The Margrave of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  “You'd have to ask him that question. I couldn't get much out of him.”

  “I probably will if I get the chance.”

  They leaned against the wall a while longer, enjoying the late afternoon ambiance, then went back to the office.

  Dinner was indeed with the Chandler. George and Pamela Liston met the Nymans at a restaurant in downtown Gustav. Katie's was an upscale place in the basement of one of the department stores. Smith & Jones were nowhere to be seen, but Franklin assumed they were patrolling the area.

  “So good of you to join us tonight, Margrave,” George said.

  Frank had carefully introduced his son as the Margrave. The Listons were impressed. They had not met royalty before, and Franklin qualified in their book.

  “I appreciate the invitation. I am always delighted to meet friends of my father.”

  “I am a little embarrassed to monopolize the time on your last evening here.”

  “Oh, no problem at all,” Franklin said.

  “He's actually more personable than I am,” Frank said.

  “I can't argue with that,” Franklin said. The Listons laughed politely.

  “We owe your father so much,” Pamela said. “We got into a tough scrape with the local authorities and he helped us get it straightened out. This place has been rather lawless, though it's been much better lately. Once again due to your father.”

  Frank looked embarrassed. “All I did was have a word with the Provost.”

  “Well, I tried to have a word with the Provost,” George said, “and the idiot threw me out.”

  “Dad has always been persuasive,” Franklin said. “Intimidating too, now that you mention it.”

  “That must be it,” George said. “I apparently frighten no one... as opposed to my wife.”

  She reached out and cuffed him on the back of the head. “Mind your manners, George.”

  George raised an eyebrow and Frank and grinned. “On to another subject, can you tell me what business brings you out this way? Or is this purely a family visit?”

  “I was actually taking care of some business on Addison's Planet and thought I'd swing out this way on the way back to Hepplewhite. This side trip was more of a family visit.”

  “How nice you were able to come. Our children have yet to visit us here.”

  George laid a hand on his wife's forearm. “Now Pamela, it's a long way out here from Earth.”

  “Oh, you're from Earth, then?” Franklin asked.

  “Yes,” George replied. “The kids were grown and I was looking for some other opportunities. The business climate here is not bad. We recently managed to put paid to some of the local... customs.”

  “We have four children,” Pamela said, “and it's just too expensive for them to travel clear out here to New Stockholm.”

  Franklin glanced at his dad and nodded. “I can understand that. It's a long trip too.”

  “That it is,” George said. “I wish we could get them out here. I'm concerned about the political situation on Earth.”

  Frank shook his head. “Sooner or later, any conversation about galactic geography will lead to the Centaurans.”

  “So you don't think they'll eventually take over Earth?” George asked.

  “Oh, they'll grab the high orbitals if they get a chance. But I think Earth itself is ungovernable. They'll have a hold of the planet and won't be able to let go.”

  “Why do you say that?” Franklin asked.

  “Nobody's ever been able to unify Earth, and not for lack of trying. Even during the time of troubles, the nations were too busy fighting among themselves. The logical thing to do would have been to pull everyone together and share the resources. Didn't happen.”

  “Certainly with a fleet in orbit, they ought to be able to enforce some kind of unity.”

  “Don't hold your breath, son.”

  “Oh, I wouldn't do that. It's awfully uncomfortable.”

  “It is that.”

  “It concerns me, though,” George said. “I mean, if the Centaurans decide to show up, even if they don't manage to conquer the planet, it could well get bloody. I'd like my kids out of that.”

  “Would they come, given the opportunity?” Franklin asked.

  “I think so, yes,” George said. “But then they would have to find work, a place to live and so on.”

  Franklin glanced over at his father from time to time during the evening. While he was engaged in the conversation, he was not animated like he used to be. And he had a tendency to lapse into silence.

  On the way home in the ground car, Frank brought up the subject of the Listons. “They're good friends, son. I don't have many of those, especially not here. I try to make the effort to be a good guest, but it's hard sometimes.”

  “They seemed like nice people. The next time one of our ships calls at Earth, you ought to think about bringing their family out.”

  “Don't think I haven't thought about it. But if you start offering free rides to people where does it stop?”

  “But, these are friends, Dad. It's a little different.”

  “But where do you draw the line?”

  “I don't know, but I think it could be drawn quite a bit beyond Liston's family.”

  “Well, I'll think about it.”

  Smith pulled the car into the circular drive and stopped in front of the doors of Frank's home. Frank leaned forward to open the door. “I'm pretty beat, Franklin. Good night.”

  “'Night, Dad,” he replied.

  Without another word, Frank walked into the house. Smith turned around and just looked at Franklin.

  “What?”

  “Aren't you going to talk to him?”

  “I guess I'll wait a bit and then take a look in his study.”

  Smith nodded. “Yep, and you'll probably find him there.”

  # # #

  After visiting with Emily Brundage, the housekeeper and having a nightcap with Smith & Jones, Franklin went to bed too. After lying in bed for a couple of hours, he got dressed and walked downstairs. It was 2AM and very quiet. A seam of light shone under the door to the library and Franklin quietly eased the door open.

  “A bit late to be up, isn't it?” Frank said as his son stepped through the door.

  “I supposed I could say the same thing.”

  “Well have a seat. You'll be leaving in the morning and we probably won't see each other for quite a while.”

  “I hope it won't be too long, Dad.”

  He shrugged and said nothing further for the moment.

  “Okay, Dad, what's really bothering you?”

  “Smith been talkin' to you?”

  “You've lost weight. You don't look well. As far as I can tell, you're not sick. What's going on?”

  Frank nodded. “Smith has been talking to you.”

  Franklin shrugged. “I know the past year has not been good for you, but in the past when you got knocked down, you were right back up again.”

  “Maybe I'm just getting old, son. When you reach a certain point, it's hard even to just get out of bed.”

  “Are we going to spend the night talking around this, Dad?”

  Frank smiled. “You know, you're just like your Mother. She never liked to see me enjoying my little depressions.”

  “I don't want to see you going round the bend, which is exactly where you're headed.” Franklin said. “In the first place, I don't want to pick up after you. Also, we're family and there isn't anyone else.”

  “True. But you could've picked a much better father.”

  “I think I picked a pretty good father, if it's all the same to you, Dad.”

  “When you walked in a few minutes ago I thought you were going to ask me for a loan.”

  “That’ll never happen.”

  “Think about what you're saying, son. You're not just the offspring starting out on your own and trying to finance a startup business. You're running the operation that I handed off to you. Montora and the shipping company are two divisions
of Nymans Limited. Us. So what we're talking about is not a loan, or even a grant. It's simply an inter-divisional transfer of funds."

  Franklin shrugged. "Yes, but I still feel like I'm taking money from you that you need. I mean, you've tripled or quadrupled the size of your fleet. What with the personnel requirements and dealing in the cargo, it's got to have done bad things to your cash flow."

  "A lot has changed in a year. I don't know where Willard Krause got those freighters, but they were so cheap it was just like they were given to me. I'm carrying a credit line basically to finance the crews and the cargoes. Everything else is free and clear. And I've made a killing on several of those cargoes."

  Frank leaned out and handed Franklin a card. “Consider this your investment fund. You see something that will pump up the Montoran economy, use this to get it moving.”

  “What is it?”

  “Fifteen million Centaurans.”

  “Dad, you can't afford that!”

  “Actually, I can. This is not a loan, it's an investment. You can't use it to help pay off Steelmaker. That's your problem. On the other hand, I'm sure you have several projects pending where you would really like to insert some cash to get things moving.”

  Franklin looked at the card in his hand. “I don't know what to say.”

  “Say thanks. As the CEO, I made an executive decision to increase your capital budget. Use it wisely.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I just wish I knew what was going on. What kind of plans does the admiral have for you, Dad?"

  "You're asking exactly the same question I keep asking myself. At first I thought Krause was using me to develop a bolt hole for him and Roma. But that is just not consistent with what I know about those two men. Neither of them is particularly likable, but they are honorable. I can't see them doing something like that."

  "You said this has, what, tripled your net worth?"

  "Our net worth," Frank corrected. "Something like that, yes."

  "So he didn't exactly throw you under the jitney when he pulled you out of Montora."

  "Probably not as he sees it, anyway. If you look at it from my point of view, it still looks like a royal screwing over. I left the only part of my life worth anything buried under the snows of Montora." Frank's face suddenly crumpled. "Why did she have to die, Franklin?" And he buried his face in his hands.

  Franklin stared at his dad, and wondered what caused the conversation to crater so badly.

  Frank raised his head to look at his son. Tears streaked down his face. "All I can think about is what Father Riggs told me."

  "Dad," Franklin said. "Riggs is a good man, but you have to take what he says with a grain of salt. I think God takes care of each of us in his own way. I wouldn't worry about it."

  "But what if he's right? What if there is a hell as well as a heaven?"

  "This is what's bothering you? Dad, you are not a bad man. You have always tried to do the right thing. That's one of the reasons I admire you so."

  "No, son. That's not what frightens me. According to Riggs, we all stand condemned."

  Franklin shook his head. "Dad, I'm surprised you're letting this eat at you. I mean, I don't hold to much of what he says. But, if you think he's right then I guess you need to settle things with him or with God or whatever."

  "No, you still don't understand." His tone was beginning to rise. "If Riggs is right, and I’m just afraid he might be, then it means your mother is in Hell.” His voice cracked during the last sentence.

  Franklin jumped to his feet. “Now that’s just about enough! It’s bad enough to suffer through grief, and God knows I miss her too. But to torture yourself with this kind of nonsense… well… you just need to get a grip, Dad!”

  Without realizing he had done so, Franklin had moved clear across the room and grasped his father by the shoulders. "You need to stop this, Dad. You're killing yourself with guilt, and the guilt doesn't belong to you."

  "Doesn't it? Doesn’t it? I'm the one who dragged her to Hepplewhite. I'm the one who encouraged her to help me put the margraviate on a sound footing." The elder Nyman was now weeping as he spoke. He began to choke as he tried to talk. "I didn't get her out of there when I knew I should. Everything was coming apart and I thought I could salvage it. The only thing I succeeded in doing was getting her killed. And now she's burning in hell and it's all my fault! What in heaven’s name am I ever going to do?" The last sentence came out as a shriek. Frank laid his head down on his desk and wept. He hiccuped several times as if trying to regain control, but he continued weeping.

  Franklin stepped back, then looked around the room. He started to move towards his father again and stopped. Finally he spun around and fled the office.

  chapter forty-one

  “I'm surprised your father didn't hang around after he dropped you off here.” Murray Hopper said.

  Franklin Nyman and Hopper were sitting in the departure lounge at the Gustav Starport waiting to board their shuttle.

  “I'm not.”

  Hopper sat for a while, waiting for further explanation. When nothing seemed forthcoming, he got out of his chair and took a walk around the lounge. It was nicer than most. New Stockholm was not a wealthy colony, but it was comfortable. The inhabitants had taken the time to civilize themselves and their surroundings. Being such a mild planet, it wasn't difficult for them to build things. In the salubrious climate, roads and buildings didn't fall apart before the onslaught of nature. This allowed relatively modest sums to keep public buildings fresh and clean.

  Hopper sat down again. “We didn't stay very long.”

  “There are things to do at home, Hopper.”

  Hopper looked at Franklin, as if he were waiting on further comment. “We are not very...”

  “Loquacious?” Franklin supplied.

  “Right. You don't have a lot to say today.”

  “I have a lot on my mind, Hopper.”

  The steward nodded. He turned his head to study the lounge again. It hadn't changed much in the past five minutes. He did notice three men, who were walking in his direction.

  “What do you suppose they want?”

  Franklin looked up. “You are assuming they are not just coming over here to find a comfortable chair?”

  “Don't think so, Skipper.” Hopper stood up.

  “A word with you, please,” the man in the center said as the three arrived. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and was wearing a homburg.

  Franklin stood up. “What can I help you gentlemen with?”

  Homburg flipped out a set of credentials. Franklin studied them carefully.

  “And how can I help the inspector?” he said.

  “We would like to speak with you concerning a crime committed in Gustav three weeks ago.”

  “I've been here only three days, but I'll be glad to help if I can.”

  “Good,” said Homburg. “If you would accompany us back to the office in Gustav.”

  “I'm afraid that would cause me to miss my shuttle,” Franklin said.

  Homburg managed a one-sided grin. “You're going to miss it anyway, sorry to say. I'm afraid you don't have a choice.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Of course. You are Franklin Nyman.”

  “Perhaps I should rephrase, “Do you know what I am?”

  “That doesn't matter. You will come with us.” The other two men, who were apparently the muscle stepped up to Franklin.

  “Let's just hold it right here,” Hopper said. Everyone turned to look and then froze as they saw the gun Hopper was holding. "Perhaps I should remind you, you were talking to the Margrave Montora.”

  "It wouldn't matter to me if he was Goldilocks," Homburg said. "And you would be very wise to put that popgun away before you get you and your boss into real trouble."

  The gun pointed unwaveringly at the inspector. "I think perhaps you might want to do your homework about who you're attempting to detain. The Margrave here represents a sovereign state on Hepplewhite. As such he and
his party have diplomatic immunity. Perhaps, Margrave, you could show the inspector your credentials."

  Franklin carefully eased a carnet out of his pocket and opened it facing the three other men. "Does this satisfy you, or do we need to call your foreign secretary? You really do not want to have a diplomatic incident here at the starport in front of all these people."

  There were not all that many people in the lounge, but everyone was staring at Hopper and his gun.

  Homburg looked at the credentials and appeared to think for a moment. "I agree. We do not need a diplomatic incident here at the starport. It appears someone gave me incorrect information. You have my apologies. We'll be on our way."

  With that the police inspector turned and walked away, his two assistants trailing him.

  "You can put the burner away now, Hopper," Franklin said. "You're making the people around us nervous. But, thanks for being on the ball."

  "What was that all about?" Hopper said as he eased the automatic into the holster under his shirt, in the small of his back.

  "At a guess, I'd say Dad has some major enemies in this town. They just managed to embarrass an honest cop. Stupid on their part."

  "I wonder if we were on the leading edge of something going down," Hopper mused.

  Franklin pulled out his comm unit and flipped it open. "A good point, Hopper. There's hope for you yet." He punched a number and listened. "Hey, Sarge. We just had a couple of the local police try to detain us here at the starport. I waved my carnet in front of them and got them to back off, but, I wonder if they're lining up something against you guys."

  He listened for a minute.

  "Right. It looks like we'll be boarding the shuttle in a couple of minutes. Keep your powder dry."

  Franklin snapped the comm unit shut and put it in his pocket. He looked over at Hopper. "Let's go. Apparently Inspector Standish had a recent confrontation with Dad. It seems that one ended no better for him than this one did."

  Hopper followed Franklin, who walked over to the shuttle service attendant at the gate. He again pulled out his diplomatic carnet and showed it to the attendant. "I apologize for being a nuisance, but I wonder if it might be possible for us to go ahead and board the shuttle?"