The Centauri Conspiracy

Chapter Twenty-three

  Assassination attempt

  A month later to the day, Bakman and Zee stand beside Breen at the end of the basement's Sixth Level and next to the Service Closet. A minute and a half past two in the morning the elevator light flashes brightly at the far end of the dimly lit hallway with a single row of small safety lights four feet apart. A yellow elevator-in-operation light turns the long hallway yellowish until a red light pops on. They watch its door slide open. Inside is a mechanical cleaner in a light gray tunic, his cleaning-cart, and behind are two men with toolboxes wearing the light gray tunics of maintenance mechanicals. All three move down the hallway toward them.

  When they get close, Bakman can see that the cleaner is really Woll the Clone dressed as a mechanical; the men behind have to be his protection. Without waiting Bakman’s card slides down the slot. When the door opens, Bakman steps into the closet. The others follow him and space is tight with their cleaning machine. His fingers lift the black can of spray and the floor goes down. Everyone walks out and the closet floor rises again.

  Bakman points at the cleaning cart, as if to ask if the goods are inside.

  Woll nods pushing several times on its control panel and his men step forward to lift off the lid. Inside, six stainless steel thick-walled cylinders containing liquid nitrogen are exposed and sweating on the outside.

  Bakman motions with his hand. Two waiting scientists wearing white coats rush forward to push the topless hover cart down the hall and into another room.

  All eyes follow the cart. After it disappears Bakman says, "Let's talk."

  Everyone follows him into the conference room. After everyone takes a place at the conference table Bakman tells Woll, "Without those containers everything else we do is for nothing." Bakman slides twelve books across the tabletop to Woll saying, "We want to order six more of each."

  Woll nods and after a moment smiles. Business is good, he thinks, and hopes it is not too good. His mind wonders if they should move further away for these next six sets or closer in.

  Bakman then walks over and takes three more books out of a cardboard box in the corner. He returns to give each of the men a book saying, "I'm so pleased and I want you to know that. Pleased about everything. Pleased about the removal of people and their transportation. And pleased about receiving our requested goods. Call this your bonuses."

  All three nod their appreciation as Bakman walks over to the box and carried it back. "There are eight more books in this box," Bakman says looking at Woll carefully. "I want you to have a reserve fund to bribe some people, buy special equipment for a future job, and in a hurry it might be dangerous sometimes to meet and handout books. If the heat starts, we may have to go to payment on delivery for everyone’s safety. It would reduce each job’s meetings to one. Until that day, we will still pay as we always have in advance and always will if possible. This is just an encase fund. If it is never needed, Woll it is your personal bonus. We will never ask for a penny of it back or ask for you to do jobs later saying you've already been paid."

  Woll looks at the stack of books on the table. Everyone knew he would collect them, just as he would the books given to his bodyguards, and all monies would end up in his account. Later, Woll would decide what to do with the money, but that was not the problem that worried him. He had made it this far in the world of crime by demanding pay, all the pay, before a job. It had saved Woll problems, eliminated extra dangerous meetings and communications afterward, and what worried him was bending that rule—his rule. They were not asking him to do that exactly for he would have a future fund. They could order a job. His men would do the job, and they would be paid on delivery. If he did not receive payment, he already had been paid and could quit. Payment on delivery was something he had never done and had said he never would do. Woll the Clone frowned, scratched his head, and spoke softly.

  "Welcome to Never-Never Land," and Woll the Clone laughed aloud.

  All the others laughed too, but most of them did not know what they were laughing about. Bakman, Breen, and Woll knew. That was enough.