Talin ventured his own question. “Have you determined where you will have him taken and how many of the royal guard might be required? As you directed, I have been conducting additional background checks on the guard only; the other branches of the military should have no inkling of our preparations.”
“That determination has not yet been made,” the Grand Patriarch answered.
“I see,” The Guardian of the Way frowned thoughtfully. “Presently, although I am only half-way through the screening, the majority of the guard has proven to be loyal. If it were necessary today, I am confident we could muster over three hundred men. By the time Owens arrives, there should be close to seven hundred available.”
“Some good news anyway,” the Grand Patriarch nodded. “But we won’t need them for some time. Janus Owens just recently departed from the Denbus system for Golstar. Thankfully, with the most-recent attack, he is taking appropriate precautions. Our monitors have observed he is using a random-spaced jump pattern to travel here. It should now be practically impossible for him to be intercepted. When he passes the quarantine’s border, he will receive the rendezvous location at the last possible moment.”
“What about the military, Father? Sharné asked, “What will they do? Will they join the opposition?”
“They are sworn to me as the Patriarch and Protectorate of the Way. But should they be confronted with our dilemma and made aware of my remedy, many would be torn over loyalty to me as their hereditary ruler and their duty to protect the Way. I believe at least half, if not more, would side with the opposition. But again, I must believe Minister Joselé and her supporters will not risk open civil war. If that were to occur, then we would be finished as a people. Neither side’s solution would be given the chance to succeed.”
The Grand Patriarch turned to Talin. “As follow-up to your question regarding his destination on-planet, I am beginning to think one of the old spaceports might be the answer. A number of them have been abandoned for years and there is plenty of open area surrounding them to preclude a surprise attack. But for the moment, I am going to keep the details to myself. I am not that confident the Palace still does not have hostile ears trained on us.”
Talin nodded, “I understand.”
“Good. Talin, I will need to discuss the details of Janus Owens’ security arrangements with you soon. Please be available when I call for you.” The Guardian of the Way had been dismissed.
Talin rose gracefully, made a half bow and said, “I am always at your disposal.” He nodded to the Grand Patriarch, smiled at Sharné and exited.
The door closed and the Grand Patriarch waited for a time and then turned again to his daughter. “We have more to discuss, but not here. No, I think that we require a location where we can talk a bit more freely.” He suddenly smiled. “We have not walked in the gardens for a long while. I think a stroll with my daughter would be quite nice.” They walked to the private stairwell that led down into the Palace gardens surrounding the Cathedral.
The weather was warm; the sweet scents of native blossoms were in the air. They began to walk along a meandering stone cobbled path bordered by lush foliage and flowering trees. They paused at a large, clear water pond jeweled in reflected sunlight. They took time to watch the iridescent glass eels slither along the bottom hunting for gill frogs. Their talk was light; nothing was said of Janis Owens until they came to a bench of polished elder wood. They made their way over to it and sat.
The Grand Patriarch began to describe, in earnest, the latest plans he had made to secure Janus Owens’ safety. After a long discussion and a few questions from his daughter, the Grand Patriarch said he was satisfied they still had a chance to save their people. As they rose to leave, he said to Sharné, “We must not falter in this, daughter. The Light cannot be extinguished.”
CHAPTER 16
So far, the voyage had taken a little more than two standard months. Owens spent the first month studying Golstar’s language. Based on snippets of momentary breaks in Golstar’s coded communications, intelligence agencies had concluded the people of Golstar used an archaic form of English. Fortunately, the primary trade language used in Confederated Planets had its roots in the ancient language. His sessions in the hypno-trainer insured he would be fluent by the time he arrived in the Golstar system. He didn’t want to think about how he would be hamstrung if it turned out they spoke something else entirely.
The remainder of the time, he spent with the prepared briefings on the current state of diplomacy practiced in Confederated Planets. It was unfortunate that the briefings had not been formatted for hypno-training. Forced to learn the old-fashioned way, he found the subject was much harder than the language lessons. He had trouble accepting the verbal chess play that was often required in diplomatic missions, and was confounded by the sensitivity required when dealing with unknown customs. Even after the countless hours of study and review, he felt less than fluent on the subject.
Three more ship days and the Sherlock Holmes would finally reach the border of the quarantine zone. It would take another two weeks to get to the outer planet in the Golstar system from there.
Owens rose from his chair and stretched. He rubbed his eyes and killed the holo-screen in his quarters, abruptly silencing in mid-sentence, Reynaud’s speech on the proper way to address royalty in comparison to elected officials. Enough of that, he thought. He could use some fresh air and a nice long walk by a wooded lake. He stifled a yawn and shrugged. He had never been in space for this long a period and he was more than ready to set his feet back on a planet, any planet.
Hec’s gruff voice broke the silence and informed him, by the AI’s reckoning, their distant escort would now depart. They were back on their own. Owens felt a little unsettled. The military ships had never made contact, but knowing they were out there provided some sense of security. He knew Hec was actively monitoring the surrounding space, looking for anything that could conceal an ambush. It would be another six hours before their next entrance into subspace.
He dropped into the chair and leaned back. The chair rocked and squeaked in protest. Although it sounded like it was ready to collapse, Owens was confident it would withstand his weight. As with practically everything else in the Holmes, the chair had been strengthened. When I’m around, he thought, everything has to be reinforced. He flexed his large biceps and sighed ruefully. It was too bad people couldn’t be reinforced to withstand his Loder physiology as well. That musing led to another.
He tried to shunt aside the thoughts that often crept into his mind at down-times like these, but again he found himself mired in the principal event that led to his leaving the police force. Publicly, he often attributed his departure to disaffection with the bureaucracy found in law enforcement and a desire to be his own boss. Although he had no love for the politicians-in-cop’s-clothing, he knew he would probably still be there if the Lawrence incident hadn’t happened.
● ● ●
Ten years before, the day had begun as routine, like most of Owens’ days on the force. He and his partner answered two calls that morning, following leads on illicit shipments of computer processor templates. His partner, Fred Starling had been a detective for sixteen years while Owens had been promoted only three years before. They normally worked out of vice, but for the last three months, they had been assigned to an organized-crime unit led by a special government investigative taskforce.
A syndicate, headed by twin brothers was believed to be responsible for a number of recent thefts involving sensitive electronic circuit boards used in sophisticated weapons guidance systems. In the wrong hands, the equipment could be used for a number of illegal operations. The use of weapons equipped with the stolen electronics could also result in devastating collateral damage to unsuspecting communities.
They had been partners for eleven months. Owens was driving as usual. As the senior partner, Starling took the lead in their investigations while Owens was given all the tasks Starling didn’t like, driving bein
g one particularly distasteful to the older detective. Police vehicles were not equipped with AIs, so Owens had to focus his attention on the street. Staring at a handheld digi-pad, Starling was reviewing his notes on their current assignment.
Starling scratched his paunch and looked over at Owens. His small dark eyes were half hidden beneath caterpillar eyebrows. He yawned dramatically and said, “Through brilliant detective work, I’ve been able to cross-reference the receipt printout you found under that empty cargo cube back to the Stone Billings Corporation.”
“Nice work, partner.” Owens smiled.
“Yeah, it traces back to a purchase they made two days ago for anti-static packing material; a bunch of it. It could be a link to the Lawrence brothers.” Although average in stature, he spoke in a deep gravelly baritone.
“Stone Billings,” Owens slowed for traffic, “Isn’t their primary business, major resource reclamation projects for the government?”
“Hey, I know it might be a stretch, but it’s all we got.” Starling defended.
“No, what I meant was what would they need the packing for and in such a large quantity? They’re basically a big contracting firm that acts as a clearinghouse for subcontracting reclamation work. They’ve been around for centuries doing this kind of work for the government. A large order for packing materials unrelated to their lines of business is unusual, so I think you might be right. This could be a solid lead.”
“Do I see smoke coming out of your ears?” Then Starling added, “But your thinking is tracking with mine. God, wouldn’t it be great if this was the lead we’ve been looking for?” Often, a seemingly minor mistake would provide a critical key in solving a case. “But let’s keep this one to ourselves, for the time being. If it turns out to be a false lead, I’d prefer not to provide the Gee-Gees with any more ammunition for their reports.”
Owens grinned. The term ‘Gee-Gees’ was Starling-speak for ‘Government Goons.’ The Gee-Gees in this case were the Confederated Planets Investigations Bureau agents who were leading the taskforce. Starling said, “Let’s check them out after lunch. Maybe we’ll get lucky and actually break the case. I’d dearly love to rub the Gee-Gees’ faces in it. If nothing pans out, then we’ll put it in a report and the Gee-Gees can order up a standard surveillance setup if they think it’s worth it.” Starling patted his round stomach with mock affection, “Now let’s get some lunch, Precious needs to be fed.”
After a quick lunch at Starling’s favorite greasy spoon, he directed Owens to the passenger side of their vehicle. “You’re in luck today, Owens my lad; I feel like driving. Uh, and while I’m at it, we’re going to need the layout of the Stone Billings building. Why don’t you pull a building profile at the address?”
Owens smiled. Starling liked working with data terminals even less than he did driving. Owen pushed a button on the dash and the com-link’s keyboard slid out of its slot. As usual, the vehicle’s voice interface was on the fritz. He laboriously typed a query into the database at headquarters. He was forced to give his current assignment ID to get access. If the Gee-Gees were alert, they might question this line of investigation. Owens mentally shrugged; he doubted they would ever lower themselves to look at the database access records. He quickly found what Starling had asked for.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the front of a large blocky building crowned with the Stone Billings Corporation’s logo; one of many scattered across the continent. The impellers gradually shunted down and the vehicle gently settled to the pavement. Tapping a number of membrane switches, Starling completed the engine shut down. The last indicator winked out and Starling muttered, “I hate driving these mobile junk piles.” He turned to Owens. “What do ya got? Did you run the building profile?”
“Yeah, I accessed our database and looks like at this time of day, there are six security types overseeing ten patrol ‘bots. According to the current log-in roster, there are about eight hundred overachievers working in the building right now. Most of the floors are taken up by processing and tracking computers.”
“That’s a lot of security,” Starling scratched his chin.
“The records show they had a major break-in about a year and a half ago. A bunch of disgruntled ex-employees stormed the place. They were laid off when the company lost some government contracts. They staged an old-fashioned sit-in. I remember because I got called in to help out. I seem to recall you were on vacation at the time.”
Starling smiled, “Oh yeah; I went to that resort off the Crystal peninsula. I got in some pretty good fishing. Yeah, I remember it now; they really trashed a couple of floors. It made a real splash in the local media.”
“Well, since then it looks like the company decided to beef up their security, though I can’t say I have much faith in the class four ‘bots that they use. They spend more time in the shop than they do on duty. Anyway, your digi-pad should now have the building schematics.” Owens tapped his own digi-pad.
Starling looked down at the small device in his hands. “Great, it’s time to make some good use of our flat feet.” Starling and Owens left the vehicle. “If we get any static, we’ll invoke our ‘Right of Access’ to gain entrance. Now let’s get to it. If we get finished early enough, I might get home in time to catch the second half of the game.” They started walking toward the entrance.
They entered a wide set of glass doors and headed for a prominent security station marked ‘Visitors.’ They inserted their badge cards into slots designated for official business and allowed their retinas to be flashed for ID confirmation. The bored guard sitting at the main desk returned their cards and asked what their business was.
Starling had a cover story ready and responded by saying it was just a routine investigation. He told the guard they were following up on complaints that a number of transport companies had joined together and were substituting legitimately ordered name-branded goods with shoddy facsimiles. These transport companies were reselling the genuine name-brands at a tidy profit.
He went on to say their investigation had led them to a number of companies unaware they had been getting products that were counterfeit; Stone Billings was a likely target and could be one of the companies getting the bogus goods. Starling asked to see the head of ‘Shipping and Receiving.’
As a standard security procedure, the guard had been recording the conversation. He pressed a recessed button on his console and forwarded the recording to the shipping department. The guard received a response on his screen within a few minutes. He told Starling and Owens to have a seat and someone would soon be down to escort them to the General Manager of Shipping and Receiving.
They sat down in the middle of a line of comfortable-looking chairs. Owens turned to Starling, who was watching a security robot trundle across the floor and disappear through a door marked ‘employees.’ “Why didn’t we just get a court order to access their records? We didn’t have to come here in person.”
Starling fingered his tie, frowning down at a new food stain. “Can’t; while we’re on this assignment, everything has to be cleared by the Gee-Gees. Besides, why piss off a corporation unnecessarily? The more I think about it, the more I think this is a red herring anyway. Let’s see if we can sell the tired-cops-going-through-the-motions routine. If they buy it and we don’t find anything, then there’s no harm.”
“I didn’t know you were a politician too.”
He grinned, “Hey, it can’t hurt. Maybe I’ll run for office after I retire from the force.” He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Here comes a suit. It’s about damned time.”
They saw a nondescript man in business attire walking towards them. They rose and were greeted by the General Manager’s assistant. The assistant led them to a lift and took them up to the twenty-fifth floor. A heavyset man in a baggy, one-piece over-suit greeted them and introduced himself as Jonas Wallenberg, head of Procurement, Shipping and Receiving.
Business cards were exchanged and Starling immediately launche
d into an embellished version of the story he told the guard. He told Wallenberg they had discovered that special packing for sensitive equipment had been switched with an inferior substitute. A number of companies had lost millions in damaged equipment using the fake packaging. He ended with showing the tattered printout of the receipt.
Wallenberg frowned. “That’s strange; I’m not aware we use this type of packaging.” He squinted at the flimsy, scanning it quickly and shook his head; his double chin jiggled. “Here, look at this.” With a pudgy finger, he pointed out the invoice number did not match the numbering hierarchy that Stone Billings used. Then he shrugged, “It is strange that it has our name and address.” Wallenberg went on and assured them he would look into it, but expressed doubt that he would find anything useful to their investigation. Then he paused for a moment, obviously struck by a sudden thought. He asked them to take a seat in his office.
Wallenberg went over to a scuffed terminal on the far side of the room and tapped something on the keyboard. Aloud he said, “Confirm my query.” A number of seconds passed and he nodded to the screen. “I may have something you might be interested in after all,” he said to the two detectives. “A few weeks ago we caught an employee accessing our shipping database without proper authorization. We weren’t able to determine that the employee had even broken through the first firewall, so we thought she hadn’t progressed very far into the system. It wasn’t thought to be worth a police report, but since it was a direct violation of our code of conduct, she was terminated last week.”
He looked down at the terminal and pressed a few more keys. He turned back to them and said, “I can’t access those records from this terminal. I doubt if this incident is in any way related to your case, but if you think it’s worth following up, you’re welcome to look. You’ll have to go down to Security. The personnel records were transferred from our Human Resources department over to them because of the nature of the termination. It’s standard company procedure.”
Shadows of Golstar Page 17