“He didn’t!” Dave snapped, almost managing to sound surprised.
“We’ve been in contact with the senior harbor captain,” the professor went on. “Actually have him here. Escorted in by a squad of Greenfeld Marines. The guy says your shuttles never did clear through the port authorities. They always tied up directly to a freighter, did their business, and went right back down.”
“I can’t believe they did that,” Dave said.
“And I really want to know something about the people they bring back down,” Abby said, putting her automatic on the table and pulling a long thin blade from the inside of her belt. “I really want to know what you do with the people you take off that station.”
“Hold it, Abby,” interrupted Amanda Kutter. “I’ve been analyzing the flight plans from the shuttles. When they launch for up here, they’re usually thirty, forty thousand pounds heavier than the bills of lading. When they head back down, they’re traveling empty.”
“Traveling empty,” Kris said. “You mean they aren’t taking sailors down to the planet.”
“That’s what it looks like to us,” Professor Scrounger said. “The question hanging fire here is, what makes up the extra cargo and where did the missing sailors go if they didn’t go dirtside?”
“My shuttles never carry anything with them when they come down. That would be illegal. And I have no idea what you mean by them being overloaded at launch,” Dave insisted.
“Would he like a couple of Greenfeld Marines to help his memory?” got everyone’s attention as Admiral Krätz joined the conversation.
“It might help,” Kris said. “There are a whole lot of things that don’t add up here, and we’re not having much luck doing the math ourselves.”
Jack and Gunny Brown came around the table and each picked one of Dave’s shoulders to lean on. Dave glanced up at them . . . and quickly began to spill his guts.
25
“Listen,” Dave said, looking anxiously at Jack, then Gunny, then Abby. Then, unsure who he should fear more, he did the rounds again. “You have to believe me. I don’t know anything about sailors disappearing up on the station.”
Kris leaned farther forward to stare deep into his eyes . . . from the distance of half a nose length. “You say lots of things, big man, but the problem is, you say lots of things that contradict themselves.”
“I think I could get him to say something he really means,” Abby said. She flipped her knife from her right hand to her left hand, then back again. All the time, its sharp point stayed aimed at Dave’s eyes.
“If you want money,” Dave whimpered.
“Sorry, Dave,” Kris said, shaking her head. “We aren’t black shirts. Your money’s no good where we come from. Abby here, the woman with the knife that she knows very well how to use. She’s got a twelve-year-old niece, and she really wants to know what happened to her when she went shopping on the station. What do you think happens to people that wander around the station, looking for a little fun?”
“Honest, I don’t know. I’ve never been up to the station. I just get paid to make lasers and ship them up to the station. I also get orders for workers. Doctors, machinists, computer techs, farmers. They give me a list of people they need. They don’t tell me why, just give me money when I fill their orders. I see that they’re recruited and that they get on a shuttle just before it leaves.”
“What happens to the people?” Kris demanded.
“I don’t know. It’s not like I have to work very hard to get them to sign up. People all around the Middlesea want to get out of here.”
“Not from Sevastopol,” Mannie said.
“No. Not a lot from here, but lots from St. Pete and Kiev. Lots of them. I ship them in here, make sure they don’t register with your job placement, Mannie, and ship them off the next time a shuttle goes up. It’s no skin off anyone’s nose.”
Abby hauled back and smashed him in the nose. “Now it’s skin off your nose,” she growled. “Let’s see how you like that.
Dave yelled and clamped both hands on his face to stop the bleeding. It didn’t.
Gunny produced a bandage and showed Dave how to apply it.
“He asks no questions, so of course he gets told no lies,” Abby spat. She hurled her knife at the wall; it buried itself up to its hilt in the plaster.
“Admiral, have you searched any of the freighters tied up at the station?” Kris asked.
“I hadn’t before. I’ll have it done immediately.”
“Kris, Abby, this is Amanda. I just got a call from Teresa de Alva. You remember, she’s one of the boffins.”
“How could I forget her?” Kris said, remembering the scene the information manager had made when Kris had involved the boffins in arranging some semblance of a court reception for a suddenly visiting Iteeche.
“She’s with a team of Greenfeld sailors searching a small jewelry store. She says they just found Cara’s credit chit half-hidden under a display case.”
26
In a second, everything changed.
“I want that store torn apart with a fine-tooth comb,” Kris ordered.
“We’ll have our best investigators on it,” Admiral Krätz said.
“Excuse me, Admiral,” Kris said, “we both want our best tech on it. After my last encounter with a bomb, we added several crime-scene specialists to my MP detachment. Also, Staff Sergeant Bruce now has one of Nelly’s kids for a computer. Nelly, download to Chesty specs for all the nanos he might needs for a full investigation.”
“I’m doing it now,” Nelly said.
“I’ve alerted the guards we have at the Wasp’s gangplank to escort your specialist directly to the store,” the admiral said. “There will be no delay on our part.”
“I’ve got the Marines going double time,” Sergeant Bruce said, joining the net. “We’ll be away in five minutes. Maybe less.”
“Go for it, honey,” Abby said. “Cara’s got herself up to her cute little nose in trouble.”
“Don’t worry, Abby, Marines don’t leave anyone behind,” the sergeant assured his girl.
“Kris, do you want to come up here to oversee the search?” Vicky asked. “I can have a shuttle away for you in . . .” There was a pause. “Oh, twenty minutes. We’re on the wrong side of the planet.”
Kris was torn. She’d already dispatched the best people to do the job that needed doing. Now she remembered why she always kept Penny close at hand. Mentally, she kicked herself for leaving her cop behind, but that was water under a very distant bridge.
“Vicky, I think we still have a job to do down here,” Kris said, eyeing Mannie.
He shook his head, vigorously. “If you need to get back topside, you go. We can work this out.”
“I appreciate the offer. Do you have a draft of your charter idea?”
“Yes,” he said, tapping his commlink.
“Vicky, if I have Nelly send a copy of his charter up to you, could you look at it? Maybe have what passes for a lawyer in these parts make sure there isn’t anything your old man might consider treasonous, and maybe you could consider taking that shuttle down here with a few good Marines and signing it.”
“Go down there?” Vicky said.
“If politics here is anything like it is back home, I suspect Mannie was kind of hoping for a nice big signing ceremony. Think you could lay one on in an hour or two?”
He nodded.
“How fancy is this going to be?” Vicky asked.
“I once saw a copy of the Magna Carta, you know what that was, don’t you?” Kris asked.
Mannie nodded. Vicky allowed, “I’ve seen pictures.”
“It’s all on parchment with fancy handwriting and ribbons and seals in silver or lead hanging down. Abby, you have gear to forge just about anything. Is parchment and lead seals out of your league?”