Catherine leaned down and gave him a shallow hug. This was the price of doing business, she reminded herself, although she always wanted to take a shower after dealing with Matsushita. He was slippery, both physically and mentally.
“Matsushita, I apologize for intruding upon your household before the appointed day and hour. Circumstances have arranged themselves in such a way that it is imperative we conclude our business arrangement now.”
From the edge of her vision, she saw Brant step around so he could see Matsushita. Lilly stayed where she was, watching the occupants of the three cars from within firing range, although her dart gun was hidden under her short jacket.
Bedivere stepped up to Catherine’s other side.
Matsushita looked up at him and his eyes widened. “Ah! So this is the recipient for whom you have gone to so much trouble.” He studied Bedivere. “You are quite old. I see why you want to rush this matter. But, let us talk about that inside and out of this cold wind.”
* * * * *
When they reached the yard beside the big farmhouse, Matsushita wanted them to come inside to settle around his household table to eat and drink with him. Catherine knew it was the polite thing to do, but she refused as diplomatically as she could. Now that they were so close to finalizing this business, she just wanted it to be over and done with.
Matsushita didn’t like her refusal. His tiny features crimped into a scowl. But he bowed toward her—a sign of respect that looked odd, for his short and rotund shape did not bend in the middle. “Everyone is in too much hurry to get to business these days!” he declared.
“My hurry is not because I shun your company, Matsushita. The trouble that I spoke of when we met just now…there’s a chance it might have followed us here.” That was a flat out lie. Nothing had shown on the sensors. But it would mollify Matsushita’s pride.
Matsushita’s eyes narrowed as he considered her. “Come. Come…” He turned toward the big working sheds on the opposite side of the yard. “To business we must go.”
They trooped across the yard behind him, with Brant and Lilly fanning out to the side, gazing around with indifferent expressions as they assessed the handful of people lingering in the yard. Catherine had already managed to glance at each of them at least once. Most of them, from their clothing and the amount of dirt ground into it, she judged were farmers and farmhands. The lands around the house and workshops had to be tended.
But there were two whose clothes were far too clean and neat. Both of them, a man and a woman, bracketed the group as they headed for the biggest of the sheds. There was a very large door that took up the full height of the shed. About twenty meters high, Catherine guessed. It was almost as wide as it was high. It had been slid aside by a few meters, to make a human-size opening.
Matsushita passed through, waving to one side as he did. There had probably been an active force field that he had deactivated with the wave to allow them through. The yard and the buildings around the house would have to look like working farm buildings, so security would be tight, but unobtrusive. The first time she had visited, three years ago, she had been shown into the house itself and they had come to their arrangement over tea and shortcakes. This would be the first time she had gained access to any of the sensitive areas.
There was an ion light baffle just inside the door, shaped in a semi-circle, creating a dimly lit area that would have two benefits—new arrivals who had gotten past the force field guarding the door would have to pause to let their vision adjust. Also, from the outside, the view in through the door would look appropriately like a working farm shed, dim and dingy and filled with seasonal machinery. The dirt on the floor and the smell of old oil and dust added to the impression.
There would be monitors focused on the dark area, along with scanners and most likely some sort of lethal weapon, too. Just for emergencies.
Catherine stepped through the barrier, her skin prickling, into a clean, white, brightly lit room and looked around as the others passed through and grouped silently about her.
Matsushita had moved ahead, into another area hidden behind partial walls that divided the big area up into working space dedicated to the mysterious functions of his business.
The air was cool and odorless and the overall sense was one of cleanliness, even sterility. Matsushita’s reputation in the black market was excellent for a reason.
No one spoke. The atmosphere and the quiet sense of industry repressed casual chatter. Catherine was aware of her own rising tension and deliberately relaxed her muscles. Quick reactions were slowed by muscles held too stiffly.
Matsushita reappeared with two technicians in tow, both of them carrying mobile equipment. “Here, here, this is the one,” he told them and pointed out Bedivere.
“They need to match your DNA,” Catherine murmured to him. “To confirm it is your mule.”
Bedivere nodded and stepped forward.
The taller of the two technicians picked up his hand and placed it on a flat scanning pad. The pad hummed. “Thank you,” the technician murmured and stepped back, giving Bedivere back his hand.
Bedivere shook it and studied the fingertips. From many scans she’d had herself, Catherine knew his fingers would be tingling.
Matsushita was standing well to one side of them, a hand on the countertop there, watching the technicians. The second one seemed to be simply waiting, the array of equipment he had brought with him sitting by his hip.
“I must confess, Mr. Sheraton,” Matsushita said, as the first technician frowned down at the scanning pad, “that I did wonder if you would produce the mysterious recipient of the mule, when we first struck our bargain.”
“I paid you a suitable bonus to work from a sample, rather than the subject himself, on the understanding that when the mule was ready, the subject would be produced,” Catherine reminded him. In fact, the price had been staggering, but it was the only way the purchase could be made. It was also the reason she had been forced to use a bootlegger.
The technician staring at the pad nodded and hurried away.
Matsushita smiled broadly. “Indeed, you have lived up to your end of the deal completely. Mr. Ayers here will be able to prep Mr. Bedivere for the transfer—”
“I want to see the mule, first,” Catherine said.
Matsushita blinked. “That is a most unusual request,” he said, playing for time.
“We started from an unusual arrangement,” she reminded him. “DNA samples are not as reliable as fresh markers. I want to see the mule for myself.”
“Me, too,” Bedivere said quietly.
Brant shifted around from behind Catherine to stand to her right and just a little in front of her. It put Matsushita directly opposite him. It wasn’t a hostile move, but Matsushita would recognize the strategic position.
Matsushita tilted his head. “You aren’t sterile.”
“The mule is fully formed,” Bedivere said. “The danger of infection would have passed about six months ago.”
“Fully formed, yes, but as Mr. Sheraton pointed out when we met, you have arrived early. It is like plucking a manolilly before its time.”
“We passed fields of manolillies on our way here,” Catherine said. “They were all just buds and they were all performing just fine.”
Matsushita bowed. “You are my customer. I want only to please you.”
His servility didn’t fool Catherine. Matsushita wanted his money and she was holding the final balance.
He waved toward the second technician, who had been listening to the conversation with placid curiosity. He had probably witnessed far stranger conversations, working for Matsushita. He also hurried away behind the wall.
The silence lengthened. Bedivere didn’t glance at her and no one spoke. She was grateful for their discretion. Bedivere was playing this perfectly—the wealthy client with peculiar demands and no patience.
A low humming announced the arrival of the mule. The sled eased through the gap in the walls and came
toward them, buoyed by suspension fields. The tall technician was steering it with a hand on the back end. There was an opaque cover over the top of it.
The sled turned side-on to them and stopped half a meter away from Bedivere. He stepped forward and removed the cover and looked down.
Brant drew in a harsh breath, loud and startling in that white room. Catherine glanced at him. He was staring down at the sled, the lines on either side of his mouth deep as he held in his reaction.
Lilly moved closer to look at the sled, too. “It’s very young,” she observed.
The body on the sled was a duplicate of Bedivere. They had not tampered with the genetic markers as per Bedivere’s request. But the mule looked much younger than Bedivere himself, which was understandable. Bedivere had been holding back most of the symptoms of passing time with the handful of rejuvenation therapies that worked on male DNA—the ones that were available in the fringes. There were others that Catherine had taught herself to administer, too. But Bedivere was nearly a hundred years old and despite the off-setting therapies, he looked like a man in his forties.
The mule had been ripened to the point where it looked like it was in its twenties. The eyes were closed, the face was bland and neutral. With no brain functions and no personality, it had not had a chance to acquire wrinkles from laughter or frowning. No weather had touched the flesh. There were no scars, no imperfections from a life lived hard or well.
The hair was several inches long, but the same golden brown she was used to. The body was covered by a modesty sheet, but not to hide the nakedness. Various pieces of equipment would be attached for monitoring, feeding and bodily functions. To the lay person they could look alarming.
Her gaze moved back to the face. The mule was perhaps too young for Bedivere’s tastes, but the shortened timeline meant they couldn’t wait for the full maturation process to be completed. Besides, time itself would correct the condition.
Catherine reached into her jacket and withdrew the portable terminal and punched up her financial screen. “Bedivere, are you satisfied?”
Bedivere looked down at himself, a small frown forming. “Yes,” he said distantly.
Catherine nodded. “I’m sending the final balance to you, Girisha.”
Matsushita clapped his hands together sharply. “This is very good. My therapists will be able to complete the transfer within a few hours. You will come to the house and rest and eat and we will pass time together.”
“I’m afraid that just isn’t going to happen,” Catherine said, completing the transfer. She put the terminal away and looked at Matsushita. “We’ll just take the mule and be on our way.”
Matsushita’s mouth opened wide. So did his eyes.
Lilly glanced at Catherine, puzzled.
Brant, thankfully, didn’t move. His hand was resting on the butt of the gun and his gaze was on Matsushita and unwavering.
Matsushita recovered from his shock. “You cannot just take the mule. Not without transferring to it first. That is…that would be….” He swallowed, horror showing in his eyes.
Catherine nodded in sympathy. Stealing mules was possibly the most abhorred crime in the galaxy. But this was different and she had to make everyone see that. “We’ll take care of the transfer at the appropriate time, Girisha. I’m a good therapist. Good enough to complete a transfer, which is simple enough.”
“But…there will be two of him!” Matsushita cried.
Brant was breathing heavily, but his concentration hadn’t slipped. His hand was still on his gun, even if the knuckles were white. This had to be jarring his moral compass, but Matsushita was doing enough protesting for both of them.
“This is Bedivere’s mule,” she pointed out. “He owns the DNA. You just established that for yourself. It’s not stealing if he wants to take his own mule away.”
“But this is unheard of!” Matsushita said, throwing his hands up.
Catherine glanced at Brant. He swallowed and nodded. He was ready. His eyes were troubled but there wasn’t time to deal with his dilemma. She didn’t reach for her gun. Not yet.
“Girisha,” she said, pulling the little man’s attention away from the sled. “It has been pleasurable doing business with you, but you must understand that we are going to take the mule with your cooperation or without it. I would rather have your cooperation.”
Matsushita wrung his hands together. “But if word ever passes that I allowed two of the same man to co-exist, that I let a mule pass beyond my control, I would be ruined. No one would trust me with their DNA anymore.”
“You knew that this was a different sort of commission when you took the job,” Catherine told him. “You were happy enough to build a mule from a sample. I could have gotten that sample anywhere. Why didn’t you protest then? Or did the amount I was willing to pay you for your cooperation overcome your objections then?”
“The mule would have stayed under my control until the transfer,” Matsushita replied. “If you had not produced the original, I would have destroyed it out of hand. I am a bootlegger, yes, but this is…it is just wrong.”
“You’re going to have to live with an extra degree of illegality in your life then,” Catherine said. She looked at Lilly. “Take it and go. As fast as you can. Whatever happens, you don’t look back and you don’t stop. Get it aboard.”
Lilly nodded and stepped to the steering end of the sled. The technician moved away quickly, as if her closeness might contaminate him. He was obedient enough to his employer not to say anything aloud, but Catherine could see the indecision and distaste in his expression.
Lilly got the sled moving and steered it between Catherine and Brant.
Matsushita took a step after it and Brant instantly drew his gun. He didn’t quite point it at the man, but he moved the muzzle, silently telling Matsushita to move back.
Matsushita took two steps back, his hands raised. “You force me to cooperate,” he said and contrarily, he sounded much happier.
“You can tell everyone we stole the mule at the point of a gun, if you think that will save your reputation, Girisha. But if I were you, I’d bribe your staff to silence, scrub the electronic records and pretend that you’d never met me or taken this commission. That would be the safest course for you.”
One of the muscle people, the man from outside the shed, moved around the group of them and bent to whisper in Matsushita’s ear.
Matsushita jumped like he’d been shot and glared at Catherine. “The Federation is landing in my fields! What have you done?”
Fright ripped through her. “That’s not possible.”
Bedivere turned and gripped her arm. “Let’s go,” he said urgently. “There was no warning. They’re to the south of the house, only a kilometer away. It’s a terrain vehicle and they came in cloaked. Hurry!”
Chapter Nineteen
Catherine was the fastest runner out of the three of them, but she kept pace with Bedivere and Brant as they burst out onto the dirt track that led directly back to the ship.
“We have to slow them down!” she said, as they ran. “We have to give Lilly time to get back to the ship.”
Lilly was a hundred meters in front of them, walking at a fast pace with the sled ahead of her, one hand on the corner. That was about as fast as an automated sled could go.
“There’s no cover,” Brant said, glancing around.
“For a while, the house itself will cover us,” Bedivere said. “Once they move beyond the house, though….”
“Then we’re going to have to dig in and pin them down.”
“Dig into what?” Brant asked. “The ground?”
“Fox holes,” Bedivere said. He’d grasped her intention. “Brant, you’ve got a grenade or two on you?”
“Of course.”
“Give me one.”
“You?”
Bedivere stopped jogging, bringing them all to a halt. He held out his hand.
Brant dug in his pocket and pulled out a crispy cracker and handed it
over. Bedivere activated the sphere and the electronic warble quickly climbed through the octaves. He turned and threw it straight up the road, farther north of their position. It was a powerful throw and the cracker soared in a high arc and came down. As it landed on the dirt, it exploded.
Sand and rocks erupted upward, mixed with the incandescent flames that gave the grenade its name. The sound blast made Catherine wince and turn her shoulder into it, closing her eyes against the dazzling light.
“Into the crater,” Bedivere told Brant. “It’ll give us cover while we hold them off. Afterward, the hole will slow them down.”
They ran for the crater.
Lilly glanced back at the blast, but kept moving as ordered, stepping up her pace to the maximum speed she could get out of the sled.
The edges of the hole the cracker had created were blackened and crumbling. They flaked away at their touch. All three of them squatted in the meter-deep trench and watched over the top, looking toward the farmhouse. There was movement in the yard, but no Federation troops. Yet.
“What else do you have in your pockets?” Catherine asked Brant, pulling out the dart gun out of her coat pocket and the mini-fletchette from underneath it. She laid both guns on the road surface.
“You should go back to the ship, too,” Bedivere told her. “The two of us can slow them down.”
“Not until that mule is on the ship. They’re coming for me, Bedivere. If I’m in this hole, that’s where they’re going to aim for. I’ll run when it’s time to run and not before.”
Bedivere opened his mouth to respond, then shut it and nodded. “Brant, do you have another gun? Even a knife?”
Brant looked startled. Then he shook his head. “Just enough for both of my hands.”
Bedivere picked up Catherine’s dart gun. “I can throw rocks and when they get closer this will be useful.” He dug into the side of the crater, uncovering rocks and mounding them in front of him.
“There they are,” Brant said. “Coming around the west side of the yard. Matsushita must have told them to get off his land, so they’re going around.”
Faring Soul - Science Fiction Romance Page 13