An Airless Storm: Cochrane's Company: Book Two

by Peter Grant

  Chen spoke up. “The Dragon Tong would like to propose that we leave the Brotherhood’s ships to Hawkwood, while providing them with appropriate support. If they can take care of that problem, we submit that all of us will be well served, so it will be to our advantage to help them. As for Patos, Hawkwood cannot act there, but we have resources they do not. Perhaps we can find a way to neutralize the Brotherhood there. This will, of course, require further consultation.”

  “None of us are active on Patos, as far as I recall,” Torres pointed out. “That means we can cooperate there without offending each other, or getting in each other’s way.”

  “A good point,” Cravotta conceded. “I daresay some of our people will have had dealings with criminals there from time to time, even if only through cut-outs. We might be able to persuade some of them to help us, in exchange for future favors.”

  “And for the loot they might get from the Brotherhood,” Torres said with an unpleasant smile.

  “There is also the thought that, if the Brotherhood tries to leave Patos, we can be watching and waiting for an opportunity,” Chen added, to murmurs of approval from the others.

  They eventually agreed to report back to their respective organizations, and meet again at the same place in four months, to discuss possible joint action. Caitlin was authorized to report back to Hawkwood about what had happened. The company would be informed in due course whether support would be forthcoming for its space-based operations, but it would not be expected to participate in any action on Patos.

  With that, Caitlin had to be content.

  22

  Assassins

  CONSTANTA

  Aferdita hurried up the stairs to the apartment. She took the time to hastily, perfunctorily knock on the door, using today’s tap code to alert those inside, then punched in the combination to open it. Pushing it wide, she was shocked to find the team leader aiming his pulser at her head.

  “Flamar! It’s me!”

  “I see that.” His voice was savage. “Why the hell are you in such a hurry? You know we’re at risk every second we’re on Constanta. Anything out of the ordinary is a possible danger sign. Slow down and act normally, damn you!”

  “I – I’m sorry. It’s just that we’ve found them!”

  “Who? The prisoners?”

  “Yes! Halil and I were outside town, flying a drone along the foothills, looking at every farm, as you told us. There’s one that looks like it’s been set up as a training ground for a military or police unit. It’s got firing ranges, a shoot house, all the usual facilities. The farmhouse is in a secluded hollow some distance away. Portable buildings have been set up in the yard, and a fence has been put up all around – a tall one, at least two meters high. We saw four men with brown skins exercising in the yard, guarded by a couple of men carrying carbines. Halil says he thinks they’re some of the Kedan spacers!”

  “Did you bring back vid?”

  She reached into her pocket and handed him a data chip. He hurried over to a terminal and plugged it in, scanning the images carefully. “I think he’s right. If that’s the place, there should be eight of them, plus Sub-Lieutenant Sejdiu – unless Hawkwood has moved him into town, to be more easily available to work with them. I… no, on second thought, scratch that. He’s still a prisoner, and they won’t want to take a chance that he might escape them and make his own way home. He’ll probably still be out there.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Is Halil still there?”

  “Yes, as you ordered. You said that if we found anything, one person was to keep watch over it, and the other come back to report.”

  “Good. We’ll set up a hide on one of the closest foothills, looking down onto the farmhouse, and keep watch until we’re sure how many people are there, and who they are. We’ll take it in turns.”

  “Not too close,” she warned reflexively. “They may have sensors, too.”

  “They’re sure to. All right, help me pack what we need into a couple of rucksacks. We’ll take it out to Halil and find a good place to set up.”

  Two days later, two men were perched on a hilltop, three kilometers from the farm, looking down at it through military-grade digital binoculars. The senior of the two remarked, “It’s going to be tough sneaking in there. They’ve cleared the underbrush from around the fence, so we can’t crawl up to it under cover and cut it. What’s more, those look like normal fence posts, but I’m willing to bet they’re stuffed full of sensors.”

  “So how are we going to do it, sergeant?”

  “We’ll have to find an approach route that won’t expose us to the guards’ sensors. Scan the countryside between here and there. See if you can find a gully, or a series of low-lying hollows, that we can use to move in.”

  “Yes, sergeant.”

  The operator began to study the terrain, while the sergeant made notes about what he could see of the farm. None of the other direct-action teams had managed to penetrate it so far. He wanted his to be the first. The thought of spending Lieutenant-Commander Argyll’s promised bonus for success on a riotous party, and flaunting it in the faces of their colleagues, was irresistible.

  His junior spoke up. “Sergeant? See that tall tree flanked by three smaller ones, on the hillside about twenty degrees to our right, half a kilometer down slope?”

  “Yeah, I see it.”

  “Take a look at its base. Do you see what I see?”

  The sergeant focused his powerful binoculars. “Well, well, well. And who might you be?” The figure of a man was clearly visible, lying very still, looking down at the farm through what appeared to be commercial hunting binoculars.

  “He’s not one of our team,” the private said unnecessarily.

  “No, he’s not. We can’t see his face from here, but I’m sure he’s not from the other teams, either. His clothes and gear are all wrong.”

  “Do you think…”

  “Yes, I do. I’m going to call the boss. He’ll want to know about this ASAP.”

  He reached into his jacket for his satellite comm unit.

  “We don’t know who they are, sir, but I reckon it’s most likely our Albanian friends, up to mischief.”

  Tom Argyll finished his report and sat back, waiting. Cochrane nodded slowly. “I daresay you’re right. What do you think they’re planning?”

  “Sir, the way I see it, they can only be after one of two things. Either they want to free our prisoners and spirit them off-planet, or they want to silence them, to prevent us producing them as proof that we destroyed one of their ships. Given the difficulty they’d have getting the prisoners up to orbit, then boarding a ship and getting out of the system, in the face of the warships we’ve got on hand, I just don’t see how it can be a rescue, sir. Besides, they tried to murder the survivor from their asteroid ship, a couple of years ago. If they tried to kill their own once, why not again?”

  “We’re thinking along the same lines. How will you stop them?”

  “Right now, sir, we’re trying to find out how many of them they are. We’ve already tracked one of them back to an apartment in town. There appear to be at least three people using it, two men and a woman. However, we’ve only been watching them for two days. There may be more, and they may have another hideout somewhere. I’d like to go on watching them until we’re sure.

  “After that, sir, it’s up to you. If they’re Albanian agents, it’ll be very difficult to take them in their hideouts. They’ll be trained to a hair, equipped to defend themselves, and determined to die rather than be taken alive. I think we’ll have a better chance of success if we take them when they’re away from home. That means waiting until they’re all out and about. We daren’t try to take them down one or two at a time. If any warning gets back to the others, they’ll scatter before we can round them all up. I presume you want prisoners for interrogation, sir?”

  “I most certainly do. I never expected this. I can only assume their leader sent them after I told him abo
ut our prisoner. That says all sorts of things about him, none of them good. Let’s learn all we can about him from them. I daresay we’ll have to deal with him in due course.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve already warned the teams to take extreme precautions against being spotted. We can’t afford to take any chances with these people. They’re too good.”

  “I hope you’re doing something nice for the people who spotted them?”

  Tom grinned. “Yes, sir. The sergeant is now a staff sergeant, and the private is now a corporal. They both have nice bonuses to celebrate their promotions, too. There’s nothing like a little professional envy to motivate the others to try to outdo them.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Please thank them from me, personally.”

  The following week, the two investigators Tom had sent to Onesta returned. He brought them straight to Cochrane’s office to make their report, bringing Hui along as well.

  “There’s an Antonia Funar on Onesta matching every detail she provided, sir, except for one thing,” the lead investigator reported. There was a smugness in his voice that suggested he was very pleased with himself. “Date of birth, parents, schooling, university education, the lot – everything matches what the Antonia Funar here said about herself.”

  “So, where’s the catch?” Hui asked suspiciously

  “Antonia Funar was killed in a car crash on Onesta eleven years ago, ma’am. We’ve included a picture of her gravestone in our report.”

  Cochrane nodded. “Someone did only half a job picking out a cover identity for her. They’d have done better to pick someone living, but whose present whereabouts were unknown. That would have been harder to disprove.”

  “Yes, sir. We also brought back the medical records of the Antonia Funar from Onesta.”

  Hui’s head snapped up. Her eyes glowed eagerly. “Do they include her DNA profile?”

  “Yes, ma’am, they do.”

  “Excellent! We can compare it to this woman’s. That should prove beyond any doubt that she’s not who she says she is. How can we get a DNA sample from her?”

  “She’ll have had to provide one in her medical profile as part of her application for a work permit,” Cochrane pointed out. “I’ll ask our contacts at the Defense Ministry to pull it for us. We should have it by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll run a comparison right away, sir,” Tom promised.

  “Thank you. While you’re doing that, take the DNA profile of Sub-Lieutenant Sejdiu – it’s in his medical records – and compare it as well. If there’s a match between his mitochondrial DNA and the woman calling herself Antonia Funar, that’ll prove the relationship between them. I should have thought to do that earlier.”

  “You can’t think of everything, sir. I should have thought of it, too.”

  That night, ‘Antonia’ sat down at the desk in her small apartment, and called up an interplanetary message database. There had been nothing for her ever since she started checking it; but tonight, there was mail. She smiled as she saw the innocuous-seeming literary report. Eagerly, she plugged in a chip containing a decoding program, and read its output line by line as it appeared.

  Dearest Jehona,

  My heart is still broken at the news of Alban’s death.

  She goggled at the display, feeling a wave of sick shock and horror wash over her.

  I am devastated at the thought that he will no longer come running through the door with his cheerful laugh and his sunny smile. He was our firstborn, and can never be replaced in my heart. I am sure that for you, his mother, to whom he is flesh of your flesh and blood of your blood, it must be even worse.

  The tears began to flow as she read, feeling an icy numbness sweep through her body.

  Agim has told me he sent word to you about Ilaria’s loss. It seems she was engaged in a spying mission against our enemies, but was detected. She took three of their ships with her before she was destroyed. Agim tried to comfort me with the ‘consolation’ that our son died heroically in the service of the Fatherland Project. That is the official line. You and I know better the true cost to those aboard, and to all their families. Words are completely inadequate.

  She nodded dumbly. There were no words adequate to describe such loss, such pain.

  I was extremely angry that Agim refused to pass on a message to you from me over Alban’s death. He said it would not be safe, because you were already deployed. He did not want to tell you at all, but I insisted that you be informed. Nobody has the right to withhold such news from a mother or father. He resisted, but I would not yield, and eventually he gave in.

  She wondered bitterly, through her tears, whether Agim had indeed ‘given in’, or only pretended to be persuaded. She had had no word from him since this mission began, even in response to the two reports she had submitted thus far. His message might have been delayed, of course; but given that Pal’s would have been even longer delayed due to the roundabout route it had taken to reach her, that seemed unlikely.

  Agim even went so far as to put our entire family’s messages, of any and every nature, under intercept. He forgot that I would recognize the tell-tale signs. I am therefore sending this to you from an outside terminal, one that will not be traced back to me. I shall look for your reply using similar methods.

  Even through her grief, she fumed. How dare anyone, even Agim, suspect the loyalty of direct descendants of the Patriarch?

  I wish I were with you, dearest love, to offer what comfort I may. I fear there is little to be had at present. I long for your return from whatever your assignment may be. Until then, know that I hold you close in my heart. You have my whole love. I shall cherish our children, and help them to remain steadfast in Alban’s memory, even as they grieve.

  She reached out with a shaking, trembling hand, and shut down the terminal. Standing up, feeling like the weight of the entire universe had settled on her shoulders, she tottered down the passage to the refresher.

  She hung over the toilet bowl for what seemed like an endless age, vomiting until it felt like her stomach would follow its contents up her throat. At last, when the bile had spent itself, she rinsed out her mouth, then staggered into the bedroom. Clutching a pillow to herself, a pale imitation of her husband’s comforting presence, she cried for what seemed like half the night.

  At first light, she got up, showered, and made herself presentable. She forced herself to eat some breakfast, and gathered her things together. She could not bring back her son… but she could make those who had killed him pay a price for his death. That was now doubly her duty, both as an agent and as a bereaved mother.

  She set off for work with renewed resolve.

  “There’s no doubt about it, sir. This ‘Antonia Funar’ isn’t the one on Onesta, but she is the mother of Sub-Lieutenant Sejdiu. The DNA comparison is conclusive.”

  “All right,” Cochrane replied. “Why do you think she’s here? My first reaction is that she’s got to be an Albanian agent, but is it possible she came here to look for her son?”

  Tom shrugged. “She can’t be an amateur, sir, not with such a carefully constructed cover story. That’s the mark of a professional. I’d say she came here to spy on us. Getting a job at the shipyard we use for all our maintenance and repairs fits that very well. As for her son, we know she arrived here well after he was captured; but we don’t know whether Agim told his family about that. He may have kept that to himself. He may not even have announced the loss of his ship.”

  “You’re right,” Hui agreed. “The question is, what do we do about her? We can’t ignore her.”

  “No, we can’t, but do we have to act right away?” Cochrane asked. “She may have others helping her. I think we need to watch her, and see who her associates might be. We may uncover another ring, to go with those who are – hey! Wait a minute! Agim may not have told her about her son being captured, but he must have told the other team that’s watching the prisoners. Unless he had, they wouldn’t be watching them, would they? Why not her, too? Doe
sn’t he trust her? Does he think she’ll go all maternal, and try to save her son by giving herself up?”

  Tom shook his head. “We can’t possibly know that yet, sir. I think you’re right; we need to take our time, watch her very carefully, and keep tabs on that other team. There are five of them, by the way; we found two more in another apartment. They meet the others regularly, and share reconnaissance duties with them at the overlook they’ve constructed on the hillside above the farmhouse. We may find some convergence between them and Ms. Funar, or we may not. At least, by waiting, we can keep our options open.”

  “Do you have enough people to follow everybody?”

  “It’ll be tight, sir, but I think we’ll manage. I’ll pull some of the guards from the farmhouse, and have the others work longer shifts, to free up extra people for surveillance.”

  Flamar waved a printout in the air as he sat down. The others were already gathered in the living-room, eating supper from plates on their laps.

  “It’s her. ‘Antonia Funar’ is listed as the management accountant for Grigorescu Shipyards. The photograph on their corporate site was evidence enough, but I sat at a café outside their offices this afternoon, and waited until she came out. There’s no doubt about it.”

  “Did she have anyone with her?” one of his agents asked.

  “She was talking with her boss, who I recognized from his picture on the corporate site. They got into a cab together. I don’t know where they went, but it doesn’t matter right now. The main thing is, we’ve nailed down both of our primary targets.”