a possible extended trip, reported to the ship and updated Captain Martz, and then freshened up and even managed a few hours' rest.

  "Yes; just a few bruises. The general took me by surprise…he's also in good shape and must work out regularly." He gave a lopsided grin. "I thought he'd shoot you, ma'am."

  "Banner, there is a good lesson there for you as you get more rank and responsibility," I said, looking over at him. He had been very quiet. "Rank does not make you smarter, shouting doesn't make you right, and you aren't listening if your emotions are in control."

  Stamm laughed. "Ma'am that kind of goes against military tradition."

  "The master chief is right. This might be the best assignment I'm ever going to have."

  * * *

  "Can you discuss with your chauffer what you're hoping to accomplish on Fire Rock, Admiral?" Martz asked. We were alone in her dining room relaxing with after-dinner drinks. I had accepted a glass of pinot noir after a sip to sample the taste, as I seldom drank alcohol because of Red. But pinot noir was low on alcohol and I didn't intend to drink more than a few ounces. I already had drunk gallons of coffee and my system needed a break.

  "Anna, if it doesn't destroy too much tradition," I said, taking a sip from my glass.

  "Elaine. Not in private," she replied.

  "Women who have voluntarily signed the kidnappers' contract have been threatened with what will happen if they break the contract and therefore won't talk. I'm hoping the ones on drugs are either beyond caring or want payback or…are therefore more willing to talk."

  "Looking in the garbage cans for clues," Elaine said, but added quickly, "I don't mean the women are trash."

  "I know. But in a real sense they are the kidnappers' trash. They should kill them and burn the evidence in our analogy, but I suspect they don't expect them to survive long—and killing them may get the police involved and create trouble for them. Who is going to listen seriously to an addict?"

  "And who would expect a nosey NIA woman to search for unreliable addicts to get information?" She laughed. "The rumor mill has it that the senior army and marine officers have been told they are to support you if you request help. And I wouldn't mind blowing up their safe houses when you find them."

  * * *

  When I exited the shuttle with my escort, Commander Newman was waiting with Commissioner MacGregor. Newman saluted and gave me a warm smile.

  "Welcome to Zaspa," MacGregor boomed in his normal megaphone voice. "I'm curious and thought you wouldn't mind if I tagged along."

  "Certainly not. I consider this a UAS project as I'm working for them, but also as an excellent opportunity for the police and NIA to participate cooperatively to make the UAS a better place to live. In reality, it's much more your domain than ours," I said, shaking his hand. MacGregor didn't hesitate, although Red lay with his head on my shoulder.

  "I thought not," he said and nodded. "Would you like to see Debbie Thomas now or to get settled and freshen up first?"

  "Tell me a little about her. Where is she staying, working, has anyone talked to her, etc." I needed some background before I decided how to approach her.

  "She apparently arrived here on a merchant ship as part of the crew, so she said. The ship is called the Flying Pig and the name fits. They haul a lot of junk other ships won't touch. When she departed, she went straight to the Mercy Clinic. They kept her as an inpatient for a month because of her condition. Then they found her employment. She subsequently applied for Zaspa citizenship using a false name claiming to be from Westar, or we would never have noticed her. It was still a bit of an accident. The person processing her application ran her against the Magic Act database and got a hit—Tamatha Naquin from Safe Harbor. He brought it to my attention and I called Newman. We decided to let you decide how to handle it. We approved her application so as not to spook her."

  "Thank you, Commissioner. You did all the right things. I'm sure you and your folks would have done a good job, but I'm sure she rightfully has a case of extreme paranoia. She knows she is in danger if either of her legal names are discovered by the wrong people, and these people have operators on every system. Fortunately, I have facts you don't that I hope will help ease her fears."

  "She visits the clinic once a week to get her meds and meet with a counselor. Her next appointment is for eighteen hundred hours tomorrow."

  "Excellent. Let's arrange for her to meet with me instead of her scheduled counselor."

  * * *

  I sat in the counselor's chair—Rosemary Davidson, according to the name sign on the desk—waiting for Debbie Thomas to show for her appointment. According to Rosemary's file, Debbie had said she got hooked up with a wild bunch of boys and one thing led to another. They didn't want her to leave, so she managed to trade work for passage on the Flying Pig. I could just imagine what work they expected for the ride to Zaspa. Several minutes later there was a soft knock on the door.

  "Come in," I said and a few seconds later an average-sized woman opened the door and stopped halfway when she saw me.

  "You're not Rosy," she said, fear etched on her gaunt face. She looked very little like the pictures I had of Tamatha Naquin. She had lost muscle and fat, so I could see the outline of bones—and she looked twenty years older.

  "Rosy is doing a friend a favor." I didn't really lie, but of course what I said—while true—was meant to mislead. The friend was Tamatha and the favor was the hope I could help.

  "Will she be back?" Tamatha asked, her eyes darting around the room.

  "She will be here for your next appointment," I said and Tamatha relaxed a bit. "How are you doing, Debbie?"

  "I'm doing well, no drugs and the work at the church is…peaceful," she said and gave a weak smile. The first in a long time, I'd wager.

  "Drugs give you a god-like feeling but not peace. Drugs wear off, but peace stays with you. Drugs make you a slave while peace sets you free," I said, thinking of the drugs they pumped into me after they retrieved me from the Shark.

  "You sound like…"

  "I've been there?" I asked and immediately continued. "I was tortured and raped for five days by over a hundred men. When I was about to die, they put me in a Rejuv unit and started over again."

  "Oh my God," she said, her hand over her open mouth, eyes two round saucers; then tears formed and ran down her cheeks. "You…know!"

  "I talked to Dora Cobb when she was on Sudan. She was rightfully terrified and afraid to say much."

  "What happened to her?" Now her eyes squeezed almost closed with suspicion and fear.

  "Nothing. She was picked up in a raid on a brothel. Since she wasn't caught doing anything, she was released without being charged. Her lawyers were there, and she didn't say anything she wasn't permitted to say so I'm sure she is fine."

  "Who are you?" she asked, looking like a panicked animal wanting to flee but frozen with fear.

  "Someone who knows your pain, all eighty-plus of you, and who will eventually destroy your abductors. Sooner with your help—a bit longer without it. But destroy them I will without destroying you or the other women in the process. Like me, you will have scars, but I think most of you can live productive lives like I am." I paused, knowing she needed time to sort through the issues—risk versus reward. "Would you like something to drink?"

  She nodded. "Coffee, black," she said in a dead voice. I found a coffee machine and returned several minutes later and set her cup next to her and mine on the desk and sat.

  Tamatha sat sipping the coffee but not speaking for a long time. Occasionally she looked toward me, then back toward the ground.

  "They revived you in a Rejuv unit?" she asked, watching me closely. I nodded.

  "They had me transported to a JPU war cruiser," I said.

  "How did you escape?" She leaned toward me.

  "I'll make you a deal.
I'll tell you my story if you will tell me yours. I promise not to tell anyone what you tell me if you promise not to tell anyone my story. Only my mother knows the entire story," I said, which was mostly true. She nodded, mesmerized. "I work for the Navy Intelligence Agency and was chasing pirates operating out of the JPU. We had learned…" I went on to explain what we knew and my trip to Westar, my capture, the Coaca Virus, Red and the ordeal and having to sleep in my mother's bed because of the nightmares.

  "Wow! She said at the end. "What about—"

  I knew what she wanted, and reached into the collar of my shirt and pulled out Red. "My medical dispenser."

  "I don't know everything, but I'll tell you what I do know." She looked at me and I nodded. I woke up in a dark room with only a mattress on the floor and a pot to piss and shit in." She produced a twisted smile. "But no window to throw it out. A couple of days later, they let me out. The table was loaded with food and drink. While I ate, a scary woman gave me three choices: sign a ten-year contract to be a paid whore, become a drug addict for sex, or suicide. The contract stated I would receive five percent of each contract, and transportation, clothes, room, and board would be provided free. The contract contained a provision to buy out of the contract—one million credits. She claimed if I was smart, I could retire a rich woman after ten years or buy my way out in as little as five. So there was really only one choice: the contract. If you refused, they would get you hooked on drugs and then you could forget about suicide. So, I signed naively, thinking I would escape at the first opportunity, since I knew they would rent me out to very rich men as a prize escort to hang on their arms in public and available for twenty-four seven sex on demand—not chained to a bed in some brothel. I should have known they would know what someone in my position would be thinking. They were well informed and let me know if I ran, they would collect my two younger sisters like they did me and kill my father, mother, and older brother. And when they caught me, they would make me into a drug addict who would fuck for drugs until I eventually died." She stopped for a toilet break and a lazy lunch Banner fetched for us. While we ate, she asked questions about my ordeal and roared with pleasure when I recounted my killing spree. Then she sobered. "Having no real option, I signed. Afterward I was introduced to a sadistic evil bastard who indoctrinated me to my new career. Before he would release me, I had to prove to his satisfaction that I could convince him I enjoyed sex with him. No one living would enjoy sex with that twisted bastard. He loved to hurt you. It took about four weeks to graduate. For the next couple of months, it was mostly attending parties where I was available to anyone who wanted sex. The second year, rich men would rent me for a week or a month at a time. Then something changed. I was being rented out to sadistic men and women. You learn to expect one now and then, but the clients were all the same. The paychecks were larger, but I reached a point where I needed drugs to survive. And one day I decided I couldn't take it any longer regardless of the consequences and took the first opportunity I could to disappear—the Flying Pig. I left the ship on Zaspa planning to go off and die. Before I could, I stumbled on the Mercy Clinic and hoped I could find peace." Her smile turned evil. "Now I've found you and want revenge."

 

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