Gold Rush

by Clay Moore

  “I talked with Dag yesterday.”

  “I heard about that from some of our uppers. They were incensed that Dag was putting on airs about being one of them.”

  “He certainly lives on the one hundred and thirty-fifth level.”

  “They are complaining that where he lives is just a structure that holds a house, and thus are not a Real apartment.”

  “Dag would disagree.”

  “How much longer do we need him?”

  “They have to smelt the concentrate, as well as the gold dust and nuggets. That should get us to our million ounces we need to disrupt the economy of the worlds. Dag told me it would take his plant three days to complete what we have. What I don’t understand is why we are allowing him to hold the gold?”

  “Until we are ready to produce the counterfeit Eridani gold coins, it is safer for him to hold the gold. If Eridani can convince the government to raid the smelting operation, Planetary Interests is protected.”

  “He might think the gold is his. He might think that he can do with it what he will. Before that happens, we should have the gold out of his warehouse.”

  “Should is too nebulous a word for a plan that involves Eridani.”

  “Okay, do you want to put the Hecton touch on the plan?”

  “Yes? How much of a budget do I have on this?”

  “All that’s available on the budget is fifty thousand crowns.”

  Hecton winced for two reasons. The first reason was that their Black Purse had to use Eridani currency to pay for the technicians. The second reason was that fifty Thousand would not be attractive to the sniper he had in mind.

  “I need another fifty thousand to get the assassin I want for this. The technician will have to do a little legwork to figure out who is bothering us.”

  “Technician. I wish we could go back to using the real term for them., Assassin, Sniper, arsonist. I have one. I’ll use her.”

  “If you want clean hands you need a technician icing. Otherwise, I can go on the ground level and hire someone to kill someone for 25 Marks.”

  “Why don’t we? They would be outclassed by our opposition. We need to do thing smart now. I think that we have opposition worthy of us.”

  “Hecton, I am not enamored of the fetish you have over spy fiction.”

  “This Is not a spy that we are dealing with. Spies gather information, and they run other spies. He may collect data, but he does other things equally important. You send him or her into places that a squad of Infantry could not get into. If I were Eridani Secret Service, I would give them authority over all Eridani government services.

  “He’s something new, an Agent without portfolio. He has great authority. His sphere may only be the Intelligence’s traditional roles.”

  “You get all that from the tea leaves?” Andrea gave Anton a challenging face.

  “No, I am trying to think like the Eridani Ministers.”

  “Okay, let’s not worry about super agents. When you deem it ready Kill Dag Dankly and move the gold.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of Dag myself. I need everything he has smelted before I hit him. I know of a service that will move the stuff for a fee. We will want them alive because they are that good at moving things.”

  “I might be sending you to Faraway.”

  “Why?”

  “A Doctor Irving Platz has indicated that he is in effect the owner of all of Genetic Concepts work.”

  “Why does he present this to us?”

  “He explains that Planetary Interests has a history of supporting research. He offers a demonstration of what he thinks is the best commercial use of the work. That’s for later. I want you to think long and hard on it. We need something dark to fill our dark Purse again. Now Go, Hecton.

  Hecton bowed low to her and left her office.

  HARRY WITHERSPOON, ESQUIRE AND CORPSE.

  Brian walked into his suite. He could feel his romantic feeling for Dona Magret dissipate. It was fun. He still respected her for what she accomplished. He also likes how she taught her own world to him. Then he knew why he could no longer dally with her. She was just too famous. He also could not see her because he was going to wreck a few things in Alphacent.

  He touched the earbug in his ear. “Do you have Dag’s residential location?”

  “Yes, I did. Did you bring your spy scope?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then go out your patio door in the living room.”

  Brian did as she instructed. “Look at about 45 degrees.”

  Brian prided himself on his ability to navigate without a compass. He pointed in that general direction with his spy scope.

  “Do you see a spindly structure that consists of a central tower with cantilevered pads.” Brian focused on the building that matched Amarantha’s description. “On the Pads were what only could be considered houses on the pads. Each pad had a patio that you can land on. There was a lot of foliage around the houses, probably for privacy.”

  “What is the name of that building.”

  “Chester Arms.”

  “I can’t imagine the uppers accepting anyone living in something like that.”

  “The uppers don’t. The Chester Arms has been up and taking leases for three weeks now. Twenty of the Twenty eight pad locations have been rented.”

  “Dag is on…?”

  “Pad 2.”

  One of the most critical pieces of information had been found. The other is the smelter. There were too many different smelters. Brian did not have the time to go to each smelter. He had to be invited to the smelter. He found himself shaping up a plan.

  He decided to take a turn around the lobby and see what he can scare up. He walked to the coffee shop. That was when he saw Harry Witherspoon eating breakfast for four.

  Brian went over to the concierge. He smiled at her.

  “How may I help you, sir.”

  “I need to know if Mister Witherspoon is checked in here.” He made a sour face. In spite of herself, the concierge chuckled at the look.

  “Yes, sir. He is checked in here.”

  “Where does he go? I might catch him there.”

  “He is taking the thoroughbred meeting occurring this month at Vendon Downs.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “As a convenience to our guests, we sell admission to the Sponsor’s level. Would you like a ticket?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m calling for my Grav-rod. It should be here in a few minutes.”

  There was a sound of astonishment from onlookers. Brian saw His Grav-rod hovering waiting for him. Amarantha is qualified to remote pilot the grav-rod. She probably broke every speed rule in the book.

  “Never mind,” he said to her. “It’s here.”

  Brian walked out of the Hotel's door. He put on his Tactical Helmet. Then Brian started the single jet engine. After a few seconds of idling, he flew off the Hotel’s approach. And headed for McKenney Field. He flew into the tunnel for returning vehicles to the Private pad. He pulled onto his starship's Berthing He stopped the grav rod at the foot of the cargo ramp. He shut down and ran up the ramp and went forward to the spiral staircase. He went to his quarters. In the Ship’s weapons locker, he took out the pneumatic needle projector. He also took out the segmented kit with all of the needles. He put these items into a sling bag. Then he returned to his grav-rod.

  The job of flying the grav-rod back to the Hotel took his mind off of Dona. His mentor in dealing with women had always said that he might get entangled with one through no fault of his own. If he couldn’t get over her, he might end up with her. That was a good idea. Then he remembered that he was in love with this job. He was free-agent, a master of his own destiny. Once he had accomplished his tasks, he could do a little sightseeing or other things.

  He roared up to the landing area for Grav-rods at the hotel. Brian took off his helmet and put it back into the little boot. Then he walked into the lobby. He stopped at the Concierge. “How do I get to the Track?”

/>   She pointed to the bank of elevators. “Go there. Take an elevator down. The elevator will tell you when you need to get off. Follow the signs, and you will be at the top entrance.”

  Brian smiled again at her. Then he went up to his room. Brian made sure there was no one in his suite. He also searched his room for electronic devices. Surprisingly Brian found one. He took it down from its location. Brian examined it under magnification. That was when he saw the Manufacturer’s code. When Brian checked the code, it was Planetary Interests. Yes, he had been stupid going to that ball with Dona. She said she was a member of the board of Directors of Planetary Interests.

  Brian retrieved his gloves he wore with the suits. Then he brought his sleazing tools. Then he went up the elevator. The elevator asked for Brian's code. Brian used the maid's. The elevator stopped at Dona’s floor. He entered his door opening key into the electronic lock. Her door opened admitting him into her suite. He heard her singing a ditty from her bathroom. Then she came into her living room with a towel wrapped around her.

  “Guess what I found in my room?” Brian asked Dona.

  “You found an Arbalest 4000 eavesdropping bug.”

  “You put it there.”

  “Yes.”

  Brian pulled out her husband’s gun with the integral silencer. “Is your divorce real?”

  “No. We are separated, but we are not divorced.”

  “What’s the purpose?”

  “Anton Hecton wanted me to attach myself to someone who showed interest in the Giesling miners. I thought I was coming here to get bored. Then I met you, and now I know why he wants to know you.”

  “The bug your idea or his?”

  “His.”

  “What is the current method of suicide of uppers?”

  “Poison.”

  “Good.” He pulled out the needle projector and without warning shot her. It hit her in her left breast. Suddenly she clenched every muscle in her body. She could no longer breathe. A few minutes later she toppled over dead.

  He left her as she lay. He went through the suite with his electronic device snooper. Her suite was just as clear as his used to be. He then went through her Slate. He removed all imagery of himself. He decided instead of wiping the slate entirely. It would look funny to the police, but the police would be just as susceptible to the social difference between upper and middle.

  Brian did not want to use an EMP pulser to destroy Electronics. He just hoped that he got everything. Then Brian remembered the needle. He picked her up enough to pull the needle out of her breast. The needle was coated with a dermal adhesive that would set the small needle hole. A micro scan would reveal no needle marks. He put the needle in the commode and flushed it out of the room.

  Brian stepped carefully out of the suite. He rode the elevator all the way to the lobby. He crossed over to the elevator that started the trip to the horse track.

  As he walked to the track, his mind wondered how long there had been horse racing. It seemed to be such a fundamentally human thing to test one’s horse against another’s horse. It used to be that the owners raced against each other, but as the horses got faster, the owners began to search for proxies. We call these proxies jockeys.

  He came to a corridor that had glass on one side. From here you could see the track and the grandstand. He walked to the next gallery where a single elevator would take you to the entrance to a Sponsor’s level. Brian approached the button, and the elevator door opened. He stepped inside and rode it down to the Entrance.

  Brian could hear the rising murmuring of the crowd. The ticket taker took Brian’s ticket, which he replaced a paper band on his left wrist next to his watch. Brian walked through. On the left side of the corridor going in was a series of booths. These were the tout’s booths. These were more upper touts and so the paper cost twice as much as the same paper in the main gate.

  Brian purchased the paper offered by a Tout that had an unusual run of good fortune. He had the information for the horses in races. It was added automatically to your slate when you walked through the gates. He took the stairs to come out on the club of this level. He ordered a scotch with ice. He found a table next to the glass which enclosed the club. He was able to see the entire seating area. Brian reached into an inner coat pocket on the left side. He took out one of the lipitrate pills from his gold plated pill case. Brian took it with his scotch. Lipitrate was a drug that allowed Brian to drink all the alcohol he wanted. It would do this for six hours.

  He looked at the past performance for the first race. The first race was for class C horses. He noticed one horse was moving down a class. That horse was chosen to be the winner on his tout sheet. Brian walked over to the clubhouse betting clerk. He plopped down 200 Alphacent Marks on the horse he picked. Then he walked over to the table that which he was sitting.

  In the corner of his right eye, he saw that grotesque particolored suit. In the suit coat pocket, Brian saw at least thirteen other tout sheets sticking out of the right outer coat pocket. Witherspoon even had a paper version of the list of horses running in today’s races. He went all the way down to the front of the section. Brian saw some uppers move away from Witherspoon. Witherspoon must have atrocious body order. Most people of Giesling don’t bath or shower as often as they should.

  Brian sipped at his drink. He repeated the select a horse, and drink a drink throughout the day. Brian did very well finally making over a hundred thousand Marks. The way that Witherspoon walked away, shoulder slumped and His head down, he knew that Harry did not have a good day. That would be an excellent reason to leap to one’s death.

  Brian picked up his winnings after the last race. Brian stood near the doors to the Hotel. Harry came up with the late stragglers. Brian followed keeping the shooting distance of the needle gun between them. Brian did not know if he put Brian’s face to the person that caused his woes. Harry was coming to a part of the walk that made a sharp left turn.

  “Harry, Don’t do it,” exclaimed Brian.

  Harry was right at the edge of the railing. Brian touched the needle gun trigger. Harry was hit in his protuberant belly. The reflex action of trying to jump out of the way coupled with the railing made him tumble over the side.

  Brian slipped the needle gun into his right coat pocket. He shook his head. When he had enough people, he planted the suggestion of suicide.

  “Harry, why did you do it. You had so much to live for.”

  The crowd around him picked up the story and embellished as all human are wont to do. He quickly departed that area. He made it to his room. He put the needle gun and the needles into his briefcase. He also set the 100000 Marks in his briefcase.No more space in his briefcase

  He turned on the Trid to the all-day news channel. There was an apparent suicide attempt at he Vendon Downs. The newsreader made it seem that Harry was sad about losing a fortune on the track. Poor Harry.

  Brian set up his Hypercom unit. He dialed Carla’s Hypercom number. She answered even though it looked as if she was about to go home.

  “Hello Z02. Can I do something for you?”

  “Will you tell the Children of the Wind that Harry Witherspoon plunged to his death in an apparent suicide.”

  Carla laughed. “You took my request to keep his death from tarnishing us. Very good. Is there anything else.”

  “I need a medium freighter to lift Gold Ingots. I am going to steal the gold in their smelter, and I need the cargo lift capability of a medium freighter. I need it down the day after tomorrow. It may take a day to load it all up.”

  “How much gold are you expecting.”

  “A million ounces I think. Might be less, might be more.”

  “Let me check out schedules. The Hercules is deadheading back from Giesling. I’ll send a task order. They might like bringing that much gold instead of nothing.”

  “How much noise do you want me to make?”

  “The loudest possible noise in keeping with your safety.”

  “I had to Eliminate Do
na Magret. She was working with Planetary Interests to have my room bugged.”

  “Understood. We agree with your assessment that Planetary Interests is behind some of this. We would like you to tread lightly with Planetary Interests. We are not completely ready to deal with Planetary Interests at the moment.”

  “On better news. I made a hundred thousand marks at the track.”

  “What are you going to use that for?”

  “Dag is a gambler. He gambles on golf and poker. I’m going to get him to owe me big, so big he might sell me the gold he has. To help in this, I would like you to set up a blind on my expense card. Make it look I have 500 million crowns in my account. When someone checks that, that’s the signal to return the money elsewhere. Can we do that?”

  There was a long pause from Carla. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Now All I have to do is beat him in a game of golf and at poker.”

  “Good luck.”

  Brian sat in his living room. Thinking through the current ideas. He went to sleep still thinking through the plans. In the morning he was going to prick the manhood of Dag.

  He woke up knowing what he had to do today. He took a shower and shaved. He called for breakfast; pancakes, bacon, a real apple, and orange juice with coffee. While he waited for lunch, he called the concierge.

  “Front Desk.”

  “I believe that Dag Dankly is golfing today. I’m supposed to golf with him. What golf course is he golfing at?”

  “Upton Golf Course and Spa.”

  “Thank you.” Brian hung up the call. Now to start the plot.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A sunny day at Upton

  A SUNNY DAY AT UPTON

  Brian walked out of the elevator and headed straight to the front door. There was always s taxi out front of the Hotel Clement at all hours. As he walked out of the doorway, he noticed the same cab he had seen at other times. The man who had been leaning against his grav-car was jumping up and down. The driver seemed to be beckoning him. Bran rested his hand on his pistol as he walked to the taxi who was parked and not in the queue.