Chamberlain's Folly (The Terra Nova Chronicles)

by Robert Dean Hall

  After the attempt on his life, he was afraid the digs would now be less safe than the frontier. Zheng worried that whoever tried to kill him might also be desperate enough to try and get at him through his loved ones.

  Zheng had discussed the subject with Emily’s father and her grandmother while in the Ekkidan infirmary and they shared his concerns. All three of them agreed they would wait until after her graduation before mentioning their concerns to her.

  They also agreed they must allow her to make her own choice if she were in fact assigned to the digs. But, they were all going to recommend against it until the investigation into the poisoning was over and they were sure there was no more danger to Zheng or any of his close family.

  Chapter 46

  16-December-2409

  Zheng watched as Emily climbed the platform.

  She stopped in front of a table where she was handed a scroll with a ribbon wrapped around it. She walked to a second table where an ensign’s bar was pinned to the collar of her uniform jacket. Afterward, she descended the stairs down to floor level and rejoined her graduating classmates.

  Alphabetical order relegated Emily to the end of the line, so her family was forced to wait for the other two hundred-seventy-six of her classmates to cross the platform ahead of her, but for the Historian, the wait didn’t seem long enough.

  The week of events surrounding the graduation of Emily’s class of cadets had rushed by. The graduation ceremony was the final event. She would be leaving for Terra Nova with her father the next morning. A month at home and she would be boarding a troop transport for the derelict yards.

  Zheng had enjoyed Emily being there for the previous four years. Once she was gone, the Academy would seem cold and lonely to him.

  A tear came to his eye. He wiped it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. He fought to keep his emotions under control.

  The ceremony would soon be over and he would be required to meet and greet parents he hadn’t yet been introduced to during the week’s full calendar of events. Zheng wanted nothing more than to duck out as quickly as possible. It was late in the afternoon and he was looking forward to one final dinner with Emily and her father before they had to turn in for the evening.

  An active rear admiral, who came to the Academy just for the purpose of swearing the new cadets into the Fleet, commanded everyone to stand. He administered the oath; announced to the cadets they were now property of the Space Fleet of the League of Aligned Planets; dared them not to raise Hell that evening and dismissed the crowd.

  Cadets, faculty and visitors streamed toward the back of the auditorium.

  While Zheng, Laurel and Emily’s father, Stephen, waited at the end of their row of seats for Emily to make her way back to them, Lennart Pedersen approached.

  “Is there some place private where we could discuss something,” Pedersen asked.

  Zheng turned to his son and estranged wife.

  “I really should go,” he said. “Please grab Emily and meet me back at my apartment in an hour. I want to grab some dinner before you all have to leave.”

  “Of course, Herb,” Laurel answered.

  “Sure thing, Dad,” Stephen added.

  Zheng motioned for Pedersen to follow as he left the auditorium and headed for his office.

  Once they got inside and closed the door, Zheng began a sweep of the listening devices to see if any were currently active.

  “That won’t be necessary, Herb,” Pedersen said. “Gus is no longer there to listen in on you, and those in my chain of command in Fleet Intelligence put his cronies on notice that we wouldn’t tolerate any more eavesdropping on military personnel; active or retired.”

  “Thank you for that, Len,” Zheng replied. “I actually found it amusing. Until I went to Ekkida, that is. Would you like some coffee?”

  Pedersen agreed that a cup of hot coffee would be ideal on such a cold day and started a fire in Zheng’s fireplace while Zheng started the coffee machine.

  “First off, Herb,” Pedersen said. “Let me tell you I’m sorry for what happened…”

  “What do you have to apologize for, Len,” Zheng asked

  “I guess the fact that we missed this one,” Pedersen replied. “My handler has contacted me almost daily since this occurred and they’ve ordered me to tell you what we know so far.”

  “I assume you understand you are in some personal danger,” Pedersen asked. “I don’t think you are a target, but you are a witness to a crime and it’s possible that whoever poisoned Gus may make an attempt to shut you up.”

  “That poison was meant for me, Len,” Zheng replied. “I have little doubt of that. The assassin handed the poisoned sweetener packets to me, not Gus. Do you have any idea who was behind this?”

  “We have suspicions at this point, but little else,” Pedersen confessed. “By the way, could you identify the man in the kiosk? The Ekkidan authorities haven’t been forthcoming with the content of their interview with you.”

  “I don’t think I could pick him out of a crowd,” Zheng answered. “I’ve thought about it. I really wouldn’t know him if I saw him again.”

  “I expected that,” Pedersen said. “He probably went out of his way to keep you from looking him directly in the face for more than a second or two at any time. His face probably wouldn’t have registered. You were probably busy talking to Cozeremi…”

  “Yes, I was,” Zheng answered. “Haven’t you been able to study the surveillance holography, yet,” he asked. “It’s been over a month.”

  “The Ekkidans claim there is no holography from the time you and Gus arrived at the terminal until just before the medics were summoned,” Pedersen stated. “At this moment, we don’t know if they are telling us the truth or hiding something. It’s our opinion the equipment was tampered with and the Ekkidans can’t explain how or who could possibly be involved without pointing fingers in embarrassing directions. They’ve managed to keep it out of the local press, too.”

  Pedersen paused as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say next.

  “We believe this was sanctioned,” he finally blurted out.

  Zheng’s blood ran cold. He became dizzy upon hearing Pedersen’s words.

  “How sure are you,” he asked and then sat down. He almost missed the chair and fell onto the floor.

  “Damn it, Herb. Are you alright,” Pedersen asked. “You’re white as a ghost. I’ve seen you prepare for battle a thousand times and you never looked this afraid.”

  “I knew who my enemy was then,” Zheng stated. “I knew what he looked like, and usually where he was hiding. This is much different.”

  “I understand,” Pedersen replied. “But, you need to be prepared to deal with this like you did any other battle, Herb. My guys will be watching over you but if you freeze at an inopportune moment, it could be fatal.”

  Zheng stood up and put his hands noisily down on his desk. He tried to turn his fear into anger.

  “Anger is much more useful to a soldier than fear,” Zheng told himself. “Anger can be directed.”

  “How, do you know that this was a sanctioned attempt on my life,” Zheng asked Pedersen, stuttering slightly. “You never answered me.”

  “Fleet Intelligence had agents there within the hour,” Pedersen said. “The Ekkidan detectives got there only moments before we did, but they had everything blocked off until the removal of Cozeremi’s body.”

  “They kept us out of the area until they made a sweep of the tarmac and the concourse, but we watched them closely. They apparently didn’t find any fingerprints or DNA traces left behind by the assassin because they didn’t catalog anything from their look at the kiosk.”

  Zheng didn’t want to appear impatient, but he started to fidget. He walked over to the coffee maker and pulled the pot from it. He grabbed two mugs and sat them on his desk, along with the coffee pot, and a small bowl of sugar. He reached into the small refrigerator behind the desk and pulled out a small container of milk. H
e then motioned for Pedersen to sit at the desk across from him.

  Pedersen sat at the desk and took the empty mug that Zheng offered. When he was sure that Zheng was no longer distracted, he continued talking. “Whoever did this didn’t want to be identified,” he said. “And, he was prepared to go to any length to ensure he wasn’t.”

  Pedersen shivered at the horror he found in what he was about to reveal.

  “They found the person who should have been working in the kiosk that day,” he told Zheng. “Her body was stuffed in a trash receptacle just outside the service entrance closest to the kiosk. Her neck had been broken. By a professional.”

  Pedersen shivered once again, but much more violently.

  “She was still in prep school, Herb,” he said. “Her school books were found in the kiosk. She was only a child.”

  “But, does Fleet Intelligence have any idea who was behind it, Len,” Zheng asked. His head was bowed. He clenched his teeth and fists. He fought to keep turning the fear he felt growing into a more useful emotion.

  “We have a couple of theories,” Pedersen admitted. “But, neither seems to fit the evidence completely.”

  Pedersen reached for the coffee pot and filled his mug. He saw that Zheng was in no hurry to pour one of his own so he grabbed the second mug and filled it for him.

  Pedersen pushed the mug toward Zheng until he was sure it fell within range of his downturned gaze.

  “I need you to tell me, Herb,” Pedersen asked delicately. “What were you doing on Ekkida?”

  “I was there at the request of Aro Non,” Zheng replied without hesitation. “Of course, I’m sure you know that he claimed to me Gus and his friends in the Central Government were trying to influence the elections on Ekkida.”

  “Did he tell you anything you weren’t already aware of,” Pedersen asked.

  “He claimed to have evidence he wanted to make public,” Zheng replied. “I guess that would qualify.”

  “What kind of evidence, “Pedersen asked. “Would it have put anyone in prison?”

  “I don’t know,” Zheng replied. “It wasn’t anything that would be damaging to his opposition directly. I think it was mostly going to be a late game ploy to sway the undecided voters.”

  Zheng lifted his head and put his hands around the coffee mug in front of him. After thinking about it for a moment, he raised the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip.

  “What were you discussing with Cozeremi, then,” Pedersen asked.

  Pedersen hadn’t yet touched his coffee. He poured in a small amount of milk and swirled the mug around.

  He was about to mention to Zheng there was no spoon for the sugar, but decided to remain silent and forgive the oversight. It was possibly Zheng’s preference for drinking his coffee black that had saved his life on Ekkida. Pedersen didn’t want to jinx the man.

  “Gus and I were discussing the information that Non had given me,” Zheng replied. He was distant and stone-faced. He shook his head upon remembering his final meeting with Cozeremi. It had been more than a month since the incident and he still hadn’t completely come to grips with the realization that another human life had been taken by a weapon he believed was meant for him.

  “What did Non give you,” Pedersen asked. “Maybe that will help us shed some light on the motive.”

  “Legal documents from his family archive,” Zheng answered. “They were court records from around time of the signing of the Zunnuki Accord. I can’t say much more than that. I’ve only just started to study them. They have nothing directly to do with what Non desires to expose.”

  “Why was Gus so interested in them,” Pedersen asked. “There had to be something there that was worrying his friends. Gen Three shuttles are expensive rides.”

  “All I can tell you is that Cozeremi already had an idea of what Non gave me,” Zheng replied. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, once more. “I can’t yet see why it would have been of interest to anyone but him,” he said. He paused for a few seconds before adding, “But still...” His voice trailed off and he fell silent once more.

  Pedersen coaxed Zheng to finish his thought. “But… What,” he asked.

  Zheng posed his own question. “What do you think would be the worst thing that could happen if it could be proven the Ekkidans continuously fed science and technology to Earth starting at around the time of the beginning of Earth’s space age, and then on for two centuries afterward,” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Herb,” Pedersen responded. “I would expect that a lot of people might be embarrassed by such a revelation. I can’t see it changing much in the grand scheme of things, though. I can imagine some people passing it off as a tall tale, proof or not, and some people saying they knew it all the time.”

  He picked up the sugar bowl, tipped it so that some of the sugar spilled out into his coffee and swirled the mug once more to mix it.

  He took a slow sip and then said, “If you are asking me if I think that somebody would want to kill you over that information, I’d have to tell you I don’t.” He looked intently at Zheng. “Do you have such proof,” he asked.

  Zheng looked up from his coffee mug and scowled at Pedersen. “You already know what was on the memory cards that Nashur and you gave me,” he grumbled. “But, are you aware that Cozeremi and his friends know, too?”

  Pedersen laughed. He thought it funny, for some reason, that Zheng was probably the only player that didn’t know what was on the memory cards before they were presented to him.

  “I wish I could find the humor in this, Len,” Zheng snapped. “Here I am putting my ass on the line for something I believe in, while you…” He caught himself before he said anything else. Then he asked as the realization hit him, “You’re in this up to your neck, aren’t you, Len?”

  “Up to the bottom of my nose, actually,” Pedersen replied. “Remember, I told you there was something really big brewing the last time we spoke,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I brought you into this,” Pedersen stated, in a tone that was only superficially apologetic. “You would have gotten here on your own soon enough, though. Gus’ people were making sure of it. In case you haven’t figured it out already, you are what we call in the intelligence community, a slow leak. A controlled conduit.”

  Zheng looked at him suspiciously. “Are you telling me I’ve been fed misinformation,” he asked.

  “Not in the least, Herb,” Pedersen replied, giving Zheng a smile. “But I should probably tell you to rethink anything that was cut from any of the manuscripts you submitted.”

  “How so,” Zheng asked.

  Pedersen’s reply was direct. “Most cuts were made because the time wasn’t right to reveal those things, but in some cases, you got it wrong,” he said. “It’s surprising how you could have been so right about so much, but a hundred-eighty degrees bass-ackwards on what you missed.”

  Pedersen picked up the coffee pot and topped off his mug.

  He then answered the most obvious of Zheng’s questions before it could be asked. “No,” he said, vehemently. “I can’t tell you what you were mistaken about.”

  Pedersen added more milk and sugar to his freshened coffee and took another drink.

  “How much danger do you think I’m in at the moment, Len,” Zheng asked. “You still haven’t answered that question, or told me who you think is responsible.” He picked up his own coffee mug and drank some before adding angrily, “Not to mention what you think the reason might be.”

  Pedersen tried to allay Zheng’s fears.

  “There are a few of us who aren’t convinced you were the target, Herb,” he said. “It may have truly been Cozeremi they wanted to eliminate. It’s too early to tell.”

  “The assassin handed the poison to me, Len,” Zheng reiterated. “That tells me it was meant for me. Why didn’t he give them to Gus?”

  “Because whoever planned this knew you would give them to Gus,” Pedersen replied without hesitation.

  “Wher
e are you going with this,” Zheng asked.

  “Oh, come now, Herb. How many coincidences would it take for this to happen exactly the way it did,” Pedersen replied. “Who could have guessed you and Gus would just happen to show up at that beverage kiosk at that time, on that day, and buy drinks before your flights – and then have a killer waiting on you?”

  “I’m not a fool, Len,’ Zheng barked. “I know that this had to take planning. Whoever hatched this little plot had to know I would be leaving Ekkida on that day, and arriving at the terminal at that time.”

  “And, that you are a heavy coffee drinker,” Pedersen added.

  “Exactly,” Zheng continued.

  “And you drink it black,” Pedersen asked. “Without sweetener?”

  The comment hit Zheng like a bludgeon. He became dizzy once more. He put both hands on the desktop again with a slap and stiffened his arms to steady himself. His training in special operations had taught him that missions were never carried out until you had as much intelligence as you could safely collect on your target.

  “What I am trying to get across to you, Herb, is that whoever did this has been watching you, closely,” Pedersen said. “We don’t know for sure if Cozeremi was killed to send you a message or if he was actually the intended target and they took advantage of intelligence on you to pull it off. It could be that this really had nothing to do with you.”

  “If we can uncover a good reason why anyone would want to see Gus dead,” Pedersen added. “We’ll have a better idea why this happened the way it did.”

  “If I were you, I’d continue with my life, but be cautious,” Pedersen advised Zheng. “A person, or persons, unknown has intimate knowledge of your habits and has proven the knowledge can be used to harm you, if they so desire.”

  Pedersen stood up. He lifted his mug one final time and thanked Zheng for the coffee.

  “I have to go back to my billet and freshen up. I’m having dinner with Gabi,” he informed Zheng.