Poisoned Pawn (7 page)

“I thought I was doing all the dishes this trip,” Clark said.

“Since you’re going to lose anyway, it won’t change anything.”

I tuned out their conversation and the clinking of pieces on the boards. Chapter four was the only interesting chapter in the book. I fell asleep somewhere in chapter eight, while the heroine was being rescued from brigands who threatened her virtue.

Luke Verity arrived at the restaurant a fashionable forty minutes late. The planet Kimmel boasted some very glamorous night spots. This wasn’t one of them. Luke could barely conceal his disdain for the dusty decor and bland food. He tried to be civil to his dining companion, but even that was difficult. The man dressed with no sense of style or fashion. He looked like an accountant. He smelled of sweat.

Ortel leaned forward. “I’m telling you, Hom Verity, this sector is ripe for the taking. You find a way to get the governor in your pocket and no one can stop you.”

Luke pushed rubbery chicken across his plate with his fork.

“You hear what I’m saying? With one move you could own Cygnus Sector.” Ortel wiped sweat from his forehead with his napkin.

“What of Targon and Gemini? They say Cygnus isn’t worth the risk. The Patrol is too strong and the governments refuse to tolerate any hint of graft or corruption.”

“They don’t live here. They don’t know the real story. I’m telling you, this could be your golden opportunity.”

Luke patted his lip with his napkin. His blue hair caught the light as he leaned back and rested his arm across the back of the booth. His black silk shirt rippled. Elegant and poised, he raised one eyebrow in denial of Ortel’s reasoning.

Ortel forked a bite into his mouth and chewed. Gravy dotted his lips.

“This trip was a waste of my time,” Luke said.

Ortel swallowed. “Aren’t you tired of running errands for the big boys? You’re smart. You should be your own boss. Things are changing in Cygnus. Ripe for the picking.”

“And what do you want in exchange for your help?”

“Not much. A hundred thousand should do.” Ortel smiled, certain he held the upper hand.

“A hundred thousand? You haven’t provided enough for me to cover the cost of this atrocious meal.” Luke’s fingers plucked a frayed spot. His other hand was out of sight, under the table. “Convince me not to kill you, Ortel. Give me something useful.”

Ortel paused in the act of sawing off another chunk of meat. His face paled.

Luke smiled. “You’re out of your league, Ortel. Don’t try playing with the big boys unless you’ve got the balls for it.”

“You kill me and you won’t make it off Kimmel. I took precautions.” Ortel grasped his knife like a weapon.

“You’re threatening me with flatware?” Luke chuckled. “You have no idea what weapon I’m holding, do you?”

Ortel dropped his gaze to the table, as if he could see Luke’s hidden hand.

Luke withdrew his hand from under the table. It was empty. He held both hands up, palm out, then resumed his previous position. “As I said, Ortel, you don’t have the balls. Or the brains.” He picked up his wine glass by the narrow stem and gestured towards the door. “My man, Lopei, will make certain you don’t live through the night, if I decide you need to be killed. Now, have I utterly wasted my time and resources coming to meet you or do you have something worthwhile to tell me?”

“Miya,” Ortel blurted.

Luke raised his eyebrow again.

“Arramiya Daviessbrowun. She’s the daughter of the sector’s richest businessman. You get her and he’ll do whatever you want him to, including buying off the Patrol. He tells the governor what to do. And they listen.” Ortel babbled nervously.

“Kidnapping?” Luke pursed his lips as he toyed with his glass. “Messy business. Why should I risk it?”

“I got it all figured.” Ortel dug in his pocket, retrieving a much folded scrap of paper. “You buy a place on Burundia. Nobody bothers anybody there. I’ve got guys who’ll snatch her for you. Take her to your place and demand a ransom from Daviessbrowun. Give him a choice between his daughter and his money. He’ll do whatever you tell him to.”

Luke took the scrap of paper from Ortel’s shaking hands.

“It’s foolproof, Hom Verity. You get Daviessbrowun in your pocket and Cygnus is all yours. No more working for someone else. You’ll be as powerful as any of them.”

Luke smoothed the paper, taking his time to press out the wrinkles with one finger.

“One woman, and it’s all yours for the taking. I swear.”

“And all it will cost me is a hundred thousand credits.”

“Nothing compared to the millions you’ll make.” Ortel dared a smile.

“Do you have a picture of this woman?”

Ortel shook his head, his smile collapsing into a worried frown. “She’s a recluse. Daviessbrowun keeps her locked up tighter than a virgin in a space port bar.”

Luke gave an exasperated sigh as he slid to the edge of the seat. “Enjoy your date with Lopei, Ortel.”

Ortel dared to grasp Luke’s flowing sleeve.

Luke’s face pinched with anger at his audacity.

“It’s him, not her. Rumors are that she’s a wild one, always trying to escape her leash. Daddy doesn’t want her out in public. She’ll embarrass him with another scandal.”

Luke brushed Ortel’s hand from his sleeve. “Bring me Arramiya Daviessbrowun and I’ll consider your proposal. Until then, you’re living on borrowed time, Ortel.” He stalked from the restaurant.

Lopei met him outside, opening the door of his flitter and climbing in behind him. “How’d it go?” he asked once they were airborne.

“Never expect a decent meal at a place called The Greasy Chicken. I’m starved.” Luke settled back in his seat. “Take me to the spaceport,” he ordered the pilot.

“We’re leaving him alive?” Lopei glanced at his boss.

“For now. His proposal was interesting, but it needs more research. Have you heard of Burundia?”

Lopei shook his head. “Why?”

“We’re going to investigate some real estate investment opportunities. How much cash can we liquidate?”

“Plenty, if that shipment of Glitter makes it to Callisto. It may take a few weeks.”

“Then I’ll leave that in your capable hands, Lopei. See that I’m not disappointed.”

“Of course.”

“It’s time to make some business acquaintances. Do I look like a rich playboy to you?”

Lopei studied Luke, looking for a hint of the right answer. Luke’s bland smile gave nothing away. “Do you want to?”

Luke laughed and patted Lopei’s cheek. “It’s all part of the plan. Cygnus will be my playground very soon.”

The reentry alarm startled me awake. I scrambled under my pillow and came up with my blaster before I was completely awake. I’d been dreaming again, this one involved Tayvis. I put my gun back and promised myself that I would go the Patrol base on Shamustel, if they had one, and find a way to send him a message.

Clark was in his seat, pushing buttons. He looked as awake as ever.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” I ran a hand through the mess of hair on my head.

“It’s sticking straight up now.”

“I like it that way,” I said.

Jasyn joined us, in her bright purple pajamas and bare feet. She didn’t say anything, but slid into her chair with a yawn.

The ship hiccuped on reentry to normal space. I frowned and checked a few dials.

“Something wrong?” Jasyn asked, through another yawn.

Nothing showed up on the indicators. “Probably just a bubble, but I’ll check it when we land.”

We got a course in to the planet. Shamustel was a busy port. We were shuttled in behind a wallowing freighter and two luxury yachts. A Patrol cruiser slid past us, circling the planet. The landing went smoothly enough. We got a berth on the very far side, miles from the main gates and port offices.

I opened the hatch and stood breathing in the smell of the planet. It was night, very late night. The city beyond the field was mostly dark. Only the bars and businesses next to the port were still open. The air was cool, almost chilly, and smelled of oil and burnt plascrete.

“Who gets what?” Jasyn asked, standing behind me and shivering in her pajamas.

“I get port authority, unless you want it this time,” I said.

“I’ll do it,” she answered. “You find us something that we can make money hauling.”

“I’ll go with you,” Clark offered, looking at me.

“We’ll wait until daylight,” I decided.

“Port authority won’t wait,” Jasyn said. “I’d better find something to wear.”

I stood in the hatch a while longer. Another ship landed not far away, its mag drive barely whispering. I couldn’t see stars overhead, too much light from the ships and the field security lamps. I heard Clark behind me, getting something in the galley.

I breathed in the scent of the port and almost felt happy. This was what I wanted. My own ship, the freedom to go wherever I wanted, the smell of oil on the wind. If I didn’t have people chasing me, I could have been happy. Especially if Tayvis were somewhere I could reach. Later, I promised myself. I shut the hatch and went to eat breakfast with Clark.

Jasyn left as the sky was turning a pearly gray. She looked at the offices, tiny in the distance and sighed.

“Want to call a transport?” Clark asked.

“I’ll walk. It’s good for me.” She started off across the port.

“How about I wash up, again, and then we go hunt for cargo?” Clark asked me.

“What happened to calling me captain?”

“I’m doing the dishes. What more do you want from me?”

“As long as you don’t forget who owns this ship,” I said, watching him work.

“Don’t get any ideas from my books.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder.

“As if I would try any of that,” I muttered.

“I heard that.” He turned back around. “All done. Ready to go?”

I stood and checked that I still had my ID plates. “Let’s go find something to trade.” I felt the excitement rising, one reason I’d decided to go merchant. It wasn’t just the freedom, it was the fun of finding things and trading them for more than I paid.

The excitement lasted only halfway across the field. The sun rose, a huge golden ball that sent bright light streaming across the field. I squinted, trying to see where I was going. We were walking straight into the sunrise.

A transport rumbled up and slowed next to us. “Need a lift?” the driver called.

The bed of his transport was empty except for half a dozen spacers in various colored outfits. We climbed on. The transport rumbled off.

“Just in?” one of the other spacers asked. “What ship?”

“Phoenix Rising,” Clark answered. They were talking to him, not me.

“That old crate hauler?” The man laughed and slapped his leg.

“It’s a good ship,” Clark said mildly.

I bit my tongue and didn’t say anything.

“Beats yours, Ren,” another spacer chimed in.

“Fancy lady yacht,” someone else teased.

They bantered back and forth for the five minutes it took to reach the gate. We all climbed off. The transport driver waved and drove away. We headed for the entry checkpoint. Shamustel wasn’t an open port with free access. Offworlders, especially ship crew, had to check in and out. We showed our id plates, the port security officer scanned them then let us through the gate.

We were stopped by another officer. “Purpose on Shamustel?” she asked in a clipped voice.

“Trade,” I said and showed my ID again.

She entered the information on her desk comp. It beeped and let us through. We were finally loose in the port city.

“Guild office,” I said. I had paid my dues back on Tebros while we were refitting the ship. It would be a good place to start looking for something to ship somewhere. Clark nodded. We found the office without much trouble. Huge pillars lined the front of it. Most of the buildings on Shamustel had pillars.

Clark stopped at the bottom of the steps. I was already halfway up.

“I’ve got some personal business,” Clark said. “Do I have to formally ask for shore leave?”

“Can I call you if I need you?”

“It will only take a couple of hours.” He flipped me a mock salute.

I watched him saunter away. I was trying to find a way to get away from him to visit the Patrol offices, anyway. Finding Tayvis was personal. I looked at the Guild offices behind me, debating. Since I was already there, going in and taking care of business won.

I found the cargo listings on a screen at the far end of the lobby. I had to prove I was registered and up to date on my dues before they let me access it. On worlds where the Guild was respected, those that weren’t dominated by big shipping companies or by thugs, Guild membership paid for itself. Guild ships got the pick of the cargo list that wasn’t already contracted. I scrolled through the listings, checking the destinations against where I didn’t want to go. Back towards Viya and Tebros was out, as were the frontier worlds around Dru’Ott. I found eight possible listings.

I used the vidphone nearby to call them. Four had already contracted their cargo. Another one didn’t answer. Two of the others wanted me to take the cargo on consignment. I didn’t have the cash for those deals. I turned them down. The last was a possibility. The listing said decorative ceramics, the mass would fit in the holds of my ship. And they were to be shipped to Kimmel, a planet off in a completely new direction for me, one far enough away that I didn’t think I’d have to worry about the Targon Syndicate. I called the company.

I had to listen to a long diatribe about shipping companies that canceled contracts after jacking up their prices to the point that a decent businessman couldn’t possibly afford them. I managed to finally break in and ask the man for details on the shipment. Then I got to listen to a long lecture on how he had structured his business. He had outlets on ten different worlds. His ceramics were collectibles that had a respectable following. He was looking for someone to sign a long term contract.

I offered him a short term one instead. We dickered for a while, he didn’t trust me not to just steal his cargo. I finally talked him into setting up a meeting for lunch. I promised to bring my Guild ID and ship specs. I wanted to make him promise not to lecture me again, but I didn’t dare take the chance on losing the only cargo I’d found so far.