“Is all of Show Low like this?” Rivka asked the driver.
“Yes, or at least the civilized areas. The other parts of the planet are less hospitable,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Rivka wondered if his hearing had been impacted by spending too much time with the hovercraft or if the people of Show Low yelled for no reason. She remembered that the majority of the workers on S’Korr were from Show Low, and they didn’t yell. No, it was just him.
The vehicle quickly slowed and crawled up the bank to settle in the area in front of what looked to be the main entrance. A two-person greeting party appeared with their hands over their ears. The driver shut down the engines.
Red was the first out, studying the area before allowing the others off. He walked in front of Rivka, peeling off at the last second once he was sure the welcoming committee wasn’t armed.
Rivka marched forward with her hand out. One stepped forward to take it. “I’m Iskander, personal assistant to the chairman. I’ll be escorting you inside.”
“I’m Pyrothasm, and I’ll wait with the rest of your party.”
“I accompany the Magistrate wherever she goes,” Red insisted.
“Armed visitors are not allowed inside.” Pyrothasm held out his hand to stop Red from walking past. Red looked down at the man, who was half his size.
Rivka walked a few steps away and waved for the team to huddle around her. When the others blocked the view, Rivka reached inside Red’s coat, pulled out his small pistol, and tucked it inside her Magistrate’s jacket.
“I need to see the chairman, so you all work this guy and the pilot. Find out about crimes on this planet, felonies. See if they know anything.” Red looked uncomfortable. “I’ll be fine, Red. You make sure these two are safe. I’ll try to get Ankh’s device close. I have no intention of leaving one behind for anyone to find, although I expect it wouldn’t be tied back to the Federation. They would link it to me, and I can’t have that.”
“I register my disapproval of your action, note your firm stance, and anxiously await your return from this meeting. We all need comm chips in our heads like the Bad Company warriors have,” Red suggested.
“I think you may be right. Put it on the to-do list for when this case is over. Get to work, people. Find me those predicate crimes!”
Rivka touched each of her teammates on the arm or shoulder as she walked past. She liked them, and could feel their affection for her. She knew Red was unhappy at not being able to go with her. She stopped and looked at Iskander. “If he leaves all his weapons behind, can he join us?”
“I don’t know why you need him. You are perfectly safe here.”
“He’s coming, then.” Rivka looked back to Red. “Dump your trash and come on.”
Red started unzipping and unbuckling. He handed his gear to the two women, who were less than pleased with the weight they’d have to lug around. Red pulled Lindy to him for a quick kiss, nodded to Jay, and hurried to catch up with Rivka, who was already walking side by side with her escort. Behind him, he heard Lindy ask Pyrothasm, “What’s a girl have to do to get a drink around here?”
The chairman stood when Rivka entered. Wearing a politician’s smile, he approached with hand outstretched. Rivka gladly took it in a two-handed shake to see what he was thinking about. His first thought was how attractive Rivka was, but then his thoughts turned to less obvious matters. She maintained her grip as she set the stage.
“Magistrate, I’m Chairman Robson.” He turned to the escort. “You can go, Iskander. I’ll make sure they get wherever they need to go.”
The man bowed and backed out, closing the door behind him. Red remained with his back to the wall, watching everything without fixating on any one thing.
“Rivka, please. I’m looking for illegal external influence in Show Low’s affairs.” His thoughts instantly flashed to a meeting in that very room with a well-dressed couple and the agreement they forced on him. He wasn’t as reluctant as he should have been. He flushed before letting go and motioning for Rivka to take a seat at a side coffee table. He would sit near her but not facing her, the least confrontational setting for conversations.
Rivka almost laughed. She expected to confront the chairman.
“I’m sure I don’t have any answers to your questions, but will be happy to introduce you to the head of our law enforcement,” the man offered smoothly.
“Does he know about the contract you signed with the couple from off-world who sat in these chairs? What did they threaten you with, Mister Chairman?” Rivka hated to waste time.
“How do you...” The chairman’s voice trailed off, but he collected himself. As a career politician, he was used to blind-side questions but had let his defenses slip at the abruptness and accuracy of the question. “What is your role here, Magistrate?”
“We believe that an organization is using illegal methods to expand their business within the system. Protection rackets and supply contracts obtained through coercion, in whatever form that takes. I need to know the organization and the form of intimidation they used. Don’t make me beat it out of you. Neither of us would like that very much.”
The chairman sneered. “You don’t have that authority.” Rivka glared at him. “You also don’t have any way to protect me if they find out.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s what I heard on S’Korr. Everyone is afraid of this group, but no one is going to roll on them. I will have your information, Chairman Robson, and will do whatever is required to get it.”
“Let me offer you a tour of the compound,” the chairman said while he stood. Rivka pointed at the chair.
“We’re in the middle of an important conversation. I don’t want a tour. I want to document these crimes so I can cut the head off the snake, and you can return to doing business the old-fashioned way, using supply and demand to determine fair prices.”
“If only it were that easy.”
“I know you’re getting a cut, so by giving us a statement, you would also implicate yourself. I’m not going to cover for you, but I’m also not going to go out of my way to make that information public. No one needs to know I was here. If I’m able to take down this organization, then your cut of nothing is nothing and none of your people are harmed by your duplicity.”
The chairman held his finger to his lips and waved for Rivka to follow. She wondered if his office was bugged, and if Ankh could do anything about that using the stack of coins in her pocket. Comm chips sounded like a critical necessity. She would insist on them when she returned.
If she returned. The chairman’s fear was palpable. She didn’t need to touch him to see and feel it. She’d struck a chord, and that gave her pause. K’Leptus’ fear had been similar, but he was better at masking his emotions—and maybe K’Leptus didn’t bear the full burden of the threat. The contractors were her next stop. They would have been leveraged for access. On S’Korr, the flow of supplies and people carried the value.
Why didn’t I push that when I was there? K’Leptus told me everything I needed to know, but then again, I wouldn’t have gotten to see Red destroy the security chief. There is a lot to be afraid of in the universe, and that includes Magistrate Rivka Anoa and her team, she thought.
Red went into the hallway. He kept his foot in the opening so the door wouldn’t close behind him.
Rivka put her hand inside her coat to feel the comfort of the pistol’s handle while simultaneously looking for anything around her that could become an improvised weapon. Ceramics that could be shattered and used as knives. An urn that could be thrown. A chair that could be used to block a knife-wielding attacker. And a pistol to use as a last resort.
“Why are we out here, Chairman Robson? Is your office bugged?”
The humanoid, a native of Show Low, stopped and hung his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to risk it,” he admitted in a low voice. He looked around, made eye contact with Red, and quickly glanced away. “The organization is called the Mandolin Partn
ership. It is led by Oscura Mandel, but he goes by Nefas.”
“What did he threaten you with?”
“I’m not married, and have no kids,” he started, looking uncomfortable. “So they promised me longevity treatments and delivered a number of treated-blood batches.”
“I thought the blood trade had died on Earth, but then I heard that it hadn’t. And now this group is actively participating?”
“’Blood trade,’ is that what it’s called? Seems apropos, but they didn’t call it that. Is it a Federation crime?”
Rivka gritted her teeth while she searched her mind. What if the blood came from the willing? It wasn’t illegal to drink blood. Disgusting, but not illegal.
“Where did they get the blood?” Rivka ventured.
“I didn’t ask,” he answered. “I figured if I pushed anything, they would have me killed and replace me with someone who was more malleable.”
“Did they threaten you directly?”
“No. It was the impression I got.”
“I’m not finding an obvious crime.” Rivka pulled out her datapad to type in a query and found a flashing note. She tapped it. ‘Keep going in the direction you’re going. The systems area is not much farther.’
Ankh.
“Oh, well,” she said with a smile, putting her datapad away. “I get to simply enjoy the architecture. This is a splendid facility. Do you live here, too?”
She started walking in the direction they’d been heading.
“There’s not much down that way,” Robson remarked, but Rivka kept walking.
“One never knows about the beauty of form, don’t you think, Chairman? A thing that some might consider functional could have a quiet impact on the greater good. Let’s meander until we get back to the front entrance. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I don’t want to regret not seeing something that is worth being seen.”
“Huh?” the chairman wondered, hurrying to catch up with Rivka and pointing out nonsensical things that she cheerfully acknowledged as interesting. She could hear cooling fans and dryers working behind one of the doors and turned to go inside, finding the door locked.
“That’s a bunch of techno stuff in there. I don’t carry keys with me. I’m sure it wouldn’t be interesting.”
“You’re probably right, Chairman. Let me ask you another question.” Rivka leaned back against the locked door. “Would you be able to recognize Oscura Mandel, and I presume his wife, if you saw them again?”
“Of course. You’ll find their pictures on their business brochures.”
“Business brochures?”
“They are the third largest corporation in the galaxy,” he parroted as if reciting an advertisement.
“Or so they say. I find that interesting. Thank you. How many times have they been here, and do they have an on-planet presence?”
“Only once, and the Mandolin Partnership has extensive real estate holdings on Show Low, including their office building. I can make the introduction if you’d like.”
Rivka looked at Red. He shook his head slowly and barely perceptibly.
“That won’t be necessary,” Rivka replied, casually pushing herself away from the door. “I guess it’s about time to wrap up. I enjoyed our visit. On a personal note, it’s not illegal to drink blood, but it’s highly addictive. I personally guarantee that your source is going to dry up, no matter how that needs to happen, and I aim to resolve the other issues that have you living in fear.”
“I consider my life forfeit. Once I signed the deal with Mandolin, I didn’t think I’d get to retire while young enough to enjoy it. I knew that someone would find out, although it’s been long enough that I was starting to wonder.”
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
“You’ve been drinking the blood for a year?” The chairman nodded. Rivka held his gaze. “Then it’s going to be hard to quit. Give me your stock of blood—voluntarily, of course. I want to have it tested to determine where it came from. What we find will indicate whether there’s been a crime or not. I suspect there has been since there’s no such thing as a reputable blood trade.”
“We’ll need to go to my personal wing,” the chairman said with a half-smile.
Red stepped close, and the smile faded. “Lead on,” Red directed.
Chairman Robson nodded and walked ahead, head drooping as he shuffled along. Red stayed beside Rivka, his head on a swivel as he constantly searched for enemies. Rivka bumped against him, casually slipping the pistol into his big hand. He slipped it into his pocket, looking relieved at having some firepower. Rivka didn’t need it.
She was always looking for improvised weapons. She contemplated whether she was strong enough to rip someone’s arm off and beat them with it.
They passed a guard station, where the chairman vouched for them to pass. They continued to his quarters, which were comprised of a series of rooms, each larger than the one before. When he reached a small kitchen area, he dug into a refrigerator and pulled out one small bottle filled with a heavy crimson liquid.
“Where’s the rest of it?” Rivka asked, grabbing his arm. There was a second refrigerator hidden inside the wardrobe of his bedroom.
“Chairman Robson, I am seizing the supplies acquired by means of the blood trade on suspicion of illegal acquisition. Should the samples prove to have been acquired through legal means, they will be returned to you at my convenience.”
She made a beeline for his bedroom. He started after her, but Red caught him and held him back. Rivka walked straight to the wardrobe, pulled on it, and found it to be locked. She growled and used her strength to rip the door open. Inside was a small refrigerator with a substantial stock of blood.
“Give me a bag,” she ordered. The chairman jutted his chin and remained where he was. Red pointed to a corner where a day bag was stashed. Rivka turned it upside down, emptying the contents onto the carpet. She shoved the bottles and bags in and zipped it closed, shivering with disgust. “Thank you for your cooperation in this matter of Federation security.”
Red and Rivka walked out, leaving the chairman behind.
“Is that all of it?” Red asked, looking over his shoulder to see if they were being followed. He checked the passage before them, taking the lead as they approached the security checkpoint.
One of the guards held out his hand while the other brandished a weapon. “Where is the chairman?”
“In his quarters.”
“You will wait while we get confirmation from the chairman that it is okay for you to leave.” The guard without the weapon removed a radio from his pocket and keyed in four numbers. He waited while it rang. “Your guests wish to depart. Shall we let them pass? Thank you, Mister Chairman.”
He nodded to the second guard, who lowered his weapon.
“Thank you,” Rivka said, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as the cold of the bottles within penetrated the canvas of the pack. Red took a position behind her to block the guards’ view. She made a few turns and found herself at the front entrance.
“Unerring sense of direction, Magistrate. My compliments,” Red told her.
“I have a good memory. How do you think I made it through law school?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not the classroom type,” Red replied.
Rivka didn’t answer Red’s self-deprecation. When they walked outside, Rivka twirled her finger in the air. Time to go.
Lindy and Jay were all smiles and giggles, talking with the driver and their escort. The driver climbed into his seat and closed his door. The women said their goodbyes to Pyrothasm and entered the hovercraft. Rivka waved noncommittally and climbed in behind them. Red was the last one in and secured the door behind him.
Lindy looked ready to talk, but Rivka shook her head. “Enjoy the view, people. We’ll be back at the ship soon enough.”
11
When the corvette’s hatch shut them off from the world of Show Low, the expressions turned serious.
“Whatever he’s having,” Red ordered the automated food preparation device. Within a few seconds, a small bar popped out. He scowled at it but picked it up, sniffed it, and took a small bite. “Hey, this is good. Tastes like spaghetti and meatballs.” He inhaled the rest and ordered two more, giving one each to Lindy and Jay.
Rivka waited until the commotion died down. “Ankh?”
He was staring at the wall. Rivka waved a hand in front of his face until he blinked. “Ankh?” she said for the third time.
“Yes?”
“What did you find out?”
“We’re still looking around. They have a great number of records, but Erasmus is my pride and joy. He’s parsing the information and finding all sorts of anomalies. The chairman is a very wealthy member of Show Low society, but no one knows about it. The money was all skimmed and hidden away.”
“Can you put it back into the planetary coffers?”
“Yes.” Ankh looked away for a moment before turning back to Rivka. “Done. The chairman now has as much money as your average civil servant.”
Rivka laughed softly. “Thank you, Ankh. Did you find anything else, especially related to the Mandolin Partnership?”
“Erasmus?” Ankh deferred.
“The Mandolin Partnership has substantial real estate holdings and is the primary import/export business on Show Low. On the face of it, they look legitimate, paying their taxes and employing a small army of locals, but the bills of lading don’t match up. Between internal manifests and the signed bills of lading that are a matter of record, a solid twenty-five percent of all material disappears.”
“The black market, probably, but if this is all we have, then it’s a vanilla crime—more an internal issue than a Federation one. Everybody lies, right, Jay?”
Destroy The Corrupt: A Space Opera Adventure Legal Thriller (Judge, Jury, & Executioner Book 2) Page 9