Murdock looked impressed. There was no bigger racket than politics, except, maybe, religion. “Who we gonna get to run?”
“That would be me,” Dane said with a wide smile.
The light went on in Murdock’s head. “’Kay, I got it. We take over the government and the planet. But this’s still a Class IV planet with a million rules and regs that can’t be ignored.”
“Ah! That is where divine providence came in,” Dane said. “That rocket ship we found on Beta was a godsend. With it we can argue that Fuzzies are aliens to this world and not subject to Class IV protected status. They’ll still need some protection, of course, but they lose the reservation and the sunstone prospecting sites it contains.”
Murdock nodded, then a thought hit him. “What about the Native Affairs Bureau? That, watzizname, the guy in that duel a few months back...”
“Holloway,” Lundgren supplied.
“Yeah, him, the Native Affairs Commissioner. He won’t just let us stroll over to Beta and take over.”
Dane shook his head and sighed. “If the Fuzzies are not native to this world, then there will be no bureau or commissioner. Holloway can bark at the moons for all he’ll be able to do. Frankly, I would like to see him, Rainsford, Grego, and especially Brannhard and Mallin all dead, but murder is a messy business and can easily come back to bite one in the ass. I prefer my ass unbitten, thank you very much.”
Murdock took it all in, then said, “Well, accidents happen, ya know.”
Dane slammed a fist down onto his desktop rattling his coffee cup. “Don’t get cute, Murdock. Accident or not, anybody important on this planet dies, there will be a major investigation that could lead back to us. We can’t afford that kind of attention. So far we’ve been lucky, but by now the cops know that there was an illegal prospecting ring on the reservation. That’s why we have to use a string of cutouts, and established prospectors raise the fewest flags. I also saw Clancy Slade walking around as a free man, so the Thaxter switch has also been discovered. Important people dropping dead or disappearing is a risk we can’t afford.”
Murdock glared at Dane for a moment, then threw up his hands in a dramatic gesture that seemed out of place on the man. “Fine. Just try not to bankrupt us while ya take over the planet.” Murdock turned and stormed out of the office.
Lundgren waited for Murdock to get out of earshot before he asked Dane who Mallin was. Dane simply grimaced and turned on the news.
* * * * * * * * *
Piet Dumont had been the police chief of Mallorysport until he was demoted for his part in the Lolita Lurkin Fuzzy attack fiasco. While he hadn’t taken an active role in framing the Fuzzies, he had failed to stop what he knew was a setup by one of his own men, Detective Lieutenant Luther Woller. Woller was now serving time in Prison House for evidence tampering as well as other infractions and was due for release in two weeks, at which time he would be issued an off-world ticket and a metaphoric boot to the backside to use it. Colonial Marshal Max Fane had read Piet the riot act, then demoted him down to patrol officer.
Piet could have fought the demotion. Even on a backwater world like Zarathustra the Police Union was a force to be reckoned with. Piet considered it as he looked at himself in the mirror when he got home. That was when he saw what he had become; a sagging flabby useless excuse for a human being. He remembered a time when he had been a good, no, great cop. He had a stack of citations and a drawer full of awards and decorations from when he had been a patrol cop. A brave cop. A good cop. And he could be again. It was his moment of clarity.
The next day, Piet signed up with a gym, went on a diet and made an appointment with the police counselor. In the next several months he trimmed down his waistline, improved his muscle tone and signed up for psych services where he worked through issues he didn’t even realize he had. He recognized the fact that his awards and citations stopped shortly after his last promotion. Riding a desk clearly didn’t agree with him and he was glad to be rid of it. Piet was determined to work his way back up to something other than a chair-bound Police Chief, and without calling in any favors.
Piet knew it would be a long road and accepted that. He congratulated younger offers who were promoted over him, and gave them advice on how to avoid his mistakes. The new and improved Piet Dumont did not escape the notice of the new Police Chief, Frank Carr. Carr had been hesitant to promote Piet given his recent background, but he also remembered when he had been a young cop out to serve the people. After Piet had been instrumental in breaking up a chuckleweed distribution ring, Carr had to admit that the old Piet was back.
“Are you bucking to get your old office back, Piet?” Carr asked during a peer review.
“Hell, no,” Piet replied. “Look what it did to me and what it’s doing to you. You’ve put on, what, twenty pounds since you were promoted? Don’t make my mistake, Frank. Get out and do something, anything, just don’t get too comfortable with that seat and go to seed like I almost did.”
Chief Carr joined the gym and Piet made corporal a week later.
People started to take notice of the new Piet Dumont. Over the next several months he gained a reputation as a man who could be counted on. As far as Piet was concerned, he no longer cared if he ever made chief again. He was happy to be a good cop and for people to know it. As such, when he invited the Colonial Marshal, Chief Colonial Prosecutor and the Temporary Acting Prosecutor to see something in the computer room, they took him seriously and accepted the invitation.
Piet backed up the video feed at high speed, then inched it forward slowly until he got it just right. Gus Brannhard, Max Fane and Leslie Coombes stood behind his seat and waited while Piet explained.
“When the Marshal here told me about Thaxter’s escape, everybody assumed that he had left planet for Gimli. Well, I remembered that his sister and brother-in-law were still locked up and asked myself if I could just skip planet and leave them there if I was Thaxter. At first I thought, hell yes! Then I remembered that he had made a deal with the Acting Chief Colonial Prosecutor,” Piet nodded at Leslie Coombes, “to get Rose Evins off the hot seat when her twenty years were up. That made me think even Thaxter had a heart somewhere in that chest of his since he didn’t try to cadge the same deal for himself. So I downloaded and reviewed the spaceport security footage on my personal computer over and over trying to see if I could find something wrong with it, like, maybe that wasn’t Thaxter on the feed. At one point I’ll admit I got sleepy and went for a coffee, forgetting to pause the feed. When I got back I spotted this….”
Piet hit the play button on the computer console. There was the usual back and forth of people; some arriving on-planet, some preparing to leave and a few refugees from Junktown trying to panhandle some spare change. Max was getting impatient and was about to say something when Piet jabbed a finger at the screen. “There! Watch this guy with the hat and dark glasses.”
The four men watched intently as the figure on the screen opened a locker and placed his duffle bag into it. He closed the door, then turned to go just as another man, a panhandler, slammed into him, knocking his hat off. Piet froze the image and scanned in for a close-up.
“Well?”
Max, Gus and Coombes looked closely at the image on the screen. Gus was first to speak up. “Yeah, that looks like the son of a Khooghra, but it’s hard to be sure with that beard and those cheaters on. Hey, the other guy is picking his pocket. See that, there?”
“Yeah, and so did Thaxter, or whomever that might be. In a few frames you’ll see him punch the other guy and take his wallet back.” Piet advanced the feed thirty seconds and they watched the figure drop the pickpocket with one punch. Piet froze the feed after the man stood back up with his wallet in hand. “Say what you will about the man, he throws a mean punch.”
“Did you run facial recognition?” Max asked. He peered at the screen trying to tell if it was their man, but the angle made it difficult.
“Only a forty percent match, Marshal,” Piet said. “T
he angle, beard and shades obscure too much for a positive match. There are about 213 people who fall into that range, after I removed the ones with the wrong height and hair color. If not for the shades, we could have nailed him on the retina scan.”
“Which is, no doubt, why he wears them. He also changed his clothes,” Coombes noted. “It’ll be hard to prove that it really is him, especially since he was seen boarding the shuttle earlier in the tape.”
“Did you get the name of the renter for that locker?” asked Gus. “It might tell us what name he is using for an alias.”
“First thing I did, sir.” Piet tapped a few more keys and the locker registration form replaced the video feed on the screen. “It’s made out to a Clancy Slade. I looked up Mr. Slade and found that he arrived on-planet about ten months ago from Gimli with a wife, Marie and daughter, Annabelle.” More keyboard tapping and Slade’s immigration form appeared on the screen. “I couldn’t help noticing that there was an incredibly strong resemblance between this Clancy Slade guy and Leo Thaxter. It occurred to me that this Slade might be a ringer brought in by Thaxter’s cronies, but I couldn’t come up with a reason for it. Still, this seemed like something I should show you.”
Gus, Max and Coombes looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment before Max explained how Clancy had been forced to take Thaxter’s place in prison. “He has no known ties to any criminal organization that we could find and we verified it under veridication. He was just unfortunate enough to have that particular face.” Max went on to explain that the governor wanted Thaxter’s escape kept quiet, and only a few select officers knew the full details of that escape. Also, at the time of the shuttle departure, Clancy was cooling his heels in Prison House under Thaxter’s name.
Piet accepted the explanation gracefully. That he had not been included in the full story at the beginning didn’t bother him. He understood the value of keeping a secret and his past left something to be desired. “In that case, I don’t know if this is of any value, but I ran a check on Mr. Slade and found that he rents an apartment in Mallorysport on the bare edge of Junktown—”
“All he could afford,” Max said, “from what I learned in interrogation.”
“Really?” Piet looked puzzled. “Then how does he manage to pay for a cabin on the outskirts of Mallorysport, as well?”
“He what?” Max looked intently at the screen as Piet opened the file showing the title of ownership for the cabin. According to the title there was no mortgage or lien on the property.
“Clancy said the people who kidnapped his daughter were going to pay him off if he didn’t blow the whistle right away,” Gus observed. The Chief Colonial Prosecutor hadn’t been in the room during interrogation, though he had watched through the two-way mirror.
“Yes,” Coombes nodded. “Classic ‘carrot and stick’ tactic. Threaten his family and bribe him at the same time. Twenty-five thousand sols, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Gus confirmed. “They must have made good on their deal even though the switch was discovered early.”
Piet shook his head. “Uh-uh. Twenty-five thousand sols wouldn’t begin to cover it. This cabin’s sale price was sixty-five thousand sols, and according to the title, it’s paid for, free and clear. If he is living on the edge of Junktown, then I can’t believe he was sitting on the other forty thousand or more.”
Max thought about it for a moment. Piet was making a lot of sense. Still…. “Maybe Clancy hedged his bets so that we wouldn’t take all the money if we found out about it?”
Gus snorted. “I very much doubt that. Clancy was far too happy to be out of prison and back with his family. And we have his story under veridication. Besides, Harry Steefer hired him onto the CZC company police on Leslie’s recommendation, right?”
Coombes nodded.
“And he was thrilled as all Nifflheim to get that job. If he did get that twenty-five thousand sols, he had to have gotten it after getting the security job. I’ll bet he’s keeping it under the mattress for a while, too, in case his new position doesn’t work out.
“He’s welcome to the money as far as I’m concerned, though I would like to know how the funds were transferred to him. No. I think Officer Piet here found Thaxter’s little hidey-hole. Think about it: Clancy is now known to look like Thaxter, so Thaxter grows a beard like Clancy’s and gets a place out of the city. If anybody comes poking around, he just introduces himself as Clancy Slade. I’ll bet he uses cash for all of his purchases to stay off the grid. Unless he and Clancy bump into each other, who’s going to notice?”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Max swore and nodded his head. “Good. We’ll just get a couple of warrants and take a look at that cabin and spaceport locker…”
“On what grounds,” Coombes asked. “All we have is a forty percent match on his face and a lot of speculation. Even Judge Wilcox won’t sign off with that. And Wilcox will sign off on almost anything.”
“Don’t I know it!” Gus agreed.
“Ah,” Piet looked sheepish and said, “And my little search of some of those documents I showed you are the subject of…less than proper procedure. I knew I couldn’t get a warrant to just poke though those records willy-nilly, so I….”
“What records?” Max asked. “I don’t recall seeing any records and neither do you. Understood?”
Piet nodded. Playing fast and loose with the rules was a chance he was prepared to take, but he wasn’t about to drag the Marshal or the shysters into it.
The room fell silent until Piet spoke up again. “This Clancy Slade, is he a stand-up guy?” Everybody agreed that he seemed to be. “Well, legally, that cabin and the contents of that locker are his, then, right?” Again, everybody agreed. “Then why don’t we just go and ask him pretty please if we can take a look at his cabin? We won’t need a warrant if he gives his consent. And titles and deeds are a matter of public record, so our knowing about it won’t be a problem. I don’t know about the locker, though. Still, why not make this identity theft work for us?”
The three men stared at Piet, then Coombes smiled and Gus roared in laughter.
Max thought to himself that Piet Dumont had come a long way from the flabby waste of space he was two years ago and made a decision.
“Inspector Dumont is right,” Max said. “Let’s go ask Mr. Clancy for the five centi-sol tour.”
Piet looked surprised. “Inspector?”
“I’ll clear it with Frank Carr, and if he don’t like it, tough. But I suspect he won’t object. It’s good to have the old Piet Dumont back.”
“Damn straight,” Gus said. “Your talents are wasted as a street cop. Come on, we ain’t doing this without you.”
“You bet! Hey, let me grab something first.” Piet reached under the desk and pulled out a battered old briefcase. He patted it on the side and said, “Just in case.”
As Gus, Coombes and Max filed out, Piet let out a long groan.
Gus turned and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Cop tradition,” Piet said as he hustled out the door. “Promoted guy buys the first three rounds for his squad. I’m on the hook for one helluva bar tab next time I hit the Two Moons Tavern.”
XV
Clancy Slade had pulled a double shift in order to get the next night off so he could spend some time with his family. Annabelle, his daughter, had been badly shaken by her time as a hostage and his wife, Marie, had been on pins and needles ever since. In fact, she had been pushing for them to leave the planet. Clancy’s position was that they were safe enough and he had too good of a job to just walk away from.
In the interest of keeping the family peace, Clancy decided to take the family into Mallorysport to see the sights, have a fancy dinner and maybe do a little shopping. Annabelle in particular wanted to see some Fuzzies.
Clancy had intended to sleep in for one more hour before taking the family out on the town when something prodded his foot. Clancy instantly awoke and threw a punch into the air. It was a reflex he developed while in Prison Hous
e and he hadn’t been able to shake it. At the foot of the bed stood Marie, looking worried.
Blearily, he asked, “’Sa-matta, babe?”
Marie dithered for a second, then said, “There are some men here who say they need to talk to you.”
All trace of fatigue was replaced with fear. Clancy quickly got up, dressed and looked around for something to use as a weapon. Marie didn’t like guns in the house with Annabelle around, so he had left his Company issued sidearm in his locker at work. Instead, he picked up his truncheon and tucked it into the back of his trousers where he could easily get at it if he needed to. He had no intention of getting dragged into another criminal conspiracy, not if he could avoid it.
Cautioning his wife to stay in the bedroom with Annabelle, Clancy stomped out to confront his guests. He almost fainted from relief when he saw that it was Colonial Marshal Max Fane and Acting Prosecutor Leslie Coombes with two other men he didn’t immediately recognize.
“Jeezus H. friggin’ Christ, guys! You nearly gave me a heart attack. Marie and Annie are hiding in the bedroom thinking you’re with those guys that kidnapped Annie.”
Max stepped forward and offered his hand, which Clancy shook firmly. “Sorry about the scare, Mr. Slade.”
Clancy waved it off. “Hey, you guys are welcome any time. And Mr. Slade was my old man. Call me Clancy, please.”
Clancy removed the truncheon from the back of his trousers and set it on an end table. Max, Coombes, Gus and Piet shared an understanding look between them.
“Glad to, Clancy. This is Gus Brannhard and Inspector Piet Dumont.”
Clancy shook both men’s hands. “Hey, wait! You’re the guy who got grabbed up a few months back. I read about it in the news feed. Sorry, Mr. Brannhard, I really don’t know anything about that….”
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