Ambassador 6: The Enemy Within

by Patty Jansen

  “We have.” And was that really the main reason?

  But I didn’t ask further. She seemed cooperative and I didn’t want to put her in a spot about matters that had nothing to do with us and that she might not even know anything about.

  “Dr Martens said that the hearing would be completed in a day and half. Is that still the plan?” I wanted to take the Pengali and Jemiro and Amarru’s people back to the Exchange and then get a flight to New Zealand for the rest of us. I’d like to book that as soon as I could.

  “Probably. Look, I can’t promise anything, because it’s up to the judges. They may have additional questions, or may want to hear additional testimonies—”

  Someone knocked on the door, which stood ajar.

  Ms Trnkova whirled around.

  I said, “Come in, it’s open.”

  The door creaked open letting in Odette in her receptionist uniform. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr Wilson. I have Mr Kluysters waiting to talk to you.”

  I guessed this was the business contact that the receptionist had told me about.

  “Can he wait a moment until I’ve finished this meeting?”

  Ms Trnkova pushed herself up from the table. “No, you should talk to him now. We’ve pretty much finished anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow, probably.”

  She smiled at Odette, picked up her bag and left the room. Too quick, too nervous. She was so keen to get out of here all of a sudden. Did she know who this person was?

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  I FOLLOWED ODETTE out of the room through the hall to the reception area. She opened a door for me behind the reception counter. It gave access to a narrow hallway with store rooms on both sides: cleaning equipment, laundry bags and surplus items of furniture all stood crammed into the small and darkened rooms.

  Odette took me to a room that was bigger than the others, at the end of the hallway. It had windows near the ceiling. I guessed it had once been a laundry, but now it had been turned into the hotel’s communication hub. A cabinet against the wall contained all the on-site data storage and a long desk against the other wall was filled with equipment for surveillance and communication. It disturbed me that most of it was unfamiliar to me.

  A screen at the far end displayed the interior of a light-filled room. A man sat in front of the camera, speaking to someone out of view. He was perhaps in his fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair, a short beard and sharp eyes. He wore a neat business shirt. I had never seen this man before, but his face was pleasant and intelligent.

  The person off-screen in the room with him—a woman by the sound of the voice—said something; I guessed it was about me having appeared on the display. He turned to the screen.

  “Mr Wilson?” His voice sounded pleasant.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  His eyes scanned my appearance while I sat down.

  My hair was long enough to fit into a Coldi-style ponytail. I’d treated my face so that I no longer had any facial hair. I wore Domiri clan earrings with red gemstones—a different earring in each ear because I had a partner. I wore gamra blues, and even my thicker shirt was much more ornamental and flowery than was customary for business attire on Earth.

  Often, when meeting with Earth business people, they seemed confused about my appearance, or they would think that I was part of the creative design community and would be taken aback when they heard who I was. But he showed no sign that he disapproved of it.

  “My name is Minke Kluysters, CEO of Sandowne Pharmaceuticals. In case you are unfamiliar with the company, we specialise in nanomedicine and bioprocedures.”

  “I have heard of the company.” It was one of the largest and most powerful in the world. CEO? I had never seen this man before, nor heard his name.

  “That’s good. It makes my life easier.” He smiled.

  His accent was unfamiliar to me, short and clipped, but it suited him and the businesslike demeanour well.

  “Well, then, let me start with the reason why I’d like to talk to you: my company is interested in establishing a presence in Barresh. Our research team is interested, in particular, in some of the medicinal components that can be found in highland vegetation in Miran. They would like to establish an office or research post in Barresh, because I understand that Miran is not an easy place to do business.”

  He had that right, but his reasoning appeared to have missed several crucial steps. “Forgive me for saying so, but that will probably be the least onerous consideration. It’s next to impossible to establish a formal business presence in any gamra entity without being a member.”

  “I understand that there are a couple of businesses owned by people from Earth.”

  “True. In two cases, the business owners have cut all ties with Earth, and in both of those cases, I couldn’t vouch for the legality of their activities.” Those were Huang Le and Clovis Keneally. There was also Jasper Carlson. “In another case, I’m not sure of the person’s affiliation. There is also an academic.”

  “Ah, Benton Leck.”

  “You know him?”

  “We’ve met.”

  “Apart from Leck, whose employment is governed by the knowledge exploration agreement, all the others don’t have a formal framework for their interaction with Earth. They don’t import or export legally, because Earth is not a member of gamra.”

  He reached out of the field of view of the screen, and set a bowl on the desk in front of the camera. I recognised the style: it was a Pengali artefact from the Washing Stones tribe’s diamond cutting facility.

  He said, “Of course people import and export illegally.”

  He picked up his reader and held the screen to the camera. On it was an official Trader Guild transfer sheet, covering a box of these bowls, from Barresh to Athens.

  Well . . . damn it.

  “I want to know how they did this. I will send you the document, but I can verify that it’s not falsified. There must be a loophole that allows him to do this.”

  I checked the name on the document . . . Clovis Keneally. “Well, I don’t know that this was done legally. . . .” Knowing Clovis, my guess was not, but that Trader Guild transfer sheet . . .

  “Whether it was or not, I want to know. This is a consulting job for you. I am prepared to pay well if you can find out how he did this. If we know and it’s done legally, we can establish an office Barresh, which would benefit all involved. I am certain that we could import these components under the exemptions to the import restrictions. The medicinal components we are looking at are to treat diabetes and certain types of cancers and they will classify as humanitarian.”

  True, humanitarian substances could be imported under Earth’s law, but that didn’t mean they were exempt from export under gamra, because they didn’t like things leaving the system and going to nonmember entities. Miran, Barresh’s agricultural and quiet sleeping-giant neighbour, was more precious about it than most. I guessed he was right in that if Clovis did this, and he had a proper Trader Guild document to prove it, his process warranted investigation. Never mind that I didn’t think there was anything legal about it. “Do you have this proposal in writing?”

  “Sure. I will send that to you as well. I’d like to move on this soon.”

  “I would like to have some time to think about it.” I should mention this offer to my association to see if they had any issues with it before accepting it as a consulting job.

  “That is fine. As long as we get an answer within the next few days.”

  As soon as he signed off, the message with both documents appeared on my reader. The Trader Guild document looked genuine to me. As far as I knew Earth had an import and export code with the Trader Guild, but the status was “restricted”. Maybe Clovis had found a way of circumventing the rule, possibly to have the cargo classified as “humanitarian”. Pharmaceuticals that saved people’s lives could be governed by exceptions, except gamra would not want the material exported to a nonmember entity. The Trader Guild was its
own entity and maybe it had its own agreement with Earth. I had no idea about things like that.

  I’d pass this to Veyada, to see if he could find out what was going on or if it was wise to take this consulting job. Hell, I’d like to know how that permit came about, and I was sure some other people would like to know. And I could use the money to plug the hole in my budget, and we’d all be happy.

  But I was suspicious.

  Unfortunately, if things seemed easy, they rarely were.

  It was lunchtime and, when I walked back to the dining room, I met Abri standing in the hallway, as if she was waiting for me.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “We need to go fishing. We have all the fishing gear, but we need to know where the best places are.”

  “That’s not necessary. You smell that? The kitchen is already cooking lunch.”

  “We need fish.”

  “But there will be fish. I asked the cook. He said he’d get us as much fish as possible.”

  “But . . .”

  “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of fish.”

  “We need fish,” she insisted. “Tomorrow we have our story heard, the lady said. We need to bring a fish to please the claimants, Kasamo’s family and other associates.”

  Oh damn, I saw now. They wanted to present the court with a fish as they had given me one. “The customs are different here. You don’t need to do that.”

  “You misunderstand.” Her eyes were intense. “These people may not think that it’s necessary. But my tribe thinks it is.”

  Karrit points again.

  I sighed. “All right. Let me look into it. I’m sure we can get a fish for you somewhere.” Maybe I should pay a visit to the kitchen. The cook might be able to help.

  “No, you still misunderstand. We must catch the fish.”

  “But . . .” I spread my hands. I’d wanted to say But we’re in the middle of a city, and We have no time for that, but that would not hold any water with the Pengali. I let my hands sink. “I’ll think of something.”

  She nodded, her face prim.

  Damn it, damn it, another thing to worry about.

  We arrived in the dining room, where some of the team were already seated around the tables awaiting lunch. Thayu—busy with some kind of device—Veyada and Nicha, the latter with Ayshada. Jemiro, at a table by himself. Eirani and Karana were in the hall; Devlin, the guards and Reya were probably upstairs. Mereeni was just coming down the stairs.

  Also missing were the other Pengali. Surely, they were interested in lunch—or had they gone to sleep after someone had told them that the court didn’t require them until tomorrow? I’d ask Abri about it, but she was now talking to Mereeni, and then she went upstairs.

  I sat down with Veyada and Amarru’s two lawyers, meeting Thayu’s eyes across the room. It was work time, and her work was security. Mine was the trial and Abri’s witness account. We’d have a proper holiday once we got to my father’s place.

  Readers were put on the table and plates pushed aside.

  “What are your thoughts about this morning?” I asked, looking around the table.

  Mereeni said, “I don’t think Abri’s witness account is strong.”

  We’d discussed this several times already, while we were still in Barresh, but of course Mereeni had not been there.

  She continued, “There is plenty of evidence that Robert is a real piece of work, but none that he killed Gusamo specifically, although it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he did. I don’t know what evidence Melissa will have presented that we don’t have, but I don’t see how the judges could conclude that he is Gusamo’s killer.”

  “On Asto, a case like this would never stand up as writ,” Reya said. “There is just not enough evidence.”

  They discussed that for a bit.

  I said, “I’m wondering what the trial is really for.”

  Frowns.

  “What could it be for except to get justice for Gusamo’s family?” Reya asked.

  “I’m not sure. That’s what I wish I knew.” Why would Nations of Earth go through all this expense for a trial that was unlikely to deliver the justice they wanted? Why would they replace the prosecutor who had a decent chance of getting it for them? Was this what Margarethe wanted to talk about?

  Veyada snorted. “I thought I understood this world, but the ways of these people are mysterious to me.”

  “That makes two of us, then.”

  He grinned. “You should really take Asha up on celebrating your formal induction into the Domiri clan.”

  Yes, I should. I understood that induction into a clan happened upon turning adult, or whenever needed in the rare cases where some of the clanless Coldi were assigned a clan. We would be a one hundred percent Domiri family. Thayu was Domiri and our child would be Domiri, regardless of the gender.

  I mentioned Minke Kluysters to my team. I had not expected Veyada or Nicha to know his name, but even Reya and Mereeni came up with a blank.

  “He says he’s the boss of Sandowne Pharmaceuticals.”

  Reya’s mouth from a soundless O.

  “You know him?”

  “Well, if he’s the same one, he’s also on the board of Execo.”

  Robert Davidson’s company. Right. “So, what should I do? Trust this as an honest job?”

  “He’s probably trying to make you see the business favourably.”

  “So you think he’s dishonest?”

  “Not based on this, but you don’t need his money,” Veyada said.

  “Actually, we could use it. The budget is going to be interesting this year.”

  “Then just ask Ezhya for more.”

  “For people I have employed?”

  “Why not?”

  Because silly humans found it crass to ask for money. I blew out a noisy breath through my nose.

  I guessed Veyada wasn’t in favour of the job.

  The waiters came to serve lunch, which, for our table, involved vegetable patties with mushrooms and salad and toast. I had to commend the cook for having made an effort to understand Coldi tastes.

  When sitting with Coldi, it was rude to eat meat of vertebrate animals, so I also got a vegetable patty, which turned out to be just a “little bit” spicy.

  This cook definitely understood Coldi. I hazarded a guess that they hired a Coldi cook. There was also the promised fish for the Pengali, beautifully steamed white fish in a giant tray.

  Except the Pengali themselves still hadn’t turned up.

  Nicha said, “Well, they got their fish, now where are they?” He sounded a bit annoyed. Ayshada was standing on the seat of his chair, wanting a piece of said fish.

  “Why don’t you give it to him?” Veyada said, eying the fish himself.

  Nicha made a helpless gesture. He’d grown up in a fairly orthodox household with his mother in London, where she had drummed into him that Coldi were not like those disgusting humans from the very moment that he could understand. Some of the habits he found hard to shake. He didn’t like fish, he’d told me, but I’d never seen him try it either.

  Veyada rose and helped himself to a chunk of fish, and brought one for me. He gave a small piece to Ayshada who put it in his mouth with both his chubby hands.

  “Abri said that the Pengali need to catch a fish to bring as a present for the court,” I said, cutting into the soft flesh.

  Where were those Pengali? Surely they could smell the fish from upstairs?

  Veyada nodded, in thought. “I was wondering if something like that was going to come up.”

  “What should we do about it?”

  “We can buy a fish,” Nicha said.

  “But they need to catch it. Abri wants to go fishing.”

  “Some of the fish markets let you catch your own. I presume they still do that?” He glanced at Mereeni, who nodded.

  “It’s a good idea, but is there time to find a fish market?”

  “We can try this afternoon—uh-oh.”

  I turne
d around. Devlin had come into the room, his trousers dripping wet.

  I thought of the poor goldfish in the pond in the foyer, or the canal across the road.

  I rose, heart thudding. “What’s going on?”

  “It is that brat. She managed to detach a piece of metal from the wall in the bathroom in the Pengali room and now there is water coming out and we can’t stop it.”

  “Show me.”

  We left the dining room. I stopped at the reception on the way, and suggested that they might call a plumber because there might be a leak. I checked the status of the goldfish—they were still swimming around. Phew.

  While the hotel staff scrambled to find someone to check it out, I followed Devlin upstairs. In the corridor I could already hear the sound of gushing water and voices.

  Abri stood just inside the door. Her mouth fell open when I came in, fearful almost. I strode past into the bathroom, where Kita and Ynggi were trying to push the tap back onto the wall. Each time they pushed the metal against the hole, the water squirted everywhere. The floor was covered, the towels were dripping, the ceiling was wet.

  I went back to the room’s entrance where I opened the cupboard door. With a bit of luck—ah, yes, there it was. I turned the tap. The noise in the bathroom stopped.

  At that moment, someone knocked on the door. I opened it, finding a man in overalls in the hallway. “Problem with the taps?”

  “You can say that again.”

  Ynggi came out of the bathroom. He was soaked, and had seen the sense to take off his clothes. That was what people would do in Barresh.

  But the technician’s eyes widened at the sight of a slight, humanoid figure with giraffe-patterned skin and black-and-white banded tail who was otherwise completely naked.

  Well, at least now I needed to field no more silly questions about whether Pengali were patterned down there because he could see that they weren’t.