Confidence Game

by Britt Ringel

  “Without your girlfriend, you mean,” Brooke teased while canting her head at him.

  Lochlain felt a mild heat rise in his cheeks. “That’s not a minor consideration.” He rose from the abused table. “I’m taking the shuttle down to the surface. Don’t wait up for me, I might be a while.”

  * * *

  It was late at night in Nimiset’s capital but the city’s seedier elements were just beginning to rouse themselves.

  Lochlain had flown the standard approach given to him by the main spaceport’s traffic controllers but before touching down, he requested and obtained clearance to cancel the landing and proceed on his own navigation. Due to the small size of his Class-F shuttle, the craft was not only a capable spacecraft but also fell inside the regulations for atmospheric transportation without requiring special consideration from air controllers.

  He flew across the capital and parked at a familiar location near the edge of the city, an enormous structure purpose-built for receiving aircars and small craft. Once on the ground, he weaved effortlessly through the night crowd on his way to Cindi Isett’s restaurant. After walking the better part of three blocks, he entered the sports-themed establishment and bypassed the hostess at the front in favor of the bar. Hat Trick was packed nearly to capacity. A chaotic mixture of music, banter and slamball matches on the bar’s many wall screens assaulted Lochlain’s ears.

  He pushed his way between two patrons and flagged down a bartender. “I want to talk with Cindi,” he said over the restaurant’s din.

  The bartender shook her head. “Nobody by that name works here, buddy.”

  Lochlain’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “Cindi Isett,” he said with conviction. “She’s going to be pissed at you if you send me away.”

  The bartender sized him up before pushing away from the bar and disappearing into the crowd. Lochlain held his position despite being jostled from either side. He spent the next few minutes looking around him in circumspection, scanning for people who might recognize him and pass word to Larsson of his whereabouts. Despite his growing dread, he doggedly remained in the open, knowing it was only a matter of time before a bartender or server returned to escort him into the back of the restaurant.

  He was half-right. The ocean of humanity inside the bar parted to reveal a burly man stalking toward him. Lochlain mentally reviewed his last meeting with Isett and, remembering nothing objectionable, stood his ground. The colossus placed a firm hand menacingly on Lochlain’s shoulder and began to guide him to the back.

  Halfway through the journey and away from the bar’s epicenter, the man asked, “What’s your business with Miss Isett?”

  Lochlain rose to his toes and spoke into the bouncer’s right ear. “Cindi,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry into the man’s earbud. “It’s Reece Lochlain. I want to give you money.”

  The bouncer’s eyes drifted upward as he waited for a response. He nodded subconsciously and said, “Yes, ma’am,” before returning his gaze to his charge. “This way, Mr. Lochlain.”

  The pair walked down a wide corridor, past a kitchen and through an office with a young woman seated behind a desk. The administrative assistant motioned them onward and Lochlain and his escort entered the main office of Hat Trick.

  Cindi Isett was already up from her chair and moving like a predator toward Lochlain when he entered. “Reece!” she said warmly. “I’m rather surprised to see you.” She cast grey eyes at the bouncer and dismissed him, “Thanks, Bruce. I can take it from here.” The man retreated obediently.

  The brunette woman wore grey slacks and a red, sleeveless top. Both garments were fitted to feature her best assets. Her form was lean and firm but the faintest hint of wrinkles around her eyes and grooves near the corners of her upturned mouth betrayed a maturity unrealized by youth. High heels clicked against the hardwood floors of the office as Isett closed the distance to Lochlain. She embraced him, running her hands up his back before crushing her lips to his.

  Lochlain returned her kiss as her hands continued to roam over his body more than usual. He created a space between them and opened without preamble, “Cindi, I could use some help and I’m willing to pay you what I can afford.”

  “Strip,” she ordered bluntly.

  Lochlain chuckled before realizing she was serious. He smiled nervously and captured her hands in his own. “You know that normally I jump at that offer but I’ve just started seeing someone,” he said sweetly.

  Isett regarded him professionally. The playful light in her eyes extinguished between blinks. “Strip now, Reece, or turn around and never come back.” She crossed her arms over her chest and explained, “Everyone knows that you were a cooperating witness for Svean Customs and Border Protection. You and I share some good history so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt but you’re crazy if you think we’re going to have a conversation before I make sure you aren’t bugged.”

  Lochlain muttered under his breath as he began to take off his coat. “Keep in mind that it’s damned cold in here…”

  * * *

  Isett took her time to allay her suspicions. After she was confident Lochlain’s body wore no listening devices, she returned to her desk to retrieve a handheld scanner. She methodically ran it over him.

  “You know,” Lochlain noted while positioning his hands strategically, “that thing sees through clothes, Cindi.”

  Isett grinned wickedly. “Yes, but my eyes don’t.” She let her leer pass over him a final time before sighing. “Okay, you’re clean. Well, your conscience isn’t but your body is.” She clucked once before admitting, “I have to be honest with you, Reece. I really thought I’d find something. It’s unusual for corporate security to just let someone go after they’ve gotten leverage over him.”

  Lochlain reached for his pants with one hand and turned away from Isett to put them on. “I’m kind of running from CBP, not to mention Judit Larsson.”

  The mention of the name caused Isett’s face to break into a grin and the office filled with her laughter. “I love the fact that you cost her a ship.” She dropped the handheld to her desk. As she moved behind it, she whispered wistfully, “I only wish you had implicated her.”

  “I enjoy breathing oxygen,” Lochlain explained dryly. “As it was, I had to single-handedly fight off an assassination attempt on my last day in prison.”

  “Did you get a prison tattoo?” Isett asked while batting her eyelashes playfully. “Oh wait, you were just naked and I didn’t see anything noteworthy.”

  Lochlain ignored the quip but suddenly felt the need to embellish his story. “Two guys came at me with knives on my way out of my cell. I had to give the first the old one-two before disarming the second.”

  “And I’m sure by the end of the night, it will be twenty-seven men with guns.” Isett took her seat and watched Lochlain dress. “You mentioned something earlier about giving me money?”

  He slid into his shirt before reaching for his coat. “I need to squib a ship, Cindi. Fast.”

  Isett’s mouth dropped open before closing into an enormous smile. “Oh my, Reece. What have you done now?”

  “It needs to be a first-rate job because multiple corporations will be looking for it.”

  “Please tell me it’s one of Judit’s ships.”

  “Tangentially,” Lochlain answered. He allowed himself to return her smile. “I may have sold On Margin without her permission.”

  Isett burst into another fit of laughter. After several moments, she placed a hand to her chest to steady herself. “This is better than money,” she wheezed between giggles. “You are a never-ending source of entertainment.”

  “That’s what I strive to be,” he retorted. “I risk life and limb to do these things because I know they’ll amuse you.” Now fully dressed, he sauntered to the front of her desk and sat on a corner. “So, can you help me?”

  “I’m trying to divest from my nefarious youth,” Isett stated. “I own three legitimate restaurants now, including one on
the orbital.”

  “What about your political aspirations?”

  “I just told you I was trying to decrease my immoral activities, Reece.”

  Lochlain judged the angle he needed to cause the overhead lights to cast a glint in his eyes and leaned over the desk, closer to her. “For old time’s sake? We sure had a lot of fun.” He let his lips part to flash white teeth. “Some of my best memories are with you,” he gushed. “All I need is a name.”

  Isett considered the plea while drinking him in. Finally, she said, “Sure, a name for a name. You go first.”

  Lochlain’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Whose name—?” He cut himself off immediately and scowled at her.

  “Don’t lie to me, dear,” Isett cautioned while batting thick lashes at him.

  “Mercer Brooke.” He watched gears turn behind Isett’s grey eyes and became suddenly troubled. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Kurtis Hanner,” Isett answered. “You can contact him through Warner Bookings.”

  Lochlain noticed that the woman in front of him had provided the name without consulting any records. He wondered exactly how much “divesting of her youth” had actually occurred.

  “Reece, I should warn you, Hanner is outside my normal circles.” Something close to concern took hold over Isett. “He is the source in Ancera to reregister a ship but he has a fierce reputation. I wouldn’t play your normal games with him.”

  “Noted.” He lifted himself from the desk and placed a hand on his hip. “Now, are you going to tell me why you wanted Mercer’s name?”

  Isett shrugged mischievously. “As you said, we’ve had some good times. Maybe I want to look out for you.”

  Lochlain seized the opening she had provided. “If you want to look out for me, you can find three crewmembers for my ship. I need two deck officers and an engineer.”

  “How’d you get here from Svea?” she asked but waved her hand after a moment’s consideration. “Never mind. Let me ask around and I’ll flash you. I know of two possibilities already but I’ll see if I can find a second deck officer for you.”

  “Two certified deck officers would put me in compliance with the sailing regulations,” Lochlain persisted.

  “Be happy with what I can get, dear,” Isett scolded lightly. “As it is, anyone I find is either going to be very green or come with baggage.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Given what’s happened to you over the last few months, you’re not going to draw anyone worth their weight in salt.”

  “Just as long as they can find their way to the bridge, Cindi.”

  She pursed red-stained lips briefly. “So you’re going to resume smuggling?”

  “It’s the only thing I’m good at,” he replied with a winning smile. “Why? Do you have something?”

  “I have a billed and certified box going to Vulsia,” Isett said. “It’s low risk and I could probably contract a legitimate freighter for the job since the container has already been certified sealed by a cargo master and won’t be opened until after delivery.” She gestured triflingly with a hand. “It won’t be worth much,” she cautioned.

  “What’s the size of the can?”

  “Standard TUES container. It’s planetside right now but I could have it out of atmo in twenty-four hours.”

  “If I took the job, my shuttle can lift it into space,” Lochlain noted with a hint of pride. “What’s it worth?”

  Isett’s eyelashes flittered over her grey orbs. “You know I like you, Reece, so I won’t dicker. My best offer is thirty-five thousand since you’ll carry it into space for me.”

  Lochlain paused to appear thoughtful rather than desperate. “Forty and we have a deal. I’ll even cut you a discount on the next job,” he promised. “I need forty this time though, for the squib.”

  Isett snorted. “Hanner’s going to run a lot more than forty thousand credits. I thought you said you wanted it to stand up? His work is outstanding but pricey. Thirty-five thousand but I’ll pay up front so you have it all now.”

  Lochlain inhaled sharply at the expression of trust. “Accepted. Flash me the money and the location of the can.” He felt a little guilty at the charity. “I can pay for the squib,” he insisted. “I’m just short since I’ll have to pay my new crew too.”

  Isett snickered. “You can probably cheat them a little on percentages since they’ll be coming with their own problems. Anyone worth a full deal can find a better captain than a CBP toady.”

  Lochlain flinched. “Is that how I’m known now?”

  “Well,” Isett noted with a doleful smile, “you did roll over your captain and crew to save your own neck. How would you characterize that?” The smile faded, replaced by sincere regret, and her voice adopted a sorrowful tone. “Honestly, Reece, I don’t think there’s much left for you in this sector. I hate saying that because I’ll miss you but I think it’s better for everyone if you left this corner of the universe.” She looked at him with genuine emotion. “Baby, I don’t like telling you that and you know it.”

  “Sadly, I think you’re right,” Lochlain admitted reluctantly. He offered her a wry smile and furtive wave. “Goodbye, Cindi, and thanks for everything.”

  Her eyes ran over him a final time and the corner of her mouth teased upward again. “So long, smuggler.”

  Chapter 14

  Lochlain left Hat Trick via the back exit. On his way to the shuttle, he searched the city directory on his datapad for Warner Bookings and linked to its commercial page. “Book Your Future,” it promised in a large banner at the top. He studied the advertisement while approaching his shuttle and swept the datapad at the hatch to enter. Once seated inside, he tapped the “Contact” bar at the page’s footer.

  “Warner Bookings,” a deep voice intoned.

  “Kurtis Hanner, please,” Lochlain responded with an air of formality.

  “Who’s calling?”

  Lochlain paused. He hated the idea of giving his name to a criminal ring he knew nothing about. However, lying to the man responsible for squibbing his ship seemed unwise. “Reece Lochlain.”

  The answer came immediately. “We have nobody who works here with that name, Mr. Lochlain.”

  “Cindi Isett recommended Mr. Hanner to me,” he maintained. “I have need of his services.”

  Silence extended between the callers. Finally, the baritone instructed, “Hold, Mr. Lochlain.” Without waiting for an answer, the connection clicked and a different gentleman’s voice greeted him.

  “Warner Bookings.”

  “Mr. Hanner?” Lochlain guessed.

  “No, this is Mr. Hanner’s assistant. How can I help you?”

  “I need Mr. Hanner’s special talents regarding my cargo ship,” Lochlain answered vaguely. He knew better than to speak plainly over an open connection.

  The assistant’s voice turned indignant. “Mr. Lochlain, Warner Bookings is a travel agency. I have no idea how you think Mr. Hanner can help you with your ship but whatever you’ve been told, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “It needs to be top rate, able to stand up to a boarding inspection,” Lochlain pressed through the objections. “It can’t just be a scratch and sniff job.”

  The assistant sighed. “Please hold.”

  Lochlain drummed his fingers fitfully. After several minutes, the man returned.

  “Mr. Lochlain, I’m willing to meet you on Mr. Hanner’s behalf not because he can help you but because he wants to know who is spreading lies that discredit him. Can you come to our office in an hour?”

  “The address on your page?” Lochlain asked. After he received an affirming grunt, he said, “See you in an hour, Mister…”

  “Bay. You can ask for Mr. Bay.” The connection closed without a proper parting.

  Lochlain transferred the address to his shuttle’s navigation system. The trip would take less than five minutes by air. The walk from the closest parking hangar would actually take longer than the flight. With time to kill, he eased back into his chair and reviewed his f
inances. The squib could approach six figures and he would almost certainly have to provide a sizeable deposit up front. Isett’s thirty-five thousand had been a boon but he needed to walk into Warner Bookings with at least fifty. He opened the Ancera trade pages and searched for cargo consignments destined for Vulsia.

  Consignments were decidedly some of the worst hauling options for a freighter captain. Lochlain would be simply transporting cargo, goods that he neither owned nor profit-shared. The only revenue generated would be his shipping fee. In regions with reasonable competition, shipping fees alone would not permit a freighter captain to break even on a run. The single advantage of consignments was that they offered a way to fill up unused space on a cargo ship.

  Profitable cargo ships never relied solely on simple consignments for their incomes. Instead, they either entered into long-term contracts with companies to haul goods continuously on a standard route or engaged in the classically dangerous financial game of buying low to sell high at a future stop. Lochlain had nowhere near the reputation needed to acquire a lucrative standard contract and certainly did not possess the vast sums of credits required to buy his own cargo to sell later. Even if he had such wealth, he would be reluctant to stake the kind of credits necessary, knowing that an error in judgment or unforeseen events at his destination could decimate his cargo’s worth and cause fiscal calamity. Independent freighter captains who ran such games were only one or two misfortunes from bankruptcy. Lochlain knew these reasons were why such captains were a dying breed, being squeezed out by mega-corps that could mitigate risk across a large fleet. It was a self-defeating cycle. Privately owned freighters were being forced out because the best contracts were going to corporate lines that in turn forced out even more private owners.

  Consignments being his only immediate option, Lochlain spent thirty minutes committing to hauling two FUES bulk containers filled with unprocessed ore from an asteroid extraction outfit and three TUES tanks filled with a dangerously corrosive element from a planetside company called Lordan Chemical. The five containers would almost fill half of Zanshin’s cargo hardpoints, leaving her room for five more standard containers once Isett’s load was secured. Lochlain loathed leaving Ancera only half-loaded but there were simply no other consignments that fit his destination and timetable.