Last Man Out (Poor Man's Fight Book 5)
Page 6
“From the looks of it, you fit into that niche of the business fairly well,” said the caller. “I’m happy to list you with our registry. But obviously Fremantle has its share of charter ships. I wanted to clarify some of the other…availabilities your ship listed. A ship of your class normally has a longer list of unavailable destinations and a much lower cargo limit.”
“Most of our passenger accommodations can be converted to cargo space,” she explained. “It happens all the time. As for those destinations, we’re open to higher-risk charters, subject to vetting on our part.
“This ship saw combat as a support vessel in the Archangel-NorthStar conflict. She’s been refitted to mil-spec—sorry, military specifications. The crew are all veterans. We’ll consider high-risk charters on a case-by-case basis. Especially if it’s a humanitarian mission. We don’t make ourselves available for high-risk runs out of desperation, sir. We offer it because we know what we’re doing.”
Her caller smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear, captain. All too many spots in the Union are seeing tensions rise rather than fall. That makes demand harder to meet. I’ll put you into our registry. Don’t be surprised if you hear from us soon. Thank you for your time.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Lynette. The call cut out. She turned to Tanner.
“That guy wanted to ask if you’re open to smuggling without actually asking it,” he said with a wry grin.
“Everyone wants to know if independent ships are open to smuggling. Not everyone wants to hear ‘yes.’ And what the hell happened to you?” she asked, striding over to him with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. There were some delivery guys outside my place right before you called. We had an argument. The, uh, kinetic kind. Bit of weapons fire. This is why I don’t have any pets. I’d have five cats by now if I didn’t have to worry about this shit.”
“Oh my god,” said Lynette. “Wait, so you didn’t call the police? You came here? Do I need to tell the others to button up the ship?”
“Nobody’s going to catch and trace a thirty-second call from a ship to a holocom. That’s why I cut the call short. And anyone coming after me would have to get through spaceport security. I thought of that before I came over here.”
“Yeah, I suppose you would have,” she muttered.
“I cut the call short to cover us both. I don’t want to hide anything from you or the others.”
“So what happened?”
“They jumped back into their truck and took off.” Tanner shrugged. “They’re not going to turn up on the traffic grid. Guys like that disappear before the watch notice goes out. Besides, I already had an awkward talk with my personal constable today because they caught some other amateur at the spaceport last night with a knife and my picture or some nonsense. This would only get me more stink-eye from the police.”
Lynette processed it all with wide eyes. “Tanner, how much of this have you been dealing with?” she asked.
“The guy at the spaceport was only the second. The alley was the first time I’ve run into anybody.” He shook his head. “Anybody good enough to get me is gonna be somebody I won’t see coming. The rest of these guys are clowns.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” Lynette reached out to hold his hand, then dropped it as more thoughts occurred to her. “This isn’t like you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, I got hit in the head, if that’s what you’re asking. Look, I know how crazy this is. But I didn’t want to tie myself up with police bullshit just to hear, ‘Sorry, we can’t share any info.’ For all I know they’d stuff me in protective custody until after you left.”
“Are you kidding? Tanner, I’m not leaving you here to deal with this on your own.”
“Lyn, you have to. You can’t stay here indefinitely because of me. You’ve gotta buy fuel and supplies for this ship. Business loans to pay off. All that stuff.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. Instead, she leaned back against a dormant control panel. “Fuel and consumables aren’t that expensive,” she sighed. “Upkeep isn’t too hard, either. Not when we’re with the Guild and the civil defense reserve back home.
“The challenge is getting all eight of my people paid decently while keeping up with the loans for the ship. Even if we got this ship at a steal, those loans are still huge. Everyone in my crew has to make a living, too. The whole point to this was an equal share of every job. Unlimited earning potential as long as we can cover costs.” Her eyes turned back to his. “But we signed up together because we’re friends. You’re our friend, too.”
“I can’t ask that, Lyn,” Tanner replied. “You can’t, either.”
“Yeah, I know,” she sighed. “There has to be something I can do.”
A grin spread across his lips. “Can I crash with you while you’re here? You’ve got the best room on the ship.”
“Damn right. I put up the most money for the ship,” she laughed. “Everyone keeps spreading to the other guest rooms when we’re not carrying passengers, anyway. They’re starting to prefer the cargo runs even if they earn less money. It’s more comfortable when it’s just us.”
“How many of them prefer the ‘high-risk’ jobs?” Tanner asked. “Besides Val?”
“It’s not like we’re playing mercenary,” she assured with a teasing smirk. “Some people hear ‘combat veteran’ and think it means you’re special. We both know how overblown that is, but that’s marketing for you. We vet the risky jobs closely. If it’s a good cause? Sure. Same reason we signed up with the defense reserve. If Archangel goes to war again, how long do you think any of us would stay out of it?” She nudged his foot with hers. “Or you?”
“I made kind of a mess on the way out of the last one.”
“You did the right thing. I would’ve helped if you’d told me. Anyway, we all gave our depositions. Naval Intelligence and the Investigative Service went through all the salacious holo messages you sent me while we were in the service. Nothing came of that except some frowny faces from people I don’t have to care about anymore. We’re good.” The next nudge of her boot was a little firmer. “And you’re good at changing the subject, mister.”
“We haven’t talked in a while,” Tanner pointed out. “Letters don’t make up for everything.”
“Still changing it.”
“I’m fine,” he protested. “The bad guys took off. I can waste time giving the police basically zero leads or I can see you. Look, you called while I was standing in the alley with nothing but my bloody nose and the charges they dropped on their way, and—”
“Charges?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that part.”
“Explosives.”
“Couple kilos.”
“So you came out here to see me?” Lynette blinked.
“I didn’t leave it lying around in the alley!”
“What’d you do, stuff it all under your bed?”
“There’s no room to stuff anything under my bed, no,” Tanner muttered, looking away.
Lynette stared with her mouth agape. She tapped her small red jeweled earring, activating her holocom. “Crew link, audio,” she said to the automated menu. “Hey everybody, Tanner’s here. He’s fine but somebody sent a hit squad after him, so keep an eye out, okay?” Another tap to the earring killed the connection.
Tanner opened his mouth to speak. A beep from the bridge intercom cut him off. “There’s an L-7 and a spare magazine taped under the astrogation table if he wants,” Val announced. “It’s not legal on Fremantle but he can hide it in his waistband. And it slips past most sniffer units.”
He pointed to the intercom. “This is why most yachts don’t have a gunner’s mate in the crew,” he whispered.
“This is why mine does,” said Lynette. “Thank you, Val,” she called out, then cut the line. “Now you can change the subject.”
Tanner sighed. “I’ve got three days off from classes. How long are you here?”
“And then it’s back to Archangel?” He stepped closer. “Or are you picking up a ‘high-risk charter’ from the registry guy you were talking to when I came in?”
“No, it’s back to Archangel with our conference passengers and a cargo hold full of live Fremantle crabs.” She smiled at the invasion of personal space. “I thought the freelance registry might increase my chances of visiting more often.”
He slowly drew in to kiss her, savoring the taste of her lips and the feel of her skin. He felt her hand tugging at his shirt at the center of his chest, drawing him in for more. Then that hand closed into a fist and gently bumped him back.
“I had all these things I was gonna say when you first showed up,” she complained. “Then I saw you all bloody and now I can’t remember any of it because you’re so ridiculous.”
“I was wondering if I should sweep you off your feet as soon as I saw you or if that would be laying it on too thick,” said Tanner.
“Yeah, that would be weird. And anticlimactic. I don’t know how you’d carry me down the ladder to my room. Don’t sweep. No sweeping.”
He nodded, his forehead against hers. “I’m glad we talk these things out.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
“They didn’t see this—they didn’t see him coming?”
“No, sir. We made a mistake, we own that.”
“You people are supposed to be expert professionals. Christ, I’m an interstellar trade lawyer and I could’ve seen this coming.” Though the plush chair of Brad’s lavish hotel suite threatened to swallow him with its upholstery, it didn’t relax him. He rubbed his temple with one hand and held a drink in the other. He was bound to need several more.
“Yes sir,” said the holographic man before him. “As I’ve explained before, the target holds to sound counter-surveillance principles. He doesn’t have to be an expert to be difficult to follow without being spotted. I lost him leaving the university and made the call to head to his usual gym, hoping to catch him there. Unfortunately he went home right as the rest of the team found a window of opportunity to deliver their package.”
Through the man’s holographic dark coat and beard, Brad had a great view of Fremantle’s gorgeous coastline at sunset. It brought him no joy. “So how bad is it? How long before we have police problems? Do I need to leave the planet?”
“No, sir. We lost some inventory, but nothing that could be traced back to us or to you. As it happens, we don’t see any sign of a police alert. It’s possible they’re trying to play it quiet in the hopes of luring us into a hospital or making some other mistake.”
“So you guess,” Brad observed.
“Yes, sir. That’s how it works in a situation like this.”
“Do you have situations like this often?”
“Not this specifically, no sir. But covert operations always involve some level of adversity. A good team can turn that into opportunity. We will.”
“How?”
“We’re working on it now.”
Brad’s lips twitched. He downed the rest of his whiskey. “You said there were minor injuries and lost inventory? What does that mean?”
“One of our guys has laser burns through one leg and across his back. His protective weave cut down on the worst of it. The rest is the sort of sprains and bruises you’d pick up in a bar fight. They’ll all be fine within forty-eight hours.”
“Laser burns? One of your guys was shot? So Malone has a gun?” Brad grumbled. He forgot about the rest of his question. This was bad enough. “What kind of opportunity are you going to find if you can’t move again for another forty-eight hours?”
“Sir, we recovered the gun. My operative watching the target’s residence says it looks like he isn’t home. He probably fled the area and doesn’t plan to return right away. That’s reasonable. However, given what we have seen so far, the target seems determined to lead a normal civilian life in spite of his circumstances. The long hair, the use of his public identity, the college schedule—it all points to a strong denial of his situation. We know he’s in post-trauma counseling, and that sort of denial lines right up with common symptoms. He’s careful, but he’s not consistent. Sooner or later he’ll return.
“If we see police back-up, we’ll hold off. You specified minimal collateral damage. But if I’m right, he’ll give us another opportunity. In all fairness, if you take a close look at Malone’s record, he generally gets by on the element of surprise. That’s what happened here, too. He’s not a serious professional. We’ll get him. We only need to be patient and not let it get personal.”
Brad’s face darkened. “It felt pretty personal when Archangel decided platinum shareholders were military targets. I don’t take being held hostage lightly. And that’s to say nothing of how much money they cost me. I watched two decades of investments evaporate in three years. I had clients go from being millionaires to paupers. Some of them even blamed me.
“That fucking kid was right there at the center of it. He walked right past me covered in blood. I can’t do much to get back at his star system or his bosses, but I can get to him.”
“Sir, our previous employer collapsed during the war,” said the agent. “We have a stake in this, too. This one was dumb luck. Next time, we’ll get him.”
* * *
“I think I celebrated too much.” The pillow muffled Danielle’s complaint, but it was clear enough for the woman beside her in the bed.
Naomi turned her head toward her partner. She hadn’t made a sound, but Danielle always knew when Naomi was awake. Neither of them were early risers if they could help it. “Are you saying there’s a limit to your love for me?” she asked. “There’s a limit to your joy at being with me for the rest of our lives?”
“…Yes.”
“I feel so disillusioned,” said Naomi.
“I’m disillusioned with whatever we drank last night.”
“You might hurt less if you didn’t sleep on your face.”
Danielle climbed out of bed with continued grunts and other plaintive noises. Movement toward the bathroom brought up the dimmest settings on the lights. Naomi watched her shambling silhouette with a grin. The door closed, only to open up again.
“Hey. We’re out of Rejuvi-Stim,” Danielle croaked.
“It’s a hangover. You’ll feel better if you let it pass naturally.”
“No. No nature. I want science.”
“I’ll order some up.” Naomi reached for her holocom on the nightstand as Danielle closed the door again. The surcharge for the building’s internal delivery service seemed worthwhile if she could stay in bed longer. A holographic menu flashed up in front of her, soft and red in accordance with the bedroom’s environmental settings. Naomi winced at the time—was it really that late in the day already? How long had they been up? Then she noted Russell’s unchecked message, along with a follow-up. Almost out of habit, she ran her finger over the holographic icon to open it.
“Please call me,” read the second message. “I feel awful about this.”
Her eyes opened up a little more. She swiped the second message closed and checked the first. Then her eyes snapped wide.
She sat upright, scouring the messages twice to make sure this wasn’t a dream or a misread.
“No,” she said flatly. “No, you do not… Holocom. Russell Jones. Call.” She stared at the screen as if her gaze would force the man on the other end of the connection to pick up faster. He’d better be ready for this call and not—Naomi blinked in sudden realization as the screen shifted to holo mode. She jerked the comforter up over her chest.
Russell’s head and shoulders appeared over her lap, turning to face her with a nervous frown. “Hey, Naomi,” he began.
She didn’t have time for timidity. “Russell, what the hell?”
“Um. Are you calling from…bed?” he asked. “Is this a bad time?”
“Yes! Yes, it’s a bad time! We’re leaving in less than two weeks. Of course this is a bad time to pull out. It’s a terrible time to pull out! What are you doing to me, Russell?”
“Naomi, have you read the travel advisory?”
“Oh my god. Russell. They put those things out because of politics. It’s a cover-your-ass move so they can say they shake their finger at governments they don’t like.”
Russell shook his head. “When someone wants to ‘cover their ass,’ they don’t use language like, ‘We advise against travel to Minos in the strongest terms.’ You haven’t read it, have you?”
“Are you telling me we’ve worked on this for months and you didn’t know anything about where we were going until now?”
“I knew what the professor told us and what was in the travel write-ups. Minos is a little far out and a little low on the list of priorities for the news unless you go digging.”
“What the hell are you so worried about?”
“They have an insurgency there, Naomi. Their military has had emergency powers for twelve years now—and most of that military is an outside contracting service.”
“So? Lots of people use security service contractors.”
“They’re mercenaries, Naomi. What does it say about a planet that they’d rather outsource their military than recruit from their own people? Can they not get their own people to sign up? Do they not trust their own population?”
“I don’t know.”
“The legal system there isn’t even close to ours. Especially if you’re detained by the military. Crime is sky-high compared to Fremantle. People get mugged, murdered, kidnapped… did you know we have kidnapping insurance on this trip? You don’t think that’s a giant red flag?”
“It’s folded in with all the other insurance we had to purchase!” she snapped. “Everyone has five kinds of insurance. Hell, there’s a clause in the insurance for infections by unclassified organisms. That’s how this stuff works.”