by Ward Wagher
“It is when we have power,” Gerry replied. “The satellite is not powerful enough for us to use a passive dish.”
“How are things going on the hydro plant?” Frank said.
“We are going to need some substantial repairs there. The attackers dropped a grenade into the gear box. Eden said it’s a real mess.”
“Did Jack document any of his plans for Montora?” Frank said.
Blakely reached to the desktop and tapped a couple of items. A new document popped to the surface. “Here we go, Sir. And Jack did have a very well defined plan for Montora.”
“Is there a printed copy? I don’t want to use this system extensively until we know when we will be able to recharge it.”
“I believe there is a printed volume in the apartment.”
“Okay. It’s not urgent, but when you have a moment, could you retrieve it for me? Better yet, copy it from here to a chip. I can read it on my portable unit.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Um. We didn’t look at the kitchen during our tour. I’d like to visit the kitchen help... Let’s do this. Ask all the staff to come to the Great Room. I’d like to meet them.”
Chapter Eight
“A moment of your time, My Lord?” Wendy asked Frank.
Frank looked at Blakely. “Can you excuse us for a few moments, Gerry? We’ll be along to the great room shortly.”
“Of course, Sir,” He said. He stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut.
Frank turned to Wendy. “Did you spot something?”
“That’s not what I wanted, Frank. It looks like you’re planning to take over Montora and run it.”
“I’m giving it serious thought.”
“And have you given any serious thought to discussing that with your wife?”
Frank started to open his mouth and the paused. Oops, I’ve stepped in it this time. “I’m sorry, my dear. I just assumed you were with me on this.”
“Whether or not I am with you is not the question. I get uncomfortable when you just assume.”
“You were the one who insisted on coming out here with me. Why should I not assume you are with me?”
Wendy put her hands on her hips. “You are backing yourself into a corner, Frank.”
“Bear with me on this, Wen. At this moment, I am trying to gather as much information about the place as I can. Jumping to conclusions and making decisions would be folly.”
“So, when were you planning to discuss this with me, Frank? You remember me, right? Your wife? The Helpmeet? The gal who keeps you out of trouble?”
“You know, you’re a pushy broad!”
“So I do have you in a corner,” she giggled. “Now you are turning red.”
Frank shook his head and walked to the far side of the room.
“Now you are trying to get away from me.”
“Will you put a sock in it?” he growled. “Sometimes you just don’t know when to let up.”
She strode across the room to him. “And sometimes you pretend I don’t exist.” She poked him in the chest as she spoke.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Just listen to me. I need for you to pay close attention to everything. We’ll talk tonight and probably every night. I want to take several days to look things over; then we can sit down and hash it out.”
“Okay,” she said. “Just don’t leave me out of it.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
“Hmmph! There are a lot of things you don’t think of. We better get to the great room before the staff wonders what we’re doing in here.”
“They can probably hear you shouting from there.”
“Right.” Wendy grabbed his hand and walked to the door. She stopped, turned and touched his nose with her finger. “I think you like this place.”
He snorted. “For some reason it has charmed me. I am trying not to let it cloud my judgment.”
“I kind of like it too.”
“Now we’re in real trouble.”
They walked arm in arm down the hallway toward the great room. “Not a lot of decoration,” Wendy said nodding at the bare stone walls.
“It’s clean, though. I assume Jack and Sharon hadn’t gotten around to interior decorating.”
“It could give a girl ideas.”
Frank just looked at her as they swept into the Great Room. It had been designed as a throne room. The ceiling was vaulted with empty niches in the stone walls where suits of armor would stand. The room was about twenty-five by forty feet; not huge, but nicely proportioned. There was an actual throne at one end. Gathered in the room were fifteen people or so.
Blakely spoke. “Allow me to introduce the new margrave and margravine of Montora.”
There was polite applause from the gathered staff.
“Thank you,” Frank said. “My name is Frank Nyman and this is my wife Wendy. We hope to get to know you all well.”
“Now, please allow me to introduce the servants of the keep,” Blakely said. “In no particular order. This is Alexander Nesmith, the Captain of the Guard.”
The tall, red haired guard had a fierce hawk-faced visage. He bowed to the Nymans. “An honor to meet you.” He stepped back.
“And this is Carlyle Beddings, the Butler.”
The butler was another tall fellow, but strikingly thin. He also bowed. “The honor is mine.”
A plump, elderly, gray-haired lady stepped forward. “And this is Mrs. Marsden, our cook.”
The lady looked at the Nymans through a pair of thick spectacles. “I am responsible for the kitchens. If you need anything, I will see you get it. The old margrave never interfered in my kitchens.”
Frank looked at the rather ferocious visage. “I wouldn’t think of it Mrs. Marsden. If my brother kept you on to manage the kitchens, I am sure you are supremely qualified.”
“Hmmph,” she snorted as she stepped back.
She does that almost as well as Wendy does, he thought.
And so they went through the group. It included Margaretha the maid, housekeepers, gardeners, and guards.
“We are very pleased to meet each of you,” Frank said. “I can’t pretend I know each of your names, yet. But I will work on that. My wife will be visiting with each of you and learning how the keep operates. As soon as possible, we will arrange a payroll. If any of you is in serious need of cash, please let Mr. Blakely know and we will do our best to help you.”
He continued. “You will meet some other members of our party. Sergeants Smith & Jones are in charge of our personal security and will work with the guards in the keep. Ms. Daphne Locke is assisting us with legal questions and will help Mr. Blakely in his duties. As others come in, we will introduce them so you will know clearly who belongs here and who doesn’t.”
“Sir,” the guard captain spoke. “We are so very sorry about the old margrave. I feel personally responsible.”
Frank looked around the room. “I suppose it would be convenient for me to pin the blame on someone’s negligence for the death of my brother and his wife. It must have been a horrifying experience for you. But the preliminary investigation showed the assailants were professionals. I do not want to slight your abilities, Captain Nesmith, but whoever it was that came over the wall was in an entirely different league.”
“Yes, Sir.” He said.
“Smith & Jones have been doing security for decades in some very hostile environments. They will review your practices and I expect you to pay attention to their advice. But I do not want you to think any the less of your own skills. Just view it as an opportunity to learn.”
“Yes, Sir.” The captain said again.
“That should be all for now,” Frank said. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”
Frank sat in a straight backed chair removing his boots when Wendy walked in, drying her hair after a shower.
“How’s the bath?”
“It is functional, although not what I would call luxurious. It will need some work before th
e castle could be used as a luxury hotel.”
He dropped his second boot to the floor. “That pretty much echoes my thoughts about the guest suite as a whole: slightly underwhelming.”
“It is going to take a lot of sprucing up before we can think of bringing in paying guests.”
Frank grunted as he pulled off a boot. “I think funding was going to be a big issue. There were only about two and one half million Centaurans in Jack’s UBS account. Unless he had other assets I don’t know about, it would have been touch and go as to whether he could get this business off the ground before he ran out of money.”
“Perhaps I could get a message out to NIS to poke around the banking world a bit,” Wendy said. “Or Hai could. You don’t have any feel for what Jack’s total assets were?”
Frank shook his head. “He didn’t share a lot with me in that area. Obviously he got the same from our parents’ estate as I – which was nothing. I know he did pretty well in prize money from his anti-piracy patrols. He recovered a couple of interstellar freighters and the salvage should have fixed him for life. But two and a half mil will not come anywhere close to what this place needs. I don’t think twelve million will do it.”
“I did some thumbnail calculations myself,” she said. “Twenty-five.”
Frank grimaced. “We definitely need more money. If Hai gets back tomorrow, I’ll prepare a message for him to send out. I assume you are working on another list for him?”
“Oh, yes. Count on it.”
“I hate to continue using him as an errand boy, but we have little choice at the moment,” Frank said.
“In that case I will start working with your brother’s plans for the place and see if I can get firmed up the total investment required to bring everything on line. Gerry seems to have a pretty good feel for the finances of the place, even if he is hopeless at keeping the books.”
“So he was right about that?”
“Oh yes. I think I got them into some semblance of order. It’ll have to do since I want to focus on the forward investment right now.”
“Any feel for whether or not anyone has had their hand in the till?”
Wendy put the towel down on the bed and turned to Frank. “Are you thinking the paucity of cash is due to Blakely siphoning it off?”
“Or anyone. I don’t really suspect Blakely or Prary, but you know as well as I the stories about long-time employees stealing the boss blind. It could very well have happened here.”
“I don’t see any evidence of that right now. Even factoring in the obvious mistakes, the books hang together. Besides, somebody on the take would have cleaned things out and took off between Jack’s death and when we got here.”
“That is comforting, I guess,” Jack said.
“So you agree we want to come up with a business plan for moving forward in Montora?”
“That would be helpful, my dear. Although, in terms of a cash drain, this would be worse than trying to buy another starship.”
“Based upon your experiences with the first starship, in other words, you would be half-sick for months?” Wendy said with a grin.
“That would probably be the least of our problems.”
“I am worried about the chances of more trouble, Frank. If the motive was other than robbery, it could happen again.”
“Honestly, it worries me too. Smith & Jones have got the guard highly motivated. We’ve got one outside of our door, and I suspect our sergeants will be prowling around most of the night. But keep your gun where you can get your hands on it.”
“Oh, I intend to. And I wonder if I’ll sleep tonight.”
Frank pulled the portable computer from his leather shoulder bag. “I downloaded a lot of stuff from Jack’s terminal. I think I’ll sit up and work through it. I can wake you midway through the night so I can get some sleep.”
“Good idea. Knowing you are keeping watch, I should be able to sleep.”
Wendy rolled into the bed and twisted the knob to dim the old-fashioned flame lamp. Frank adjusted the backlighting on his terminal and sat in an easy chair, paging through information. He became absorbed in the content and began reading carefully. After a while he looked up when he heard Wendy’s breathing become deep and regular. Wendy was one of the most competent women he knew – that was one of the reasons she was so attractive to him. But she looked like a little girl when she slept. He smiled at her sleeping form and went back to his reading.
Chapter Nine
Frank felt refreshed in spite of less than four hours of sleep. He stepped out of one of the towers onto the allure with his cup of coffee. The clear, cloudless sky was a deeper blue than Earth would have seen. The morning breeze carried birdsong from the forests of the Moody river valley.
He walked along the allure to where Jones was standing. “Quiet morning, Jones.”
“Yes, Sir; a bit. Not much goin' on.”
“Get any sleep?”
“A bit. Me’un Sergeant Smith be watchin’ the local guards. Lieutenant Locke helped too.”
“Daphne was up here?”
“Most’a t’night, Sir.”
Frank shrugged in surprise. “Where is Eden?”
“He be up most’a t’night too. Gone to bed, I be thinkin.’”
Nyman nodded, as he filled the blanks in Jones’ limited conversational skills. Considering the recent past events, neither sergeant would rest easy, or at all, until they were assured of the competence of the Castle Guard.
“And what do you think of the guard?”
Jones raised and eyebrow and cocked his head. “Nesmith knows what he’s doin.’ Couple’em are passable. Another few suggest y’pay off. We can work wi’the rest.”
“Do you have the manpower you need?”
“Not at all, Sir,” Jones said. “Wish th’colonel sent a few enlisted wi’ us. We could surely use’m.”
Frank leaned against the crenellated battlements and sipped his coffee. “Pretty place.”
“Pretty’n deadly, Sir.”
“It is that.”
Smith slipped out of the tower door and walked quietly over to the two men. “Good Morning, Skipper.”
“Sergeant,” Nyman said. “I trust you were able to put your head down for a bit.”
“I’ll have some catching up to do later, Sir. But we’ll survive.”
“I can ask Commander Ciera to locate some more talent if you are short handed.”
Smith looked out over the roofline of the village and rubbed his face. “I think we should get the Castle Guard dialed in a bit first. I need to know what we have here before we start augmenting. Wish we had brought a few enlisted from the regiment.”
Nyman smiled at Jones. “I hear you, Smith. But I don’t want the colonel’s hand in my pocket quite yet. At least anymore than he already is.”
“Oh, he is not billing you for our services, Sir,” Smith said quickly.
Frank put his hands on his hips and looked Smith up and down. “Cedric, how long have you been with the colonel?”
“Almost thirty years, Sir. First in the Navy and then with the Regiment.”
“Then you should know how the colonel keeps score. There will be a quid pro quo in there somewhere.”
Smith looked sheepish. “Point taken, Sir. But, in my judgment you are going to need some extended technical assistance if you are planning to stay here any length of time.”
“Your professional judgment, Sergeant?”
Smith snapped a short, quick nod. “Yes, Skipper. We are badly exposed here.”
Nyman turned and leaned his forearms on the battlements to retrieve the coffee cup. He took a long sip and gazed over the village. He scanned the mountains ringing the valley. He turned his head to face Smith again.
“And ignoring your recommendations would seriously call into question my professional judgment.”
Smith just stood looking at Frank.
“Okay, Sergeant. Make a list of your personnel and equipment needs. I’ll get it on its way to t
he colonel at my earliest opportunity.”
“Thank-you, Sir. I believe that is a very wise move.”
“Then why do I feel like I have had holes cut in my pockets and my funds are disappearing in a steady drizzle?”