The Snows of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 3)

by Ward Wagher

  “I would go to my grave regretting that,” Frasch said. “I promised my sister I would raise the boy as my own child. And he is the only living relative I have.”

  For a moment, Krause and Frank saw a bereft old lady mourning her future. Then the door slammed shut again. She rubbed her hands together and looked at them.

  “Now for the other thing.”

  Krause nodded.

  “I want to begin moving my wealth off-planet. It's a matter of time before the Centaurans come roaring through, and they have reasons not to like me. You two gentlemen are going to help me.”

  “What?” both Frank Nyman and Willard Krause asked at the same time.

  “I've done some research on you, young man,” she pointed to Frank. “You are almost too honest for your own good. Willard, here, is entirely apt to advise me in directions that help the plan he and Carlo have hatched. That is well and good, but I would like your advice on making sure those decisions do not adversely affect my fortune. You're blushing, Willard.”

  “I don't know what to say,” Frank said.

  “I do not want to impose on your time, Mr. Nyman. I know you are a busy man.”

  “Oh, it's not that at all, Ms. Frasch. I am just afraid you have gravely over-estimated my abilities.”

  She grinned at Krause. “He's modest too.” Turning back to Frank. “I know you are at least modestly wealthy, but I will make this worth your while.”

  “Oh, I wouldn't charge for anything beyond my expenses,” Frank said. “I just...”

  “Good, then it's settled,” she jumped in. “I am going to structure several entities in which you will be a partner. This will give you signature authority, and hopefully avoid any taxation problems getting the assets off Earth. I would prefer to be invested in manufacturing enterprises, but this is where your judgment comes in.”

  Frank just stared at her.

  Krause leaned over and nudged Frank. He jumped.

  “Yes, of course. I assume you have a representative, who will get in touch.”

  She nodded. “I do. His name is Walter Marlowe. An attorney, and one of my closest friends.”

  “I will do my best for you,” Frank said.

  “I know you will.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Mr. Nyman, what can you tell us about your role in the attempted piracy aboard the Forsythia?” The newsman pushed a video pickup in Frank's face.

  “Nothing,” Frank said as he walked from the small electric groundcar to the JAG quarters on Luna. “I will answer some questions for the panel and they will come to a decision.”

  “Do you believe Rogers Cambaert is guilty?”

  Frank stopped and looked at the newsman as though he were some particular disgusting species of insect. “As I just told you, I can say nothing about the case. Now if you will excuse me.”

  “Will you agree to speak with me after the trial is over?”

  “Probably not,” Frank said over his shoulder as he continued walking. Other newspeople were shouting questions, which he ignored. Smith and Jones flanked Frank and cleared the way towards the JAG offices for him.

  “Thanks, guys,” Frank said as he walked in the door. “I really hate drawing the attention of the carrion out there.”

  “No problem, Skipper,” Smith said. “That's what we're here for.”

  “I'm going to miss you guys when it's time for you to go back to the Baltic Regiment.”

  “Just worry about one day at a time, Skipper,” Smith said. “You're a lot easier to work for than the Colonel.”

  “I should hope to think so!” Frank exclaimed.

  Colonel Otto Putin, the commanding officer of The Baltic Regiment had seconded Smith and Jones to Frank when Frank had arrived on Hepplewhite to take over his brother's stake in the Margraviate of Montora. Putin was a colorful and profane man, who had made the Baltic Regiment his life's work. The Colonel had somehow never gotten around to taking his two sergeants back, and Frank was happy to have them.

  The two sergeants posted themselves near the entrance to the JAG offices. Frank walked to the room which had been reserved for witnesses and sat down. He opened his comp term and continued working on the budget for Nyman Trans-Space.

  So far the trial had been routine except for some brief excitement on the first day. Lieutenant Rubio had requested that the house arrest be lifted on Commander Cambaert. Captain Jarreau, a member of the panel, had exploded. He had not realized Cambaert had been under detention. He felt that keeping a serving Navy officer under close arrest was highly inappropriate. Admiral Iserman then suggested a cell would have been more appropriate. Captain Reuter, the chairman of the panel, had then ordered the room cleared so the panel could deliberate the request en camera. Everyone had suspected the following discussion was lively. After everyone was returned to the room, Reuter had lifted the house arrest, but ordered Cambaert not to leave Luna.

  Most of the day was spent on Charles Schubach's testimony. This continued into the second day. Frank was called in the afternoon of the second day, and he expected to continue his testimony on this the third day. The court was scheduled to begin again at 0800 Zulu Time, and Frank was ten minutes early.

  0800 came and went. Frank was content to continue working. He later looked at the time display on his comp term and looked up in surprise at the wall chrono, which also showed the time as 0900. He looked over at the marine sentry standing at the door to the courtroom.

  “Any idea on when things will get started, Sergeant?” he asked.

  “No, Sir. We seem to be running late.”

  Frank shrugged and went back to his work. An hour later a marine captain slipped into the room and walked over to Frank.

  “Sir, could you come with me, please?”

  “Of course, Captain.” Frank closed up his comp term and stood up. “Things running late today?”

  “I cannot say, of course.”

  “Sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot.”

  “No problem, Sir. They're waiting in the courtroom.”

  As the approached the door, the sentry snapped to attention and pushed the button to open the door open for them. Frank followed the marine captain into the courtroom. The members of the panel were at their assigned places at the table across the front of the room. The rest of the room was empty, except for Lieutenant Rubio and Admiral Critzman, who was acting as the prosecuting attorney.

  Rather than directing Frank to the witness chair, the captain left him standing in front of the panel.

  “We have a problem, Captain Nyman,” Captain Reuter said. “It seems Commander Cambaert has disappeared.”

  “Excuse me?” Frank blurted out. “How could he simply disappear?”

  “Precisely,” Reuter said. “Has he had any contact with you, Captain?”

  “No, Captain, he has not,” Frank replied. “My last conversation with Commander Cambaert was when I placed him under arrest aboard Lockhurst.”

  “Very well, Captain,” Reuter said. “You may be seated.”

  Frank nodded and stepped back to the first row of chairs and sat down.

  Reuter looked back and forth at the panel. “It is the consensus of this panel to adjourn until the accused is located.” He picked up the small mallet and rapped the pad with it. The officers slid their chairs back and stood up. Everyone else in the room stood up as well.

  Reuter spoke to one of the other members of the panel, then stepped around the table towards Frank. He held out his hand.

  “As always, good to see you again, Frank.”

  “Same to ya, Ted. How did you get dragged into this mess?”

  “You know how it goes,” the other captain said. “All you have to do to be picked is to linger around Earth too long. My cruiser is in dock suffering a reactor replacement. My name came up in the rotation and here I am. Being the junior member, I was naturally selected as president of the panel.”

  “I'm surprised you haven't retired out for the family business.”

&n
bsp; “Well, for one thing, I like what I'm doing. Also my older brother is now running the business, and he has indicated I make him nervous when I look over his shoulder.”

  “Thaddeus is running the business now?” Frank asked.

  “Yes. Father decided to slow down a bit, and Thad knows what he's doing. Honestly, Frank, I'm happy to let him do it. He's the eldest sibling and we get along much better when we're not in close proximity. I've heard you were doing well.”

  “Depends on the point of view, I'm afraid,” Frank said. “The business is doing well. I don't know if you heard, but I lost Wendy last year.”

  Reuter's face changed to shock and surprise. “No! I had not heard that. What happened?”

  “She caught a poisoned dart intended for me. She was gone before anyone could do anything.” Frank looked down at the floor.

  “That is just terrible. Chantelle will be crushed. I told her you were here, and she was hoping we could get together with you. Where did it happen?”

  “Out on Hepplewhite...”

  “That was you?” Reuter said in surprise. “I heard about some of that. What a nightmare.”

  “It was probably the worst experience of my life, Ted. But for a lot of work and patience by some friends, I might have gone completely 'round the bend.”

  Reuter reached out and put a hand on Frank's shoulder. “I can't tell you how sorry I am. We heard about Carlo Roma's brother, of course. Hard to believe him going off like that. Everyone said he was a very nice man, if dreadfully incompetent.”

  “I guess Kinsolver's does that to you,” Frank said. “Guilietto Roma died a tortured soul. I've got a little more perspective on things now, I think. Intellectually I can feel sorry for him. It's amazing how the universe can jump up and slap you. A man takes a vacation trip to Samothrace, catches a bug, and messes up a bunch of peoples' lives.”

  “Must've been tough for Carlo Roma to look you in the eye.”

  “I spent a lot of time blaming him for it, but let's be honest,” Frank said. “Sometimes these things happen. Carlo's not a bad sort, other than having too much money. He's not even that arrogant. Now, Willard Krause, I'd really like to strangle.”

  Reuter chuckled. “You usually wanted to do that about twice per day when you were his flag captain.”

  “Well, he hasn't gotten any easier to take.”

  “If it's any consolation, Frank, he drives everybody else crazy, too. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but his name was drawn for the panel, and the chief had it suggested to him that he lose the entry and take the next one.”

  “So the fix is in?”

  “Oh, with Cambaert?” Reuter raised an eyebrow. “No, he will receive a fair trial. Right now I'd put it as 50/50 whether Critzman gets a conviction. In any case, he will never sit in a command chair again.”

  “Should you be telling this to a witness?”

  “I'm not trying to influence you, Frank, if that's what you mean. This is a simple case with messy implications. The panel will do its best to reach an impartial conclusion.”

  Frank nodded. “I suppose I should get out of your hair.”

  “No, it was good to see you. Are you still on Hepplewhite?”

  “No, I'm based out of New Stockholm. Trying to set up a corporate headquarters there.”

  “I can understand not wanting to remain on Hepplewhite.”

  “Actually, I turned the property there over to my son.”

  Reuter nodded. “Franklin? I thought he was in the Navy.”

  “Krause kicked him loose for me.”

  Reuter stuck out his hand again. “I really do need to run, Frank. I'd like to get together this weekend with you. Are you going to be here for a while?”

  “I don't know. I need to turn Forsythia loose. She's costing me money parked in Earth orbit.”

  “Okay. Keep me in mind.”

  “I will, Ted. It was good to see you.

  § § §

  “I have a cargo,” Charles Schubach said.

  “Do you now?” Frank sat up in the easy chair where he had been slouched. “What and where?”

  “Machine tools. To Baughman's World.”

  “Did you ask the Woogies about the detour? I'd think they would want to get home.”

  “Peebee and Peejay want to see Baughman's.”

  “That's not the most inviting piece of real estate around, Charlie,” Frank said.

  “It was apparently the location of an early Woogie interstellar expedition.”

  “I always thought that was a legend,” Frank said. “So the Woogies say it was true?”

  “Sooozie was not able to confirm a lot of it, but from what I've been able to piece together, it seems that Woogie sub-light ships traveled widely. They may have even gotten as far as Earth. I mean some of this was over a thousand years ago.”

  “If they were traveling sub-light, it would have to be,” Frank said. “Wow. That's hard to believe. I can't imagine any culture actively making multi-century voyages. We didn't leave the solar system until after we had invented the FTL drive.”

  “Right. The Woogies think they had a base on Baughman's World at one time.”

  “Any way to confirm that?”

  “Baughman's was originally chartered to a Palatinate company. The headquarters on Baughman's looks an awful lot like a Woogie building,” Schubach said. “I did some digging and found a picture of it.”

  Frank tilted his head back and forth as he considered this. “The Woogies going to pay for the side-trip?”

  “Sooozie said so.”

  “It seems to me, then, Charlie, that if the Woogies are paying the way, and you picked up a cargo in addition, there is not a lot of room for me to complain.”

  “That's sort of what I thought you'd say, Frank.”

  “What about the risks? You've got both Nest Guardians aboard,” Frank said.

  “Carlo Roma is providing an armed merchant cruiser as an escort.”

  “Probably the least he could do,” Frank murmured.

  “Sir?”

  “I was just thinking that it doesn't surprise me that Carlo wants a safe trip for the Woogies.”

  “I should hope so,” Schubach said. “They just did some wonderful things for his bottom line.”

  “That they did,” Frank said.

  “Are you going to be aboard, Sir?” Schubach asked.

  “I don't know,” Frank said. “Probably not. I think my two best buddies here are going to want me to stick around until the Cambaert thing gets settled one way or the other. Plus, I have some other business to attend to.”

  Schubach snorted. “Your two best buddies being Krause and Roma, right?”

  “And you know the rest of it.”

  “With friends like those, et cetera, et cetera,” Schubach said.

  “Captain Schooobach, your powers of deduction are amazing!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The cruiser Corona drove through the not-space generated by the FTL drive, on its way to the Cardiff Sector. Frank had been given a cabin near the Flag Deck, while Smith & Jones were assigned to Marine Country. Smith was sitting in Frank's cabin as Frank was getting ready for dinner.

  “Nice of the Admiral to invite you to dinner,” Smith said.

  “Don't kid yourself, Cedric,” Frank growled. “When you are on Willard Krause's flagship, he gets to play the genial host and you have to be the polite guest. Therefore, after dinner I will be treated to one of his two hour lectures on Galactic Politics.”

  “He's not going to talk about the plans for Laura Frasch's money?”

  “Naah. Her lawyer made it clear he was not to be involved.”

  “I thought she invited the both of you,” Smith said.

  “She used Krause to gain an intro to me.”

  “And so you got something else to work on.”

  “You got that right. After we get home, I'm probably going to be traveling, at least, to Cardiff. Probably to Harcourt's World as well.”

  “Going
to invest on Hepplewhite?”

  Frank shook his head. “No. Much as I would like to, it's really a marginal investment at the moment. Maybe later.”

  He leaned over to fasten his shoes and stood up again. “Once more into the fray.”

  “Meanwhile Jonesy and I will be eating with the Marines.”

  “Don't complain. You will probably be eating better than I. The gunnys make sure of that.”

  “I hadn't thought of that,” Smith admitted. “Oh well.”

  “What do you mean oh well?” Frank asked.

  “If we have to suffer, at least we can do it in style.”

  “Ha. I guarantee you the stories around the sergeants' table are much more interesting than what I will have to listen to. Krause will be moaning about NIS letting Cambaert slip through their fingers and into the Centauran embassy.”

  “It does seem to be a good exhibition of incompetence,” Smith commented. “I don't know who showed worse judgment - the Navy for letting him get away, or the Centaurans for keeping him.”

  “Yeah, where's Hai Ciera when you need him?”

  “Ain't that the truth, Skipper. He had a way of getting things done.”

  “Of course,” Frank replied, “NIS has never listened to advice from NavInt.”

  “And officers never listen to advice from non-coms.”

  “I never said that,” Frank shot back.

  Smith just smiled.

  Frank spent the five week trip from Earth to New Stockholm trying to avoid Admiral Krause as well as focus on the work on his comp term. Krause mainly invited Frank to dinner, which he couldn't avoid. And the work was not sufficient to cover Frank's waking hours.

  Frank's thinking drifted into the events of the past year. As the voyage continued, he became increasingly morose. Smith eased into the cabin one day near the end of the voyage.

  “Just wanted to see if you had any plans for us after arrival, Skipper,” he said.

  Frank stirred. “I had the beginnings of an outline here somewhere.” He touched several folders on the screen.

  “So you haven't given it a lot of thought?”

  “Don't put words in my mouth, Cedric. I worked on it for a couple of days and set it aside. I just need to look at it to refresh my memory.”