Calculated Risk

by K. S. Ferguson

  "What the hell were you doing? In case you didn't know, the objective is to calm the men, not start a riot."

  Durga, give me strength. "Your plan relies on that slimeball Goldman's promise not to attack if he finds Levine in the drone. He's just another greedy corporate type embarrassed because he was run off his turf. He'll want revenge and to show the miners he's boss. I don't trust him, and the miners shouldn't either."

  McTavish combed his fingers through his unruly black hair. "What about me? Am I another 'greedy corporate type' that you don't trust?"

  Kama swallowed hard and chewed her lip, weighing her choices. Lives hung in the balance: McTavish, his nephew, the miners. But she had Oasis' secrets, so many secrets, that were also her charge.

  Did she trust him? That's what it came down to in the end, a gamble on his integrity, and she was out of options if she wanted to help the miners.

  "It's not about you. It's about keeping everyone safe. Levine isn't on that drone." She drew in a deep breath. "He was never on the drone."

  At first, he just blinked. Then his eyes got a faraway look and the anger gave way to an internal focus so intense it frightened her. When he'd returned to the reality of his surroundings, he asked, "You're certain?"

  "No mass changes, no fluctuating oxygen refresh rates, no hatch openings since departure, which rules out a mid-flight rendezvous."

  One eyebrow twitched up, and his cobalt blue eyes drilled into her like lasers. She expected him to ask how she knew all this. Instead he said, "I'm sorry I swore at you. I see now why you advocated for EA peacekeepers."

  "You have to take Greg and get off the station before the miners find out."

  "I've given them my word that I'll help them. I can't quit now."

  "Help them from the EcoMech ship. Convince Goldman to send the mercs home. You aren't any help to anybody if you're dead." Kama thought he took her announcement rather lightly. He didn't seem the least bit worried.

  "You have something more to tell me," he said at last. "Not about the drone, but about Levine."

  "What?" Kama asked. What was he, some kind of psychic? She wouldn't answer, but he just waited until she had no choice. "On the first morning after I arrived, the morning Levine disappeared, someone searched his quarters."

  He frowned and shook his head. "I don't follow you."

  "No one could find him. They searched the station, but no one had access to his quarters. I thought—" she hesitated.

  "You thought you could help them open the lock, what with your, er… exceptional computer skills."

  "Yes, exactly." She hurried on. "Miss Patty was inside when I got there. I guess no one realized she could get in. I had a sense that she hadn't been there long. She'd left the door standing open."

  "You think she took something?"

  "If she did, it would have been small, something she could hide on her person. But the rooms had been searched, thoroughly and carefully, without disturbing anything." She reached in her pocket and pulled out the cash chip. "I went back right after Miss Patty left and found this hidden inside the vid screen frame."

  McTavish took the chip with its bank logo and weighed it in his hand. "Feels like about 50,000 credits worth, and I imagine it arrived in the mail the night before we did."

  Kama's jaw sagged. "How did you know?"

  "Levine didn't just scam the miners. He's been embezzling from Galaxy for the past three years. He's a damn genius at creative bookkeeping. Every month, he has a cash chip sent from a Mars bank. It's pulled from the account for a shipping company, one I suspect exists only in cyberspace. It's one of the ways he's been laundering the money. They're always timed to come in on the mail ship."

  "Every month?" Kama's brain churned furiously. If the cash chip wasn't a payment for the Sharma Network secret… and McTavish had found this information in the business records, the same records she'd dismissed as useless. She wanted to kick herself for her stupidity.

  "I'm sorry I implied you're incompetent. That was uncalled for," he said, as though reading her mind. "Even the best forensic accountants will struggle with this case."

  His apology made it all the worse. She hung her head, ashamed of her failure and in awe of his skills. She'd misjudged him when she'd thought he was only a pretty face. But he's still a slimy corporate liar, she reminded herself.

  "You didn't tell the miners any of this."

  "No. It seems a very large operation for only one man to pull off, particularly for as long as this one has lasted. Levine might have an accomplice, and I didn't want to risk spooking a potential co-conspirator. Was there just the one chip?"

  "That's all I found in his quarters. He might have others stashed elsewhere."

  McTavish raked his hands through his hair and frowned. "He knew the station had been sold and that I was due to arrive. If he delayed his own departure waiting for the chip to get here, why not take it with him when he vanished?"

  She'd had more time to ponder the question than he had, but she'd found no answer. She was almost glad he couldn't solve the problem. She felt incompetent enough.

  "He faked the video footage," she said.

  "If what you say about the drone is true, I see no other alternative. Levine's a clever man, experienced at misdirection."

  His cool gaze lingered on her. Reassessing, she thought. He'd trusted her with his secret. Was he sorry now? But she had bigger worries. If Levine was still hiding on or in the vicinity of the station, how would she find him before McTavish now that he knew the manager was still here?

  She needed time to look for him, and she needed McTavish out of the way, or at least not also looking for Levine. Telling him about the search was one thing. Letting him in on the secret of the Sharma Network another.

  "Levine may have arranged for a ship to pick him up here. Just before the drone left, he sent a message requesting a meeting. I thought the message meant a rendezvous with the drone, but if he didn't take the drone, maybe it didn't. If we can find that ship and track it, we can set a trap to catch him when he makes the transfer, assuming he hasn't already."

  McTavish mulled over her statement. His color looked better, and he wasn't holding his ribs anymore. "Not a bad plan, provided he isn't already gone or we don't have to wait too long. Patience is running thin on both sides of this mess. I'll have EA run the ship's ID code. I can do that while I'm on EcoMech's ship."

  Kama's hopes rose. He'd changed his mind and wouldn't be here to impede her own search of the station. "Glad you're finally talking sense. I can run you and Greg over now, while the miners are occupied with Warner."

  "I'd like you to stay here and keep an eye on Greg. I know it's a lot to ask, what with the explosive situation, and I worry about leaving you in danger, but I won't be there long. If Levine is on the station, then we should set up a systematic search and set the trap for the rendezvous ship as a backup plan. I can't organize a search from the EcoMech ship."

  Kama checked her anger and frustration. How dare he imply that she couldn't take care of herself when she'd been the one watching out for him. Men!

  "You're not taking Greg? I thought you were the one who wanted him safely away from here?"

  McTavish hung his head and studied the deck. "Let's just say I'm hedging my bets."

  Her frustration crept a little higher. "Then why are you going?"

  "If the financials that Galaxy provided to EcoMech were fraudulent, EcoMech can back out of the purchase. From EcoMech's side, the purchase never made any kind of sense anyway. And if EcoMech doesn't own the station, there's no reason to send in space marines or for the EcoMech ship to hang about. But I need to present the evidence to Goldman, and I need to do it face to face. Let's find Ed or Yuri and set up transportation for me."

  Kama's grip tightened on her duffel strap. McTavish was the most infuriating man. Now he'd saddled her with a babysitting assignment while she needed to look for Levine. She'd have to find a place to stash the kid while she hunted.

  "While you'
re over there, try to remember your doctor's orders: no unnecessary walking."

  He looked thoughtful. "Does the 'doctor' have pink and purple hair and an enormous metallic handbag?" He shook his head. "Don't answer that. I must have been hallucinating."

  They waited for Greg in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Kama grew more concerned about the prospect of Levine being on the station. If he had the Oasis contract, how would she get to him first, and what was to prevent him from telling others? Did he have an accomplice, and if so, did the accomplice know about the contract? Maybe it was better to let the manager appear to escape, and then Samir could surreptitiously intercept. It was the kind of "wetware" problem she didn't like.

  McTavish cleared his throat. "The contract with Oasis you mentioned, it's a pretty big purchase, but it doesn't seem to justify Oasis' involvement on the miners' behalf. Seems like it would be easier for Oasis to just get their shipment elsewhere."

  I'm a moorhk. She wandered over to one of the work tables and pretended to examine the tools, keeping her back to him. "Oasis is a champion of the little people, not like greedy for-profit corps. They'll step in because it's the only way Independent Mining can get justice."

  "Ah," he said. "And you have the authority to make that commitment on Oasis' behalf?"

  Kama froze. She should have listened to Samir and steered clear of McTavish. She pushed her apprehension away and searched for an angry retort. Better keep this guy at arm's length. She arranged her face into a deliberate scowl and spun around.

  "First you malign my abilities, and now you doubt my word?" she said, feigning offense and avoiding his question.

  McTavish held up his hands. "Just asking."

  After another moment, he said, "Probably best all around if your involvement in the search for Levine stays off the record."

  Why would he cover her involvement? The big corporations saw to it that EA punished corporate espionage to the full extent of the law as an example for others. His company specialized in catching hackers like her. She couldn't figure him out, and that worried her. One more puzzle she didn't want to think about, along with what to do should she find Levine.

  Greg arrived with the trolley, and they loaded McTavish. The two of them went to the runabout bay while she diverted by the infirmary. The miners had dispersed, and only Browning remained with the medic and Warner. Browning wasn't happy when she told him about McTavish's plan. He followed her to the runabout bay.

  McTavish stood just outside the bay doors, back against the wall and feet splayed, like he'd fall over without the extra support. He bounced a little rubber ball off the deck, over and over in an endless rhythm, with that same intense focus she's glimpsed in the storage bay. She sensed it wasn't the ball he focused on. As soon as he saw them, he tucked the ball in the pocket of his scrubs.

  "Thanks for coming, Ed. How's Warner?"

  Kama wondered whether his concern for Warner was genuine or just a ploy to soften the smelter supervisor.

  "He'll live. Medic's keeping him overnight just to be safe. What's this Kama says about you leaving us?"

  "Can you spare a runabout pilot? I need a roundtrip to the EcoMech ship posthaste."

  Ed ran a beefy hand over his face. "You taking the kid?"

  Without hesitation, McTavish responded. "No, he has work to do here. Kama promised she'd keep an eye on him so he won't be under your feet."

  Browning glared at him. "You gonna tell me why you want to go over there?"

  McTavish flashed his endearing boyish grin, all the more effective for the sympathy vote his bruised and swollen face elicited. "A good magician never reveals his tricks. Suffice it to say I'll be working on the miners' behalf."

  "You ever give a straight answer, Mr. McTavish?" Browning asked.

  The grin broadened. "Rafe. Call me Rafe."

  With that, he shuffled into the runabout bay where two hulking transport craft waited. The smelter supervisor followed, muttering imprecations. He cracked a hatch and helped McTavish inside, then he climbed in and dogged the hatch.

  Kama and Greg watched the craft launch through the porthole in the bay door.

  "What's this work your uncle wants done?" she asked, hopeful that she might be able to ditch the kid while she conducted her own station search. She took his arm and steered him away from the runabout bay.

  "He wants filmie prints of the station schematics, section by section, ready for him when he gets back. He said you'd have what I needed, and if you didn't, you'd be able to get it. He also asked me to review all the airlock videos and make a list of everyone who came or went from the station the night Levine disappeared." He trudged along in silence for a moment and then said, "He said you were very resourceful. Did you know him from before?"

  "No," Kama replied, puzzled. "What gave you that impression?"

  "He said that if things got hairy while he was gone, I was to do whatever you told me, no arguments, no matter how crazy it sounded. He said he trusted you with my life because he trusted you with his. I thought you guys must know one another pretty well."

  Kama was speechless, first with surprise, and then with fury. How dare McTavish dump responsibility for his nephew's safety in her lap! Typical corporate type, sloughing his duties downstream onto his lackeys. She resented the implication that he was somehow her boss. She'd have a word with him when he returned.

  In the meantime, she'd drop Greg off in the infirmary to encode the filmies McTavish wanted and start reviewing the videos. The medic could keep an eye on him. She had her own agenda.

  "Are you married?" Greg asked. "Or dating anybody?"

  She lifted her eyebrows, amused that he might be hitting on her. "Did you want to ask me out?"

  His face reddened. "You're really beautiful and all, but I think you're kind of old for me. I thought maybe if you were unattached, you might date Uncle Rafe."

  Her amusement vanished, and the anger returned. First McTavish asks her out to dinner, and now he has this young whelp matchmaking for him. Kama rounded on Greg. "Did your uncle put you up to this?"

  "Oh, no!" he said. "It's just my mom worries about him. She says he needs to stop window shopping and get serious about someone. I thought maybe since the two of you get along so well…"

  Kama rolled her eyes. Get along so well? "I don't date."

  "You don't? Not anyone?"

  "Not anyone."

  Greg took her denial as news that his uncle had a chance with her and grinned. She stalked to the infirmary in silence, annoyed that he'd missed the point. She wasn't going to date McTavish or any other man, now or in the future. If they knew who she was, what she'd done, they wouldn't want her.

  Once she'd settled Greg with a supply of filmies and the station plans, Kama borrowed a medical scanner and headed into the bowels of the station. She dismissed the common areas from her search. If he still waited on the station, Levine would be somewhere not frequently visited and not immediately obvious as a hiding space.

  She stopped in front of an access door, knelt to the deck, and pulled equipment from her bag. In a matter of minutes, she'd married the medical scanner to a signal amplifier and patched the Frankenstein assembly to her nanocom. On the tiny display, she indicated her own body readout as noise to be ignored. Satisfied that the device was ready, she stepped through the access door into the bowels of Hell.

  Dripping pipe-work and tangled spaghetti-servings of plumbing and wiring lined the close, confining corridor. The rest of the station was humid enough, with two hundred angry men sweating and smelling wherever you turned, but this place was like a rainforest: dimly lit, and with mysterious bubblings and gurglings. She threw nervous glances over her shoulder, not entirely trusting the scanner to alert her if someone approached.

  She picked her way down the murky corridor, stepping over exposed pipes and recoiling when condensation dripped from above. A steady stream of drips ran down into a drainage channel in the floor, trickling malodorously away into drainage holes for recycling an
d making enough noise to more than cover the sound of stealthy footsteps. She swept her jury-rigged scanner in an unsteady arc before her, keeping an eye on the nanocom screen and her stunner ready in her other hand.

  Minutes seemed to stretch like hours as she threaded the seamy underbelly of the station checking for human readings. Her shoulders ached, tense from waiting for Levine to pop out of the gloom, armed with some sinister weapon. If he surprised and overpowered her, how long would it be until someone discovered her body? Would McTavish find her?

  The long, winding corridor opened out into something else. She wiped sweat from her forehead and peered into the gloom. The pipe work through which she'd been struggling flared out away from the corridor's mouth, which was dominated by a regular network of low dark shapes, illuminated with a bluish glow. A faint sound reached her ears: low, unsteady, somehow alive. She glanced over her shoulder, then moved forward, damp hand shaking on the stunner.

  She emerged into the hydroponics bay. Bright grow lights suspended over a plant table blinded her and cast deep shadows on the opposite side of the bay. Gurgling recycling vats lined up like a row of sweating servants, their glass sides streaked with condensation. They waited on a vast crowd of vegetative diners that sprawled across the grooved surface of an endless table, sucking up red hydroponic fluid from the channels like vampires at a blood bank. Her stomach seized, and her pulse pounded in her ears.

  Kama unzipped her coveralls a few inches and pulled the collar away from her sticky neck. The air was so heavy it felt like walking in fog. Jack the Ripper rose unbidden in her mind, making her shudder. She wrinkled her nose at the cloying, fetid stench, like a huge compost heap, hot with the oppressive warmth of rotting, and then she scrabbled half crouched between pipe runs to the far end of the space.

  A feeling of eyes watching grew in her chest. She played her scanner from side to side, but the display filled with static—interference from hydroponic equipment—eroding the last shreds of her confidence. She'd have to search the old-fashioned way, with no early warning system. Her hand twitched on the stunner. A quick dive into her bag produced a work light.