Rogue-ARC

  It was wrenching. He could be debarking right now, for the surface, or for another craft elsewhere. He could be well on his way, and we had to assume he was. His funds were not unlimited. He had contracts to keep. He couldn’t afford to detour all the way up here, even without a ticket, then drop back down. Disposing of luggage . . . he might have had something else in the bags that would have aroused security, and decided to dump it. Or it could have been a DNA spoof.

  I assumed he was on there.

  In the meantime, we had hours until our new berth. We took the tickets and left. I didn’t thank the guy.

  “Search again,” I told Silver. “On foot. I go up, you go down. We meet back here. Check for lurkers in shops. Check any available maintenance passages.”

  “Will do.”

  I’ll spare you the details. We found nothing. We did arouse suspicion ourselves for poking around things, and the third time the same officer questioned my flight and asked to look at my itinerary, I called it off. We grabbed a toasted sandwich and went to sit and fume.

  I didn’t see any reason to risk another miss, so we boarded early.

  CHAPTER 15

  The trip was yet another combination of boredom, frustration, strained eyes from searching data and cabin fever. News updated through the Point regularly, but there was still a lag of minutes to hours to reach the ship, and then back. Whoever develops an FTL transmitter is going to be rich, though probably more from frustrated teens and stock-watching business drones than from spies.

  On the plus side, arrival was easy. Customs required a small fee, a cursory glance at our documents, and a declaration of purpose. That was processed that via comm aboard ship. We travelled directly to the orbitals, transferred to a lander, and swung down on a skywhip before landing in a long, screaming hypersonic approach. The commercial port was unremarkable, just gates, slides, tunnels under the ramps, with the usual stores selling overpriced souvenirs and travelers’ necessities. We found our luggage and sought lodging.

  Novaja Rossia was modern without being a rat maze. It wasn’t as open as the Freehold, a bit more so than Caledonia, and as much better than Earth as lobster steamed in wine is over-raw cockroach.

  If only I had time to sightsee, I’d be having the time of my life. Novaja Rossia, despite its name, was largely Western, with Germans, Brits, Americans, quite a few Aussies and Canadians and a large South American heritage. The Russian planetary development company sold stocks to a Swiss consortium who’d sold the hell out of the idea. All the commercially based colonies turned out rich and cosmopolitan very quickly. All the idealistic ones sank into the mire for lack of interest and lack of purity. There’s a lesson there somewhere, I’m sure.

  Grainne is beautiful, but we have high coastal hills and young, craggy mountains as the prime natural assets in our most populous areas. NovRos has staggering fractures unseen elsewhere. It’s a very active planet, with lots of tectonic activity. Noglomsky Hrebet, the Legbreaker Range, was a mix of volcanic rifts and vertical shards. Oozing magma with steep basalt in between is very pretty, at least from a distance. What looks like dug earth is actually ragged lava, and uncrossable by surface means. Gravity is .93 standard, metals a little lower and the planet marginally smaller than Earth. UV is moderate.

  While the nation is modern, that terrain restricts expansion. The lush bowl the capital is in is surrounded by two long arms of the mountains, with a broad river running to the ocean.

  There were lots of small towns, 100K and under, scattered across the continent, around landing pads. Those patterned out to smaller towns and ranches before reaching an “older” range like the Dragontooths on Grainne, or Earth’s Rockies. The coastal plane was mostly arid semi-desert.

  So, unless he sought someone in their home, which he might, any target would be here in the Capitol.

  Our target-predicting algorithm was better at narrowing down the choices, and showed me its nonchoices separately in case I wanted to feed them back in. I appreciated that. An MO could suddenly change. Hell, mine definitely would.

  We took a room at a Hilton, out of downtown Karlsgrad but within easy driving distance. A rental vehicle, just a basic commuter, lasted two days before I found someone selling a used but reliable six-seater sport sedan. The load looked good, it was adequate in person, and I handed over cash and false ID. Silver had it registered and with a new, legal transponder the next day. She also had two other transponders, illegal but passable, that wouldn’t show on any database if examined.

  We still weren’t positive Randall was here. It was all betting and guesswork. He could have slipped back to Mtali and gone some other way. However, I knew he’d been here before, and the explosive he’d used had probably come from here, via a shipping company with ties to the crime families.

  I was confident. Bits of data, patterns, events, all inexorably drew together. At some point, the puzzle would be complete enough I could intercept early.

  Still, we were going to have to recon, and he probably had a five-day lead.

  I told Silver, “We need to plan on being here a while. If we have to abandon stuff we can, but this seems to be at least a landfall if not an operating base.”

  “I’ll work on the vehicle,” she agreed.

  “With defenses.”

  “I like hearing you say that,” she said with a smile.

  “I want our car rigged as a chase vehicle. We may be here a while, and I’m actively seeking him now.”

  “That’s pretty straightforward. I’ll do that first.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be looking for targets and leads.”

  We settled in with supplies including a variety of real food with fresh vegetables and fruit, extra clothes of several types, miscellaneous hardware and tools for fabrication. I wanted to find a rental house with attached garage we could use. With that we’d be set for quite a few things.

  ***

  As we organized, I mulled things over. If he was getting a mil a hit, his overhead was about fifty percent. Otherwise, the contractee was paying expenses and he was making less. There was no way anyone would pay more than that even for such high-placed victims. So, he was racking up about two million UN marks per year. Then, he had to stash that money somewhere safe. Our system would be best, but he wouldn’t want it there for obvious reasons. Any other discreet system was either unreliable politically or had some means and desire to stop him. However, our system was not only best, but he’d never taken a contract there. So my working hypothesis was that it went to our system. It would do so in physical form, either bullion or a paid draft. Large amounts flitting around were traceable.

  Although, he could do it as lots of little drafts through different “purchases,” accepting more loss in processing in exchange for safety.

  We needed to look for such a business in our system. The odds weren’t good. There were lots of them, mostly legit, some simply evading tax somewhere else.

  I ran through that theory with Silver.

  “It’s doable,” she said. “Not really my specialty, but I can learn and get more info. Basically, we look for patterns of transfers right after his hits. Those are also going to be transactions for services rather than goods. Cheap goods don’t ship out of system.”

  I said, “Good point. That actually means it might be traceable. Assuming it’s in our system and we’re correct.”

  “Absolutely. You realize you keep loading tasks on me and expecting me to keep up with your physical ops as well.”

  “I do,” I agreed. Yes, I’d noticed somewhat, though obviously not enough if she needed to mention it. “I’ll help wherever I can whenever I can.”

  Then I said, “Next, if he might be based here, we need to locate that base. He might use several, or be arranging them now. In which case, his oldest will have some kind of intel. The new ones are still useful, though.”

  “Can you do that? I’ve got the vehicle to handle.”

  “Yes.” There was too much work for two people. But a team’s movements
were too likely to be exposed. It was a good thing I was multiply trained in several relevant support skills.

  I said, “I’ll go out for additional tools.”

  It was almost like being home. The vehicle was an identical design to the same model on Grainne with minor mods, license-built here. It seated four comfortably, eight if necessary, and had several stowage compartments for supplies, as well as cargo space with the seats collapsed. Many of the stores were of the same conglomerates, with local industrial support. The biggest thing that traveled in commerce was information—patents, designs, processes. Material goods didn’t ship much, except for custom art, unique natural products and minerals, or to places with inadequate infrastructure, at extreme prices. That was changing, though. Phase drive continued to get cheaper and more manageable, and within a couple of decades I expected transshipment to increase, thereby destroying most of the unique flavor of these systems. Don’t laugh. It’s happened before throughout history.

  I guess I just like to see the bad in things.

  I found several tools, paid actual cash and used anonymous cash cards, and went completely unquestioned. I said little enough accents weren’t a problem, so I didn’t even have to attempt one. I boxed up wires, control modules, some drills and other brute force items, tubing, a small welding rig. We could fabricate a lot here if we needed to.

  Assuming he was here.

  When I came back, she said, “There’s an interesting death on the news.”

  “What?” I asked.

  She toggled from screen to wall holo so I could see.

  An Ivan Janich, the owner of KnoledgeKnode had been out in his personal lifter, and it seemed that there was a malfunction with the pressure system. Somehow, the oxygen filter had been swapped the wrong way. He’d breathed pure nitrogen until he passed out. The craft continued until pinged by flight control, which realized there was an onboard emergency, and landed it. Two rescuers passed out and needed help while trying to treat him. Too late, he was dead.

  Silver cut the sound and zoomed in on what imagery there was of the relevant components.

  She said, “You can’t install one incorrectly. Safety feature. You have to physically remove the housing, and install a replacement one. They don’t make those, for obvious reasons. It was a custom job.”

  “Fascinating,” I said.

  That was a ninety-nine percent hit on him being here.

  “Okay, usual stuff. DNA, any specific purchases. Victim is owner of a moderate market business. This is new and significant. He’s not got fingers in everything, and he doesn’t have tremendous amounts of capital. Who pays high dollar to bump off an entertainment nerd?”

  “Someone with gambling debts, or who wants a chunk of his action.”

  “Good,” I said. Yes, that sounded likely. “Watch the stocks and any sudden offers his heirs take.”

  “That might be months.”

  “It might,” I agreed. “We do what we can.

  “Meantime,” I said, “we have to assume he’s using our same techniques to track us. He had a four-day lead, yes?”

  “Four and some hours.”

  “He could have got into their port cameras, or set up drone flies.”

  “I’ll sweep regularly and repeatedly,” she said, sounding tired. “Look, I realize I have to do all this, but I only have so many hands, so much time, and so many comms.”

  “It’ll get worse as we get closer,” I said. “Prioritize as you need, ask me if you have to.”

  “I will.” She slumped, sighed, stretched and arched, her breasts amazingly taut, then bent back over touchpad, controls and mic.

  She actually didn’t grumble nearly as much as she claimed she had. She managed to get past it fast. Unless it was because I scared the hell out of her.

  “Silver, question.”

  She looked up, and I asked her, “You don’t complain much. Is that because of me?”

  She looked a bit surprised.

  “No! You treat me very well. Most officers can’t help being a bit condescending, or presumptive. You’ve treated me as an equal, and I don’t have nearly your qualifications.” She smiled with a quirk. “This excludes those first couple of days, when you were acting the psycho.”

  “I wasn’t acting,” I said. Then I realized that’s not what she needed to hear. I couldn’t manage to joke well enough to get past it. I just continued. “I don’t want my only team member getting burned out. If you reach any limits, tell me.”

  “I will,” she said. “I think what’s got me is the urgency, the time constraints, the increasing risk.”

  “Those will burn you out, too.”

  “Noted. Please let me get back to work.”

  I pointed and smiled.

  Almost at once she said, “News reports his car was in the shop. I have a location.”

  “We’ll drive over,” I said.

  Actually, I dressed and drove over while she mined more data, after I had her diddle the car so I’d have an excuse to be there. She did so with a pry bar and a grunt that told me she wasn’t happy about the distraction.

  Traffic wasn’t great. These people didn’t have the automatic controls Earth had, and they weren’t as sophisticated as we are. They mostly drove safely, but dully. A few tried performance driving, so they were idiots and reckless. Still, it was better than Mtali and I prefer the freedom to the locked-in driving of Earth.

  In thirty minutes I saw it. It was a very upscale garage with shrubs and color-shifting light tubes. Very nice. As I pulled in I saw they even had a fountain.

  I parked on a broad apron surrounded by manicured shrubs punctuated with flowers. The grass was maintained with a combination of nano-trimming and regular caretaking, and stopped exactly at the edge. The surface was cut gray granite flagstones.

  I walked inside, and the treatment was first class. Their counter rep was a very classy looking young lady.

  “Welcome to Empire Repair, sir, what can we do for you?”

  “Yes, I appear to have an imbalance in a wheel. Very straightforward.”

  “We can get to that in about half an hour.”

  I made a show of checking the time in my glasses. “I can wait, I suppose. It’s pushing my schedule.” I was aiming for pushy but not obnoxious.

  She smiled and I couldn’t tell it was fake. Well done.

  “I’ll try to expedite it, sir. I’ll need a key, please.”

  I offered a chip that had access and fake contact info. She plugged it in and we were set, as long as they didn’t notice it was sabotage. Silver’s “wheel imbalance” would require replacement. No one was going to thank us for helping the local economy, either.

  “Then I’ll wait. Thank you.”

  I stepped out, acted very casual and relaxed, and strolled along the apron, far enough from other vehicles or the buildings to avoid any suspicion or notice, and out of traffic. I sauntered along and casually drew my phone.

  I had a few small sensors in my coat, encrypted and remoted to the unit, and did a DNA scan. Yes, he’d been here. A moment later, I put the tools away. A large, used tool rack labeled “Rognan” sat at the end bay. Doug Rognan was one of the names he’d used on Earth. The little bastard had a job here.

  I expected he would not be in today.

  That gave me all the lead I needed. I walked back to the office and stepped in again.

  “Pardon me, miss, isn’t the end bay open?”

  “Sorry, sir. It’s not. That technician wasn’t able to come in today.”

  At that moment, the police showed up. I’d even beat the investigators in, with the aid of my lovely assistant. To be fair, though, they had to arrange warrants and brought a lot more gear than I did.

  There were three cars and a scene van. One suited detective got out of his car, as a young female patroller came around the other side, and two others.

  I said, “I guess I may have to reschedule.” She wasn’t paying attention to me, though. She was watching the approaching interfe
rence.

  The lead man came up, displayed ID quietly, and laid down a sheet. The supervisor nodded, the manager came through, and in a few moments the staff from senior tech to tire wiper were all paraded into the office area. Three other waiting customers, or at least the drivers of the actual customers, sat back and watched in fascination. I blended in perfectly.

  I overheard, “Is anyone missing?”

  “Technician Rognan is new, but did not come in this morning.”

  “Who worked on this vehicle?” he held a print with information that was obviously of Janich’s car.

  “That would be Rognan.”

  There was a momentary tableau as everyone figured out the implications.

  Inside my pocket, I flipped on my phone. They had some good sensors, though, as someone turned and said, “No phones inside at this time, please. You’ll need to go outside.”

  I flipped it back off. Well done. They might actually track him. That presented some issues.

  I stood, stepped forward just enough to be noticed, recognized and for a break.

  “You’re obviously busy with something important. I can wait and will bring my car in tomorrow.”

  With some relief and sadness, the manager said, “Yes, sir. I do apologize.”

  “Not at all. I’ll see you early.”

  I planned to. I wanted my own hands on this.

  I did a little evading on the highway, just to make sure. It wouldn’t stop anyone following me, but it would delay them, and I’d recognize a tail. Of course, they might have me painted from high overhead, or by drone. The most effective solution to that was a pass through a parking elevator. I took a spur into the city, found a nice new one between blocks of office and shops, and let it raise the car into a bay. I found a vendor, bought a cup of pirogies and ate them on my way back. I signaled for recovery, and the forks pulled the car back down.

  I took a leisurely pass around the downtown on the elevated highway, then headed back out to the hotel, alert for tails. I called Silver for an update, and she didn’t know of anything obvious on the nodes or the police net.