Crystal Deception

by Doug J. Cooper

  His partnership with Victoria had begun with great promise. She was one of the connected members on the company’s board of directors and a prime mover in growing the business. Sheldon began his association with her because she not only had politicians and admirals and CEOs as friends, but twenty years ago, when he’d been anxious to launch a new company, she had provided the funding for his fledgling venture.

  To his dismay, over time, it all devolved into a dreadful relationship. In fact, he didn’t know which horrified him more, working with her, or acknowledging that through her, he was somehow working to help the Kardish. He wished he didn’t need to be the one to tell her about the visit by the Fleet psych analyst. But she would find out. By alerting her without delay, he was demonstrating himself to be a cooperative and transparent partner.

  She’d played the same note for two decades—developing a stronger trade relationship with the Kardish was critical to his company’s success. Sheldon shuddered as he recalled her most recent tirade. One line she used was “cooperation with the Kardish means profit.” Another one—the one that kept him up at night—was “business leaders adapt or die.”

  Over the years, she had dropped hints of possible consequences if he didn’t play his role to her satisfaction. She kept these vague enough so he had to fill in the blanks. But he was fairly certain that if she was not happy, she would consider him to be “not adapting.”

  He stood outside a room that was part of a complex managed by a subsidiary company of a corporation she owned. He tried to be annoyed that she was keeping him waiting, but at another level, he had no problem delaying what would likely be an unpleasant exchange.

  He was waiting because her security chief was sweeping the meeting room for devices capable of transmitting audio and image feeds. When the chief finished, he stood in front of Sheldon with his hand out. Sheldon placed his com onto the chief’s flat palm as he entered the room. Thus was the paranoid world of his unsettling business associate.

  As soon as they were alone, Sheldon updated her about the psych exam on the four-gen.

  “Why are you letting these petty issues become problems for us?” Her tone was cold.

  He defended himself as best he could. “It’s nothing I’m doing. Fleet has procedures, and it seems prudent to follow them rather than fight them.”

  “We’ll still get the crystal on the Alliance though, right?”

  “I imagine that the psych specialist who ran the testing this morning will report that everything is good, and that’ll be the end of it.” He said this with much greater confidence than he felt. “We should be on track for a successful trial.”

  “The Kardish have made it clear they expect the crystal. You can give it to me, and I’ll deliver it. Or they’ll play your game and let you put it on your ship. But remember, this is your idea, so any problems fall on you. They could crush you, me, or Earth, one as easy as the other. It’s not a time to be playing games. And I don’t want to be caught in the backlash if things go wrong.”

  “I believe it’ll all work out fine,” Sheldon said, trying to muster his confidence and doing his best to ignore the threat.

  “What was this psych fellow’s name? There must be a way to persuade him to submit a positive report.”

  “I just heard the name Sid.” Realizing the implications of her words, he followed up. “Oh no, Victoria, I can’t envision anything good coming from talking with him.” Recognizing who he was speaking with, he became alarmed. “Wait, you weren’t thinking of bribing him or anything. I can’t see that working out well at all. My impression of this guy is that he’s straight arrow all the way.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” She was done with the conversation and dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

  * * *

  Victoria called in her chief of security as Sheldon was leaving. She made substantial resources available to her private security force, who in turn dedicated a large portion of those resources to her highest priority—Crystal Fabrications.

  Anything out of the ordinary, like a visit by two Fleet officers on short notice, was the sort of thing she would expect to be notified about. She was irritated that her chief hadn’t briefed her when the psych analyst first showed up at the company and furious she wasn’t aware of it prior to Sheldon’s arrival.

  “What do we know of this Sid fellow?” With that question, she was asking if the chief knew his full name, his job position and title, where he lived, if he had a wife or girlfriend, what he had for habits and hobbies, and anything else they might be able to exploit.

  “Not much, ma’am,” said the chief. “We learned about him when he showed up at Crystal Fab. We’ve been tracking him since he left. I know where he is right now if that helps.”

  She gave him a look that communicated her displeasure. “Make this Sid understand our position. Leave him without any doubt that there is only one acceptable version of his report. He must know that he doesn’t even want to consider alternatives.”

  The chief nodded and turned for the door. Feeling cautious, Victoria added, “And make sure whoever you send has no connections to anyone who has any connections to us. Make sure of that.”

  “Always, ma’am,” said the chief, stepping out of the room.

  * * *

  Sid was frustrated. His past sentiments and rekindled passion for Cheryl were clouding his judgment. As he stepped onto the city street and felt the cool night air, he decided a walk might help him clear his head. He headed up a side street toward the heart of the city.

  Having Cheryl back in his life, even on a temporary basis, was something he never imagined would happen. When he’d started with the DSA, he found being a covert agent to be intense, exhilarating, and even a crazy kind of fun. But being with her now made him think about what might have been.

  They’d met five years ago as lieutenants in a place called simply “camp.” He was twenty-eight and she was twenty-nine at the time. A prestigious training ground, camp molded young officers who’d been identified by their superiors as having extraordinary potential. Success at camp portended a most promising career.

  Camp used a learn-it-by-living-it approach to instruction. Sid and Cheryl were kept on the go—planning, reacting, and making decisions of consequence. It had been a pressure-cooker environment in every sense of the word.

  After a few weeks working as teammates on adrenaline-producing challenges, their relationship blossomed. In behavior uncharacteristic for either of them, they began to sneak away and steal moments together. It grew into a physical and emotional affair. In time, Sid had realized this talented, complicated, and beautiful creature loved him. And he was smitten.

  Then it had all changed. In his last days at camp, Sid was approached by a representative of the DSA. The fellow convinced him that he had a gift for their line of work and that his involvement with the agency could impact the safety and security of many millions of people.

  On a professional level, Sid had been drifting through life. He didn’t think in terms of aspirations or careers, so he was caught by surprise when they made the pitch to him. He couldn’t explain his reasoning, but he accepted their offer and embarked on what became, and still remained, a thrilling existence as a clandestine warrior. The day he left camp, he didn’t tell her he was going. He didn’t say good-bye. The agency prohibited it.

  In all his years of service, no mission had ever required the sacrifice nor caused the pain that seared his soul as that moment when he walked out of her life. Given their recent interactions, it seemed obvious to him that Cheryl had moved on. She didn’t show any outward signs of anger or hostility. At the same time, she didn’t show enthusiasm or pleasure at seeing him. She treated him like she would a stranger. He couldn’t blame her.

  The night before, she’d been the last person on his mind as he drifted off to sleep, and she was the first person he thought of when he woke this morning. Only one person had ever done that to him. Five years ago. And now today. He wondered if there was
some way he could ask her for understanding and forgiveness. Would it be enough for him to acknowledge he had wronged her and accept the blame?

  He checked the time and realized he should get home and catch some sleep. He worked his way toward the main road and the convenient transportation it offered. Rounding a corner, he found himself on an empty street facing two beefy men. Sid got the impression they were waiting for him. Removing his hands from his pockets, he casually changed course so he could walk around them. His senses went on alert when they shifted to block his progress.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. He now considered the two to be adversaries, and he evaluated his situation with that mindset. One of the thugs moved directly in front of him. He wore tight leather gloves and kept clenching and unclenching his fists. The other, wearing a sport coat, moved to his left. The brick wall of a building was behind him. Sid was boxed in.

  “Look, guys, I’m a working man. I can’t afford to replace anything you take from me.” As he said this, he took a step back and turned slightly so they were both in sight and evenly split in his vision, Coat to his left and Gloves to his right. He saw that Coat had a club or rod of some sort in his hand.

  “You Sid?” asked Coat.

  “No, you have the wrong man.” This wasn’t a street mugging. They were there for him. He didn’t understand their motivation, but instinctively flipped his tactics from defensive to offensive. “Please let me pass.” He hadn’t started this and had given them fair warning. They were the ones who crossed the line. His conscience was clear.

  They smirked at him.

  Experience had taught him that letting extra time pass increased the likelihood that more friends and weapons would be brought into play. He took a step forward to close the gap between them, then feinted toward Coat with his open left hand. The thug stepped back, and Gloves, seeing an opportunity, stepped forward.

  Sid’s feint positioned him sideways to Gloves and allowed him to shift his weight onto his left foot. His right leg was a blur as he threw a thrust-kick into Gloves’ midriff, followed by a side-snap kick to his knee. There was a sickening crack. Gloves fell to the ground, holding his leg and groaning in pain.

  Sid turned to Coat. “Time to move on, mate.”

  Coat dropped his club. It gave off a metallic ring as it hit the sidewalk. He moved his hand toward his pocket, and Sid decided to finish it. He feinted with his knee. Sensitized to the danger presented by Sid’s feet, Coat instinctively moved his hands down to block the attack. As Sid knew he would.

  With hand arched and fingers extended, he snapped a vicious hand strike to Coat’s throat. Coat collapsed in a heap and remained still. Sid turned to Gloves, saw him moving, and used the heel of his foot against the side of his head to quiet him as well.

  The whole fight lasted just seconds. Sid looked up and down the street. Seeing no one, he bent over and patted the pocket Coat had been reaching for. He felt something hard and shook the clothing until the item slid out onto the ground. It was a blade. Taking care not to touch it or leave any incriminating evidence, he kicked it to the side.

  He then searched each of them in earnest. Except for a cap in Glove’s back pocket, they carried nothing. He looked at the labels of their clothes and did a quick check for tattoos or other markings, but couldn’t find anything distinctive. They were pros.

  He heard a crowd of partiers moving in his direction. Grabbing Glove’s cap, he walked away from the sounds of revelry. There were public monitors all over the city, and he was already on record. He did the best he could under the circumstances, walking through courtyards, zigzagging through side streets, ducking into door stoops, and similar evasive tactics.

  At each transition, he changed his outward appearance. He put the cap on, then switched his jacket inside out, then put the cap on backward and took the jacket off. He continued this game until he was on the main street. He knew he could be traced if anyone chose to devote resources to the task, but he had made it a little harder for them.

  As he walked in his front door later, he remained unsure what had motivated the confrontation. Over the years, he’d left a trail of people who were angry with him. He knew it wasn’t a mugging, but could not tell if this was retribution for the past or an attack because of his current activities. Either way, he had to raise his alert level.

  Chapter 8

  Juice didn’t know what had been decided or what might happen next, and the uncertainty was making her anxious. She went on a long run to burn off some stress. Physically tired but emotionally recharged, she headed to the Crystal Fab building.

  She stepped into the lobby and Brady Sheldon scurried over. To her dismay, he seemed determined to hold an impromptu meeting right there in the public space. He didn’t appear to notice that she was panting from thirst and glistening from her workout.

  “I received an urgent message from Fleet.” He was more breathless than she in his excitement. “They have some technical questions about the plans for installing the four-gen on the Alliance. They want you to go down to Fleet base in person and meet with their design people. They asked specifically for you.” His heavy-handed management style weighed on her. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to be cooperative. We don’t want any more delays or to give the bastards any reason to slow the project down. You have my approval to make whatever decisions you think will tighten the schedule for deployment. The shortest timetable is my highest priority.” As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “Call me if I can be of help.”

  The trip took almost two hours, but Juice eventually arrived at the systems tech building on Fleet’s sprawling base. She was both amused and disappointed to find that it was located next to the waste treatment station. Feeling a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, she climbed the steps and entered a building that a decade ago would have generously been labeled as “aging.”

  She was greeted in a cheerless lobby and escorted back to a small, windowless room that held a table, four chairs, and little else. She looked around and thought it seemed more like a holding cell than a technical conference room.

  * * *

  Cheryl sat with Sid in a small room next door to where Juice waited. Theirs had a newly installed image projection system, which they used to watch her.

  They agreed they wanted Juice as part of the team. She had a positive relationship with Criss and worked closely with Sheldon. If she could be cleared of any involvement in the intrigue, she would be a great resource going forward.

  Cheryl was already convinced that she was clean. “Are you positive we need to do this?” she asked Sid, having second and third thoughts about their plan.

  “I’ve been fooled before. We’re all here. Let’s take a few minutes to push on her and see how she holds up.”

  Sid was about to lead off as the bad cop in a “good cop, bad cop” interview. As a Fleet officer, Cheryl had no training in the technique. When she expressed this reservation to Sid, he assured her that as good cop, she would go second. All she needed to do was be her normal, kind self and watch for signs of deception.

  They got up together, walked the few steps down the hall, and entered the room.

  “Morning, Juice,” said Cheryl. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  Juice lit up. “Hey guys, what brings you to engineering?”

  They looked at her without comment.

  “This isn’t a tech review.” She looked from one to the other, and smiled. “Well done.”

  Sid didn’t waste any time. “Do you have something for us from Criss?”

  “From Criss?” Juice asked.

  “Yes.”

  Juice’s excitement disappeared. “All I have is a message from the four-gen. I was thinking that’s why you guys were here.”

  Realizing what was happening, Cheryl said, “The four-gen told us he prefers to be called Criss. He said that’s his name.”

  “He did? Criss? That’s so cool. I wonder why he never mentioned it to me.” She drifte
d away for a moment, lost in thought.

  Sid got her attention back in short order. “Juice, what do you have for us from Criss?”

  From his brusque manner, Cheryl sensed that bad cop was a role that came easily to him.

  Juice was again animated. “First, I’m supposed to tell you that it will take some effort on your part to chase things down. The amount of information that can be transferred by voice from Criss to me to you is very limited.” She said the name Criss with a huge grin. “I have three web points from him, and hopefully I get them right when I tell you.”

  Juice wrote some lengthy scribbles on a pad. Cheryl took it from her and looked at it. “Let me get this over to research for a review. Would either of you like a drink?”

  “Water, please,” Juice said.

  “Coffee. Black, thanks,” said Sid.

  Cheryl left and moved quickly to the adjacent room so she wouldn’t miss any action. She sat down and set the pad aside. Techs located elsewhere received the info as Juice wrote it. They were already deep into their work.

  Sid made his opening gambit. “Juice, our investigation shows there’s a scam being played. But it’s not by Brady Sheldon. The evidence points to you.”

  “What?” Her face showed complete bewilderment.

  “We think you’re the one orchestrating Criss’s kidnapping.”

  Juice looked at him and started twirling a lock of hair. “Why are you saying this? I’m here trying to help,” she said, indignation slipping into her tone. She turned in her chair so her knees were pointing away from him.

  As Cheryl watched, she recalled Sid telling her that the first reaction of the guilty tends to be defensive or aggressive behavior. This was not that. She sympathized with Juice and wondered why Sid was being so rough.