Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Draft
(9-21-08)

Ric Saunders was finally getting used to working for Hank Carling instead of Andy Webb. It hadn’t been easy. Still wasn’t. Direct action was Andy’s inclination, discover a threat then deal with it. It had worked out well for Andy in the past. Ric was one of only a few still around, close enough to the details, to know just how well. Hank, on the other hand, let things build and build. He probably learned more about his adversaries that way, but his friends would pay a heavy price if he miscalculated. He hadn’t done so yet, but if Ric’s read on why Jamil M’butu was back on New Texas was correct, the time might be at hand. Certainly the margin for error was growing smaller.

Emmet Clark, Hank’s long time second in P&I, didn’t seem to be concerned in the least. “He won’t make the mistake. It will be one of us, or someone working for us on the operational side. I started here four years before Hank joined up. Did right well too. Hank was in operations only two years before being tagged for something else. You wouldn’t know by looking at him, but that too years is what earned the promotion. He got married shortly after he took over as my section head. That was a job I was aiming for, yet he handled the change, I wasn’t the same easy to get along with type back then; and now—I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

“You’re a lot like I was back then Ric, but in spades. I’m glad you are running operations now while I have planning, but I‘m even more glad that Hank and Andy have buried the hatchet and are working towards the same end without obvious conflict. And I have to credit Bob Williams for that.”

“An amazing man, I have to agree with you Em. I suspect Andy is driving policy more than either of us know, especially Military, but the President is doing his part. Keeping your opposition party from acting up and demanding stricter accountability is the main point.”

“Yep! And if Hank hadn’t recruited Baily Fredericks fourteen years ago when they were both on a trip to Earth that couldn’t have happened. How do you like working with her?”

“Considering she is a politician nowadays after all, and I wouldn’t back then have credited the transformation, she is a breeze to deal with, a true professional.”

“That’s the way Hank figured it way back when. She still thinks New Texas needs to modify much of its social policy; she is a statist at heart. Beyond that she is a patriot none the less, and able to see how much worse things would be if we ran things here like they do back on Earth.”

“If the rest of her party could follow suit I might even become a statist myself if I thought I could get away without Andy finding out.”

“Yeah, and Hank too. Their standard modes of operation may be different but like Williams, when it comes to what they want for New Texas, they sing from the same hymnal.”

“I see M’butu has you scheduled for a little question and answer session. You haven’t met him before. He is as good on their side as any of us here. Don’t take anything for granted and take your time. He will put you at your ease and try to make you feel like a friend. He knows more than we would have thought or he wouldn’t be here. Watch your step; he’s got mines and tripwires. Above all, don’t get too smart thinking to fool him. He knows what your job title is and will expect you to behave as such. If you disappoint him he will wonder why.”

“How much longer do you think he will stay here Em?”

“Good question. Why not ask him?”

“Mr. Saunders, it has long been my misfortune that we had not met,” Jamil M’butu said with great warmth.

“A politician through and through,” Ric thought, “and a damned effective on too,” he reminded himself. Best not try and be too tricky. The best lies are the simplest ones. The truth often the best of all. “And I also wondered if we would ever see one another,” Ric said evenly, not mentioning his speculation that if they ever did meet it was likely to be with his head in a noose at one end of a rope.

“A curious job title you hold Mr. Saunders, Director of P&I Operations. I wonder if you would enlighten me on just what that entails. My old friend Hank Carling told me the title and position was nothing more than a favor given by the Government to Andy Webb in order to ease your travels as you went about working on his business agenda, and that for the New Texas government all you did was front the traveling road show he calls the New Texas Rodeo, all of your cultural efforts amongst the colony worlds.”

“That really about covers it,” Ric said. “And we do indeed have a small rodeo attraction we send out from time to time. It helps getting popular support when we have a project that needs approval from a planetary governing body.”

“But your real job is working for the financial interests of Andy Webb, and more recently it would seem for yourself. How does Earth and her interests fit into your plans?”

“Well . . . Compared to most colonies Earth is pretty well off culturally, but we do have a date set for the Rodeo to perform at the UN Days festival in Detroit later this year.”

Mobutu let out a full-throated hearty laugh. When he calmed down he said, “Ah Mr. Saunders, “You do amuse, come the day is early and the weather perfect. Let us go for a ride and discuss things more fully. There are a number of spirited mounts in the stables here I have not yet had a chance to test. A Rodeo man such as yourself can hardly refuse eh?”

“Certainly, your Excellency,” Ric said, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he wasn’t much when it came to horses, and then realizing just how smooth M’butu was, throwing in complications to distract him and keep him off stride. Maybe Emmet Clark was right when he said if a mistake was made it wouldn’t be Hand but someone else making it. Ric redoubled his efforts to insure he wasn’t the one as he walked with Jamil to the stables changing room.

* * *
Megan was in the lab and scratching her head. “This doesn’t make any sense!”

Grinning, Muriel casually walked over to stand beside her daughter. “Is there a problem?”

“Mom, what I’m looking at is crazy. I know I can do a few things to this mix and it will regenerate.”

With her hands on her hips, Muriel said, “If you have a question, ask away.”

The younger woman appeared to be very frustrated. “Mom, an eighth grader could complete this. We should have been regenerating millenniums ago. I mean the public knows we can do small things, but we should be doing more.”

She was proud of her daughter. “You can say thanks to the FG for that. They put a stop to this progress long ago. In the early 2000’s some scientists began transforming one type of a cell into another type, in a living mouse. It took several years before it was successful in humans and that’s when the predecessor to the FG stepped in and shut them down.

“By that time, scientists knew that if you had a few strands of white nerve cells, they could regenerate. If they were completely severed or damaged, they won’t regen. That’s a problem with spinal cord injuries, if the nerve is severed, there will be paralysis. The obvious solution was to cause white nerve cells back to the growth stage where they would regen the problem.

“This information was buried deep, but not deep enough. In the past 15 years we’ve totally recovered their work and made swift progress towards general usability.

“Anyway, the key is using the persons own cells to complete the process. About the same time scientists were transforming mice cells, another group were working on something a little different.

“This group also used the owner’s cells to develop a thinner-than-paper patch, to be used on burn victims. That was allowed to stay public because the idiots did not understand that it was the same thing.”

“But Mom, we’ve been using these ‘advances’ for a few years already.”

Muriel raised a hand to stop her kid. “Yes we have, but if you think about it, we’ve been able to keep that information from the FG.” With a small smile, she continued. “You’d be surprised what is kept from the FG. They’re hand fed only what we what them to know.

”It appears that Hank and Ric seem to be real good at that!”

* * *
Warrick stood in the control room of the massive Kie yard and marveled at what he saw. That all of this could be in place without the FG even guessing that it was here. Suddenly the 1 MC blared “Shutdown in 60 seconds, shutdown in 60 seconds.”

Joachim glanced over at his boss, “This will be a short one, that FG Inter-System is a bulk cargo bird. Kie station will turn it around in 90 minutes with the new handling system.”

Warrick gave him that little snide grin, “Yet but one of many of the small ways the FG is being manipulated. Yeah, it saves everybody money; it cuts down on crew size but, the main thing is it keeps the FG eyes out of the system.”

“Why should it bother them here, the Governor-General has such obvious control of the system?”

“Oh yeah, he has us right under his thumb!” The grin of General Isao Sasaki could have lit the room without the use of other lighting. “As Chris says, he hates the FG worse than we do, let’s go get lunch and you can see her after that ship leaves.”

An hour and a half later they were standing in the Observation bubble of yard central when the order went out, “Challenger, power up and prepare to move!” From the back of the room came a quiet voice.

“There she is Warrick and every damn thing I promised,” Chris Webb quietly said. “Use her well, I will Pilot her through the point for the first time, then she is yours.”
At that point the running lights on the Challenger came on, followed closely by the working floods. She was reveled in all of her Glory. At 2000 Ft. in length and 800 Ft. in diameter, she was the largest vessel ever built by man.

Her armament was beyond belief, she was simply the most powerful vessel ever conceived. At 650,000 Tons she was also the most massive ever built. “Get her on the other side of that transition point Warrick and work her out.” Chris continued in his ‘I’ll be go to hell voice’. “Prove she will do what we hope. We are going to build her sisters except for Yamato out in the new yard. You have to prove the new cloak and sensor suite really work.

“I expect that you will cause me many sleepless nights but, I promised you a Mother. Here she is jerk.”

Warrick just turned to his friend and grinned, “Shit, I can live with that!”

“Hang onto your hat old buddy, let’s go!”

Two hours later the Challenger slid through the Transit Point to a sight that Warrick was not ready to admit existed. No less than ten high-tech space docks were spewing their energy signatures into Space as work went on around them. Warrick just stared at the display and thought, “Note to self, never leave Chris and Joachim alone for too long!”

* * *
Janice Mulgrew was quite happy as the Manager for the Truscott Lone Star except for one small thing. The pressure from the local Mafia to try to control her gambling operation. Even three visits by Liza Morgan had not resolved the problem.

Her mind was removed from those thoughts by the ringing of her Comm. “Mulgrew here, may I help you.”

“Mack Webb here and I would like to rent your main ballroom for the evening of the 22nd.”

“Why certainly Mr. Webb, I don’t have to run a credit check on your family. May I casually ask the occasion?”

“My bother, sister and I are taking a trip around the Colonies entertaining all the graduates of Travis University trying to get a good Alumni organization going.”

“So, are we taking formal banquet or a buffet style with a bar. Also, if buffet style, will the bar be pay as you go or hosted?”

“Of course buffet and hosted bar, we are trying to win hearts and minds. That always works better when they are plastered.”

“No problem Mr. Webb, I will turn you over to my Assistant Manager Todd Davis who is quite efficient in the financial arraignments and I will set up the event for you.”

“Excellent Mrs. Mulgrew, Todd is an old friend and I have his number so I will give him a call. Thank You for your help and we look forward to the evening.”

Todd Davis’s portable comm surprised him when the chimes for a channel 3 call sounded. “Davis here.”

“No kidding Todd, it’s Mark; how are you doing these days?”

“Well, I was doing real well until you called. I really don’t need another concussion from rappelling with you idiots. What can I do for you other than that?”

“You can send me a public e-mail asking me to come over and sign some papers. Then in the secure area you can give me the ANV brief on your gambling problem. We are here to fix that little problem!”

“Shit, who sent you? Andy, Ric or Hank?”

“Grandma, this is a Lone Star LTD problem. Grandma likes problems solved NOW! Where do you think Dad got it from?”

Evening of the 19:

Bruno Daley loved Truscott, fresh free territory and none of the Bosses from Dallas looking over his shoulder. Fresh and easy meat for a protection and gambling racket, this was a Mafia dream. Right up until the time the door opened on their regular card game and the big SOB came in the door. Behind him another human tank and a female who was not much smaller flowed into the room. Flowed was the only way Bruno could describe their movements. There was the same inevitability as the Mississippi River.

“Good Evening crud, which one of you scum suckers is Bruno?”

“I am punk, what does it mean to you?”

“I just wanted to know who to tell to stay the fuck away from the Lone Star!”

“Let me get this straight, you think you three can come in here and tell us what to do punk?”

“No scumbag, I just want to know if it’s going to be the easy way or the hard way.” Then George reached for his gun.

The Female grabbed and broke his arm before the move even got close, then Hell broke loose. Bruno never could describe what happened after that.

The three spouted some kind of baton type weapons that seemed to flex, then break broke bones and heads. Before he could understand what was happening he was on the floor screaming in pain from his shattered knee. Then he was grabbed by the hair and was face to face with one of the human tanks.

“Listen and learn Scum, Lone Star is Hallowed Ground. You don’t go there and you don’t even think about it. If I have to come back here, you go back to Earth in a body bag inside a freezer. That is, if anyone back there in Dallas will pay to ship your ass back. I am willing to bet you get an unmarked grave save on transportation!

“Your best bet is to get your Happy Ass back to Earth under your own power. Say Good Night Gracie!”

Then Bruno’s forehead hit the floor. He woke up in the soft confines of a hospital bed. “Where am I?”

Mere moments after he spoke, an obvious ‘Nurse Type’ came into the room. “Well, it looks like you will live. Don’t get over active and I will get the Doctor in here.”

The Doctor who entered moments later looked like he had just bitten down on a sour lemon. “I see you have rejoined the conscious Mr. Daley, now only one of your crew remains unconscious. He may stay that way for a while though, fractured skulls can be quite unpredictable.

“What day is it Doc?”

“It’s the morning of the 22nd , why?”

“You mean I have been out for two and a half days. What happened to me?”

“Other that a Category 3 concussion and a shattered knee, I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Last thing I remember was leaving for Augie’s place for a card game.”

“Funny, that’s what everyone of you says except for Augie.” Richard was quick to note the look of concern that came over Daley’s eyes. “Of course he’s the one still out cold so he ain’t saying much.”

With great relief in his eyes Daley asked, “Could Augie be moved safely?”

“With proper supervision, it depends mostly on where. Not to the outback or anyplace like that but, somewhere with adequate medical facilities would be fine.“

“Then could I get my comm unit? I need to make some travel arraignments.”

“The cops did not bring in your comm, where are you planning to go; I might be able to help?”

“Earth, if I ever get back to Dallas the Devil Himself could not make me leave again!”

“Then Mr. Daly I will get you a comm if I have to pay the damn bill myself.”

“You don’t seem to like me much Doc, do I know you?”

“No, but you know my Mom and Dad. They run the Truscott Arms, and you have been terrorizing them for months, trying to control their Bar and Game Rooms. Believe me in that if I did not owe Truscott Memorial for my scholarship to Travis Central, I would not have touched your mangy ass. The thought of your leaving is the first pleasant thought I have had in two days.”

Richard Herring was ordering a hospital comm up for Daley with great relish when his friend Bob Berrington walked up. “So Super Cop, what are you doing lowering the property values here?”

“I’m here to check on the status of your star patients, that wonderful group of Investment Advisors that I have not been able to pin a thing on. I truly wonder what happened to them!”

“Come on Bob, they got hit by a gang of Pro’s. The damage they took was no accident, Christ they never had a chance.”

“Gee Rich, ya think. On the other hand, you going to the bash tonight?”

“Webb Grand Reserve for free, hell yes. I just don’t understand how Todd can afford that!”

“Rich, Todd ain’t paying the bill the Webb triplets are. They are trying to sell the Alumni Association. Shit, I thought you knew that.”

“Mack, Mark and Megan here! When did they get here?”

“Morning of the 18th, why Rich?”

“Because these Bastards got pounded on the night of the 19th, that seems quite odd.”

“Why do you say that Rich?”

“While you were running the night spots on New Texas, I was taking night classes in Martial Arts from Linda Webb. When she needed demos done she brought in her darling Grandkids to do them. I just now figured out the pattern on the injuries on my patients.”

“Why Rich, you think Grandma Webb sent her personnel wrecking crew in here to ‘Do Business’? Sorry buddy, that’s too paranoid to think about. We have not even considered that in our investigation because it would be just too damn a good reason to have a party.”

“Bob, are we not having a party?”

“Funny that.—Rich!”

Evening of the 22nd:

Janice Mulgrew was at her best working a crowd and keeping the libations flowing. She had not realized how many on Truscott were actually graduates of Travis Central. Some small detective work showed that most of them had gone on various scholarships that somehow all seemed to trace back to the sprawling Davis-Edwards-Webb combine. Thus they all seemed to or to know of each other.

“Well Mr. Davis I hope you feel like you have gotten your money’s worth.”

“That I have Mrs. Mulgrew and let me say that Mr. Davis was my Great-Grandpa, my name is Mark to my friends. Having seen what Liza puts her prospective managers through I have to class you as a friend just out of shared torture.”

“Shared torture?”

“I designed the communications and computing systems to include the electronic registers for all of the Lone Star Inn’s. That project of course like all else that touches on Lone Star was subject to Liza’s, shall we say Scrutiny?”

She could not help but laugh, “Then by all means call me Janice friend!”

Just then a third party joined the conversation from behind, “Well if it isn’t Mark Webb, busted up any good bars lately?”

“I swear the sounds like Bob ‘Hey y’all watch this’ Bennington!” The two clasped hands like old friends with that up the arm grab that prevented knuckle- busting contests. Then stepped back to stare at each other.

“Mark you still look like an overfed gorilla that someone taught to shave and knot a tie.”

“While you Bob still look a string bean that a humorous God forgot to put an ass on. You still playing at being a cop?”

“Well sorta, I’m the Chief Detective for Central Investigations. Guess I was the only one that could spell Forensics. So, don’t take this badly but. when are you leaving?”

“The Tuesday shuttle run, Megan is teaching a couple of Nanobiology seminars over the weekend. Why do you ask?”

“It seems I have a group of industrious Investment Advisors that have been trying to work with every Bar and Game room in town leaving on the Friday shuttle. Let’s just say I will sleep better when I don’t have the Terrible Trio around to stumble on some other scum!”

* * *
Liza Morgan ran into the lower floor lounge area of the New Texas Space Port where Kathy Saunders, Ric Saunders wife, was waiting for her husband’s flight to arrive. “How’s it going Kathy, I’m late, the lander on it’s way yet?”

“Should be down in ten minutes; I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I thought I’d get to Ric before anyone else had a chance to talk to him. I sent him a message while he was out-system and I need to find out what he decided.”

“Sent him a message? Whatever for?”

“He didn’t say anything to you about this? It’s not exactly public yet but has been in the works for a long time, years in fact. You see I’ve got my hands full with five new resorts opening. I’m organized well enough to do the advance work and remote stuff from here. Then I only need 3 weeks on site to set up and open. I can spare that much time away from New Texas, but anything more and the business here starts to suffer. My contractors and suppliers got a real eye opener and learned not to mess with this lady when my security system thwarted that assassination attempt last year. But if I am away too long who knows?”

“Yeah, that could have been curtains for you. Who masterminded that extra level of security at the Lone Star? What’s the real story on why they tried?”

“Finances and gambling. Someone in the semi-official Federation black market thought they could put me in their pocket if they financed a franchise. Wrong! I still haven’t figured out why their source info was screwed up. I could tap into resources independent of outside financing. …”

“Sure, Andy Webb or the Ditmars could do it out of pocket change, anything you need.”

“Then there was the gambling issue. I didn’t want laundered money going through my enterprise. That really got my dander up ….and theirs! I refused. ‘What part of ‘NO’ didn’t they understand? I wouldn’t let them in the front door or the back. So whatever combination of the two they latched on made me prime target.

“That problem somehow disappeared, every time I mention it to Linda she just grins and says ‘Good things happen to good people’ or some drivel like that!”

“Before he disappeared my husband Alex always told me, ‘Watch your back and cover your behind. Don’t ever tell anyone everything. And always have an exit plan.’ I’m still here. So that works for me.”

“But what does that have to do with Ric?”

“He is Lonestar Limited’s Chief Operations Officer, has been for years, long before we started building. I never asked him to actually work at the job, but now is the time.”

“He never said a word to me about it,” Kathy said in obvious surprise.

Liza paused for a moment then continued, “Could be cause he never thought anything would ever come out of it. Just some kind of a far off way down the road pie in the sky project that would be forgotten before it got started.”

“You’re losing me here Liza. Who started what?”

“Well, I was involved mind you, I wanted to expand the business but I couldn’t do it at the time. I needed financial and especially political clout to back me. It turned out I could get that, but at a price. Ric, or someone like him, would have to work for me and be the public face of Lonestar.”

“And you even considered going along?”

“They thought they had me over a barrel during negotiations when I offered my firstborn as collateral. Well, read the fine print, Charlie! Just like Shylock and his pound of flesh, you can’t get me there — my son, Ryan is adopted. I run the business; Ric is a conduit for my instructions. It gives him a cover for doing a lot of traveling. Why he needs to do a lot of traveling you probably know more about than I do. But I’m expanding, and Ryan is going to have something that lasts, and that’s enough for me. I don’t think Linda ever believed me anyway”

* * *
Three Months Later:

Paul Greene stood and waited for the shuttle to land with mixed feelings. Pride as the landlord for the new Lone Star Inn on New Masada and trepidation for meeting the man who was COO of Lone Star LTD. Anyone who walked on the dark side of the Colonial Worlds walked lightly around Ric Saunders. Oh sure he was publicly the COO of Lone Star and worked for Hank Carling’s Plans and Intentions for the government of New Texas, and did that work for a ‘Princely Sum’ of one credit per year. Anyone who walked the back rooms and alleyways knew better.

Ric Saunders was Plans and Operations and rumor carried that he commanded a force beyond belief. The rumor mill said that his new CIA commanded a new Army of Northern Virginia that rivaled the old NGO’s at their height. Really dark rumors claimed that Andy Webb himself was at its heart; Paul personally put his money on Muriel Webb. His one encounter had been enough to show him the light.

So he smiled for the cameras when the man who was bringing a new business to New Masada stepped off of the shuttle and asked breezily, “So, how’s it going?” Then without waiting for an answer added, “And I sure would like to see the place I bought?”

“Sounds like a winner,” was the reply over the open handshake of Ric Saunders.

The short flight over was filled with small talk, “So who did Liza get to run this place?” Ric asked.

“Believe it or not, my Sister-in-Law and poor Brigid is sleeping off three weeks of shear Hell. Liza was not going to let that sign go up until everything was exactly to her specs. The sign company was having fits waiting for the go-ahead. I have one strange question though!”

Ric looked quizzically at the tone he heard and said, “Ok, shoot, I will try my best.”

“Last night when we had our bigwig preview, the High Governor came in and he stopped in the Entrance Hall. Stood there for at least thirty minutes he did. Spent the whole time just staring at the big painting of Liza and her kid. Is there something I should know here?”

“Nothing I can tell you except rumors. Look, we know that the Colonial Organization has several non-persons in key positions in the FG. The money that started the Lone Star came from somewhere, Her Husbands body was never found. Against all that Liza is just damn good looking, I am not going to guess or spread rumors but, you could be sitting on a bomb, and that in fact, could be in you favor!”

“Ric before you leave could, I take you out and show you something?”

“Sure but, what?”

“It’s a little special project we are doing for Chris Webb.”

“Christ Paul, what do you have against my ulcers?”

Paul settled the flitter into the lot at the Lone Star and the tone of the conversation changed. Ric was suddenly all business and he seemed to know everything. Question after question rolled out without ever consulting his data pad. Paul was on his almost constantly as Ric covered every aspect of logistics and sales that could even be conceived. Paul knew beyond a doubt why this man was the COO, no detail was outside of his questioning, yet; he did it without micromanaging. Every question was not a “Do this”, it was a “How did you handle this?” With the minimum of corrections he was getting, he thought he was doing fairly well.

Ric finally turned and said, “Let’s go to the Office,” Paul—relieved—lead the way to the large central room. Once inside Ric walked straight to the desk and hit the hidden button for the jammer system.

“Ok Paul, let’s talk about the smuggling system. With the yards and the Lone Star we are going to have a lot of cargo containers coming this way. We intended to ship all of the parts necessary for you to convert at least 15 to 20 of your CNC machines to weapons production.”

“No offense Ric, but shouldn’t I check with Andy about this or maybe even Liza?”

“No Paul, you obviously don’t understand how things work these days. Under my business hat, I work for Lone Star. For public dissemination I work for Hank Carling in his Plans and Intents for one Credit per year, Civic Service you know!

“In reality it is much different. Publicly I work for Lone Star. That is merely a Cover for my real job, to keep it simple I will use old USA three letter acronyms, as I know that you know those.

“Hank and Andy made a deal, Andy is out of Intel period. Hank runs our version of the FBI that works everywhere on the passive side. Liam and I run the new NSA and CIA, those are both active organizations, but we take our orders from Hank.

“If we need physical operations performed, Andy is our Army of Northern Virginia. I work for Hank Carling and don’t forget that.”

“That means almost all of the ugly rumors are true, correct Ric?”

“Spot on Paul, now what the hell did you want me to see before I left?

They went to Paul’s flitter over to the Spaceport, “Don’t worry Ric, the next FG ship due, is your ride home in two days. I think you just have to see this.” What they boarded was a new in-system shuttle, complete with shit the FG knew nothing about.

They cleared atmosphere on the Ditmars Drives and then snapped into RD. The yards came up fast at .5C, Paul then dialed down the RD drive as the variable field that Chris Webb had winkled out came into play. Finally they dropped back into the Ditmars Drive as the energy field of the new cloak rippled over them. Ric could only stare and ask, “What the Hell is That?”

“According to Chris, when he brings in the weapons from Bolthole II, that’s going to be New Masada Station!”

“Dear God, he knows something I don’t!” Ric’s voice was low as he stared at a monstrosity that had to be three times the size of a Challenger. He could clearly see the holes where the weapons were going to go. “How many Fusion Plants Paul?”

“Sixteen and twenty-four super conductor rings, the power in that bastard is beyond belief. He is going to have to have 10 plants running all the time just trying to charge those rings! What the hell is Chris doing?”

“He intends to protect something that we don’t KNOW yet. Remember the question you asked me about the High Governor?”

“Yeah sure, why?”

“Do you think that Bastard might be your answer?” Ric could only imagine as he stared at a Monster that could break Fleets and damn sure wills. “Paul—Andy don’t know shit about this. Hank maybe, but this is Chris’s Ace in the Hole. Damn, just Damn!”

* * *

The secret door to the CEO suite opened, “Damn it Liam, every time you come through that door it is a problem. What is it this time?”

“This one is from Ric Boss and he wants it kept secret from Hank!”

“For God sakes why, that is close to violating my agreement with Hank? You are aware that I consider that sacred ground?”

“Well technically no, the cover job he has taken is with a branch of Webb Enterprises, so technically the exception covers it. The problem is not where he is, it’s what he is, and do we want Hank distracted while M’butu is sniffing around?

“This scumbag is a Special Investigative Service Agent straight from Detroit. As you know SIS pukes don’t investigate shit, they are hit men, and this bastard’s target is Hank Carling! Why in the world do they want Hank?”

“Because he has scared someone Liam and that’s what Totalitarian Cultures do when someone or something scares them; they try to kill it. It’s probably not M’butu and the FG, even if this guy works for the SIS, or he would not be here sniffing around. My bet is the Islamic Confederation and because of M’butu I cannot take care of this myself.

“Give me the file Liam and go away. Tell Ric that it is taken care of then it’s time to blood the hounds! BTW, get a file ready to brief Hank down the road. Set it up so I take the shit that is sure to come. I think I can look him in the eye and take it, he’s gonna be pissed. Sometimes the guy on point has to be protected, shit he would do it for me!”

Liam had been around Andy Webb for many years, but the look that came over that tired overworked face froze his blood. He had known that Andy was a Sheepdog born… for the first time he saw the Wolf underneath.

***
“So much for a fun few days without the wives?” Jim drawled.

Jose, Bill and Fred just stared at him; Jose was the one to voice it. “Boss wants this guy gone, as in no trace no notice. The undertone is if we can’t hack this, why are we here? I personally don’t want to tell the Boss why we could not hack it. Not to mention to quote a famous Texan, ‘this Bastard just needs killing’.”

“Well,” Bill piped up, “His patterns are fairly solid. He likes the high-end watering holes that attract the high-end crowd. Not the Lone Star for sure but, the next level down. His rotation is very predictable so he is not just party timing he is working a surveillance network. Should be an easy mark with all this info. I say we take him tonight, Fred if you look at this plan, your Flitter fits the bill perfectly.”

“So I get stuck as the wheel man? Shit, OK!”

“We start at 1900 and strike at 2130!”

At 1900 Fred slipped his cargo flitter into the alley between Alfredo’s and the Range Fed Cafe and proceeded to wait. At 2126 Altaf Ali strolled out of the Range Fed and lit a cigarette lounging his way up towards Alfredo’s. A figure walked up behind him and put a hand up towards his head on the way by, there was the small sound of a .25 ACP and Altaf seemed to stagger until his shoulders were picked up by the following pair.

The trio walked into the alleyway where Altaf had found a new home, dumped into a large black bodybag and zipped up inside. After boarding, the flitter lifted over one block where it picked up Jose. It then lifted for the Ranch of Craig Griffin who was hosting the two week Eagle Scout Camp. Craig had 80,000 acres and five backhoes.

* * *
“Dammit Ric, Andy should have seen this coming! And you should have told him to talk to me first!”

“Yeah I suppose I should have, but no one tells Andy what to do once his mind is made up. I tried to get through to you but you were with M’butu all day.”

“You could have found a good enough reason: faked a heart attack, robbed a liquor store, had yourself arrested for child abuse. Anything would have been better then letting Andy order the hit.”

“What if they got to you first?”

“Ok, that might not have been better. . . On second thought I’m not even sure about that part either. I don’t think any garden-variety street muscle, and that’s what it looks like they were, could get past the systems Emmet and I have had in place ever since I took this job. There is always an element of chance, but if we had known in time no way! Enough of this for now. Though I’m gonna’ tell you, Andy hasn’t heard the end of it. M’butu just called and wants to go visiting over at Webb Enterprises.”

“All of a sudden like? Straight from the blue?”

“He knows about the hit, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. His people at least talk to him—I’m sure you catch my meaning! I don’t know if he was directly involved, I suspect not. But I am damned sure he could have said No! Guess we’re not as tight as people think. Give Andy a head’s up Jamil’s sending a car to pick me up, we will be out there real soon.”

“Yes Michelle,” came the tired voice of Andy Webb. “You know of course that this had better be good.”

“Of course, Mr. Carling and Ambassador M’butu are here and asking to speak to you, Sir.”

“Ouch, I will take that spanking, cut them into the circuit and I will get the heat off of you.”

“Of course Boss, wait one!”

“Hank—long time no see. I am sorry I am in the middle of something down in the fab; I have to finish up here and go through decontamination on my way out. If you will be so kind as to give me about twenty minutes. I can have Michelle take you up to my suite; there’s a bottle of Grandpa’s Grand Reserve in the liquor cabinet and ice in the fridge.”

“I’ll pass along your apologies for the delay. We both look forwards to your speedy arrival.”

Andy entered the room still wearing a cleansuit minus the hood and saw Jamil and Hank seated. He couldn’t help but have noticed the two members of M’butu’s security detail standing outside his door as he entered. “Sorry gentleman, if you could just give me a couple of more minutes to get out of this rig, I have been in it for the last eighteen hours and it sorta smells in here. Given that I think we would all be happier. I know I sure as hell would.”

“Go right ahead,” Jamil said, pouring himself another tumbler full and taking a sip.
Soon after Andy moved to another of the suite’s rooms they heard the sound of running water—a shower.

Hank commented, “Just as I said, he has no time for much of anything else.”

M’butu merely nodded noncommittally.

Andy reentered the room, this time towel in hand and still rubbing at his famous military buzz cut. He was dressed in jeans, a light denim shirt, and wearing chukka style boots. Moving to the liquor cooler he came out with two bottles of electrolyte laden fluid restoring drinks. Hitting the big leather chair he started in with his characteristic sense of low Humor.
“Hell Jamil, what can I do to ruin your or your governments day? Nope, I will take part of that back; your government or that asshole Redmond’s day?”

“Here it comes,” thought Hank, as Jamil’s whole face seemed to tighten before he said, “I think you forget yourself Mr. Webb. Your hospitality only excuses your lateness, not any implied complaints concerning our relative positions.”

Andy looked ready to make a harsh retort then seemed to reconsider. “Oh, I am sorry, do excuse me, I have been up for hours with troubles down in the fabrication lab and my frustration seems to have carried over. However, you do have to admit that I might have some animosity towards the government that cashiered me and the family that my Clan has an 18 Generation feud with. However as my old Granny taught me, that should not cause me to take it out on someone not directly involved; that is truly a violation of southern hospitality. So Jamil for that I do truly apologize.”

“I shall overlook it—this once.” Jamil replied, his voice still very cold. “Tell us about your problems in your chip facility. Then we will get into the reasons for our visit.” Jamil leaned back as if relaxed, but his expression was still wary.

“Well, you wanted us to come up with a Resources Scanner that could cover a planet in a minimum of passes and you gave us an exception to the research regulations to do it. What you did not realize is that let my younger brother loose. He found a way to do it; the only problem was he sent it to us in Math. Getting Math to chips in the most efficient manner is still an Art and not a Science, so I have been down there for 18 hours putting your dream on chips because as Chris is the dreamer, I am the Engineer. If this run works, you will have your sensor system within the week”

M’butu leaned forward in his chair, “You have our survey system? And the output matches our black box interface specifications?”

“If this chip works, yes. I might not like your Government but—your checks are good. You order stuff and we will build it.”

“Jamil, I do not like the Federated Government and I hate Redmond; that is a widely known fact. But, you Sir are of Zulu decent; you I would treat with on a battlefield as an equal. Please do not hold it against me because I would not give Redmond the same respect. I work to survive because that is what I know. As long as you are on Redmond’s side then we are by definition Enemies. To use an Old Southern phrase, those two points ain’t necessarily the same.

“Now, can I get some sleep?”

Jamil stood and drained his drink. “As a Zulu, to someone who finds being Scots-Irish of such importance, I don’t trust you farther than I can throw you Andy. I do sense that you have not lied to me this day. But have you told the entire truth? Get my clients these systems at the agreed up price, and prove me to be a paranoid.”

“You will get them as fast as I can make and test them, shit you guys pay on time. Jamil, if I ever come for you it shall be face to face. You have too much Honor for a backshot.”

“Andrew, some people might misunderstand that statement. The ‘If I ever come for you’, that you talk about, sounds so much like a veiled, ‘When I come for you’, especially when followed by the word backshot. This ‘Zulu’, as you call me, does not necessarily see it that way, others would not be so forgiving. But as a last word, should you utter such a statement in public, or even in private, and it be brought to my official attention, much as our association has been profitable to the both of us, it will end. You are too hotheaded for one in a position of power. I may chalk that up to your Scots-Irish temperament, others are not so charitable. Be careful, very careful.”

“Hank, I need to see about a flight home.”

No sooner had the two left the room than Liam burst in through the secure door, “Boss you gotta see this!”

“Liam, do you understand I need some sleep.” Andy bitched as he reached for the extended Pad.

Andy scanned it and almost froze in his seat. Then his hands started flashing over his desk keyboard. “Michelle, record for Hank Carling on Channel Three. Don’t send it till you are sure he is no longer with M’butu.”

“Ready Boss, Go Ahead!”

“Hank, Andy here. The shooter we took down has been confirmed as controlled by the Islamic Confederation by the Colonial Organization. They also state that there is a second shooter in system who has not been identified. As such he or she has not been identified as a Webb employee. Duck and Cover Buddy. This one does not fall into the exception as near as we can tell.

“This makes it one of your or Ric’s call. I await your info and response. Dammit, keep your head down!”

Liam, call Toby Brookman and tell him to put a soft tag on Hank with top rank shooters. I will get with him after I get some sleep.

To Be Continued.

Page Author | OldDog November 9th, 2008