Kris Longknife: Audacious Part 30

They entered sick bay, but the door to the surgery was still closed. Kris just finished bringing the others up-to-date on Inspector Johnson's latest fishing expedition when the door opened and Doc entered, removing his gloves.

They waited while he finished that and retrieved a pad of paper from his hip pocket. "Your guy is a talker," he told Kris.

"Will he live?" she asked.

"More than likely. Can't say the same for the guy the sarge plugged. Captain, it's been a long peace. That the first man your sergeant has likely killed?"

Captain DeVar nodded.

"You might want to send him around for some counseling. Even sergeants can get the shakes the first time they come face-to-face with how fragile life is."

"I'll see to that," the captain said.

"Now, as to your guy," Doc said, turning to Kris, but eyeing his pad. "Since you were hoping he'd talk, I used that new gear your maid dropped by, using an IV rather than running tubes down his mouth...and tried some of the anesthesia your maid had in her kit. Where'd she get that stuff?" Doc said, then waved his hand. "No, don't tell me. Cause then you'd have to kill me, and if you didn't I'd be stuck knowing something I really didn't need to know...and likely didn't like knowing."

"What did he say?" Kris finally let herself say. Clearly, Doc was enjoying being the center of attention. Enjoying it way too much not to be sinful.

"Hold your horses, gal. I'm coming to that. You know a Miss Victory or something like that?"

"Victoria Peterwald?" Kris offered.

"Oh, so that was the second word. He kept mangling it. Or my corpsman's handwriting is even worse than mine. You know, all the time they complain about us docs' poor penmanship, but I say corpsmen are the worse of the lot."

"What did he say?" Now it was Captain DeVar's turn.

"Well, Kris here said she wanted to know where the money came from. So once he started muttering, I had my anesthesia tech keep whispering 'money' in his ear while I'm doing my cutting thing. 'Money' and 'Where's the money?' It must have worked cause he started talking about Miss Victory-no Vicky-and how he needed to get the money from her with no one around or the others would know how much he was making on this gig."

"No trust among bandits," Jack noted.

"Not that I ever noticed," Doc said. "There was also something else. Something about a Mr. Grant, or Shredder. Not sure about that last name. Anyway your guy is scared to death of him. And scared to death of ruining something. Kept saying he wish he'd found a better place. Another place. That make any sense to you?"

Kris nodded. "We found them in an a.r.s.enal. The cops are now crawling all over it wondering what it's doing on a nice gun-controlled planet like Eden."

Doc whistled. "That's perforating someone's stomach lining. I can see why he's scared." There was a high, steady tone from inside the surgery. "I better get back to the meat business. Hope this helps." And Doc was gone.

"I think he helped us," Kris said. "Captain, can we make use of your Tac Center for a new project?"

"I suspect we better," Captain DeVar said.

37.

Kris found herself standing next to Gramma Ruth as the old campaigner studied the pictures on the wall. Ruth reached out and yanked hers down, then turned to Captain DeVar.

"I will respect your opinion, but in my book, the scales aren't balanced. Me free, two Marines dead. Somebody still owes us."

"My mission is to protect the emba.s.sy," the captain said slowly. "And I will not throw good lives after good lives." He said the words, but his face said something else. "Your Highness, what would you like to do next?"

"Captain, as happens so many times, I don't have a clue...at this specific moment. Let's look at what we have and see if it tells us anything."

"Be glad to, Your Highness. Where do we start?"

"First, I want to add one more person to our group, a police lieutenant by the name of Martinez. I have a right to ask him about my gun permit and there are a few things I'd like to get a straight answer to about things local."

The captain didn't look sold on bringing in a stranger, but, as Kris had come to notice, people found it hard to tell a Longknife, and a princess, no.

"If you think he has something important for us," he said.

"Won't know until I ask him, but this place is pretty strange, and you can never tell. Nelly, make the call. And if you can, make a search on Grant, or that other name...Shredder?"

"I can make a simple phone call and search my databases at the same time," Nelly snapped. "But I don't have to. I figured you would want to know about Grant and Shredder. I have already done that search, though I doubt you will like my results."

"Nelly, do you have tact in your database?" Kris asked.

"Yes. In my dictionary under T. But if you insist on insulting my capabilities, don't expect me to be Miss Sunshine."

"Note taken," Kris said, rolling her eyes as her team m.u.f.fled laughs or raised eyebrows. "Now, about Mr. Grant."

"There are several hundreds in the database. All were available at the most basic level. None higher. Most have middle-cla.s.s jobs and lives. If you want, I can download my findings and you can review them."

"No need to be snippy, Miss Nelly. And the other name."

"I a.s.sume Shredder got shredded by the drug-induced haze," Nelly said, and then paused.

"Good joke, gal," Kris said.

"Thank you, I am trying. I searched on various spellings of Schroder, with similar luck to Grant. Oh, Kris, Martinez can be here in five minutes. I told him to come right in."

"Good, Nelly, was there any Grant Schroder types."

"No, Kris."

"So whoever we're dealing with, he's bought himself out of every database on the planet," Kris said.

"Did you search the news archives?" Jack said.

"Searched all the mainstream media for a negative. Still working on the independent stuff. There's a lot of it."

"No surprise, there," Kris said. "If he can buy himself out of the databases, he's either very camera shy or able to make sure no reporter writes about him."

"Interesting guy," the captain observed.

"But he's with Vicky Peterwald," Penny pointed out. She'd come in late and been quiet. "Nelly, do a search of the social pages for both Vicky and this fellow."

"I searched the business, current events, and government areas," Nelly said. "Kris has never expressed much interest in the social whirl."

"I think I am now. And Vicky's only been here for a week or two. Maybe three. That should narrow the search frame."

"Mainstream is negative. Plenty about Vicky. Nothing about any escort."

"Anybody surprised?" Kris asked.

"I have a hit. The Ankara Picayune-what kind of a name is that-mentions that Miss Victoria was escorted by the noted 'philanthropic' Grant van Schrader. The philanthropic is in quotes. I suspect sarcasm. I am searching on Grant van-Schrader," Nelly said before Kris could tell her to.

In the silence of the room, Kris could almost hear every heartbeat quickening.

"Mainstream media has zip on our philanthropist. No business, no current events. He, or a Grant von Schrader does pop up in the small media. There was a strike at a software company. Every employee was fired. He was one of the people subpoenaed. That was squashed. There are other reports of him being involved in labor unrest. Buying property up cheap for development. Stealing patents. Courts always friendly. I don't like this guy, Kris."

"I suspect we don't, either. Is there anything that shows him as a Peterwald man?"

"Not until Vicky arrived."

"Does the Nuu Enterprises reports from Eden mention this joker?" Kris asked.

"Bingo, we hit the jackpot here," Nelly quickly reported. "They do not much like this fellow, either. He seems to be on the shabby side of a lot of stuff. Drugs are even mentioned. After getting uncertified parts from shops in his holding company, they are ignoring his bids. Which is not easy. His companies do quite a name shuffle. Buying each other, selling, renaming. A Nuu manager keeps track of this guy full-time."

"Get me his reports. Also, see if you can find who owns that warehouse where we found Ruth," Kris said.

"I was about to suggest that," Ruth said.

That did not turn out to be easy. The government's available property database was almost a year out of date and Mr. von Schrader seemed to sell his property on a much faster rotation. A database was available-for a very expensive fee-that was more up-to-date. Nelly bought it.

"Mr. Schrader owns several warehouses," Nelly reported. "Including that one. I have identified six that are as big."

Penny stood. "Captain, may I borrow those two Marines I had this morning. They're good at this skulking business."

"They're yours. Better take a different rig."

"And a few of my nanos," Nelly put in.

And Penny was off at a trot. She opened the door just in time to run into a rather surprised Police Lieutenant Martinez.

"I was told Princess Kris was here," he said, then noticed Kris and entered the room. Kris waved him to a chair. He took it, but had his eyes on the wall...and the pictures of dead Marines. "What have I walked in on?" he asked softly.

"Nothing your government need concern itself with," Kris said.

"I hope," Martinez added under his breath.

"Us, too," Jack appended.

"Are you aware," Kris asked, "that my great-grandmother Ruth Tordon was kidnapped this morning and two Marines killed?"

"I had heard it from some news sources," the policeman said. "I am happy to see you returned to your family," he added, nodding toward Ruth.

"I...am disturbed," Ruth said. "I have visited your planet many times. It is an enigma to me, but still I come back, hoping to teach something to your children. I doubt I will return again."

"My brother's youngest boy was one of your students. That will be a great loss for us."

"Will it?" Ruth said. "Am I really making any difference?"

"Steve thought you were, my nephew. You opened his eyes to what other planets have done. What we can do."

"As I recall, Steven Martinez told me he wanted to immigrate."

The policeman flinched, and eyed the table. "He has not told his family that."

"So, why don't you immigrate?" Kris said.

"This is my home."

"But you can't vote. Can't partic.i.p.ate in your government."

"I am a police officer. I serve my government. I like to think that I make a difference."

"Have you heard about the contents of the warehouse where I was held captive?" Ruth asked.

"No. I had not heard you had escaped."

Kris turned to Captain DeVar. "Do we have pictures?"

A "Gunny," resulted in pictures appearing of the various boxed weapons. The cop rose from his chair and approached the screen on the wall. His hands traced the barrels and firing mechanisms of the machine pistols and a.s.sault rifles.

"Holy Mother of G.o.d," he whispered. "Does anyone else know about this weapons h.o.a.rd?"

"There are quite a few police cruisers stopped outside the warehouse. I a.s.sume they're doing something about them."

"I should have been informed. Investigating illegal weapons is my job."

"I don't think Inspector Johnson thinks so," Kris said.

"Johnson." The cop almost spat. "I would have expected him to be at the bottom of something like this."

"Importing the guns?" Kris asked.

"No, making them disappear. Our third vice president is very much a believer that if a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, then it did not happen. Johnson is his man."

"Well, this tree is down," Kris said. "I don't care about it, but I can't help but wonder if there are more trees getting ready to fall and who they'll fall on. You have any idea?"

Martinez just shook his head for a long time. "My poppa told me it would be like this. But who's going to listen to just a street cop. He told me the state was going rotten. And someday someone would come along and shove it over."

"That sounds like a good idea," Ruth said.