"Indeed. Or, more properly said, the shipping diversions." Harric rose to his feet, strolled slowly around his desk. "You knew borgbeasts were coming, and you didn't bother to find out why. You let the shipment land; you let yourself be set up. You've lost your smuggling operations, and endangered the real reason the Red Hand is present on Selmun III in the first place. The shipping trade.''
Adahn's large hand flew out, caught Karuu heavily against the side of the head. The Dorleoni staggered to the side and back and sat down suddenly on the carpet. He lifted webbed fingers to a ringing ear and blinked up at Harric with liquid, frightened eyes.
"You were too busy trying to cut down one smuggler to see the big picture," the crime boss spoke down to him. "That's not what I was paying you for. You are a very big, very sad disappointment to me."
Harric returned to his seat behind the desk, motioned Karuu to his feet with a flick of his fingers. ' 'What should I do with you, my friend?"
The Dorleoni knew it was a trick question, that Adahn must have already decided what to do with the Holdout who had endangered his globe-spanning operations on the waterworld of R'debh. Was there any way out of this, any way at all? Karuu was suddenly conscious that time was running out. How to make himself so valuable that it would not make good business sense to kill him?
"Well?" Harric prompted.
Karuu swallowed. "Maybe I can be of help, sir."
"I doubt it."
"Please." He tried to control the urge to babble, though hasty words, beseeching in tone, slipped past his lips anyway. "Of help I can be. Lish. Let us start with her. She is your real problem, or one of them. She it is who brought the borgbeast hazard. She it is who is responsible for the gutting of our Holdout operations. A minor concern compared to the shipping, yet large enough in its own way—and the perfect way to manage the cargo diversions you rely on."
Adahn pursed his lips at that thought. He did not cut the smuggler off, and the Dorleoni continued while he had the chance.
"Then there are the political forces behind this foolish move to sink shipping. They are surely of great concern to you. You will be wanting the Gambru League destroyed, I am sure? I have the connections on R'debh to make that happen for you. And this unfortunate persecution by Internal Security. If we were to give them a sop, a fellow Dorleoni, for instance, whom they mistook for me, they will stop looking for me on R'debh and cargo movements will be able to continue as normal. You will need to rebuild the Customs connections that have helped us over the years, and I am the perfect one to help you there, too, I know so many—"
"You know so many ways to wriggle out of a net." Adahn motioned him to silence, and shook his head. Karuu was a fast talker, and he had almost been taken in by the smuggler's weave of offers. He did touch on a point or two of real value, but this was something to ponder later, when the irritating alien was out of his sight and he had Janus handy to discuss solutions with.
Harric drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk. No use letting Karuu be at ease when he might yet choose to kill him. It was better to keep him off his guard, to retain the psychological advantage.
"Tell me about this Yavobo."
The sudden change of tack took Karuu unprepared. He explained what he knew of the bounty hunter's history, his failed bodyguard missions on R'debh, and how the clever Holdout had lured the Aztrakhani into smuggling him offworld. "I did not want to speak for you, sir. I promised him nothing. I simply said you would acknowledge that he did a favor by bringing me off of Selmun...."
Adahn's lips turned down. Some favor. True, if Karuu had been caught and questioned on Selmun III, the Red Hand cartel would have far bigger troubles than a handful of borgbeasts to contend with. Yet to have the Holdout here, wheedling and whining for consideration, was no special service to the crime boss, either.
On the other hand, the Aztrakhani was a killer, and Adahn always had a use for killers.
"What exactly does he want of me? Do you know?"
Karuu nodded eagerly. "Reva."
"The assassin?"
The Dorleoni ducked his chin. "He is not telling me reasons. He has sworn an oath of some sort—"
"Did you tell Yavobo she works for me?"
There was a dangerous gleam in Adahn's eye, and Karuu was glad for his closemouthedness. He shook his head rapidly from side to side. "No, sir, I said merely that you knew who she was and how to find her. There was nothing else from my lips, not even your name, I said—"
Adahn's hand gesture caused him to bite off the words.
"Go, now." Harric ordered his underling. "I'll talk to you again later."
Nervous, yet glad of the respite, Karuu bobbed his head in the awkward Dorleoni half-bow, and waddled to the door. There two MazeRats escorted him down a hallway and out of Adahn's sight. Even before Karuu was locked into his room, Yavobo was called in to face Harric himself.
Heeding Karuu's warnings of the alien's nature, Adahn discreetly powered a shield unit that created a force field between his desk and the rest of the room. Only if the stranger came too close or fired a weapon would he discover the invisible protection that guarded a Tribune of the Red Hand. Adahn hoped it would not come to that, and awaited his guest with interest.
Yavobo strode purposefully into Harric's informal audience chamber. The crime boss leaned expansively back in his plush padded seat, and ordered a float-chair to his guest's side. The Aztrakhani ignored the furniture, standing with feet spread before Harric's desk. It was a stance neither confrontational nor relaxed, ready for action should it be needed.
The alien gave the seated human a meager nod.
"You are Yavobo," Adahn said; a statement, not a query.
"Yes. I do not know how you are called. Karuu would not tell me, because of his oath."
So the Holdout had said true. He was more discreet than Adahn gave him credit for. Oath, indeed.
"You may call me Mr. Harric," he said.
"Mr. Harric." Yavobo repeated his nod "I have returned to you your Holdout, who was in danger of his life on Selmun III."
"So you have."
"In reciprocation, I ask that you tell me how I can find this woman." The alien held out a flatpix. Adahn made no move to take the picture but studied the face across his desk. High cheekbones, brunette hair, hazel eyes, firm jaw. It did not strike him as the face of a killer, but that just added to her charm.
"I am told her name is Reva," Yavobo added, "and that you know of her."
Adahn suppressed a smile. Funny thing, that. He had hired Reva through Karuu's recommendation. He knew about her, and she knew about him, but they had never met. The flatpix was the first he had ever seen of the face of his prize assassin.
"I know of her, yes," he conceded.
"Tell me how I can get in touch with her. I have business with her."
"I'm sure you do. Would you mind telling me why you are interested in her?"
The alien drew himself up, his jaw clenching for a moment. "Is it not enough that I ask?" he responded.
Adahn licked his lips. No, that was not enough. Nor would he blithely admit that he used this assassin's services, not until he knew more about what was motivating Yavobo. He recalled Karuu's successful ruse of being oath-sworn, in order to stay silent on a subject, and that gave him an idea.
"You must understand," the crime boss improvised, "that I am under oaths to others. I am not free to share information about Reva, unless your case has superior merit...."
The alien took the bait. "She caused me to fail in my duty," he declaimed, "of guarding two persons who entrusted their lives to me. For this I have sworn Blood Oath. I must find her."
O ho! Adahn's eyes retained the same, serious gaze he had decided to cultivate for this meeting, but inside he smirked. The alien didn't explain Blood Oath, but he could pretty much guess what that meant. Yavobo was clearly referring to deaths on Sel-mun III. And Reva had gone there on Adahn's contract, to eliminate two gadflies he had wanted out of the way.
What
would Yavobo do if he learned Adahn was behind the death warrants of his charges? Would it matter, or did he merely want the head of the assassin who had opposed him? Reva was Adahn's favorite killer. Harric had tried to hire her permanently just last year, but she liked to stay independent.
That means I don't owe her a lot of loyalty, he thought. It also means she's good, and I want to use her again. No, my colorful alien, I am not giving my best assassin to you to kill.
In that case, how to keep Yavobo on a leash? A flat "no" would send him away, to seek the woman out by other avenues. A "yes" was out of the question. According to Karuu, the alien thought of nothing outside of his self-appointed mission since leaving R'debh. Maybe there was a way to turn this to some benefit.....
Adahn nodded gravely to the red and black mottled figure before him. "I understand your needs. Perhaps I can help. Please." He gestured to the chair again, and this time the alien took it.
"Reva is an assassin of great power," Adahn said. That much was true; how she carried off some of the seemingly impossible hits assigned to her was beyond imagining. "She is not contacted lightly. No one can reach her who is not trustworthy."
Yavobo bridled. "I am Aztrakhani. My trustworthiness is not to be questioned."
Adahn held up a hand while thinking furiously. "That is not in question, my friend. I mean, only warriors of proven merit are allowed this sort of knowledge. You are a warrior, although I have not yet seen proof of your merit."
Yavobo's back stiffened. To question a warrior's prowess must push the limits; the bounty hunter looked like he wanted to launch himself over the desk and throttle Adahn right there. Yet he controlled himself with no more sign than a flaring of nostrils, and asked, ' 'What sort of proof do you require? Let me confront your best fighters; you will see my merit soon enough."
"Let me think on this thing," Harric replied. "I'm sure there is a way whereby you can show your mettle, and I can grant you what you want. Will, you give me time to consider?"
The alien stared flatly across the desk. "How much time?"
"I do not know. This will require serious thought, and an appropriate measure of your skills."
Yavobo stood once more and selected his words with care. "Apparently a debt of honor does not run as deeply with you as it does among my kind. You have one week in which to gauge my merit. After that, I will find Reva with or without your help."
Unaccustomed to such speech, Adahn watched in amazement as the alien turned on his heel and walked from the room. Or to the door, anyway—the portal did not open until Adahn depressed a locktab on his desk console. Yavobo waited stiff-necked before the blast-insulated door swung inward, then passed into the antechamber beyond.
"Janus," Adahn murmured into the com link, "see that our Aztrakhani friend is made comfortable for the next several days. Make sure he's shown the gym and weapons rooms."
He switched off the force screen as the door sealed shut, closing him into one of the many command centers of his diverse organization.
This was evolving into a revealing day. Very revealing. He plugged into the rigger jack on his desk and sent a mental call out to his lieutenant. Janus joined him shortly on a virtual veranda, overlooking the simulated pleasure gardens of the Emperor's Palace on Calyx.
"What do you think?" the crime boss asked his associate.
The slender red-haired man leaned against a broad marble balustrade, surveying red-orange sunset skies and the rippling firewater splashing in fountains below. "Think? About which?"
"Yavobo."
"Dangerous. Don't string him along; he could turn. He'll bite like a snake if he learns you're playing with him."
"So who's playing?" Adahn flashed a smile, a cold expression that left his eyes untouched. "Funny he should give me an ultimatum, isn't it? One week. You know, though, I bet you I can hook him in that week, get him to work for me. I could use a straightforward terror like that."
"You aren't going to give him Reva, are you?"
"She's never crossed me before." It was one of Adahn's constant concerns, and one of his highest endorsements. "No, I'm not giving him Reva. So what's your opinion about Karuu?"
"Our old friend?" Janus traced patterns in the marble with one finger. "I still think Tion, let him run nanotech."
"You don't think he can help back on Selmun?"
"Maybe. Maybe it's safer to keep him far away from there."
"If he can rebuild a Customs net, he's almost earned his life right there."
"True," Janus agreed. "Our warehouses are filling up on R'debh—there've been no cargo lifts since the Security crackdown. This can't go on; it's hurting us too badly."
"Hm. Security is forcing a housecleaning of Selmun Customs. After the dust settles we could put Karuu back in, let him grease palms again so our cargo channels stay open. He was the best we had----I'll have to think about that."
He stared into the distance, where orange-hued flights of mating grieko twined and plummeted in mid-air. "This Lish, though. She's pissed me off. Big headaches started with that one." His deep-set eyes narrowed as one bird stabbed a rival with its lengthy beak, and the wounded grieko tumbled from the sky.
"I don't want her cluttering up the landscape anymore," he added. "Take care of it, Janus."
LXIV
The investigation into Behr's dirty linen had revealed a bigger puzzle than Commander Obray had expected. Finally they were close to making sense of the big picture.
The payoffs in the Governor-General's accounts correlated to only one thing: when freighters delivered cargo to the deep domes, a stock company kicked out a payoff for nonexistent "dividends." Storage warehouses were at maximum capacity near Amasl and other port cities. Together with a few other tidbits, it added up to one distinct footprint.
Brace surveyed the data and came to the same conclusion. "Maybe it goes like this," he offered. "Freighters carry land-made goods out to the wetdomes. Somewhere along the way, they stash half the cargo. The other half a shipload is delivered to dome-dwellers, who are charged double the price for their goods. That way the freight run brings in exactly as much money as it's supposed to. From the dome-dwellers' viewpoint, they've paid twice what an item is worth, but no one is listening to their complaints anyway. Intradome trade is so restricted, they're compelled to buy from surface manufacturers. They must think inflated prices are the norm."
Obray traced the warehouse graph with a sim-finger. "Meanwhile, diverted cargos are lifted offworld. They can't do it these last two or three weeks, since we're watching for smugglers, so storage is getting used up."
"Right." Brace pointed back at routine warehouse figures. "But when those goods sell offworld, they must clear a huge profit on every cargo load they got for free."
Obray whistled. "That could be it," he mused. A routine diversion of cargo, leaching the economic lifeblood from the single biggest market on R'debh—the undersea population that numbered in the billions.
The netrunner surveyed the graphics again, looking for holes in their theory. "Don't you think this would have been discovered by now?" he wondered aloud.
The Commander shrugged. "I bet not many individuals have put this whole chain of events together. Dockworkers might suspect some local smuggling is going on, but that seems to be R'debh's favorite pastime, wouldn't you say?"
Brace nodded agreement as Obray turned from the incriminating databits. "If this is the right scenario, it's up to us to prove it."
"More digging?" Captain Brace looked pained.
"More digging. I want to know where this money trail leads."
"I'm on it."
Obray unjacked from the desk console and smiled with elation. Soon they would have proof of wrongdoing that reached from the waterfront to the Governor-General's office.
And that, he knew, could be much more rewarding than a routine hunt for terrorists.
LXV
"Alright, Flash, cut the crap. A late payment on 100k is no reason to undercut a Holdout's well-earned profit.
You want to work for Lish again, or not?"
The assassin spoke as if the smuggler were not in the room, even though that was not the case. Lish stood beside the desk, letting Reva use the com link to wrestle FlashMan into some semblance of agreeability.
“Don't care about working for her again, babe,'' came the flip reply. "If she doesn't have my help to pull this off, there won't he a next time.''
The Flash was ever-faceless on a com link, but Reva knew he could see her through the vid pickup. She put on a cold-eyed glare for his benefit, the edges of her mouth going hard.
"Do you want to work again, ever?" she asked him.
There was a beat of silence from the com unit. "Aw, Reva. Don't start—"
"Don't you start, Flash. Here, take this." She pulled her credmeter, fed it into the data transfer slot, and keyed a number into the datapad.
"What's that?" Flash asked, echoing Lish's unspoken question.
"It's the belated bonus, plus a little for your patience. We're renegotiating this contract. You don't mind, do you?"
The question seemed ominous, coming from the assassin. "Urn ... no. Guess not.'' It was the first, and probably the last, time Lish would ever hear FlashMan sound unsure of himself. Before she could protest Reva's unwanted generosity, the tall woman thumbed the transfer tab, and 110,000 credits fed from her meter into the FlashMan's net account.
She tugged the card out with flick of her wrist. "Now let's get down to business."
The talk was terse and to the point. In the end, FlashMan agreed to the same deal he had with Lish, plus 1 percent more profit. His news, it turned out, was worth it.
"Here you go," he said on the room speaker. "Found this in Lanzig's personal files. A little snippet you might like to hear."
The log recorder switched on and a holographic projection bloomed to life over the top of the desk console. It was Alia Lanzig, captured as pale-skinned and calculating as in life, speaking into what she thought was her inviolate personal log.
"The work on the borgbeasts is done, except for the final step. I told the Camisq not to bother; I want that adaptation saved for later. That way, if they prove uncontrollable, or anything else goes wrong, they're easy to get rid of.... I suppose for the record I should say more."
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