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Hal Spacejock 6: Safe Art

Page 23

by Simon Haynes

"I can just see a mini Harriet running around the place."

  "Or a Hal Junior. Wouldn't that be a trial and a half?"

  "Twins!"

  Harriet smiled, and Hal felt a moment of true happiness. Then reality intruded.

  "I'd better be off," said Harriet, picking up her bag. "Boson's collecting me from the spaceport."

  "If you need any help with any of your cases, give me a call."

  "I can always use a good deputy, Hal."

  Harriet stood awkwardly for a moment or two, then smiled. "Goodbye, Hal."

  "Catch you around."

  Suddenly Harriet was leaning over him, and they held each other tightly. Hal breathed gently so as not to break the moment, wishing it would never end. Then Harriet released him, and left without another word.

  When Clunk came back, Hal was in a pensive mood. The robot handed him a hot coffee, and once he'd sat down Hal cleared his throat. "Clunk, will you promise me something?"

  "Yes, Mr Spacejock."

  "If anything happens to me, I want you to find Harriet and keep her safe. Will you do that?"

  "Of course, Mr Spacejock. Harriet is my second-favourite human in the galaxy."

  Hal felt a surge of affection for the robot. "You mean …?"

  "Yes, Mr Spacejock. She's number two on my list, right after the presenter on Oh Dear, Humanity."

  Hal grinned, pleased the robot had defused an awkward situation with a little joke. "Er, that was a joke, wasn't it?"

  "A robot cannot lie," said Clunk, with a twinkle in his eye.

  Epilogue

  * * *

  Chief Inspector Boson, head of the new Corporate Crimes squad, today confirmed that his team are investigating Backsight Industries. When questioned about the nature of the investigation, Boson declared that it covered everything from arson to tax fraud, extortion to hijacking, and kidnapping to murder. The company's new board of directors, hastily elected after the death of Olivia Backsight and her grandson Rodney, issued a statement assuring investors they would cooperate in every way possible.

  In a related story, the gang behind a spate of vehicle thefts and hijackings has been apprehended. With help from contacts in Customs and Shipping, the well-organised crew would steal valuable parts and equipment to order. Staff at Backsight Industries are being questioned about their links to the gang, although a company spokesperson has denied any official involvement. Rumours that Backsight has been shaving their costs for years by using stolen parts has also been denied.

  In other news, repairs began today on the Backsight Orbiter. Work is expected to take several months, and when completed the facility will be converted into an orbiting prison. Apparently, the first 'guests' will be the corrupt policitians, judges and customs officers who spent their careers secretly working for Backsight Industries.

  Simon Haynes was born in England and grew up in Spain, where he enjoyed an amazing childhood of camping, motorbikes, air rifles and paper planes. His family moved to Australia when he was 16.

  Simon divides his time between writing fiction and computer software, with frequent bike rides to blow away the cobwebs.

  His goal is to write fifteen Hal books (Spacejock OR Junior!) before someone takes his keyboard away.

  Simon's website is www.spacejock.com.au

  For new releases and updates:

  Facebook Page, Twitter & Mailing List

  The Hal Spacejock series to date:

  1. Hal Spacejock *

  2. Hal Spacejock: Second Course

  3. Hal Spacejock: Just Desserts

  4. Hal Spacejock: No Free Lunch

  5. Hal Spacejock: Baker's Dough

  6. Hal Spacejock: Safe Art

  7. Hal Spacejock: Big Bang (Serialised)

  www.spacejock.com.au

  * Also available in French

  About Hal Junior

  Simon also writes the Hal Junior series for children:

  Hal Junior: The Secret Signal

  Hal Junior: The Missing Case

  Hal Junior: The Gyris Mission

  Hal Junior: The Comet Caper

  www.haljunior.com

  This edition published 2013 by

  Bowman Press

  ISBN 978-1-877034-27-5 (mobi ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-877034-28-2 (epub ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-877034-26-8 (Paperback)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This publication is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission.

  This is NOT a free ebook

  You are not allowed to

  • Distribute this ebook by any means, nor store it in a public retrieval system for others to access.

  • Modify this ebook, nor distribute derivative works based on the content or characters.

  • Offer this ebook for sale, nor bundle it with other goods or downloads.

  As a special bonus, the first chapter of Hal Spacejock 7: Big Bang starts on the next page. Enjoy!

  Hal Spacejock 7: Big Bang

  Chapter One (free sample)

  Hal Spacejock was relaxing in a comfy armchair in the Volante's lounge, a coffee at his elbow and a tin of biscuits on the seat beside him. Business had been good lately, and he'd upgraded the furniture twice in the past month. Not only that, there'd been enough left over to buy real biscuits, with real crumbs and everything. Hal was impressed at the way the biscuits snapped cleanly in two, rather than bending, and as a result of this novelty the tin was brimming with biscuity fragments. Not that Hal cared - they still tasted the same, and more exposed edges meant they soaked up the coffee better. In fact, he was thinking about patenting the idea and selling it to a big food conglomerate.

  "Snapper biscuits," he mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. "Or maybe Clean Breaks?"

  "Are you talking to me?"

  Hal glanced towards the back of the lounge, where a bronze robot was crawling around on hands and knees. "Not really, no."

  "In that case, I shall continue with my fruitless task."

  "Have you lost something?"

  "No, I'm collecting biscuit crumbs." Clunk pinched something off the carpet, held it up to the light to inspect it, then sucked it into his open mouth with a whoosh of air.

  "You don't have to eat those old things," said Hal generously. "There's a whole tin over here."

  "I'm not eating them, Mr Spacejock. I'm tidying them up."

  "What for?"

  Clunk frowned at him. "Because this ship will be knee deep in crumbs before the week is out, and then where will we be?"

  Hal was still grinning at the thought of a biscuit bath when Clunk inhaled another crumb, distracting him. "Picking them up one by one … isn't that a bit inefficient?"

  "It is, but the vacuum cleaner is out of commission."

  Hal looked guilty. "Oh. Is it really?"

  "Yes, really. I haven't checked the manual recently, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't designed to shoot rubber balls at the viewscreen."

  "It worked."

  "Briefly. And why you wanted to —"

  "Kent Spearman's got a new ad." Hal's expression hardened. His long-term rival had been running an advertising campaign across every major station, bigging himself up as some kind of super-pilot. A competent businessman would run a campaign countering the ads, but Hal Spacejock wasn't a competent businessmen so he satisfied his thirst for revenge by throwing rubber balls at the screen whenever Spearman's oafish face appeared. Or shooting balls with the vacuum cleaner, before it broke down.

  "That's not good, Mr Spacejock. Every client who chooses Spearman means one less job for us."

  "Don't be daft." Hal shrugged. "The ads are a joke. Nobody would believe that rubb
ish."

  "There's always a danger some gullible client will believe Mr Spearman's claims."

  "I don't want any gullible clients."

  Clunk raised his eyebrows. "You think any other kind would hire us?"

  "Yeah, very funny. Anyway, ads are a total waste of money. These people charge a fortune."

  "You could afford a campaign of your own if you stopped redecorating the lounge." Clunk sucked up another crumb. "Or, indeed, buying expensive biscuits."

  Hal frowned. "That's another thing. How's Spearman paying for all this? The freight business would never bring in that sort of cash."

  "Are you suggesting Mr Spearman is engaged in illegal activities?"

  "It wouldn't be the first time." Hal brightened. "Hey, maybe we could report him to the Peace Force!"

  "Again, Mr Spacejock?"

  "They have to listen to me sooner or later."

  "Perhaps they would, if you had actual evidence."

  Hal gestured impatiently. "That's their job. If they'd only —"

  A crackle from the overhead speakers interrupted him. "Incoming call," said a neutral female voice.

  "Who is it, Navcom?"

  "I won't know until you answer it," said the ship's computer patiently.

  "Why not? Can't you screen it or something?"

  "Complying."

  The big screen cleared, and the words 'Incoming Call' appeared in bold red lettering.

  "When I said screen it, that wasn't exactly what I meant," said Hal with a sigh. "Go on, then. I guess you'd better answer it."

  "Cannot comply."

  "Why not?"

  "The caller has now disconnected."

  "Oh well, probably just a time waster. One of those welly marketers who keeps bothering me."

  "I think you mean telemarketers."

  "I know what I meant, Navcom. I have fourteen pairs of gum boots in the airlock." Hal glanced at Clunk. "Where were we?"

  "Bothering the local Peace Force for no particular reason," said the robot promptly.

  "That's how you see it, but I'm looking at the bigger picture. I know Spearman —"

  "Incoming call," said the Navcom again.

  "Is it the same person?" Hal raised his hand before the Navcom could lose this call as well. "No, don't bother. Just put them on."

  The screen cleared and an attractive young woman appeared. She had long chestnut hair and grey eyes, and Hal recognised her immediately - it was Meredith Ryder, the events organiser who'd helped with a cargo of artworks a few weeks earlier. He sat up in the armchair, straightening his collar and brushing a shirtload of crumbs onto the floor. Ignoring Clunk's despairing groan, Hal smiled warmly at the screen. "Hey, Meri. How are you doing?"

  "I'm doing fine, Hal. And yourself?"

  "Excellent. Top notch."

  "Am I interrupting something?"

  "No, of course not. How can we help you?"

  "Do you remember that new business venture I was setting up?"

  "House moving, wasn't it?"

  Meri nodded. "I just got my first client, and they want a top-notch pilot."

  Hal grinned with pride. "Well, it's good of you to —"

  "Unfortunately, Kent Spearman's busy. Then I remembered you, and I thought … hey, why not? How bad can it be?"

  Hal's grin vanished. "We delivered the last cargo, didn't we?"

  "Some of it. Eventually." Meri gestured. "Anyway, that's ancient history. I'm sure you'll give me a hundred percent, even if you let them down."

  "One hundred and twenty percent," said Hal. "One-fifty, if the pay is good."

  "It's very generous." Meri smiled warmly. "So, are you interested?"

  "Of course. Tell me all about it."

  * * *

  "They've just completed a brand new dam on planet Chiseley. It's flooding right now, and there's a house which is going to be completely underwater by the time the water stops rising." Meri glanced at her notes. "The owner passed away several months ago, and his family have been too busy to deal with the contents. Now, with the dam and everything, they have to get the stuff out or risk losing the lot."

  "So why don't they send a truck in?"

  "The area was only serviced by a couple of dirt tracks, and they've been underwater for days."

  "A boat?"

  Meri shook her head. "Too many dead-ends and obstructions. Not big enough, either."

  "Using the Volante seems like massive overkill. We're going to burn a ton of fuel."

  "My clients will pay handsomely."

  "So what's in the house? Antiques? Valuable artworks? Stacks of gold bars?"

  "I have no idea, and I don't think the customers know either. I get the feeling the old guy was a bit of a loner. Difficult, crotchety, hard to get along with. You know the type."

  Hal knew the type exactly, because the description fitted Clunk to a tee. "Still, they're taking a risk. They might end up with a collection of dodgy old magazines and moth-eaten furniture."

  "They're a professional couple, very busy with their careers. They intended to take leave from their work and clear the house themselves, but the flooding has forced them into action. If it's a load of rubbish they'll just throw it away, but they're hoping for a few heirlooms."

  "Oh well, it's their money." Hal glanced over his shoulder. "Clunk, what do you think?"

  "I think we need a new vacuum cleaner," said the robot.

  "I'm talking about this house clearing job. It's not our usual thing, but —"

  "Oh, the job." Clunk gestured impatiently. "Sign us up for whatever you like. Everything we touch turns into a three-ring disaster, so the precise details really make no difference."

  "He's just pulling your leg," said Hal quickly, before Meri could snatch the job away from them. "It's robot humour, you know. Very dry and understated."

  "If you say so." Meri tapped something on her terminal. "I've just notified my clients of your decision. You're to land on Chiseley and meet the local agent at the spaceport. His name is Si Matthews, and he'll have keys and directions. He'll also tell you where to unload the house contents afterwards."

  "Good stuff."

  "Please get this one right, Hal. I'll be a laughing stock if it goes wrong."

  Hal laid a hand on his chest. "Meri, you'll get our best work, I promise."

  After a somewhat apprehensive smile, Meri disconnected.

  "Well, that sounds perfect," said Hal, as the screen turned dark. "Important clients, a nice easy job and good pay. What could possibly go wrong?"

  Clunk choked, spraying biscuit crumbs all over the carpet. "Oh, Mr Spacejock. Did you have to say that?"

  * * *

  Hal Spacejock 7: Big Bang available worldwide

  as a serialised novel

  Acknowledgements

  To my friends and family ,

  I really appreciate the help and support!

  To my proof readers, Ian and Tricia, many thnks. Er, tanks. No, make that thunks.

  Well spotted!

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Author: Haynes, Simon, 1967-

  Title: Safe art / Simon Haynes.

  ISBN: 9781877034268 (pbk.)

  Series: Haynes, Simon, 1967- Hal Spacejock ; 6.

  Dewey Number: A823.4

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter
26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  About Hal Junior

  Chapter One (free sample)

 

 

 


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