The Longest Day (Ark Royal X)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I assume this is not a social call,” Patel said, after his secretary had served them both foul-tasting coffee. “What do you want?”

  Brian placed his briefcase on the table and opened it, removing a paper folder. He would have preferred a computer file, but experience had taught him that they could be hacked from a distance. It was unlikely that anyone would expend so much effort on him, yet taking precautions was second nature after ten years on the force. Some of his cases - before and after he'd retired - had had a political dimension. This one might have a political dimension too.

  He opened the folder and passed Patel a photograph. “Abigail Swansong, fifteen years old,” he said, as his friend peered down at the image. Abigail was blonde and beautiful, but her face seemed set in a permanent scowl. “Daughter of Timothy and Maria Swansong, CEOs of Swansong Enterprises. You may have heard of them.”

  Patel’s face went blank. “Vaguely.”

  Brian snorted. Timothy and Maria Swansong might not have been the richest people on the moon, but they were definitely in the top ten. And they were connected. Swansong Enterprises did a great deal of work for the Royal Navy, as well as the United States and the Luna Federation. They were not the sort of people one wanted as enemies. They’d built their company up from the ground, punching their way through obstacles with a thoroughness Brian could only admire. It was a shame that their daughter was such ... such a brat.

  “She had a fight with her parents, three weeks ago,” Brian said. “Screaming, shouting ... I believe the words ‘you’ll be sorry’ were mixed up in there somewhere. She went to a friend’s house to cool down, then vanished. It took two weeks of detective work to trace her route to Sin City.”

  “Getting through the security gates would have posed a challenge,” Patel observed, studiously.

  “Her friend had a dealer who supplied her with - among other things - fake ID cards,” Brian said, with heavy patience. “The police interrogated him at some length” - he removed another folder from his briefcase and passed it over - “and he was kind enough to provide full details of the fake. We do not believe the silly girl has left Sin City.”

  “Unless she went to Russian or Chinese territory,” Patel commented.

  Brian met his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

  Patel shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to defect through Sin City.”

  “Bullshit,” Brian said. He tapped the folder. “If either of them knew who she really was, they’d be trying to make use of her. And if they didn't, they’d have passed her back to us by now. They don’t have her, Clancy. She’s somewhere within Sin City.”

  There was a long pause. “I’ll choose to assume you’re right, for the moment,” Patel said, stiffly. “However, we cannot take action ...”

  Brian met his eyes. “Can you afford not to take action?”

  “We have very strict secrecy policies,” Patel countered. “The people who come to Sin City wouldn't come if they thought their ... indiscretions ... would be broadcast on the nightly news or splashed all over the datanet. This girl deserves the same secrecy as every other visitor.”

  “Bullshit,” Brian said.

  “The rules cannot be changed,” Patel said. “I ...”

  Brian cut him off. “Let’s discuss this, shall we? Abigail entered Sin City using a false ID, which - I believe - is one of your dealbreakers. God alone knows what she’s been doing since then, because she probably didn't have very much cash with her. I doubt she brought enough money to rent an apartment for very long. She certainly hasn't made any attempt to access her credit balance.

  “And she’s fifteen. I was under the impression that the minimum age to pass through the security gates was eighteen.”

  “Sin City cannot be blamed if she uses a false ID,” Patel snapped. “We do not make a habit of checking and double-checking every ID that passes the first scan.”

  “Perhaps you should,” Brian said. “The point is this - Abigail’s parents are rich, powerful and very influential. They want their daughter back, alive and intact. They’re prepared to go to the Luna Federation and demand action, Clancy, and you know just how fragile Sin City’s position is. Too many people want you shut down for good.”

  Patel glared at him, but said nothing. Brian wasn't particularly surprised. The Luna Federation - Sin City was an associated member - had never been keen on strong-arming its member states, but Sin City had always been beyond the pale. Illegal drugs and other forbidden pleasures ... yes, there were people who wanted Sin City raided and then closed down permanently. Given a fig-leaf to justify it - and Brian couldn't think of anything better than a missing young girl - the Luna Federation would probably have to act.

  “On the other hand, we agree that this is a difficult position for you,” Brian added. “If you help us clear it up now, I’m sure the family won’t push for sanctions.”

  “Hah,” Patel said. “Can you guarantee it?”

  “No,” Brian said, honestly. “But I can guarantee that there will be a scandal if they don’t get their daughter back. You know as well as I do that Sin City isn't completely independent from the outside universe. And principle counts for nothing when your opponent has the better cause and bigger guns.”

  He leaned forward. “Come on, Clancy. What would you do if it was Mia trapped here?”

  Patel scowled. “I need to consult with my superiors,” he said. He jabbed a finger at Brian’s chest. “Wait here. And don’t touch anything.”

  Brian watched him go, then leaned back into his chair. He didn't really blame his old friend for wanting to pass the buck. He’d always disliked politics back when he’d been in the police, when doing the right thing could become the wrong thing very quickly if it upset the wrong person. But Patel and his superiors were caught between a rock and a hard place. If they cooperated, they risked their reputation; if they refused to cooperate, they risked everything. The scandal would be immense.

  He kept an eye on his watch as the seconds ticked by, waiting. The longer it took, he knew from experience, the further the buck had been passed. No one was entirely sure who ran Sin City - their names had been carefully concealed - but he doubted they were blind to the danger they were facing. Their privacy had only been tolerated because various governments had chosen to tolerate Sin City. That might change in a hurry.

  Patel returned, twenty minutes after leaving. “They’ve authorised me to tell you where to find her,” he said. “You can ask her to leave with you, if you like. If she chooses to go, you can take her to the station and depart at once; if she refuses, we’ll honour her decision.”

  “You do realise her parents won’t honour her decision?” Brian rose. “And she’s certainly too young to be here, whatever else she is?”

  “That’s what I was told to do,” Patel said, curtly. “Norma Lee - sorry, Abigail Swanson - is working at the Skittles Bar, on Level Five. Do you need an escort?”

  Brian pursed his lips. He’d hoped for better. But it would have to suffice.

  “I believe I can find my own way there,” he said, shortly. Level Five ... it could have been worse. “Once I convince her to leave with me, I’ll take her straight to the station.”

  “We’ll confiscate her fake ID before you leave,” Patel said. “We clearly missed a trick when this one got through.”

  “There’s no central database,” Brian reminded him. The Luna Federation had never liked the concept of centralising everything. Too many of the smaller colonies had bitter memories of hard times on Earth. “This one ... I think it was official, from Dylan. The forger just bribed them to insert a few more names onto the rolls.”

  “Joy,” Patel said. “Good luck, Brian.”

  “Thanks,” Brian said. He didn't blame Patel. It wasn't his fault. “And give my best to the kids.”

  Chapter Three

  Woking, United Kingdom

  Molly Schneider took a long breath, then removed her robe and stood naked in front of the mirror.<
br />
  Her reflection looked back at her, seemingly displeased. Molly pursed her lips in annoyance as she examined her appearance with a critical air. Her figure had never been quite the same since she’d had two children - and age was taking a toll, no matter how many rejuvenation treatments she took - but it wasn't a disaster. She and Kurt might not have made love in weeks - they’d hardly made love since their daughter had been born - yet she still looked attractive. Kurt had told her so, the last time they’d kissed before he’d headed back to his damned ship. She couldn't help thinking he loved space - and his starfighter - more than he loved her.

  And if he were here, I could have shared this with him, she thought, bitterly. But he’s not here and I am.

  Her eyes travelled up and down her figure, picking out the small imperfections that loomed larger and larger every day. Her bright red hair was darkening, forcing her to decide between dying it or letting her hair turn grey. Faint spots, barely visible to the naked eye, revealed where she’d dabbed concealment scales on her skin. Her breasts were still firm, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they began to sag; her thighs and buttocks were slowly putting on weight, no matter how much hard work she put in at the gym. Childbirth had definitely ruined her figure, even though it had given her two beautiful children. But neither of them really appreciated how many sacrifices their parents had made for them. Molly had given the best years of her life to them and they rewarded her with more and more demands.

  Sighing, she turned to the bed and opened the new box. The dress inside came directly from Middleton, one of the most famous dressmakers in London. Princess Elspeth herself bought her dresses there, according to the promotional materials. Kurt would faint, Molly knew, if he ever realised just how much she’d spent on the dress. And yet, she needed it. The material flattered her figure, showcasing her curves, but any ordinary dress could have done that without spending quite so much money. It was a Middleton dress that would showcase her wealth, giving her access - finally - to the higher social circles. It would give her the life she’d thought she was getting when she’d married Kurt.

  She donned her underwear - pricey too, but necessary - and then pulled the dress over her head. It fitted perfectly, thankfully. She’d invested so many of her hopes in the dress that she thought she would have broken down and cried if it hadn't been perfect. She moved from side to side in the mirror, making sure that everything was held firmly in place, then turned to check her handbag. Her small collection of everything from breath mints to perfume and birth control pills was where it should be, waiting for her.

  The door opened. Molly jumped.

  “You look nice, Mum,” Penny said. “Are you going somewhere fun?”

  Molly gritted her teeth. Penny took after her paternal grandmother, rather than either of her parents. Her hair was blonde, her face was narrow and her eyes ... her green eyes were all she’d inherited from her mother. Molly didn't pretend to understand how the genetics had worked themselves out, but it didn’t matter. Penny was her daughter and that was all that mattered, even if she was being a right little brat as she grew into adulthood.

  “None of your business,” Molly snapped. “What are you doing here?”

  Penny smirked. “I heard that some of the boys at school were selling fake bags on the online marketplace,” she said. She nodded towards the bag on Molly’s bed. “Do you think that one might be fake?”

  Molly gritted her teeth. Surely she hadn't been so unpleasant to her mother when she'd been a teenager ... she hoped she hadn't been that unpleasant. Penny was going through a rough patch, made worse by her father’s prolonged absence and constant fights with her teachers at school. She’d brought home more pink slips than Percy and Percy was a boy! Molly’s own brothers had been right little hellions until they’d been conscripted into the Home Guard and knocked into shape by unsympathetic drill sergeants. Penny was damn lucky she wouldn't be conscripted.

  “I bought it from a verified dealer,” Molly said, tightly. She didn’t like the suggestion she wouldn't know a fake from a real bag, even though she suspected it might be true. There were some very skilled counterfeiters out there. “It has a certificate and everything.”

  Penny smiled, lazily. “That’s my point,” she said, in a tone that would have earned her a slap if she’d been standing any closer. “The fakers can fake the certificates, too.”

  Molly forced herself to calm down. It was an important evening, perhaps the most important of her life. She couldn't afford to allow her daughter to put her in a bad mood before it had even begun. Penny was still a child, even though she wore adult clothes and affected adult airs. She didn't have enough experience to know what she was talking about ... even if she was more aware of modern technology than her mother. But then, that had been true of Molly and her mother too.

  “I told you not to interrupt me,” she said, as she turned back to the mirror. “What do you want?”

  “Gayle is downstairs,” Penny said. She didn't sound pleased. “I think she wants a word with you before you go.”

  “I hope you let her in this time,” Molly said. Penny had talked her older brother into leaving Gayle ringing the bell until Molly had come down to open it herself. The poor babysitter had been furious, of course, and only the promise of a major raise had been enough to get her to stay, let alone come back. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “She’s in the living room,” Penny said. She looked downcast. “I think she brought some work too.”

  “You could learn from her example,” Molly said, firmly. “Your father would agree with me, if he were here.”

  “He’s not here,” Penny said. “And he would agree with me.”

  Molly gritted her teeth, again. A headache was beginning to pound behind her skull, growing more and more painful with every heartbeat. Penny had a nasty habit of picking fights with her teachers, then refusing to do the work they assigned. If Kurt hadn't been in the navy - if there hadn't been a law that forbade expelling the children of military personnel - Penny would probably have been expelled by now. As it was, she was well on the way to setting a record for the number of disciplinary actions.

  She’d probably be proud, if she knew, Molly thought, sourly. And act up even more to ensure she actually took the goddamned record.

  “Your father would tell you to study hard,” Molly said. “And you know it.”

  She glared at her daughter, daring her to disagree. Kurt had worked hard - very hard - to put Penny in an expensive private school, instead of a state school. It would give Penny a chance to enter society without having to start at the bottom, if she worked hard. But none of it would matter if she got expelled or simply failed all of her exams. She’d be lucky if any of the state-run schools took her, with her permanent record. Molly had no idea just how many of the horror stories about borstals were true, but she doubted her daughter would last a year if she was exiled to one of them. Jail would be kinder.

  “I miss him,” Penny said. “I wish ... when will this war be over?”

  “I have no idea,” Molly told her, bluntly. She wanted Kurt home and she didn't want him home. Kurt at home would mean putting an end to her new life. “I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

  “Hah,” Penny said. She looked up at her mother. “Why are you even going out? You shouldn’t be going out.”

  Molly reminded herself, sharply, that her daughter was no longer the tiny babe she’d birthed ... had it really been sixteen years ago? She’d instructed Penny not to date - she didn't want to see her daughter make the same mistakes as herself - but she doubted Penny had listened to her. She was old enough to find young men interesting and too young to understand the potential dangers. No doubt she knew - or guessed - what her mother was doing. But how could Molly tell her daughter that her relationship with her husband had long since lost its spark?

  You can't, her own thoughts answered. She doesn't need to know.

  “Mind your own business,” she snapped, instead. “Go downs
tairs. And behave!”

  Penny shot her a sharp look, then turned and hurried out the room before Molly could give vent to an increasingly unpleasant series of threats. The wretched girl seemed to be completely immune to discipline, even being grounded and denied access to the datanet ... there was no way Molly would dare leave Penny without adult supervision, even though Percy was technically an adult. Penny was far too good at running rings around her elder brother.

  Putting the thought out of her mind, Molly checked her appearance in the mirror one last time and then pulled the coat over her dress. She would have preferred to wear something more comfortable for the drive, but she doubted there was anywhere to change in Penzance. There was no way she was changing in a toilet, even a clean and private one. And besides, Thomas Garrison would probably appreciate the view.