Complete Fiction (Jerry eBooks)

by Everett B. Cole

  “I can read,” snapped Stern. “But who’s responsible? What idiot let this thing fall apart?” He shook the papers angrily.

  “Look at this thing,” he ordered. “Simple instructions were issued. With the organization they have up there, any fool could have carried them out. So long as they kept it simple, even an idiot could have eliminated that Waern nuisance. But no! Someone had to be subtle. Someone had to make a big project out of it. And, of course, something went wrong.” He snorted angrily and slapped the papers down on his desk.

  “Rayson was responsible in part, I suppose?”

  The aide nodded unhappily and Stern let out an explosive breath.

  “Your man! Well, at least, where he is, he can do no more harm. Tell me, are they going to get a confession out of that man, Masterson?”

  “I doubt it, your honor. He claims to know nothing of the accident. And there isn’t a scrap of evidence that—”

  “Evidence! There’s very little doubt is there? With those notes of Rayson’s? And who else could have caused the crash?”

  “Well, there certainly is no other—”

  “Of course not. We know Masterson did it somehow. But why?”

  The aide said nothing and Stern glared at him.

  “Who is this Masterson?” he demanded. “Have you checked back on him?”

  “He came here from Nogira,” said the aide slowly, “seventeen years ago. He had some civil police experience there. We’ve checked that. He has a degree in criminalistic science. We checked that, too. Not a suspicious move since he came here. He was in the Civil Branch for a few years, then was assigned to instructional duty. He’s got a perfectly clean record.”

  Stern shook his head slowly, then looked down at the desk again.

  “Just that little,” he growled. “He could have simply hated Rayson for some private reason. He could have seen him as an obstacle. We could care less about that.” He tapped at a paper.

  “Or, he could be working with the Waernu. And that’s probable. He could even be an undercover agent for the Federation, though that seems a little improbable. He’s been here too long. Hah! He could be almost anything except what Rayson thought.” He looked up.

  “Well, don’t let him go. Keep him out of circulation. In fact, you better have him put in tight confinement. We’ll look into him more closely later. Right now, I want to know what became of that Waern boy.”

  The aide pointed at the papers on the desk. “The boy and his father are reported to have left their residence, your honor. It is thought they went with that same Donald Michaels who interfered with the original plan.”

  Stern nodded. “The boy Rayson had right in his hands, and then let go. Yes.” He looked around the room, then got to his feet.

  “Tell me, has any progress been made on locating the Waern ‘Book of Ancestors’?”

  “No, your honor. Records has located and destroyed the last of the evidence here in Oreladar. But the Waern copy has not yet been located.”

  Stern nodded. “Find out who is responsible for the long delay in discovering the Waern claim, Lander. That is inexcusable.” He frowned.

  “Now, to the Waernu. Did anyone see them leave their home?”

  The aide shook his head. “Observers say Michaels’ flier landed in the Waern courtyard. A few minutes later, it took off and headed toward the mountains. The observers were unable to determine how many people were in the flier when it departed. It left too abruptly and traveled too fast. They determined its direction, but were unable to follow it.”

  “Valuable men! I think we should take careful note of all those people up at Riandar. Possibly they should be reassigned to duties more suited to their abilities. Tell me, did anyone have the elementary intelligence to have this flier tracked?”

  “They tried, your honor. But it disappeared in the canyons, flying very low. Search fliers have been operating for several hours, but no trace of it has been found.”

  Stern nodded. “Well, we won’t discuss it any further,” he decided. “You know my feelings on the Riandar people. I should say it would be safe to assume the Waernu are holed up in Michaels’ home. Get the exact location of that place. Then set up an Enforcement Corps operation.” He frowned.

  “Get some men out to make sure those people don’t go into the hill country before we can take care of them. You can use the search planes for that. Then attend to your advance publicity and set up elimination. You’ll give that personal supervision, all the way through. Clear?”

  The aide nodded.

  “Very well. See that you make it simple. I’m not going to tell you how to handle this in detail, but I expect to watch a broadcast showing their removal within the next three days. Get started.”

  “Yes, your honor.” The aide backed out of the room.

  Stern watched the door close behind the man, then faced around as a dry voice sounded behind him.

  “Real nice, Danny,” it said. “You went through it without a stumble. Even came up with something of your own. You’re learning, Kid.”

  Stern glared at the scrawny man.

  “I thought you picked those people up at Riandar. I thought you said they knew how to do things.”

  The other shrugged and spread his hands. “Well, Danny,” he said, “you know how it is. Once in a while, we underestimate the opposition, and they slip one over.” He leaned back in his chair, staring at Stern.

  “But maybe this way, it’s even better,” he added. “We get a few in the net we didn’t even suspect existed, you see?” He paused.

  “I think you should have a talk with this Masterson yourself,” he went on. “Maybe you should tell him to give us some of this information he has, eh?”

  Stern looked at him in annoyance. “I expect you and the rest of the people around here to do some work, Gorham. After all, I’m the regent. Do I have to do everything?”

  Gorham got to his feet and brushed some of the dust from his trousers.

  “I tell you, Danny,” he said seriously, “some of these little things, you have to be doing. Some of these things, only your talent will take care of, no?” He held up one hand, waggling a finger in the air.

  Stern glared at him.

  “Gorham,” he snapped, “I think I’ll have to remind you of your place.” He tapped himself on the chest.

  “I’m the regent, remember? I’m the kingpin here. You’re just a senior executive secretary. You wanted it that way, and that’s the way it is. But I expect you to start doing some work. I don’t care how you get information out of that man, Masterson, but I expect you to get it. I certainly don’t intend to do your work for you. Now get at it!”

  Gorham considered him for a moment, then walked slowly across the room till he stood before Stern’s desk.

  “Now, Danny-boy,” he said softly, “don’t you go trying that funny stuff on old Jake. It don’t work so good, remember? Nobody ever tells old Jake he should do things. Nobody!”

  He planted his left hand on the desk before Stern and leaned over a little.

  “We got an agreement, you and I, remember? I do the thinking. Me—old Jake Gorham—I’m the brain. You got this talent, see. You tell people they should go do something, they go do it. But not old Jake. No, no. With him, it don’t work so good. Everybody else, maybe, but not old Jake.” He waved his head to and fro, keeping watchful eyes on Stern.

  The younger man slammed his hands to his desk, pushing himself back.

  “You listen to me, old man,” he snapped. “We had an agreement—once. And you’ve been using it to ride my back ever since. It’s come to an end. Right now.” He got to his feet, his deepset eyes seeming to flame.

  “From now on, I’m the top man, do you understand?” His lip curled.

  “I’m the regent. I’m the law. I tell these people what to do, and they do it. And I can tell them to take you out and shoot you. Don’t forget that.” His hand started toward a button on his desk.

  Jake Gorham’s hand blurred into motion
and a small weapon was suddenly in it. He pointed it at Stern.

  “Sit down, Danny-boy,” he ordered menacingly. “Sit down. And listen. Listen real good.” He spread his legs a little.

  “Like I said, I’m the brains here. I do the thinking. Remember back in Tonar City? Remember what happened, you tried once to run things for yourself? Remember who came along and pulled you out just in time?” He laughed shortly.

  “Yeah, you need old Jake. You gotta have him. You think you just tell these people—they should do anything you want. Oh sure. That lasts for a while, maybe, but they get tired. Just like on Konelree, remember? And what do you do when a whole mob moves in on you? Eh? What do you do? You ain’t got the moxie to handle no mobs, remember?

  “But old Jake, he thinks of things, and we both get along real good. Yeah, Danny-boy, you need old Jake.” He glanced down at his weapon, then waved it from side to side.

  “But you know something else? Old Jake, he don’t need you so much. Oh, sure, it’s nice here. I like it real good. But I got along real nice for a long time before I picked you up, you see what I mean. You didn’t do no good at all. Talent, you got. But brains? No, them they didn’t give you. And they didn’t give you much guts, either, Danny-boy. Them, I got.

  “And you know something else, Danny-boy? I got all kinds evidence. You done some pretty bad things here, remember?” He smiled, exposing yellow teeth.

  “Real bad things, they wouldn’t like them at all. And I can prove all them things. Me, I ain’t got no responsibility. I’m just a poor, little old guy you keep around for laughs, remember?” He chuckled.

  “You tell them to take me out and shoot me? I should laugh. You reach for that button. Go ahead. Stick your finger out. Then this thing here, it sings you a little song. And I go get some papers I got somewhere around here. And I go get some recordings. And maybe a few pictures. And then Old Jake’s a public hero. And he takes a lot of money and goes away from here, he should spend his old age some place where he likes it better.” He waved the weapon again.

  “Still want to play?”

  Stern’s face was bloodless. He dropped into his chair, then put his head in his hands.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” he said. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little tired right now. Forget it, will you?”

  “Sure, Danny-boy. Sure. We forget all about it. Now suppose we quit for the night, eh? Then in the morning, we get this Masterson fellow in here. And you find out from him just who he is and why he comes here. And you can let him tell us what he’s been doing and who he’s been working with, eh?” Gorham smiled and stuck the weapon back in his sleeve.

  “We ain’t doing so bad,” he went on. “We ain’t doing bad at all.” He reached out to stir the papers on Stern’s desk with a forefinger.

  “These people up at Riandar, they don’t do so good maybe on that Waern kid. But they don’t do so bad all the time. They get this Masterson, see? Right away, they’re on him, soon as this guy Rayson gets himself killed off.”

  Stern nodded. “Yes,” he admitted, “at least, they did have the sense to pick up Masterson—after he’d done plenty of damage. They were pretty slow. And they missed the Michaels boy entirely. So now, the Waern boy is out of easy reach.” He frowned.

  “We had things set up for an elimination on him, you know.”

  Gorham wagged his head. “Makes very little. Him, we can get. Him, they take care of in a couple days. Same operation, they should just move it a few miles, eh? Your boy with all them buttons, he takes care of that, see?” He grinned.

  “And that takes care of this Michaels kid, too.” Again, he poked at the papers.

  “And here, we got another report. This young Michaels’ father, he talks to this guy Masterson on the phone. You see that? And right away, he heads for the mountains. Maybe he wants to talk to the hill people, eh?” His grin became wider.

  “But somebody at Riandar, he gets a rush of brains to the head, see? And the border patrol, they challenge this old guy, you get it? Just a routine check, see, but the old guy, he don’t get the word so quick.

  “So they don’t take no chances up there. They knock him down in some canyon up there.” He shrugged.

  “So all this leaves this Masterson, you could talk to him, maybe he sings us some nice music.” He turned away.

  “I stay around, back at my desk. Maybe I should think of a question or two while we talk, the three of us, eh?”

  The royal gold and blue receded from the screen and Merle Boyce’s face looked out at his audience.

  “This,” he said shortly, “is the second day of the hunt for the Wells gang.” He came out from behind his desk, his piercing eyes intent.

  “For the past full day, this group of robbers have made their way toward the west. It is thought they hope to join rebellious hill tribes somewhere in the Morek region.” He paused.

  “Late yesterday afternoon,” he continued, “these four men burned their way through a road block near Riandar. And despite reinforced blocks and stringent sky checks, they are still at large. All subjects of the realm are urgently requested to notify the authorities of any suspicious strangers.”

  He faded from the screen, to be replaced by the figures of four men.

  “In co-operation with the Enforcement Corps,” his voice continued, “we are showing pictures of the fugitives. We see here, Howard Wells, Merla Koer, Dowla Wodl, and Jake Milton.” The voice stopped for a moment, then continued.

  “These men are regarded as extremely dangerous. Subjects are urged to make no effort to approach them personally. Notify the authorities immediately if they are seen.”

  Don reached to the switch and snapped the receiver off.

  “I don’t like it,” he said slowly. “I don’t like any part of it.”

  “Think we might have visitors?” Pete looked at him thoughtfully.

  Don nodded. “It could be just a build-up,” he said. “Did you get that thrust about the tribes?”

  Jasu Waern cleared his throat. “You mean those four are perhaps—”

  “I doubt if those four ever lived,” Don told him. “At least not with those names. If we have visitors, they’ll be more official—and a lot more dangerous.” He paused.

  “Wish Dad had come back. I’d like to get you off to the hills. Not so comfortable, perhaps, but it would be safer.” He looked at the ceiling.

  “Of course, with all those fliers chasing around right now,” he added, “it might be complicated.”

  Pete looked at him curiously. “One thing I can’t figure, Don,” he remarked. “Why didn’t you head right on into the hills from Riandar?”

  Don spread his hands. “Intended to, hang it,” he said. “They loused me up. Remember the dipsy-doodle I turned in that box canyon?”

  “Think I’d forget?” Pete grinned. “Nearly got a busted head out of that one.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’d planned to jump the ridge and go on over to a clan village I know. We nearly caught it right there.”

  “We did?”

  “Uh, huh. Some border patrol ship had a ripper. Lucky he got over-anxious. He cut loose out of effective range and shook us up. That gave me the news and I ducked for cover and streaked for home before he could get to us for a better shot.”

  “And now, you think perhaps they are trying to hunt us down as they did my brother?” Jasu Waern shook his head. “But this—it would be impossible to represent us as . . .”

  Don tilted his head. “Nothing impossible about it—if they know where we are.” He looked around the room.

  “And it looks as though they do. Someone probably spotted my flier when I landed in your courtyard.”

  Pete looked at him unhappily. “Maybe we moved right into his hands. Maybe we’re better targets here than we were in the city.”

  Don moved his head from side to side decisively. “Never happen. This mythical Wells gang could have been holed up in the city, too, you know. And there, you’d have no warning. You’d have no defense and now
here to go. This isn’t some little summer cottage, you know. We can give them a bad time.”

  Jasu Waern shook his head sadly. “Yes,” he admitted, “we can, as you say, give them a bad time. But a flash or two from one of their inductors will destroy this house just as surely as it did my brother’s cottage.”

  “Maybe.” Don smiled. “I’ve got some ideas on that, too. But there’s more to this house than you see from outside. This place was built during the border wars, you know. We’ve got a place to duck to.”

  Pete stood up. “What’s that?”

  “There’s a basement under this house. Shelters down there. Even total inductor destruction of the house wouldn’t hurt anyone down there.” Don pointed with a thumb.

  “Got entry locks right out in the court.”

  “But their clean-up crews. Where would you hide from them?”

  Don shook his head, smiling. “They won’t do too much searching,” he said calmly. “If they actually do attack this place, they’ll get some genuine resistance. And there’ll be a Federation patrol out here right after the shooting, to investigate the destruction of a Galactic Citizen’s property.”

  His smile broadened. “At least, that’ll be a good excuse. You see, Mr. Masterson’s alerted people at the Commissioner’s office. They know who’s here—or will, when the shooting starts.”

  “But with this build-up, it will seem like an ordinary hunt for a criminal gang.” Pete shook his head doubtfully.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Don walked over to the heavy door leading to the range.

  “Better get some of the weapons up here now, though. We’ll have to give them a little show.”

  Pete looked at him curiously.

  “Why bother?” he asked. “Why can’t we just duck into the shelter and let ‘em blast? Then we could wait for the patrol.”

  Don shook his head.

  “The type of resistance offered will be a tip-off to the Guard,” he said. “I’m going to use an unusual type of weapon. Besides, Stern’s people have detectors. Remember those? There’s got to be life force in detector range, or they’ll assume we’ve either deserted the place or found refuge below ground. Then they would come in for sure. And they’d really search the place.” He smiled grimly.