by Peter Grant
“Of course.”
“I respectfully submit to this council that we all know Pal Sejdiu. The Patriarch himself appointed him to his present position, five years ago. He has proved his dedication and commitment by sacrificing his son, Alban, who died aboard our armed fast freighter Ilaria when she was destroyed by Hawkwood. I understand his wife, too, has been absent for some time on a mission of great importance, although Pal has never given any details of it.
“I believe there is no better candidate to replace Halil Kuqo on this council than Pal Sejdiu. I hereby nominate him for election, and propose that he should be responsible for pursuing the question of a planet to be the new home of the Brotherhood.”
Agim thought fast. Pal has certainly earned that by his words this morning – and he has spoken well of me. It will be valuable to have such a voice on the Council. Let me ensure his ongoing support, by supporting him now. He nodded. “I second the nomination.”
“And I!” “I, too!” Other councilors jumped to their feet in support.
“Let us vote, brothers,” Agim said firmly. “All those in favor?”
Every hand was raised.
“Very well. Pal Sejdiu, you are hereby elected to the Council of the Brotherhood; and, by acclamation, you are tasked with the responsibility of finding us a new home. I am sure you are the best man for that job. Congratulations, and thank you.”
It took some time for order to be restored. Pal’s hand was shaken again and again, and hugs of warm congratulation were exchanged. Finally, Agim was able to say, “I want you to begin your work right away, Pal. What do you need?”
“Three things, Mr. Chairman. I must first return to our base, to hand over my responsibilities there to my deputy. He is a capable man, and will do a good job. From there I must head for Neue Helvetica, to investigate the United Planets’ auction procedures, make contact with their authorized brokers, and see what planets may be available from exploration companies. I shall need the use of one of our courier vessels for that. If that ship is needed for other missions, I shall require authorization to charter one at Neue Helvetica for a year or so, so that I may send ours back to our base at once. Third, I shall need access to our accounts on Neue Helvetica, both to draw expenses, and to arrange for the transfer of funds to a UP broker if we bid for a planet.
“I have two more requests, Mr. Chairman. I should like this Council to define a set of minimum requirements for our new planet. That will help rule out those that are unsuitable, without wasting any time investigating them. However, our requirements should be realistic and practical, not flights of fancy we cannot afford. Next, I suggest another, more senior councilor should accompany me, starting right away. Two heads are better than one, and an older head is often wiser than a younger. Also, I am new to the Council. A more experienced councilor will help me act in accordance with its traditions and wishes, leading to fewer problems later.”
“I see no problem with any of that,” Agim agreed. “As for someone to accompany you, I suggest Gjerg Hyka. He nominated you to this council, after all, and all of us know and trust him.” He is also one of the dissenters who oppose me, he thought to himself. If he works with you at Neue Helvetica, he will be out of my way here. “If the Council agrees, we can give you joint signing authority on our accounts. You will be a check and a balance on each other, which protects us; and that will save you having to return here every time you need a signature.” More nods and murmurs of approval.
“I thank you for your trust in Pal and I, brothers,” Gjerg said, tears of gratitude in his eyes. “We shall not fail you!”
9
Infiltration
NEUE HELVETICA
“Good evening, Henry.”
Henry Martin looked up as a man slid into the seat opposite him in the booth. “Hello, Gustav.” He slid a menu across the table to the new arrival. “Are you hungry?”
“At this time of day, always. I won’t need the menu. I’m a regular here. That’s why I suggested it as our rendezvous.”
“What do you suggest?”
“At a place called Das Schnitzelhaus, what do you expect? Their jaegerschnitzel is famous. It’s served with spätzle and a rich mushroom gravy.”
“That’s what I’ll have, then. For you as well?”
“Why not? Try their house pilsener. It’s a light beer, but very flavorful. I’ll have it too.”
“Anything you say.” Henry signaled to a waitress, and gave her their order. As she walked away, he added, “I’d expected to find German-style restaurants on Neue Helvetica, but I didn’t realize they were so dominant. With the United Planets headquartered here, I thought you’d have had a wider variety.”
“Oh, we do – just not here. This district is very German, culturally speaking. Go over to the Ausländerplatz and several streets around it, and you can’t move for competing cuisines.”
“I’ll try it sometime, when I have time to relax and enjoy myself – but not tonight. This is business.”
“Yes, and I have business news for you. In fact, my news is so good that I think I should charge you fifty thousand francs for it, instead of twenty-five.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “You going back on our deal?”
“No. We’ve dealt fairly in the past, and I won’t change that. Even so, when you’ve heard what I have to tell you, be honest. If it isn’t all you wanted, and much more, I’ll say no more. If it’s as good as I think it is, how about a bonus?”
“All right. That’s fair.”
The waitress slid two glasses of a light-colored beer onto the table, and departed with a swish of her skirts. Henry sipped his brew. “This is good! All right, tell me.”
Gustav lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure they would not be overheard. “There’s an account manager in Hoffmann Geiger, the brokerage the United Planets uses to administer the escrow account for bidders in their planetary auctions. His name is Hans-Jurgen Knappe. He likes to gamble, but his appetites have exceeded his skills and his luck. He earns about eighty thousand francs per year, but he currently owes the Spielbank Garmat almost six hundred thousand. The casino initially bankrolled his losses – they do that with many clients, you understand, because loaning them money at very high interest rates is very profitable for them.” Henry nodded.
“In this case, their tolerance was misplaced. Last month, Hans-Jurgen got in over his head at poker. It was supposed to be a low-stakes game, but the liquor was flowing freely, and players had money to burn, and the dealer let it get out of hand. The stakes rose, and the betting went wild. The game ended with Hans-Jurgen down over three hundred thousand francs for the night. He’d had too much to drink, which is rare for him. It must have affected his judgment. He asked repeatedly for more house credit. The dealer kept on signing his notes, which was foolish of him. He has since been… disciplined, if you follow me.”
Henry restrained an urge to wince in sympathy. The Spielbank Garmat was run by the Gesellschaft, the dominant criminal network on Neue Helvetica, which used the casino to launder much of its ill-gotten gains. The Society was unlikely to forgive any of its employees who cost it money by overstepping their boundaries. It was reputed to make brutal, bloody examples of offenders in its ranks, in order to ‘educate’ the survivors.
“On top of his previous losses, that makes Hans-Jurgen a very poor credit risk indeed. The Gesellschaft has given him until the end of this month to reduce his debt to no more than five hundred thousand francs. If he succeeds, he’ll have one year to reduce the balance to two hundred and fifty thousand, which was his previous limit – and they’ll charge him a steep rate of interest while he does so. He also has to pay them at least two per cent of the outstanding balance every month, and he’s not allowed to gamble anywhere, even for no stakes at all. He’s been warned that he’ll be watched, and disobedience will be treated harshly.”
Henry frowned. “That’s odd. I’d have thought the Gesellschaft would prefer to use him to help them steal money from the
bank, in return for writing off his debt.”
“Ah, there’s the problem. You see, Hans-Jurgen is an honest man. He won’t steal. I don’t know how he reconciles that ethic with his compulsive gambling habit, but there you are. Since they can’t use him that way, they’re getting tough.”
“Hmmm. Perhaps they’re trying to break down his scruples through sheer necessity.”
Their food arrived. Henry waited until the waitress had departed, then sampled a mouthful of his jaegerschnitzel, mushroom gravy and egg noodles. It was delicious. He chewed, swallowed, and said, “So he has to find almost a hundred thousand francs within three days?”
“Yes – but he hasn’t got a hope in hell of doing so. His home is already mortgaged, so he can’t pledge that. Also, being a manager in a leading financial brokerage, he’s known throughout the banking sector here. If it became known that he had a gambling problem, and he’d accumulated so much debt, Hoffmann Geiger would fire him on the spot. No other bank or brokerage would hire him. For that reason, he can’t apply for bank credit to cover his debt to the casino. It’d be sure to get back to his employers. They’d want to know why he needed it.”
A slow smile spread across Henry’s face. “So, if he were offered a lifeline, he’d likely grab it?”
“That depends on the lifeline. He needs one, for sure. You see, his wife is very attached to their social status. If he was disgraced – or disgraced her – by being found out, she’d probably file for divorce. The judge would most likely see his gambling problem as evidence that he’s not fit to be a parent. She’d almost certainly be awarded sole custody of their son and daughter. He dotes on them. I don’t think he could handle that, so, yes, I think he’ll grab at any reasonable lifeline.”
“You said he won’t steal. In return for the money, would he provide information, do you think?”
“About his employers, probably not. Other companies or entities… he has no personal loyalty to them, so I think he’d be open to persuasion. He’ll probably be even more open if you promise more money over time, to get his debt back down to a manageable level.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Henry took out the envelope and handed it to Gustav. “You’ve earned that – and I agree, this looks very promising. If you help me make contact with him, and if we come to an agreement, and if he delivers, I’ll double your money.”
Gustav opened the envelope and riffed through the banknotes swiftly, then smiled. “The prospect of more money is like the aroma of fine brandy in my nostrils.”
“Then let’s see if we can’t provide enough of it to get you nicely drunk, shall we?”
“I’ll drink to that!”
They toasted each other solemnly with their beers.
Hans-Jurgen Knappe waited miserably for his ride to arrive. He was bundled in a warm coat and scarf against the chilly winter wind, but it bit deep. His nose was already red from exposure. When the doorman at the employee entrance signaled him, he hurried to the autotaxi and slid into the front-row seat without even looking around. The door slid shut with a whoosh, and the vehicle accelerated smoothly into the stream of traffic as he set his briefcase down on the seat beside him.
A voice from the second row of seats said quietly, in mildly accented German, “Good evening, Hans-Jurgen.”
He spun around. The man sitting behind him had a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, and a cap pulled low over his forehead. He was wearing shaded glasses that made it difficult to see his eyes.
“Who – who the devil are you? What are you doing in my cab?”
“You can call me Heinrich,” Henry told him. “Don’t worry, I’m not from the casino, and I’m not here to harm you – just the opposite, in fact. I may be your guardian angel in disguise.”
“W-what do you mean? Where are we going?” He looked wildly out of the window as the cab accelerated up an on-ramp to join a multi-lane freeway.
“I’ve told the autopilot to ride around the city on the ring road until you and I have had a chance to talk. You need to raise a hundred thousand francs by the day after tomorrow, don’t you?”
The banker’s face crumpled as beads of sweat suddenly stood out on his brow. “Y-yes. H-how did you know?”
“I know a lot about you, Hans-Jurgen. Take a look at this.”
The other man switched on the dome light above their heads, then took a fat wallet from inside his coat and opened it, riffling through a thick wad of banknotes. In the light, Hans-Jurgen could see that they were thousand-franc notes.
“There’s a hundred banknotes in there, my friend. With a little help from you, they can be yours by this time tomorrow night. What’s more, we’re going to need more help over the next few months. If you provide it, there are five hundred more notes like this tucked away somewhere safe. They can be yours. That would wipe out everything you owe the Spielbank Garmat, and leave you free and clear.”
There was a long silence as the banker stared at the open wallet, mouth open, eyes bulging. At last he said hoarsely, “I – I will not steal.”
“I haven’t asked you to. I don’t even want any of your employer’s confidential information. You don’t have to do a thing that would betray their trust in you, or yours in them.”
“Then… what do you want from me?”
“There’s an outfit I’m investigating. It’s official. Look.” Heinrich closed the wallet and slid it back into his jacket, then took out an official-looking ID wallet. Opening it, he displayed a metal badge in the form of a shield, and a laminated credential card. Hans-Jurgen noticed at once that the line providing the name of the bearer was masked with a strip of tape.
“I’m an insurance investigator from New Skyros,” the stranger continued. “Criminals defrauded one of our clients of a very large sum. We’ve traced them to Neue Helvetica. Now we have to learn the name of the front company they’ve set up, and find out more about their bank accounts. With that information, we can put a trace on its transactions and tie them to what happened on our planet. That will help us recover our money.”
“Why do you not go to the authorities?”
The other man sighed, as if a child was trying his patience, as he clicked off the light. “Oh, come on, Hans-Jurgen! You know what would happen. Local investigators would have to get involved, dragging everything through the planetary bureaucracy for months. That might alert our targets to what we’re doing. Even if it doesn’t, and arrests are made, it’ll take a year or two for the case to wend its way through your court system. The money would have all that time to vanish into other accounts; and, even if it didn’t, we’d take heavy losses through not being able to use it, and not earning interest on it. We’re talking tens of billions of francs – far too much money to risk like that. It’ll be much better to track down the culprits ourselves, and persuade them to hand it over or make restitution in some other way. That’s where you come in.”
“B-billions, you said?”
“Yes. Our client is an asteroid mining corporation.”
The banker sounded unwillingly impressed. “Ah! I see. That industry deals in very large sums.”
“Yes, it does – which is why we’re willing to be generous to the person who helps us recover them. We think the thieves are going to use the funds to put down a deposit on a planet at the bi-annual UP auction.”
“W-why would thieves do that?”
“Because there’s a lot of money to be made from a new colonization project. If they charge premium rates, they can get several thousand francs out of each settler for a plot of land, plus transportation fees and all the rest. They’ll also supply all the raw materials for start-up colonies, at a very nice profit margin. It’s common to earn a return of up to five hundred per cent on such deals.”
“I… I see. What do you want from me?”
“We believe they’re using a front company or organization that has a name similar to “The Fatherland Project”, or “The Fatherland Enterprise”, or something like th
at. We aren’t sure of its exact title, but we’re certain they’ve made at least preliminary arrangements with Hoffmann Geiger. We want to know everything your company knows about them – their corporate identity on Neue Helvetica, their contact details, their bank account, everything. If you get me that information by tomorrow night, this wallet’s contents will be yours.
“After that, we’ll have a few more things we’ll ask you to do while we prepare to act against them. None of them will involve anything detrimental to your employer, and we’ll never ask you to betray Hoffmann Geiger’s interests. If you cooperate, we’ll pay you a monthly retainer of ten thousand francs, sufficient to meet your monthly payment to the casino. When we’ve recovered our money, one way or another, we’ll pay you half a million francs for your assistance, enough to clear your debt entirely and allow you to make a fresh start. How about it?”
“H-how can I be sure you will pay me?”
He’s hooked! Henry thought with satisfaction. “If we pay you tomorrow, isn’t it likely we’ll pay you next month as well? And if we pay you then, why shouldn’t we pay you the following month?”
“I-I see… I think. And what if there is no information in our records about this company?”
“Then you tell us that. We’ll make sure you’re being honest by using a truth-tester. If you are, you get paid anyway, then we’ll have you keep a watching brief for us. If you’re lying to us, we’ll know soon enough, and then the casino’s goons aren’t the only ones you’ll have to worry about.”
The banker shivered. “You may be an insurance investigator, but you seem just as ruthless as a criminal in the way you operate.”
“You know the old saying: ‘If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas’. We have to deal with the lowest of the low. It’s no wonder some of their habits rub off on us. Still, look at it this way. They needn’t rub off on you. Help us, and in a few months you can walk away from all this free and clear, and never look back.”