The Mountains of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 1)

by Ward Wagher

“Is the duke reading his email today?”

  “No, Sir. He is sitting in his office drinking.” The secretary could not quite hide his disgust.

  “Very well, I suppose I need a few minutes of his time.”

  “The schedule is clear, Sir, if you would like to come right now.”

  Foxworth sighed. “That’s what I was afraid you would say.”

  The secretary grinned at him. “We are here to serve, Sir.”

  “Hmmph.” He heaved himself out of his chair and walked to the door. “Going to see the duke,” he said to his secretary. He looked back quickly as he stepped out the door and caught her rolling her eyes.

  “Prime Minister Foxworth to see you, Sir,” the duke’s secretary said into his desk unit. The muttered reply was incoherent. He raised an eyebrow as she looked at the prime minister.

  “I guess I’ll have to chance it,” Foxworth said.

  He opened the door and walked into the Ducal office. Roma sat behind his desk with a bottle and glass.

  “Whash newsh?”

  “Shover is dead, Milord.”

  “They killed him?” he suddenly seemed a bit more sober.

  “He was killed in a house fire. Place burned all the way down. One of his kids was killed in the fire too.”

  “They did it!” The duke pointed his arm and finger in the general direction of Montora. “They found out about him and plugged him.”

  “We do not know that, My Lord. Our sources give it all the earmarks of an accident. You knew the man. You told me he looked like an accident waiting to happen anyway.”

  “If you believe that, I have some swampland in… in Montora to sell you.” It was difficult to understand the slurred voice of the drunk duke.

  “There is no way to know, for sure. Accidents do happen.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. And if we are not careful an accident could happen to one of us.”

  Foxworth sat very still and stared at Roma. “Is that a threat, My Lord?”

  The duke looked at him blankly through bleary eyes. Then he jumped and sat the bottle down on the desk. He tried to set his glass down, but it caught on the edge and dropped to the floor. “No! No, you misunderstand me. What I am shaying… saying, we cannot assume all of these things are accidents. If we keep doing that, one of those clowns is going to get lucky and score off of one of us.”

  That is exactly the truth, Milord. I do not want to be within fifty miles of you when that happens, because you are ground zero.

  “If there is nothing else, Milord?” Foxworth stood up.

  Roma was searching under his desk for the glass. He was obviously successful as he held it over his head as he sat up. “Jush needed a little help to get through the day.”

  “Why don’t you go home and go to bed, Milord?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Very well, then. Good afternoon.”

  He said nothing further, and just waved his glass as Foxworth let himself out of the office. And it didn’t occur to him to ask me where I got my information. Probably just as well. And he might not even remember this conversation tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirty

  “And so it looks, Margrave, like we have passed the peak of the winter season,” Modest Marple said. “The occupancy and hence revenues have started to decline; still very respectable, however.”

  Frank had moved the offices to the second floor of the keep, mainly because he wanted to look out the windows occasionally. There were no windows on the lower floor, save around the entrance hall. Waves of snow blew against the windows and they rattled a bit in the heavy wind.

  “Have we identified any other planets in the neighborhood where somebody is getting close to winter solstice?” he asked, looking at Wendy.

  “No. Remarkably, most have celebrated mid-winter or Christmas within a three month period. I would hesitate to call it coincidence, but there we are.” Wendy had the porta-comp open and was perusing the financial report their Inn manager had brought to the meeting.

  “What are we, about six weeks until spring?” Frank asked.

  “Close enough, Sir,” Marple replied. “In two months or so, everything will be green. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “You’d never know it, looking at that.” Frank gestured to the windows. “I wish I had thought to cancel this meeting. There wasn’t any need for you to come out in this.”

  Marple smiled. “If we stayed inside with every snowstorm, we would get nothing done, Sir.”

  “I appreciate your diligence. I see here in the report a section on referrals.”

  “Ah, yes, Sir. We have been getting some decent traffic from Cambridge. And we have been sending business to the Woogie in return. Louie runs a smooth operation there.”

  “How do the referrals work?” Wendy asked.

  “We have a ten Centauran referral fee and apply it either way. We keep track of the referrals and settle up on a quarterly basis. I also had Goldsmith the jeweler put together a glittery little paperweight and sent it to Louie. They do like baubles, you know. I hoped you wouldn’t mind. I charged it against the marketing account.”

  “That was a good idea, Modest,” Frank said. “Louie will probably love you forever. Woogies are funny things. As businessmen go, they are as honest as they are sharp, but if they see something shiny lying around, they’ll make off with it. They are almost klepto. But everybody knows that’s the way they are, and if you leave something lying around and it gets gone, it’s your own fault.”

  Marple had a funny look on his face, then he slapped his forehead. “I had a silver anniversary stylus from my alumni reunion that went missing. I looked all over for it, even accused some of the staff. I’ll bet the little bugger took it when he was here with the Foxworth woman.”

  Wendy grinned. “Always pays to keep the business associates happy, what?”

  Marple was laughing quietly. “Just when I think I’m getting to know this business, something else comes along to teach me otherwise.”

  “I like that attitude,” Frank said. “That sort of thing kept me on my toes while I was in the Navy. I am having the same experiences here.”

  “I suspect you wish a light fingered Woogie was the extent of your problems,” Marple said.

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Marple turned to Wendy. “Now that we have exploited our yule-tide season, have you placed ads for Spring in Montora?”

  “Yes, they went several few weeks ago. I also have Yasmin and Eckert planning the spring plantings and decorations. I have ordered flowers from a greenhouse in Cambridge. We’ll get them in place as soon as we think the weather will hold. I am working on some ideas for decorations at the Inn. I should have something firm for you in a couple of days. Our Mayor seems to think we have ample crafts skills in the village to handle it.”

  “They certainly seem happy to have paying jobs show up from time to time,” Frank said.

  “Yes, Margrave,” Marple said. He sat on the edge of his chair expectantly.

  Frank smiled. “I guess that will be all for now, Modest. Oh, there is one other thing.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you. It isn’t as much as we would like, but we’ve ridden you hard the past several months and you’ve shown a great attitude and a willingness to learn. We appreciate it.”

  Marple took the envelope with wide eyes. “I… don’t know what to say. This was certainly not expected. But thank you. I am… honored.”

  “You are welcome,” Wendy said, her eyes twinkling.

  Everyone stood up as Marple left the office. Frank closed the door and he sat down behind the desk. Wendy walked over and sat across from it.

  “I still get surprised with his innocence,” Wendy said.

  “And I don’t think it is an act, either. For someone in the hotel business he is surprisingly unsullied,” Frank said. “I mean, he is worldly wise – I’ve seen him ease certain ladies out of the hotel lobby without anyone being the wiser. But there is a lack of… I don’
t know what to call it, guile maybe?”

  “So we’ve had hookers trying to drum up business at the Inn already?”

  “Oh yes. Some of our villagers were looking for ways to augment their income. He quietly explained to them that kind of behavior was not appreciated here. I think Alex Nesmith followed it up with a conversation with them… and their parents.”

  Wendy snorted. “And what was the reaction of the parents?”

  “I’m not sure, but I gathered from Alex’s expression that some of them had put the girls up to it.”

  “We don’t need those kind of people around here,” Wendy said. “Whoring out your own children goes beyond vile!”

  “I think Alex suggested to them that they might find themselves looking for a new home if this occurred again.”

  “Good for him. We are much better off without that sort of thing around here.”

  Frank nodded. He looked down at the top of his desk, which doubled as the screen for the computer. He slid several documents around on the screen and found what he was looking for. “Did Gerry share the quarterly finances with you?”

  “Just the high spots, Frank. We are cash flow positive, right?”

  “Right. Not by a lot, but we at least have money coming in to offset the expenses. Our personal funds were starting to show the strain.”

  “You were right, Frank. I had no idea how much it would take to get this business rolling. We do have more capital in Nyman TransSpace, though.”

  “Yes, but I’m still thinking about picking up another freighter.”

  “In that case we can’t touch the money, then.”

  “Right. Although, I’m probably crazy to be considering it. We would have to pick another captain and get a crew hired. I get nervous not being able to do the usual MBWA with the shipping line.”

  Wendy stood up and walked around the desk to drop into Frank’s lap. She looked him in the eye from about three inches. “Frank, this really makes me proud of you. After the fight we had about this I thought I would have to tie you down to get you to do something about it.”

  “I haven’t done it yet, Sweets. I don’t expect to seriously work on it until we get the issues with the duke settled. Unless, of course, we stumble across a rat-killing deal.”

  She looked at him carefully, then kissed him. “Have you thought, my love, about maybe buying a small passenger liner? We could run it between Montora and the systems in this neighborhood – you know, bringing in customers for Louie and Modest.”

  “That had not occurred to me. We would have to buy it right, though. There is not as much money in running passengers as freight.”

  She smiled at him. “I thought you would never ask.”

  “Why does this worry me?”

  “It shouldn’t. I heard through the grapevine CourierNet is listing a couple of Packet Clippers for disposal.”

  Frank looked thoughtful. “Yeah, and Jesse Spelling owes me a couple of favors too. Where did you hear about it?”

  “You see? It could work. Daphne told me. I think she heard it from Harry Stine in Cambridge.”

  “So she is still plugged into her Navy connections?”

  “Yes. It drives Hai crazy.”

  “But you would never know it, to look at him,” Frank mused. “But back to the subject at hand: do you suppose I should drop a note to Jesse?”

  “Why don’t I do it? He likes me better.”

  “Everybody likes you better.”

  “That’s because I don’t torment them, like you do.”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “They don’t take advantage of me, though.”

  She pinched his cheek and shook it. “That’s because you are so cute! Let me get a note into the queue.”

  She started to slide out of his lap, but he held on.

  “What?”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “I thought you wanted me to draft the note,” she said.

  “Tomorrow is fine.”

  “What’s wrong with today?”

  “Oh, I had some other ideas for a snowy afternoon.”

  She widened her eyes slightly as she gazed back at Frank. “Don’t you think it will scandalize the staff if we retire to our room during the afternoon?”

  “Not at all, my dear. Half of them are boffing each other already.”

  “Frank!”

  Sergeant Cedric Smith held up his hand to bring the squad to a halt. They were high in the Montoran hills north of the village and nearly to Beluga Pass. Behind him were eight troopers from the Castle Guard, followed by Sergeant Clifford “Balto” Gage of the Regiment. The snow had stopped, however there was still the wind to contend with, and the temperature was dropping.

  “Okay, men, we will bivouac here tonight. Sergeant Gage will instruct you how to set up camp.”

  “Sarge, where will we get the wood for the fires?” one of the guards asked.

  “There will not be any fire tonight, lad.”

  The guards all had disbelieving looks on their faces. “And I do not intend for any of us to freeze tonight,” he said. He pointed to one of them. “You, come with me. We need to check over the crest of the pass.” He turned and started working further up the hill in the snow.

  It’s always fun when they don’t believe you. Once Balto shows them how to bury those arctic sleeping bags in the snow, they’ll be as cozy as clams. Smith once again scanned the area. As usual, Jones is out and about doing his scouting, even though I can never spot him. Not huffing and puffing like Balto there. I know I am being unfair to him. Balto is in remarkable shape for a seventy year old. And he was the best winter warrior I have ever seen.

  He turned to the guard who was accompanying him. “Okay, review time, Gardiner. What is the military crest of the hill?”

  “Sir, the military crest is the shoulder of the hill – the point at which the base of the hill can be seen without defilade.”

  “And why is that important?”

  “Sir, it keeps the defender from being silhouetted against the sky on the top of the hill. It also limits the distance up-hill should a retreat be necessary.”

  “Very good, soldier. We are going to slip over the top of the hill here and ease down to the military crest. We will then observe and report.”

  “Yes, Sir. What are we expecting to see, Sir?”

  Smith stopped and Gardiner bumped into him. “Sorry, Sarge.”

  He turned. “We are not expecting to see anything. That is how the enemy achieves surprise, by working to make sure we see what we expect to see.”

  The guard looked confused. “But, Sarge, what are we looking for?”

  Smith turned and started up the slope again. “Whatever should not be there.”

  They marched up to the top of the hill. “Like that, Sarge?”

  “Get down!” Smith had dropped down and pulled Gardiner down too. “Yes, soldier, like that.”

  Smith pulled his scope out of a pouch. “Now, take note of the position of the sun.”

  “It’s to our left, Sarge.”

  “Right. You always want to be very careful not to generate reflections which might be seen down the hill.”

  He put the scope to his eyes and focused down the hill. “Okay, Gardiner, we have a camp with maybe two platoons, dug in along the tree line.”

  The was a schwumpf sound as Jones slipped into place beside Smith. “You seen’em Smith?”

  “Yeah.”

  They watched without speaking for a while.

  Gardiner spoke, “They have campfires, Sir.” There was a triumphant note in his voice.

  Smith looked over at Gardiner for a while.

  “Oh. We can see them easier.”

  “You’re learning, Gardiner. You might amount to something yet.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank-you, Sir.”

  “Okay, go back down to the team and ask Sergeant Gage to come up here.”

  “Out of shape,” Gage puffed as he slid into position next to Smith & Jones. “Getting too old for this kin
d of thing.”

  “It’s all in your mind, Balto.”

  “Right. What do we have?”

  “Couple of platoons. I can’t think of anything they would be doing up here that didn’t involve something bad for us.”

  “Right you are. I brought my bag up. I’ll dig in and take first watch. I assume you want to call this in.”