"You should go to your quarters, dearie, and wait there until Mr. Browning comes for you. It's not safe for strangers on the station right now. The men are pretty stirred up over this group from EcoMech coming. There's been violence already."
Kama stared at Miss Patty, thinking that the old hag must have misunderstood. Why would a big ag corporation be interested in this scrap heap of an asteroid mining station? "Are you sure they're from EcoMech?"
Miss Patty sniffed and did her best to look down her nose, even though she was a good three inches too short to pull it off. "I was there when they tried to board. That unfortunate man was nearly beaten to death in the lock, not that he didn't deserve it. What do they take us for, deep space yokels?"
"What are they doing here?"
"I'm sorry, dearie, I have things to do and can't stand here chatting all day. You get to your quarters and lock yourself in. We'll let you know when it's safe to come out."
Miss Patty hurried away, and Kama strode off in the opposite direction. At the first cross-corridor, she made a right and stopped. She counted to fifty, checked that Miss Patty was gone, and then retraced her steps to Levine's door. She waited while a miner hurried past, then placed the unusual violet stone of the ring on her left hand against the thumbprint reader next to the door.
The light on the lock clicked, beeped, and changed from red to green. Kama kissed the ring. Like many of its discoveries, Oasis didn't trumpet the technology in the bauble, which read the print on the lock pad left by the previous user and broadcast it back to the lock. She eased the door open and slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
She checked the remainder of the video disks to be sure none of them contained data other than their labels stated. Then she moved into the bedroom. The comfortable mattress held no secrets. The wardrobe contained a pair of polished shoes, two suits, and a collection of starched shirts on hangers; the drawers held a wad of crumpled socks and underwear. The bedside table sported a reading light and a filmie of a mining report.
Kama was speed-reading through the report when it suddenly hit her. She dropped the report and went back to the drawers. What kind of man starches his shirts and arranges his movies by title, but shoves his underwear into the drawer like a teenager? She looked around, seeing the room with new eyes. Someone had already searched the place. Miss Patty?
She walked the rooms again and saw other telltales: an error in the order of the videos; slippers stacked the wrong way around. Her eye caught on a fresh scratch near the edge of the video screen. She teased the plastic rectangle off.
The wiring had been bundled and taped aside, leaving a small space to hide objects. A clever hiding place containing a treasure—a bank chip good for fifty thousand credits. She clenched the chip as though she could crush it and muttered a curse. She was too late. Levine had already sold the secret of the Sharma Network and received his payment.
But who had he sold it to, and where was he now? She had to find him and get the name of the purchaser. Her heart raced. She'd notify Samir first, and then go after Levine. Maybe they had time for damage control if they acted quickly.
Chapter 5
I must be dead and this is Hell, because I feel like I'm on fire, Rafe thought. If he could just slip back into the cool blackness, everything would be better.
The devil's voice intruded on his solitude. "How long until he comes around?"
Although his jaw ached and he could still taste the blood from a split lip, he muttered, "If it's my soul you want, I'm sure we can come to a gentlemanly agreement."
"He's hallucinating," a minion's voice said. "Probably the speed heal. Or maybe his concussion is worse than I thought."
With great effort, Rafe opened his eyes a fraction and saw only grey shapes moving in whiteness. He'd never imagined Hell as white. Wasn't it black in all those old paintings and engravings? The fire ravaging his skin changed to an annoying prickling sensation, like a porcupine waltzed the length of his body. The cot supporting him had about as much give as a slab of granite. Maybe it was an autopsy table, not a cot. His eyelids sagged closed.
"Stay with me, man. You can't drift off. Talk to me."
He felt the pressure and heard the whoosh of a hypospray pushed against his arm. His chest seemed to rise and fall faster, even though he didn't want it to. The porcupine stopped its dance. He blinked his eyes open, surprised at how much lighter his lids had become. The grey blobs in the fog resolved into two anxious faces against a background of dingy white walls.
A young, scrawny guy in a lab coat studied him. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Rafe blinked a few times before the man's hand came into focus. "Three."
"What's your name?"
He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. Did they know who he was? Better to put off formal introductions until he had the lay of the land. "Where are the men I boarded with?"
A burly man leaned in, glowering down at him. "They're back on their ship, which is standing about two clicks off the station. Tell me what you're doing here."
The name Browning floated back to Rafe. The man in charge? "Do you usually offer such a warm reception to your visitors?" he countered, flooded with relief that Greg had gotten away safe.
Browning frowned and crossed his massive arms. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you better have a damn good explanation for why you showed up claiming you own this station."
Rafe did his best to look young, innocent, and not too bright. He wasn't sure how well that came across considering the beating his face had taken. "Hey, I'm just doing a job, same's you. I was hired to make a pre-purchase inspection tour. I don't make no claims to owning this place."
"That right?" The smelter supervisor snorted. "They teach you how to fight at inspecting school?"
Damn. He managed a diffident half-shrug, hard to do flat on his back. "All I know is we're supposed to meet some manager name of Levine."
Browning exchanged a look with the medic in the lab coat, and then he ran his eyes down Rafe's body, refusing to meet his eyes. "Mr. Levine's been detained."
"Ah." Rafe thought about that one for a minute, giving the man a chance to say more. When he didn't, he asked, "Detained as in locked up?"
"No, of course not," Browning snapped, too quickly. "He's just not available at the moment."
Since the Devil wouldn't look at him, Rafe tried the minion. "How bad is it, Doc?"
The medic raised an eyebrow. "You think we'd have a doctor at a godforsaken place like this? Maybe I better take another look at your head."
The scarecrow man from the docking bay stuck his head in the door. "That CEO is screaming his head off on the radio. Wants proof that his man is okay."
"Tell him to go to hell! I'll deal with him when I know what's going on. No, wait, don't tell him that." Browning wiped a meaty fist across his brow and addressed the medic. "Think we can get him to the com center?"
The medic rolled his eyes. "Sure, if you don't mind that he's dead when he gets there. He needs to stay prone and let the drugs work."
"That asshole big shot is bound to do something stupid if we don't let him see this guy's in one piece, and we need time to get organized in case they make a strike against us."
The medic suppressed a laugh. "Yeah, seeing him like this is gonna be great reassurance, eh?"
Browning looked like he might explode, and the medic drew back. Instead, he turned to Roshal. "Get Miss Patty's supply cart."
Rafe closed his eyes, hoping that Browning wouldn't continue the interrogation while they waited. He needed time to assess the situation and think about what he'd say to Leon—and maybe catch a nap. Why did the miners think they were under attack? Couldn't they all behave like businessmen and talk? But the medic poked him each time his eyes closed, insisting that he stay awake.
He swept his eyes around the room, taking in the glass-fronted cupboards filled with a sparse collection of medical supplies and equipment. His home first aid cabinet was better stoc
ked. Two vacant cots stood against the far wall. If this was the extent of the station's medical facility, Rafe hoped his injuries weren't as severe as the medic implied. Loaded on drugs, he felt pretty good, if drifty. Roshal reappeared five minutes later, pushing a narrow, flatbed cart with a squeaky wheel.
Together, the three miners hoisted Rafe's cot onto the cart and maneuvered it toward the door. The cot overhung both sides and the end of the cart. He felt like he'd be dumped on the deck any minute. A group of hostile-looking miners loitered in the corridor. They grumbled when Browning ordered them to disperse but followed his command.
Seeing the naked anger in their faces, Rafe decided he'd be safer if he disavowed any affiliation with Leon and EcoMech, and safer still if he could get off the station before anyone found out otherwise. Whatever was going on, it wasn't his fight. Let Leon deal with it. He wouldn't become a disposable pawn in the CEO's game. The debt he owed Aaron Goldman wasn’t worth his life.
They navigated a series of corridors and levels, the force that pushed Rafe against the hard cot lessening as they rose closer to the central axis of the station. The older woman with the frilly dress came toward them. She glanced at Rafe and sucked in her breath, before squaring off with Browning.
"The com tech tells me that our long-range com was vandalized overnight. We don't have a replacement part in stock, and I can't order one if the com isn't working. Besides, I'd need Mr. Levine's approval. Have you found him yet?"
Browning puffed out his cheeks and exhaled hard. "I've been a little busy this morning, Miss Patty. We'll need that com working if we're going to call in reinforcements. Isn't there something the tech can jury-rig?"
"Not according to him." She pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her lips. "Besides, who'd dare anger big corps like Galaxy or EcoMech to help us?"
"Give 'em a run for their money, I say. Make 'em pay in blood if they try to take the station," Roshal said, his hands flapping in the air like injured birds.
Rafe tried to remember his attackers. Had Roshal been among them? A little shiver ran down his spine.
Miss Patty blanched, and long fingers went to her throat. "That's barbaric. How can you suggest such a thing? We should contact a lawyer, get an injunction or something."
Roshal looked ready to wring the woman's scrawny neck.
Browning shoved the cart forward sharply. "We'll deal with it later. Right now, I have other things to take care of."
Eventually, they jockeyed through a narrow hatch into a cluttered communications center. Against the medic's recommendation, Browning transferred Rafe to a chair in front of a vid screen. His head swam, and his stomach pirouetted with it. Browning drew up a chair and positioned himself so he shared the screen. Then he flagged a miner sitting at a nearby console, and the screen in front of Rafe lit up to show Captain Benson bent over a control board.
Benson's eyes lifted to his own screen and registered shock bordering on horror.
"Mr. McTavish, are you all right?"
"He's doing okay," Browning said before Rafe could open his mouth. "Put the fat guy on."
Benson disappeared off screen. Rafe looked at Browning, Roshal, and the technician. None of them gave any indication that they'd recognized his name. A miner or two drifted up to hover near the com room door, joined by a slim Indian goddess as tall as him. Her good looks were spoiled by an expression of worry and a stained pair of unfashionable gray coveralls. In her mid-twenties perhaps, she had eyes like bottomless pools of dark chocolate, a honey-brown complexion, and lustrous henna-colored hair pulled back from her face. The sight of her improved his cardiac output. If he could get off the station, he'd take her with him. This place was too dangerous for a lady.
Movement on the vid screen drew Rafe's wandering mind. Leon stared back at him, face purpled with rage. Benson stood in the background. Concern flicked on the CEO's features for the barest instant before they set in a hard mask.
Rafe jumped in before either Browning or Leon could speak.
"Mr. Goldman, I quit. I came here to do a simple inspection. No one said anything about getting in the middle of some war. I'm taking the first ship out of here, and I'm sending you a bill for any medical services I require."
Leon's eyes narrowed and focused on Browning's face. Rafe held his breath and prayed the CEO would go along with the deception.
"Be assured that the people responsible for your injuries will be held accountable, Mr. McTavish."
His brother-in-law seemed unwilling to look at him. Rafe remembered the hatch slamming closed and wondered whether Leon felt guilty for leaving him behind now that he saw the results of his actions. Behind Leon, Greg slipped into view. His mouth dropped open, and for a moment, Rafe thought the boy might faint; not a bad thing if it kept the kid quiet.
Browning leaned into him, smelling of sweat and fear. "As you can see, your man's alive. We're the legal owners of this station, so unless you're willing to fight us for it, you better back off until the courts tell us otherwise."
"You'll put that man on a shuttle and send him to my ship immediately," Leon said. "In the meantime, I'm reporting this incident to Earth Authority. Whoever beat him will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."
"Do I look stupid?" Browning asked. "No way I'm sending a shuttle to your ship."
Greg stepped toward the vid screen, but Benson yanked him away and shoved him off camera. Leon barely glanced around at the commotion. "If you don't surrender him, I'll remove him and the culprits by force. You'll all be charged with aiding and abetting."
Trust pig-headed Leon to make a bad situation worse. "Look, Mr. Goldman, I think I'd rather find my own way home, okay? I'm not interested in getting mixed up with EA. You guys can let your lawyers hash this out. I want no part of it."
Leon seemed on the verge of an angry retort when Benson placed a hand on his shoulder and bent to mutter something in his ear. He turned back toward the vid screen. "Captain Benson tells me there's a cargo ship parked near the station, some kind of independent merchant."
"That's Jay Maltraw's ship," Browning said. "What of it?"
"Send Mr. McTavish there as a first step on his journey home. When he's arrived, I'll provide a copy of our documentation proving that EcoMech owns the station." Leon stared hard at Browning, daring the miner to disagree.
"Excellent idea. Then when he dies because he was moved too soon, it won't be on our heads, eh?" the medic muttered.
Rafe had thought the medic was exaggerating the extent of his injuries earlier, but the drugs were wearing off. His head throbbed and his back and legs ached. He kept his breathing shallow to avoid a stabbing pain in his ribs and wondered how close to death he might be.
Browning rubbed a hand over his jowls. He glanced at the com center door, and Rafe followed his gaze. The group of miners listening in had grown to a crowd jamming the corridor, the pretty woman at their forefront. She stood very still and contained, like a cat about to pounce. The miners looked even more unhappy, if that was possible.
Browning frowned at the sight of them.
"All right, if McTavish and Maltraw agree, we'll transport him to Maltraw's ship."
"Contact me again when he's been delivered." Leon cut the connection.
Rafe slumped against his chair. He'd be out of there soon, and no longer under threat from the miners. The whole situation was a sun ready to go supernova. The woman stepped into the room, and he gave her his most charming smile. It bounced off her like a laser off a mirror.
"You filthy liar. You'd say anything to cheat these people, wouldn't you? They're just so much dirt beneath your feet."
Browning rose and faced her. "Ms. Bhatia, what is this about?"
Her eyes smoldered, and Rafe couldn't help thinking it made her all the more attractive, but he didn't like where the conversation was going. He tried to slide his chair back from the communications console so he could stand, as good manners dictated, but he was blocked by the medic.
"He's
Rafael McTavish, not some lackey working for Leon Goldman."
Browning gave her a blank look. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"McTavish, as in his father was a co-founder of EcoMech. That same father sits on the board of directors." She glared down at Rafe. "Just look at him. Do you really think a common inspector would wear a five thousand-credit suit and custom-tailored silk shirt? He's the CEO of Security Partners, a company that vends mercenaries to the highest bidder."
"Mercs!" one of the miners in the crowd at the door said. The others all started talking at the same time, an ominous rumbling of angry voices.
"Are you sure that's who he is?" Browning asked.
"He's been on the news vids enough, touting the EA contracts his company has won."
Browning turned to Rafe, and the look on his face warned of an impending storm. "Is that true?"
The room seemed to tilt, and Rafe felt sick. "Yes, I'm Rafael McTavish, but I have nothing to do with EcoMech."
"Then why are you here?" the woman challenged.
"I'm on contract to inspect the station. There's nothing sinister involved." He put a hand on the com table to steady himself, but the room spun faster.
The miners shoved in through the door, and one of them muttered, "We don't believe you, you lying SOB. You're part of that corporate scum trying to steal our property."
Roshal stepped forward. "Have you got forces on your ship? How many men?"
"Back off!" Browning shouted. "Get out of here and let me handle this."
The woman turned to face the miners. Rafe saw fear on her face in place of the anger of a moment ago. The medic and Browning stepped in front of him to block the mob.
Browning thrust his chest out and punched his fist into the palm of his other hand.
"I gave you an order. Now move!"
For one tense moment, the miners in the front of the mob stared back at the smelter supervisor, their faces getting blurry. Then eyes dropped and men turned away. They seemed very far away, almost as though they floated into clouds.
Calculated Risk Page 3