Chapter Thirteen
Mac had found Karlsson the previous day, not at the gym but at a bar that Ganos tracked him to. Mac had bought him a drink and convinced him to talk to me the next day for a hundred marks. Smart. I hadn’t considered straight-up bribery. At least when I got him killed, this guy would die with a hundred marks in his pocket.
We had to move out of my quarters first, and we did so with little fanfare; Fader had indeed gotten us an extension, but only until the morning. Two soldiers showed up to provide security and a driver and an assistant came with a big cart from the protocol department to help us shuffle our stuff. My new suite was sufficient, and I would have called it luxurious if I hadn’t been living in the palace first. Its two rooms didn’t have a door between them, but there was a wall with an opening at the end, so you couldn’t see the bed from the sitting area. Mac relented on living with me in the smaller place, but arranged for security outside at night. He didn’t say it, but I think Farric’s death had him on edge as much as it did me, though for different reasons.
Mac and I headed out to meet Karlsson for lunch and I decided to broach the topic of Farric’s death on the way. I needed to talk about it. I probably needed to talk about it to a therapist, but Mac would have to do. “What do you think happened with Farric?”
“You mean cause of death? You saw what the news said. You think it’s something else?”
The news had called it an apparent suicide, but I didn’t believe that for a minute. Unfortunately, I couldn’t look into it because Oxendine was already on my case for working on things outside my purview. If she caught me around this, she’d have more reason to shut me down. Regardless, I couldn’t help but think it was connected. “You think it’s because he gave me a name?”
“Maybe,” said Mac. “Does it matter? I mean . . . it does matter. If the killer—or killers—know that he gave you a name, then they know you have a name. That’s what matters. If someone is willing to kill once . . .”
“Right. I’ll take whatever precautions you recommend.”
I liked Mac’s view. He wasn’t worrying about what happened, he was worrying about what he could do about it now. He was controlling what he could control. I usually tried to think that way, but I couldn’t at the moment. I kept thinking about Gylika back on Talca and how he’d died for meeting with me a couple years ago, and how I put Ganos at risk, and even Elliot back on Cappa, which wasn’t my fault, but maybe if I’d done something different, she wouldn’t have taken her own life. “Do you feel bad about it? Him being dead?”
“We didn’t kill him, sir.”
“We . . . I put him in the situation. I pressured him to give me the information.”
Mac considered it. “Nah. I don’t buy it. He was a big boy. He knew the risks. He should have, anyway. If he didn’t, that’s on him. If we let something happen to us, that’s on us. I get the feeling that you’re blaming yourself for this, though.”
“Little bit. Yeah.”
“What’s the first rule of facing the enemy, sir? If it’s them or you . . .”
“It’s them.” I always told my soldiers that, especially in complex situations. When there were civilians around, you wanted to protect the innocent. You didn’t want to shoot the wrong person. The problem is, when you think about that too much, you get slow. When you get slow, you get dead. The enemy doesn’t hesitate. To get eighteen-year-old kids to appreciate that—to not shoot when they shouldn’t but still shoot fast when they should—you had to simplify it. To keep them alive, we tell them that if they’re in doubt, protect themselves. We have to. Anything else would be irresponsible. Was Farric an inevitable casualty, beyond our control as we tried to get at the actual enemy? Did a pat phrase equal absolution?
“Does that apply here?”
“I don’t know,” said Mac. “I just know that if you get bogged down thinking about people who died, you join them.”
“I’ll try to make sure you don’t.”
“If I go into it face-first, weapon up, I’ll have no complaints. Let them come. That’s my job. The enemy, whoever it is, they’ve got a job too. It’s not personal. I don’t hold it against them. But I do want to fucking bury them.”
I wasn’t sure the talk had helped. I felt a bit better about Farric, but now I feared that I’d let Mac down. If I got him killed . . . I couldn’t take that. And that meant I should hang it up. Once you started getting risk averse, you made it more likely that something bad would happen. You can be cautious as a leader, but you can’t be overcautious. It was as bad as being overaggressive and just as likely to get someone killed. “Fuck, Mac. I’m getting too soft for this.”
“Bullshit. Why do you think I’m here? I had a choice. You know that. I’m here because I followed you. I figure you’re going to do the right thing most of the time. You’ll screw up. But you won’t screw up because you don’t care. You’ll screw up trying to get it right.”
“Same result.”
“You don’t even believe that,” he said. “You’ve promoted guys who screwed up if they were doing the right thing when they did it. Sometimes you lose a fight. As they say, the enemy gets a vote in what happens.”
I walked in silence for a minute, thinking it through. “Damn, Mac. When did you get so wise?”
“Don’t tell anyone, sir. They might try to make me an officer or something stupid like that.”
We came in sight of the restaurant—really more of a bar that served food—just as Karlsson went in. “One thing’s for sure. If someone tries to kill this guy for talking to me, they better bring more than one person. He’s a big bastard.”
“I hope he tries something,” said Mac.
I laughed. “Come on.”
“No lie, sir. I’ll give him a go, as long as there are no guns and knives. I’d feel a lot better if I got to kick someone’s ass.”
I looked at him.
He smiled. “What? You called me wise. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to take my frustration out on someone.”
The building had no windows, and I stood inside, letting my eyes adjust, but even that didn’t help, as if they kept it dark on purpose. I could make out the shapes of people, but faces were mostly shadows. The dark wood furniture and walls seemed to absorb light. I had to move through the room before I saw Karlsson at a back booth. I left Mac at the bar and headed over.
“You Butler?”
“Yeah.”
The big, bald man gestured to the seat across from him. “You’re buying.”
“Sure.”
“I’m drinking.”
“They have real whiskey here, or just synthanol?” I asked.
“They distill their own. It’s real. Expensive, but it’s not bad.”
“Then I’m drinking too.” I didn’t need to go down the path I’d taken last night, but one or two wouldn’t hurt.
“Fuckin’ A.”
I waited for the drinks to come before I questioned Karlsson. He didn’t strike me as being open, but maybe the liquor would help that. He drank half of his in a gulp, and I tried mine. He was right. Not bad.
“So,” he said. “I’m here. You’re that army guy, right?”
“I was.”
“No, I mean, you’re the one that fucked up all those aliens.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuckin’ honor to meet you. You aren’t serving anymore?”
“Nope. That was the end of the line.”
“Political bullshit,” he said. “Your man said you wanted to talk.”
“I saw you and the protestors.”
“Yeah?”
“What was that all about?”
“What’d it look like? A bunch of animal lovers that needed their asses kicked.”
I didn’t buy it. “Just for fun?”
“Yeah.” He polished off his drink and signaled for another. I nodded when the woman behind the bar looked at me asking if I wanted a second one as well. “Nah . . . not just for fun. These green bastards . . . they’re holdi
ng up progress. Putting people out of jobs.”
That sounded a lot like a rehearsed answer. “What do you do for work?” I knew, but he didn’t know I knew.
“I work construction, when there’s work.”
“There’s no work now?”
“Not for me.”
“So how do you stay on the colony? I thought there was a one-hundred-percent employment rule.”
“Guess they haven’t gotten around to me.”
“So . . . you just hang out and beat up protestors?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
The bartender brought our drinks, and I let her go before I spoke again. “Just one more question, and I’ll let you get back to your day. Did you decide to fight the protestors on your own, or did someone put you up to it?”
He smirked, and I knew he was going to lie before he even spoke. “I don’t know nothin’ about that kind of thing.” He was a horrible liar, but he didn’t care. He wanted me to know he was lying and that I couldn’t do anything about it.
I considered threatening him. I could report his unemployment. The thing was, I didn’t know if anyone would act on it. Karlsson probably did. I try not to bluff when the other person has more information than I do. “Let me give you my contact information. In case you remember something.”
He snorted. “Sure.”
Outside the bar, Mac and I paused for a moment to let our eyes adjust to the light. The meeting had been mostly a waste of time, and I needed to get food. The liquor on an empty stomach hadn’t been a great idea. Before we got fifty meters, two soldiers approached. Before they even spoke, I marked them as military police. They walked differently from other soldiers. I couldn’t explain it, but I think Mac sensed it too, as he took his hands off his weapon and let it dangle from his shoulder when they got close.
The leader was a pale-skinned staff sergeant with light hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her partner was shorter, a dark-skinned sergeant with a small mustache that fit perfectly within regulations. The staff sergeant spoke. “Colonel Butler.” Not a question.
“How did you know where to find me?” I figured it was best to ask my questions before she got to whatever hers were.
“Cameras. They’re everywhere.”
“Sure. When they work.”
They looked at me, unsure what I meant by that. Finally, the staff sergeant said, “I need to ask you a few questions relating to the death of Dante Farric.”
I’d had contact with him, so of course they’d want to talk to me about his death. I should have seen that coming. “How come you’re handling this and not the civilians?”
“Our captain says it’s related to the bombing, so it’s a security issue.”
I wasn’t sure the governor—or more likely Davidson—would agree, but I wasn’t getting in the middle of that. “Fair enough. You want to do it here, or somewhere else?”
“Here should be fine initially. If we need to do more extensive questioning, we’ll move somewhere else.” She left unsaid that the somewhere else in question would be in a detention facility. I didn’t think they’d do that. It would have to go all the way up to Oxendine, and I didn’t see her as that type. If she wanted to put me in jail, she’d call me in and do it herself.
“Okay. I saw on the news that they were calling it a suicide. Was it?”
She ignored my question like a good investigator. “You were the last call in his device, sir. Care to tell us what that was about?”
“He called me. We’d met the day prior and he’d promised to follow up.” I was walking a thin line. I didn’t want to lie to them, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to share the name that Farric gave me either. I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to share—I needed to think about it. But if I told them now, I couldn’t untell them later. If I didn’t tell them now, I could always volunteer it in the future. But it left a hole in my story that even a low-level investigator would spot.
The staff sergeant didn’t disappoint. “What was he following up about?”
“He had promised to get me a point of contact . . . someone I could talk to as part of my investigation. He called to tell me he couldn’t get it.”
And there it was. I’d blatantly lied to an investigator in a murder case. Even if I didn’t kill the guy, I had just broken the law. I didn’t glance at Mac to see his reaction. Nothing says I’m lying like looking around as if you’re scared. I had to hope they didn’t have a recording of my conversation with Farric. But if they did, the only reason they’d be talking to me was to trap me, and again, I didn’t think Oxendine would send someone else to do that.
The investigator continued without missing a beat. “What was the meeting about the day prior?”
“I questioned him about EPV’s involvement in the bombing attack at the governor’s.” That was the truth. Maybe it balanced the scales a little.
“Is that part of your official investigation, sir?” As she spoke, her partner tapped notes into his device.
“It is not. Or it is—I’m not quite sure. They may be related, since the attack was intended for me. Truthfully, I’m pissed that someone tried to kill me, and I’m not the kind of guy who lets things go.”
“Roger, sir. Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
“That’s it?”
“For now, sir. We’re just running down initial leads.”
“Right. Thanks.” This was trouble. I hadn’t killed Farric—not directly, at least—but from an investigator’s point of view, I’d look like a pretty good suspect. I’d need to get in front of that, and soon.
Chapter Fourteen
Fader met us at the door to my new quarters. She had to have been watching, which made me suspect that she intentionally got herself a room where she could see mine. That was a smart thing I wouldn’t have come up with on my own. It made me appreciate once again that Serata had picked Fader for the mission—or someone had, at his suggestion. She and I would never see things the same way—we had different styles—but as he’d told me, she was efficient. I needed to send him a note. Not just about that—I needed to let him know about Zentas arriving, see what he knew that might be useful. Get his advice on how to handle it. He was much better with things like that than I was.
Once inside, Mac made himself scarce and Fader didn’t wait for me to sit down before speaking. “I’ve got two updates, sir. Ganos found some stuff on Marko Hubic, and I found some stuff about the Zentas visit. Which would you like first?”
“Zentas.” He was already on my mind, and I probably had to lie low on Hubic with the military investigation into Farric’s death happening.
“Yes, sir. His arrival is this morning. The exact time is classified. The governor’s reception for him is this evening. You’re invited if you want, plus one. Same sort of thing that they threw for you.”
“I wonder if EPV will protest him the same way they did me,” I said. He was, after all, the head of Caliber’s parent company. “Probably. If I go, they can get two for the price of one.”
“Maybe not, with Farric dead,” said Fader. “I’m not sure if there’s a clear succession plan in EPV. Losing their colonyside leader might throw them off their game for a while.”
“Good point. We need to know who’s next up in charge of EPV. Make a note of that, please.” I waited while she did. “What else do you have?”
“Zentas came on his own business, not government. The official reason for the visit is oversight of his company assets here. Big boss checks things in the field—that kind of thing. Unofficially, nobody in the governor’s office buys that for a second. Everyone thinks it’s because of your investigation. But since that’s not official, nobody has asked to schedule a meeting with you. The staffers believe that invite will happen through Caliber, not the governor. The governor himself—while I didn’t talk to him—is reportedly put out that nobody asked him to facilitate your meeting. Regardless of the official purpose of the visit, he sees Zentas as his official guest.”
“Do you know if they have a past relationship?”
“Nothing I could find on that publicly. And I looked. But everyone knows that Governor Patinchak will kiss the ass of anyone who can help him get ahead. Pardon the expression, sir.”
I laughed. I don’t know what was funnier, Fader slipping into more of my style, or her apologizing for it. “You’re not wrong.”
“Finishing up on Zentas, sir: He’s scheduled to be here for a week, but the ship that’s bringing him isn’t leaving, so the staffers consider that flexible.”
“Roger.” He didn’t need a week to check on a relatively small operation like what Caliber had on Eccasis. They had maybe two thousand people working a dozen or so different job sites. But there were a lot of reasons he might want to stay. Maybe he just didn’t want to jump straight back into cryo. “Go ahead and tell me about our friend Marko Hubic. I’ll give guidance on both once I hear it.”
“Yes, sir. He’s got quite a history. This next bit is Ganos’s exact wording—she made me promise to repeat them exactly before she’d give me a briefing. ‘Sir, he’s a fucking thug.’”
I laughed. “Okay. I assume there’s more.”
“Yes, sir. Arrested twice, once for assault, once for robbery. He did jail time for the robbery. Three years on a planet called Favia.”
“How’d he get here?” I asked.
“I’ve got that, but there’s more, sir. Ganos dug up some other cases where he was suspected but never charged. Arson, another robbery, two assaults. I’m not sure how she found that stuff—it’s not in any public search that I can find.”
“Best not to ask. Best to believe her, though.”
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