by Terry Mixon
The expression on Queen’s face was almost comical. “Excuse me? I don’t know why you think you can talk to me that way, but you’re sorely mistaken. The US government has far more power over companies like yours than you seem to realize. A few phone calls from me and you’ll be under a microscope.”
“Make your calls from outside my property. And when you put me under the microscope, expect to need a proctoscopy to find my lawyer’s boot. The public is already primed to be watching for government corruption and I’ll see that they have all the proof they need that you’re unfairly targeting me to get back at my ex-husband.”
She rose to her feet. “Get the hell out of my office. Now.”
He eyed her for a moment, drank the rest of his whisky, and set the glass on her desk. “In the State Department, we’ve had to deal with declarations of war a few times. It never turns out well for the bastards that think they can win against us.”
“That was back in the days where the US meant something. We haven’t fought a war since before you were born, much less won one. Generations of spineless drones like you have eroded this country’s will. You don’t scare me.”
“We’ll speak again, then. And next time I won’t be generous in how we play. See you soon, Mrs. Bennett.”
She waited until he was out of her office to sit down and shake a little. Not with fear, but with rage. The nerve of that smarmy little bastard. If he’d given her half a chance, she might have served Clayton up like a roast pig.
Well, probably not. There was entirely too much danger of their secrets spilling into the open if she did that.
If he pushed things, he was in for a rude surprise. She recorded everything that happened in her office. Then she erased the parts that wouldn’t look good if subpoenaed. He’d made enough threats to suffer if she leaked them to the press. With everything that had happened in the last few weeks, she could probably spin it so she came out the victim.
Worst case, he turned up the heat. So what? The amount of money she’d lose paled in comparison to what the alien technology could make for her.
And that was just the cash. The tech opened new opportunities. Clayton had bought an island nation to move into the political ring. Queen hadn’t said much more than that, but she had her spies. He’d sold Rainforest and his other holdings to the Chinese for good money and their support. Now the US had no leverage over him at all.
The Chinese, on the other hand, might prove a problem for him later, if played correctly.
Or was this a deeper game than she was giving Clayton credit for? Was this his chance to buy out the Chinese space program? They were in a race to Mars that they’d just lost. Did they really have the gumption to push forward in the face of being second place? Or third?
Rather than worrying about Queen, perhaps she should be securing her own way into space. After all, just having the crashed ship did her no good if Clayton’s minions were sweeping the table. She needed to get after them as soon as possible.
If he was in bed with the Chinese, perhaps it was time for her to consider how to co-opt India.
She picked up her phone and waited for her assistant to answer.
“Get me the head of the Indian space program on the phone. And no, I don’t care what time it is over there.”
* * * * *
Queen stalked out of the building and over to the SUV where Pembroke waited. The FBI agent smiled. “That was quick. I’ll assume things didn’t go as planned.”
“You could say that,” he said, trying hard to keep a snarl out of his voice. He dug a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to the FBI agent. “I’ll admit I didn’t expect her to throw me out of her office, particularly when I offered to let Clayton Rogers be the heavy. But, no. She’s a lot stronger willed than I gave her credit for.”
“So, what now? Or is that something above my pay grade?”
He smiled at the agent. “I’m willing to give you some hints. Unlike her ex-husband, her property is mainly still inside the US. I’m going to start court proceedings to see she loses a big chunk of it. She doesn’t get to play for free.
“But that’s only payback for her rebuffing me. What I really need to do is discover what her secret is. She’s hiding something. That has to be the reason for her intransigence. There’s more going on between her and her ex-husband than meets the eye and I want to know what it is.”
“Could it tie into my investigation? If so, I can always use more pressure to get the answers.”
Queen considered that. “I believe the attack here was part of the general conflict between Kathleen Bennett and Clayton Rogers. The security man’s penchant for torturing and killing people? Probably not.”
“But you can’t be sure,” Pembroke said. “Why not feed me more information and get me the leeway to dig deeper? I want to see her brought down, and if the ex is tied up in it, I’ll bring him down, too.”
The thought of that made Queen’s inner child happy. Pembroke was a straight arrow. In diplomatic circles, that was a disadvantage. For law enforcement, not so much. He was a blunt instrument and that looked like the perfect tool for the job.
He held out his hand to the agent. “I think we can work together, Special Agent in Charge Pembroke. Trust me, what these people are doing will blow your mind and chill you to the bone when the implications sink in.
“Let me make another call to the attorney general’s office. Then we can start taking this whole corrupt web down.”
* * * * *
Clayton skimmed the footage from inside the spaceship that Jess Cook was calling Freedom Express. Astounding. Simply astounding.
And game changing. As Jess had guessed, international law treated space the same as international waters. An abandoned vessel was salvage. The catch was they had to claim it before it was theirs. Also, the process was not one that allowed for much privacy. They’d need to make a claim in a court with standing.
In this case, probably Australia. Though New Zealand was a strong second choice. It, after all, had the strange icon on the South Island. Based on when humans had arrived in New Zealand, the aliens had set up this base on a deserted island. That probably meant something and it was up to him to figure it out.
The US Navy had departed after the first Chinese vessels had arrived. That meant that Clayton could make a trip to Australia or New Zealand without too much difficulty.
The call he’d made to an old friend in Australia yesterday had gotten him a conversation with the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Since the UN recognized Nauru, the woman had agreed that an embassy was a good idea and assured Clayton that they would honor his diplomatic immunity while he came over to discuss the matter in person.
Astonishingly, he hadn’t even needed to spend money to make it happen.
He’d want to do the same in New Zealand, China, and probably Japan as soon as practical. The other nations in the general area would need to wait for events to catch up. He’d also have to decide on who to make his ambassador.
His assistant had gathered the people to assist him in this project. The man had chosen a woman with dual Australian and New Zealand citizenship to head the team. Penny Cash.
She met Clayton at his plane, sharply dressed and wide-awake despite the hour. “Mister Rogers. It’s a pleasure.” His ear pegged her delightful accent as significantly more New Zealander than Australian.
“Miss Cash. I don’t suppose you’re related to Johnny?”
Her smile told him she’d heard that one before. With a name like Penny Cash, she’d probably heard any number of failed attempts at humor over the years.
“No, sir. But you can blame my father for my first name. He thought he was being funny and my mother was too distracted with giving birth to stop him. Poor impulse control and lack of subtlety, my father. Big heart, though. Named John, by the way, and a big fan of Johnny. He was an American serviceman when he met my mother.”
Clayton settled them at the front of his private jet. “I apologize for my
foray into bad jokes. Your mother was a New Zealander?”
“Yes. She happened to be in Australia when I was born, so I’m a dual citizen and have a number of contacts in both countries. As a New Zealander, that isn’t strictly required, but it helps avoid some of the rivalry. I know people at the local and national level.”
He waited until the plane took off to order an early breakfast. She joined him.
The flight to the capital of Australia was a bit more than four thousand kilometers, so they had a few hours to work with. They’d be landing early in the morning.
That was fine, of course. He had an excellent Murphy bed in his office and the seats out here reclined fully. Everyone would be ready to get moving once they hit the ground.
“Now, before we begin, I have some paperwork for you. All standard. I’ve already vetted you to within a centimeter of your life, so this is just covering the bases.”
He handed her a very tight nondisclosure agreement.
She read the first few lines. “I’ve already signed one of these.”
“This is for much more confidential information. It’s the price of doing business, I’m afraid. I need to know that my deepest secrets are safe with you.”
Penny read every single word. Three times. Only then did she sign it.
“That is by far the most stringent nondisclosure agreement I’ve ever seen. I’m surprised there wasn’t a clause about my firstborn son.”
“Page three. You must have missed it.”
She smiled. “What’s this really about?”
The flight attendant, a young man with a sterling smile, delivered their meals right then, so he held off on starting that explanation until they’d both sampled their food and sent him on his way.
Clayton took a bite of his breakfast. Perfect, as always. His chef knew just how he liked everything after all this time.
“The full story will take some time,” he said, “but the portion we’re concerned with leads me to Australia to file a claim on an abandoned vessel. Or New Zealand, if you feel that makes more sense. An abandoned space vessel, actually.”
She raised an eyebrow, but only gestured for him to continue with her fork.
“It all started when I was a young man and decided that I wanted to see people in space, but the real meat of this story only happened a few weeks ago in Guatemala. You see, I sent my son Harry off…”
That story and the questions it generated would take them early into the morning, he was sure, but this was the first time he’d been able to tell it to anyone. And he loved a good story.
Chapter Ten
Nathan was pleased to see his prisoner waking up just after they arrived at their new quarters. He’d set up shop in a rented—under an assumed name—villa on the hills outside Rome. One with a commanding view of all the approaching roads and excellent routes to escape any problems.
Out of an overabundance of caution, he’d secured the woman to a chair. Ankles tied to the legs, a rope around her waist like a seat belt, her hands tied behind her and her arms also tied to the chair back, and a rope around her neck that would choke her if she tried to lunge.
It was ridiculous, really. He was definitely overcompensating for past traumas. But he didn’t take the restraints off her.
He wondered if she’d try to scream when she realized her situation. Some did, some didn’t. Honestly, there was no guessing. It didn’t matter, or he’d have gagged her.
Vanessa Messina’s sudden tensing told him she’d awoken to her peril. Her breathing changed, but no screams. Mildly disappointing.
Nathan grabbed a straight-backed chair and set it down in front of her, backwards. He straddled the seat and looked into her attractive face from only a few feet away. “Welcome back. I hope you enjoyed your mid-day nap, because it’s time to get back to work.”
“Do you know who I work for?” Her tone was a mixture of fear and anger.
“I’ll assume you don’t mean the law firm. Yes, you work for the mob. I’m quite aware of them. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I paid you this unorthodox call.”
“They’ll kill you. Let me go and I’ll ask them to spare your life. Otherwise, they’ll slit your throat and dump your body in the ocean.”
He smiled. “Very melodramatic. And a little late. They tried to kill me already. That didn’t turn out so well for three of them. And unless you’d like to share a similar fate, I suggest you consider cooperating with me.
“Do so and you’ll walk away from this unfortunate misunderstanding in one piece. That won’t be true if I have to induce you to cooperate. So, I suggest you forget attorney client privilege.”
She considered him for a moment. “What do you want to know? Some secrets are worth my life.”
“Thankfully, my questions have nothing to do with your mob boss’ crime secrets. Let them murder, rape, steal, and deal drugs to their hearts’ content. I want to know about the Romano estate. I know you’re sorting it out. And no, I don’t care one bit that his friends had him murdered. In their shoes, I’d have done the same. I just care about his property.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
Nathan gave her his best boyish grin. “I know, right? You never saw that coming. In fact, your mob associates didn’t either. That’s why we have this little problem. One that I’ll clear up very soon, I promise.”
She seemed to think about it for a few moments and then shrugged. “I can’t think of anything in his properties that his former associates would care about. They’ve already recovered anything incriminating. I’ll cooperate unless what you’re looking for would be a problem to them.”
He leaned forward, his arms crossed over the back of his chair. “There! That wasn’t so difficult. I’m concerned about his art collection. Specifically, some manuscript pages.”
She frowned. “The ones he claimed the unknown woman stole from him? Right before she made him dictate his drug-addled and completely fictitious list of crimes?”
“As a lawyer, I’m sure you have to qualify things like that. I know those crimes were real and I don’t care. That’s a problem between you and the Italian authorities. The papers are my only concern. I’ll assume he didn’t bother insuring them officially. That’s standard for…off the book purchases…shall we say?”
She gave Nathan a thin smile. “Mister Romano self-insured them, yes. They weren’t illegal, by any means, but he preferred to keep his art objects private.”
“I completely understand.”
And he did. He had a similar collection that would shock his detractors. Most people thought he could only appreciate felt paintings of dogs playing poker, but he actually liked cityscapes. He’d bought a wide selection for his home, and had others he couldn’t acquire stolen for him.
“Now, the question I have for you is simple. Did he have images of the pages?”
“Of course. If they were ever stolen, he’d need them to verify they were authentic when the police recovered them.”
Irony, there. Nathan was certain a number of works in the man’s collection were stolen. Perhaps even a significantly larger percentage than in Nathan’s.
“Where did Mister Romano keep these pictures?”
“With our office, but I don’t have them now. The police took them as part of their investigation. I’d be happy to ask for them back for you.”
He was sure she would.
“Are the local police in Rome investigating this case, or the national authorities?”
“The national ones, of course. The Guardia di Finanza. Rome doesn’t have jurisdiction on many of the alleged crimes that are being investigated.”
“Who is the lead officer in this case?”
“Angelo Basile.”
He turned to one of the men. “Get me a dossier on him right away. Then we’ll start formulating a plan to get what we need.”
“Are you going to release me now?” she asked warily.
Nathan smiled at her. “Not just yet. Once I have what I want and d
on’t have to worry about the police, you’ll walk away in one piece as promised. In the meanwhile, I must insist you enjoy our hospitality.”
He rose to his feet and gestured for the man watching the door to come in. “Let’s help Miss Messina to her new quarters. Since she has nothing but time on her hands, I might as well entertain her privately.”
She didn’t like the sound of that, and for good reason.
He’d taken the liberty of installing some tie down points around her bed. Another thing he had a lot of experience with. It wouldn’t do for one of his lady friends to bite him while he showed her precisely how little control she had over her own body. If she was as entertaining as he thought, he might even let her live.
Of course, he’d have to send her back to Paris. There was no way he’d allow her to walk away a free woman. Not after the things he was going to do to her.
* * * * *
Harry went over everything they had about Freedom Express and wanted to bang his head on the console. They had images of almost every compartment now, and there were a lot of them. As one might expect from a kilometer thick body, that left a lot of room for people to put things.
The interior control and power center wasn’t even the most interesting compartment, to his thinking. That had to be the vast jungle on the fourth level. It reminded him of the Genesis Cave in the Star Trek movie. The original series, not any of the idiotic attempts at rekindling it. And don’t even get him started on Star Wars.
If they hadn’t let the air out and the temperature hadn’t fallen to almost nothing, it might still be going. Who knew? The rest of the power was still running.
Nothing Jess or her people had tried was unlocking the drives or changing their course. It seemed they were on a one-way trip out of the solar system. At their current acceleration, they’d pass Jupiter before he settled into Mars orbit.