TIME PRIME (21 page)

“And how are we going to do that, Vall?” Ranthar asked, pointing his pipe stem at Verkan like a pistol barrel.

“Since we can’t trace the moles who’ve infiltrated the Force without alerting both the Chief and the Organization to our game plan, we’re going to have to follow their trail—the money trail. Most of you weren’t there, but I got a good gander at the Organization’s setup on the Abzar Sector. They had enormous holding pens for the slaves, scores of transposition pads and conveyer landing stages. To say nothing of their storage facilities and warehouses. You should have seen the size of that armed air freighter that almost put paid to our whole operation! There are entire continents on Second Level that couldn’t pull off an operation of that size and scope.”

Several of the Paracops nodded in agreement, while others looked skeptical.

“From what I saw on the visiscreen, they must have invested two billion P.E.U. in that sector alone,” Altarn Vor said, his lips tightly pursed. “What I want to know is: how are we supposed to track down the financiers, Chief ’s Special Assistant?”

“Deputy Altarn, you’ve headed the Financial Fraud Division for decades,” Verkan replied. “I believe you are just the man to find out.”

Altarn nodded. “It could be done, but it would take a lot of extra manpower and Exchange Units.”

“My plan is to take some of the funding that the Chief was able to squeeze out of the Executive Council, once they realized how heavily they’d been compromised by the Organization, and set-up a Special First Level Fraud Investigation. I’d want you to head it, Altarn.”

“Hmm. I have a couple of financial boys I trust, but I’d need a lot more.”

“I can use some of the discretionary funds the Chief gave me to create a double force to hire you some fast guns. We’ll have Dr. Nentrov set-up a special Pychist unit for Internal Affairs and have him narco-hypno test all the applicants.”

“As fast as the Organization got information about the Salgarth Assassination,” Nentrov Dard said, “I think all of us might want to do random testing and a department test of our special agents every ten ten-days.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Excellent point. In addition, every new recruit to the Special First Level Fraud Division will need to be vetted by Dr. Nentrov’s Psychist unit. Nor would it be a bad idea if we ourselves were tested every ten ten-days, starting with myself.”

There were nods of agreement from everyone at the table.

“Ranthar, I want you to oversee the interrogation of all the Organization prisoners. I know a lot of them suffered from memory obliteration and still have implanted hypnotic blocks, but get together with Dr. Netrov and create a special force to root out all the information you can.”

Hadron Tharn paced back and forth, like a caged wolf, in his penthouse apartment as he waited for his sister’s call. He still couldn’t believe the news Dalla had left on his answer device. A Hadron in the Paracops! His great-grandfather must be spinning like a top in his crypt in the family mausoleum. What was Dalla thinking, or better yet—was she thinking at all?

Tharn heard the phone chirp, then the cheep, cheep of his robot servant as it picked up the phone and wheeled it over to where he was now standing—in front of the picture wall that showed most of the tall towers and spires of Dhergabar City. He saw Dalla’s face in the silkscreen; her dark hair was wet, with stringy strands of hair hanging in her face. Not a good look, even for her. She must have been swimming in the ocean.

He’d heard she was on vacation at Tortha Karf ’s Fifth Level mansion and had wheedled the phone number out of a mutual acquaintance. Unfortunately, the time-line designation code to Chief Tortha’s villa was restricted or he would have made his visit in person…. While there, he could have bagged the whole lot, including Verkan and his sister.

“Hi, little brother.” Then she must have seen his frown: “What is it, Tharn?”

“Sis, why is it that I always have to hear the family news from some cocksure gossipist on the visiscreen?”

“Maybe because you don’t take my good news well—”

“Is that what you think?”

“Well, after the way you blewup when I announced that Verkan and I were getting back together—”

“That professional assassin you call a husband! You knew I never liked him—”

“Irrationally hate him might be a better way to put it!”

“Now, sis, I didn’t call to berate you about past errors; I’m more concerned with what you’re doing joining the Paracops. Why did you do it—to hurt me, again?”

Dalla sighed, not even attempting to keep it off screen.

Maybe I’ve gone too far, this time
, Tharn thought.
Still, if Dalla had had the
ten-day I’ve had, she might understand.

“Look, I like the work, and it gives me more time with Vall. I know you don’t understand; I don’t even expect you to.”

“How about time for
me
?”

“Tharn, you’re never home. I’ve tried to reach you several times in the past six ten-days, but not once have you returned my calls—”

“I was outtime, big sis. I’ve had some business reverses. Somebody’s got to tend the family fortune.”

Dalla threw up her hands. “I know, but I don’t care about the family investments. Vall makes more than enough units to satisfy my wants. I’d like to see my little brother more often.”

“Not as long as you’re married to
that
man!”

“Well, I’m not going to leave him again—count on it! I love him.”

Tharn cringed, then saw Dalla wince in response. Now that he had her reacting emotionally, it was time to grill her. “What’s going on with all this Wizard Trader stuff, anyway? It’s all the newsies are talking about anymore.”

“It’s a big cross-time slavery ring—run by an outfit that calls itself the Organization. They’ve been selling slaves across different sectors. It’s got both the Paratime Police and the Executive Council in an uproar.”

“How did you wind up in the middle?” Tharn asked.

“I was helping Vall do some narco-hyp on some of the Organization prison ers. Most of them committed suicide before we could question them. You probably heard; they managed to assassinate the Opposition Party leader, Salgarth Trod, before we could get anything out of him.”

“Too bad. How did you go from Psychist helper to Paracop?”

“Chief Tortha liked the job I was doing with Zinganna, Salgath’s former mistress. We used her in a scam to set-up the Organization and throw them off balance.”

“Did it work?”

“Somewhat. However, they came at us from a different angle. The good news is that I made a new friend and sister.”

“Sister! What are you talking about?”

“Well, Zinna and I got along so well, I decided to adopt her—”

“ADOPT HER—without talking to me! Isn’t she a Prole?”

Dalla visibly cringed. “I’m sorry...”

“Tell me you haven’t actually done the ceremony yet? Have you? Without telling me—”

She made her sorry face; he wanted to smash it right through the visiscreen! “You did do it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sorry—”

“You should be. All my life you’ve been telling me how sorry you are...you’re not the only one who carries the family name, Hadron. A Prole—I won’t be able to go out in public anymore! Our family can trace its lineage back over eight thousand years, and there’s never been an outtimer in our genealogy—”

“I said, I’m sorry, Tharn—I don’t know what else to say.”

“Dalla, Sometimes I have a hard time believing we’re from the same gene pool. Do you ever use that head of yours for anything more than a hat rack for one of your pretty hats? Think—think about what our parents would say about this if they were still alive... Think about what it does to our social standing! Think about how it makes me look!”

Dalla was now in tears, which made him feel a little better.

“I’m sorry, Tharn, but I have to break-off. I just can’t talk to you when you’re like this—”

“You mean, when I’m crazy mad, or when you don’t have a good answer for another one of your dumb stunts—”

This time Dalla hung up on him; well, she’d pay for that. Her Paracop husband, too. One of these days,
they’d all
pay!

Danar Sirna knocked on her husband’s door; she knew better than to push the pneumatic release—he’d already bitten her head off twice today! She suspected something had gone wrong at work. He had been working for Hadron Tharn for several years as his personal aide. Tharn had an irascible temperament, often taking out his frustrations on those he employed. Rarth put up with them because he had deep political ambitions; he knew that his position as Tharn’s personal lobbyist and assistant would greatly advance his career.

Tharn not only knew everyone in the Executive Council, but—according to her husband—was one of the richest men on Home Time Line, which was wealth beyond wild imagination. He could do Rarth’s future political career a lot of good, but at a steep cost, working late into the evening and odd hours, sacrificing time with her. Even worse, her husband was beginning to pick up some of Tharn’s mannerisms and quick temper.

“Rarth, you need to eat something. Something to keep up your strength.”

Again, he didn’t answer. She knocked some more: sometimes he acted like such a child. Maybe that’s why she was considering dissolving their marriage. That and his moodiness and habit of blaming others for his faults. Still, Rarth was the most handsome man she’d ever met, although his petulance had begun to spoil his looks. Perhaps she was finally beginning to see beyond his surface façade.

Suddenly the door whooshed open, knocking her off balance. She teetered for a moment, then regained her footing.

Rarth stood before her, his tunic disheveled, face pale and anemic. “Leave me alone! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“What’s going on? I’m your wife; I have a right to know.”

The robot server rolled down the hall, beeping twice. “Dinner is ready, Mister and Madam.”

As soon as it came within reach, her husband shoved it hard. The robot smashed into the wall, squawking loudly, then crumpled to the floor. It hit the marble tiles with a sound like that of breaking dishes, beeped again, sputtered—then died, sending out a dark cloud of astringent smoke.

“Now you’ve done it. We just got that robot as a Year-End Day gift from my parents. What will they say?”

“Robots are passé,” Rarth responded. “Just like your phony parents.”

“They’ve always liked you.”
If it wasn’t for their encouragement, I would have
never married you,
she thought to herself. She’d had no idea what a hypocrite he was until after their companionate marriage.
And user….

He smirked. “The more fools they. If they wanted to give us a present, they should have given us a prole with a ten-year labor contract. None of my friends have robots anymore.”

“Your boss does.”

“You had to mention
him
. I haven’t seen him in three ten-days; no one else has either. He’s been outtime on Fifth Level Industrial Sector. That’s what you’ll tell anyone who asks.”

“That’s not true! I saw you talking with him on the visiphone just a couple of days ago; I recognized his penthouse.”

Rarth’s face turned brick red. “You never saw anything! Remember that. Nothing. Hadron Tharn’s been outtime; that’s all you know. Understand?”

If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse
, she thought. For the first time in their marriage, she was deathly afraid of her husband.

Verkan Vall took aim at the target head-and-shoulders silhouette with his Europo-American Colt Python .357 Magnum with the eight-inch barrel, one of the finest revolvers ever produced on any time-line. When he retrieved his target, he saw a tight grouping at the head for the first five hits, with one miss. He was going to have to spend more time at the range, which was conveniently located in the basement of the Paratime Building. It was unusual for him to be off by even a single shot.

It was all the paperwork they had him doing, he thought. He was much more valuable in the field than sitting at his desk making charts of transtemporal interpenetration events and pickup graphs. At least his shooting skills hadn't completely atrophied. Most of his shots were grouped in the target's mid-facial area.

Vall took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of cordite from the spent rounds. This was as close to the outside as he was going to get for awhile.

“Vall, it's me.” a familiar voice said from behind.

He took off his ear protectors, then turned around to discover Ranthar Jard. They touched hands in greeting. “What crisis has you chasing me down here at the range?”

Ranthar laughed, showing large well-formed white teeth underneath a trim mustache. “First, I want to thank you for the promotion.”

“Well deserved, Inspector. You did a good job on the Abzar Sector cleanup.”

Ranthar shrugged, then changed the subject: “The real reason is we've finally got something worthwhile on the Organization.”

“Oh yeah,” Vall said, all ears. “What?”

“We've been hypo-meching the Wizard Trader suspects for the last two tendays; most of them either know nothing or refer us to other individuals—most of whom we found discorporated or missing. We traced one suspect, Valtar Karn, an employee of Outtime Exotic Beverages, who has mysteriously disappeared.”