“What’s the real purpose of the cordon?” “Webster told you, and it’s partly true. There’s a number of filings, perfectly in order on their face, which were obtained through fraud. They disappeared from Ama’s office, and, through a fortunate series of accidents, were returned to me. You see, since Mars recognized Ama, new filings aren’t sent directly to Mars; they go to Ama for clearance first. The theory is that the Claims Office might not know how a transfer was obtained, while Ama’s in a position to make a careful check.
“These transfers had been cleared by Ama, and were due to go out. Since I have evidence that casts doubt upon a number of them, Ama would be in a very bad position were they to reach Mars. Webster doesn’t know who assisted in their disappearance, but he suspects that they’ll be used against Ama. He’s right about the tenuous position of the Asteroid Miners’ Association, so far as Martian recognition goes.”
“So what more do you want—pictures?” Barbara snorted. “If this doesn’t prove Webster crooked . .
“It isn’t conclusive, Mrs. Abend, because Webster’s personal seal does not appear on the documents. There are just as strong grounds for assuming that Vincennes is the head man, or is fronting for some unknown party, as there is for assuming Webster himself crooked."
“Then what are we going to do?” asked Peter. Clay spoke up. “Glen and I are going to Mars on Webster's pass, and get certification on our filings. Until things are changed, we’ll have to play it as if Ama’s honest, no matter how much we suspect. They won’t dare to contest us then, and it may lead to a showdown. . . . Pete, do you have that metal you showed me? Let Mr. Kreuder see it.”
Peter took one of the pieces out of his pocket and passed it over to the Claims Office chief, who whistled softly. “No wonder Vincennes filed a blanket claim on 20-47. My guess is that this stuff runs under both your claim and Abend’s." You may have one of the richest bonanzas up there in the sky that has been found in years.”
“What is it?” Peter asked, eagerly.
Kreuder cocked his head and looked stem. “Young man, this is something like a war, and you haven’t been disciplined for your action as yet. I propose, as a penalty, that Mr. Peter Clay be left in the dark on this matter for the time being.”
Clay grinned. “That’ll teach you a lesson, partner.” “And I further suggest that he be put on sentry duty with Mrs. Abend. One of my aides reports that Gideon’s ‘escape’ has worried Ama. They may start looking around on 20-47 on their own and try to pull something fancy.
“You agreed to ‘protection,’ which means only that you agreed not to work your claim. You don’t have to stay off 20-47. It might be a good idea to keep a lookout there. Who knows? Claim jumpers might get to work while the Miners’ Guard isn’t around.”
Glen nodded. "It won’t be just routine, either. We all have the feeling that Aina’s about to make some move, and a decisive one. All the members of our party have gone out to their claims. Those who haven’t any have joined with others who were working alone, so there’s at least two on each claim." Kreuder grinned at the dejected look on Peter’s face. “You wanted to go along on the Mars trip, eh? Well, fellow, if you were a bit younger, I’d say that was all right. But you’re old enough to take on a man’s job now, and sentry-duty’s for adults. You not only have to keep awake; you have to be mature enough so that you won’t run off looking for excitement."
“Right,” agreed Abend. "Now, here’s the way we’re going to co-ordinate. . . "
Chapter 13 The Head Man
(he small ship that Peter rented could not make the trip to 20-47 as quickly as the lost Abendland. There were fewer blast-tubes. It took longer to build up acceleration, and an equal length of time to decelerate. All spaceship travel followed a uniform pattern: build up acceleration to peak, coast to approximate halfway point, decelerate and coast in. Once the distance of a journey was known, the other factors could be calculated, although a generous margin for error had to be allowed. Deceleration started well in advance of the theoretical halfway point. It was far better to coast longer coming in than to overshoot the mark.
The Abends had carved a fair-sized cavern out of the fissure-rock that contained the copper they mined. Peter found himself wondering if Glen hadn't done this with some such emergency in the back of his head. It made an ideal outpost for sentry detail. One person could keep watch of the entire area of sky covering both the Clay and Abend claims from the mouth of the cave. Anyone inside would be out of sight completely. The cavern was large enough to conceal the entire Gideon party. Barbara said they’d cut out an extra exit tunnel just in case.
They landed in a small gully not far from the claim, and darkened the ship. This might make for difficulty if they had to leave quickly, but if it were on, the nose spot could be seen by any other party coming down.
“No lights, Pete,” said Barbara, as they came out of the exit-port with a pressure tent, shortguns, longmen, ammunition, and supplies. “I know the way from here.”
He looked around the now-familiar landscape, sensing something different. “Barb, isn’t it brighter than it used to be?”
“No, Pete. You see lights somewhere?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. 20-47 just looks a bit brighter to me now.”
“Oh, you mean it doesn't look quite so dark here?” She nodded vigorously inside her helmet. “Yes, I know what you mean. With me it was the same way. The first few times I came here it was so gloomy I could scream. But after a while my eyes got used to it. Now I can see all right—almost as good as the rocket field on Ceres.”
It made sense, Peter thought. He sighed. “So . . . we just sit and watch, huh?”
“Not so exciting, you think? Sure, we watch and listen. You stand up first while I fix things inside.
The guns we had better get ready at once, I think. If you get bored, so you talk to the others. Perhaps they will get bored too.”
The plan called for close communication among all the members of the party and frequent reports. It had been agreed that trouble was most likely to break at 20-47. AH would be ready to come in force should an attack develop. If it broke at any of the other asteroids, Peter and Barbara would reinforce whoever needed them.
There was still a good deal of mystery to be cleared up, but Peter no longer felt the total bewilderment of a few days back. They’d gone over the evidence with Kreuder, and there was no doubt that Cerean exiles, the missing Claims Office officials, and Joseph Vincennes made up a good part of the opposition. Reports from other aides had settled one matter beyond question of doubt. This was not an organization of thieves completely outside of Ama. The question had come down to whether they were up against a hidden minority in the Asteroid Miners7 Association or the entire outfit.
Vincennes is a smart one, thought Peter; he could be the head man.
And there was Ogden, the Judas goat. There was no doubt that he had played the role of “lone prospector attacked by claim jumpers” several times before the Clays first encountered him. As for Webster— it seemed likely that he had no part in the skullduggery. After all, would he have given out a special pass if he were determined not to let the Clays prove their filing?
Peter watched the lights in the sky around him, remembering again what Black had said: there was always something to see out here in the Belt. The sky was a shifting pattern. Stars and planets kept their relative positions, but asteroids moved around. He was beginning to notice small differences and was glad of it. These things reinforced your sense of wonder, and Pete decided that was a very important thing.
He snapped back to the moment as he realized what he was seeing now. A ship was approaching. He signaled Barbara. ‘‘Strange ship coming in. Ill keep reporting, and you pass it on. It’ll be some time before they land.”
They wouldn't call for help if only the single ship came. They could handle that themselves. Barbara had set up longmen at the cave mouth. She could cover him while he talked to the strangers.
On a sudden
impulse he cut his suit-communicator into general, and called himself a fool for not having done so before. The slight clicks he heard indicated that someone had just finished saying something. He thought of hailing the ship, but decided to wait and see if the stranger would call again.
"Hello,” came a voice in his ears. “Hello, 20-47. Peter Clay, are you there? Laura Webster calling Peter Clay. I'm coming down. Are you there?”
Pete cut back to Barbara and passed on the news. “Find out is she alone. But don't say anything about me,” advised Barbara.
“Right.” He flipped the unit back, waiting for a repeat on the message. Such calls would be repeated several dozen times, at least. You never knew but that the party addressed didn't have his unit closed off temporarily. When the girls voice came through again, he answered, “Peter Clay speaking. Who’s with you, Miss Webster?”
“No one; I’m alone.”
“Okay, then. I’ll be waiting.” What luck, he thought; of all times for her to show up. He went inside the cave. “We can t let her see what’s going on in here,” he said. “I’d better meet her on the ship.”
Barbara seemed dubious. “Not too good, Pete. Might be a trap.”
“Let’s get some other opinions.” He called Ben Black, who was with Honoye, and told them the situation.
Honoye agreed that the Webster girl should be kept out of the mine, if possible. Then Black asked, “Do you have an extra suit unit?”
“Sure.”
“Well, put it in your pocket when you go aboard. Set it to our wave so Barbara, and all the rest of us, can hear everything that’s said. Don’t worry too much about a trap. It may be one, but we can turn it to advantage if it is.”
Laura Webster’s ship was a small cruiser-type. It was like the one he himself had rented, Peter saw, as it came down. These were used mostly for prospecting, where time was not of the essence and slow travel the rule. Inside it looked much the same too. There was a trace of what you might call the “feminine touch,” but nothing fancy.
Peter got out of his suit, wondering what lay behind this visit. He hadn’t thought of Laura Webster as a person who went hopping around the Belt. He’d pictured her as an executive who rarely left Ceres— and then only to take the Mars liner.
"I'm not working the claim,” he said, as he took a seat, “and I have a perfect right to be here. You can’t deny that.”
“I wouldn’t think of denying it, Mr. Clay,” she replied. “I didn’t come to inspect your claim. They told me what you had done for me, and I’ve been looking for you ever since. I wanted to thank you.” “Well . . . your uncle’s already done that.” He watched her carefully as he continued. “I heard there were jumpers around these parts. I don’t see why we should take a chance on someone else’s getting any metal out, when we can’t ourselves.”
Laura nodded agreement. “But there isn’t any need for you to stand watch. The guard ship comes by often enough. They keep close tabs on all asteroids where any claim is under protection. It’s our responsibility.”
He shrugged. “The guard can’t be here all the time.” A thought struck him. “Tell me, does the guard go by here at regular intervals? And how did you know where to find me?”
Laura laughed, and he had to admit he rather liked the sound. “Which question do you want me to answer first? Well, I’ll take them in order. Yes, the guard ship comes this way every few days. We have the Belt pretty well mapped out, and every ship that goes by here takes a look.” She paused a moment. “At present, I’d say there are three units that cover 20-47. ... As to the other question—I didn’t know you were here. I took a chance on finding you, when I discovered you weren’t in town.”
“Hm-m-m. Sounds like a rather long chance to me. I might have been going somewhere else.” There was a frankness about her. It was a refreshing change after all the phony friendship he’d been meeting in the past few days. “Look, Miss Webster . .
“Laura. Laura, Peter. After what you did for me, I wouldn’t want to stand on formalities/’
“All right, Laura. But it’s a long trip out to 20-47, just on the chance of finding someone you could see back in town. Is that the only reason you came?” There was no trace of hesitation in her answer. “No." it wasn’t. I’d wanted to talk to Uncle about you, but he's off on business. I thought I’d try to find out what he’d told you. I want to help if I can.”
“Yeah. Help. Everyone at Ama wants to be so helpful. I suppose you want to talk me into joining up with your organization.”
“And what if I do?” she shot back. “Why are so many of you miners cagey about Ama? Uncle’s had to fight every step of the way to get this thing started. Now that we’ve finally gotten recognition from Mars and assistance from the Patrol, so we can really do something . . " She broke off suddenly. “I’m sorry, Peter; I didn’t mean to chide you. But something strange seems to be going on-some-thing I don’t quite understand. Uncle Jeff talks as if there’s some sort of organization trying to break Ama, discredit it in the eyes of Ceres and Mars. I can understand jumpers and pilferers working together against us. But when the very people we’re trying to help . . ” Again she broke off.
“Perhaps some of us don’t quite trust the Asteroid Miners’ Association,” he told her. “Perhaps were wondering why our filings are suddenly being contested. We’d like to know why everything has been changed around, so that the person who contests a claim has all the advantage. We re wondering why a miner has to go all the way to Mars to certify a filing. A routine call from the Claims Office should be all that is needed. We’re wondering why so many fuel containers have been defective, and quite a few other things too. And it seems strange that a certain Mr. Joseph Vincennes has had such good fortune at the same time.”
Laura didn’t answer right away. She bit her lip and turned to look out a port. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller. “I don’t know, Peter. I’ve wondered too. Uncle Jeff used to tell me everything, but he's been acting unlike himself ever since the scandal in the Claims Office. I argued with him about this certification business too. His reasons seemed logical at the time, even if they were a bit unfair to the miners whose filings were in the doubtful period. But now ... I don’t know. That’s why I came out here. I thought you might be able to help me, work with me.”
"What could I do, Laura? What did you have in mind?”
"I don’t know for sure. I’m a bit confused, and it isn’t just the accident. I wanted to talk with somebody who wasn’t completely against Ama, someone on the outside. I’ve tried to find out what is going on from Wendl and the others, but they either can’t or won’t tell me anything solid. And Uncle Jeff acts more and more as if his lifework is in balance... ”
“You mean you want to do some investigating on your own, without anyone else in Ama knowing what’s up?”
“That’s about it,” she admitted. “It was fine being groomed to run the Association. It’s the kind of work that appeals to me, and I still feel it's worth doing. But I want to know just what I'm being handed.
“I’ve managed to do some investigating on my own, when no one else was around, and what I’ve found hasn't been encouraging. I think there is some force working against us, and it’s right inside the organization. Uncle Jeff has been leaving too much up to Vincennes for my taste. He hasn’t been supervising the way he used to.”
“What about Ezzard?"
“Ezzard’s a dear, but he's too busy to be much help. He's been wondering too.”
"Does he know that Vincennes is an official in Ama?” “Who told you that?” she demanded.
"Told me what?”
“About Vincennes? That isn't supposed to be known, and I'm sure Captain Ezzard doesn't know it. Vincennes is a sort of special aide. He isn’t really an officer and he hasn't any given authority. . . . She paused again, then said, “But some people are beginning to act as if he were Vice-Director.”
“What does Webster say about it?” Peter asked. “He told me it was important to hav
e someone who isn't known as an officer on the inside—a sort of trouble shooter. Only I didn't know there was any trouble before Uncle Jeff took him on.
“Well . . . I've told you that much, so I might as well let it all out. Uncle Jeff explained about the transfer filings that disappeared from our office, didn’t he?”
“Yes. That was supposed to be the reason for the blockade. It doesn't ring true to me.”
“That is what worries me, Peter—those filings. No one knows that I saw them, and I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else. Those filings were approved by Ama. They should have gone through to Mars— should have, that is, if they were legitimate. But I examined them very carefully, Peter. If it had been up to me, I never would have approved them without further investigation. Oh, they were in order, all right. But everyone of them was a transfer on a claim that was filed within the doubtful period. They re all blanket filings, and they re all in the name of Vincennes or his men!"
Her eyes widened as she whispered, “Worst of all, I can’t figure out who approved them; the seal on them isn’t familiar to me.
"Do you see what I'm up against, Peter—why I’m beginning to wonder if I'm not being used as a front for some kind of skullduggery? Why I wonder if Ama isn’t being stolen away from us for illegal uses?” Pete nodded. “I sure do, Laura, You’re wondering the same thing that my fa—my partner, and Barbara Abend, and a lot of others are wondering. Did your uncle tell you he wanted to buy our claim?”
“Yes. I— I suggested that, Peter. I thought it would save you the trouble of going to Mars. Uncle agreed that all this was unfair, even if Vincennes was in the right legally. I don't think he is, but Uncle Jeff does. Anyway, I don't like the way Vincennes has been taking advantage of what was learned about those thieves who used to be in the Claims Office.”
Peter reached into his pouch and took out the other flake of metal. “Know what this is, Laura?”
Mystery of the Third Mine Page 12