Crisis On Doona (27 page)

“There’s been nothing regular about this whole mess,” Kelly replied tartly. “I trust you, Mr. DeVeer. I can be discreet but I’d rather be in your company.”

“Would Klonski recognize you? No? That’s as well. But there is another aspect you must consider, Miss Green, in this compulsion of yours to stay under my protective wing. Suppose he describes you to his contacts at Spacedep?”

“Let him,” Kelly said, sticking her chin up and shoving her shoulders back resolutely.

He handed her a black tunic. “Lift your right hand”—she did—“now swear that you will obey me as your superior,” which she did. He fastened a plain bar to the collar tab. “There! You are now a deputy under my direct orders.” They left the office together.

* * *

The address on Klonski’s file was in a block which had been occupied from before living memory by clans calling themselves the First Families. The living spaces bordered on the spacious homes of distant memory and were located in the widest Aisles Kelly had ever seen: Aisles with plants in the malls. Security devices and operatives strode slowly but alertly up and down. She was startled to see several men and women in poorer dress hurrying along between the buildings. Security didn’t seem to notice them, and then Kelly realized they were undoubtedly menials, serving in the fine apartments of the wealthy and powerful families. The genuine residents of the houses swept by in much fancier dress, reminiscent of Jilamey Landreau’s posh togs.

Kelly and DeVeer made their way as unobtrusively as possible to the address given for their quarry. The Poldep officer pushed a doorbell, and they waited.

“Askell Klonski, also known as Lesder Boronov?” DeVeer asked as the door edged open a crack.

“Who wants to know?” demanded a short, scrawny man through the gap. Kelly recognized him as quickly from Captain Kiachif’s description of a warty weasel as from DeVeer’s updated file photo.

“Poldep,” DeVeer said, flashing his identification. “May we come in?”

“You can state your business first,” Klonski said pugnaciously. “I’ve got nothing to hide from my neighbors.”

“You did not keep your appointment yesterday with your parole officer, Mr. Klonski,” DeVeer said, keeping his voice low. Klonski wavered for a moment and then flung the door open wide.

“I’m not a well man,” and he coughed a few times to prove it. “She knows. She don’t hassle me.”

“A few moments of your time is all that’s required, Mr. Klonski,” DeVeer said smoothly.

“Well, if that’s all, you can come in,” he said, his eyes shifting warily from one to the other of his unwelcome guests.

Klonski’s apartment was of the size intended for the use of high-ranking families with two legal children. The main room was palatial compared to Dalkey’s, but it had been furnished in a totally haphazard fashion: the furnishings and decorations were obviously expensive but were placed in awkward groupings or hung without care or taste. If Klonski had intended to impress his neighbors with his wealth, he certainly had achieved that aim. Kelly glanced at a brilliant pink couch draped with a handwoven teal and red throw, and shuddered at the effect.

Klonski might be wearing expensive clothing but it could not camouflage his small stature, and the color only emphasized his gritty complexion. The padded tunic did not disguise, much less improve, his narrow chest. So he gave the impression of being held prisoner inside his clothes. The style was practically a parody of what his neighbors wore with elegance.

“I’m respectable now,” the man insisted. “Gone straight and square. I’m not supposed to be bothered with parole matters. I call her up when I remember. Give me the usual blab, then you’ve done your duty and you can leave.”

DeVeer drew himself up to his own impressive height and loomed over the little man. “Askell Klonski, not only have you violated the terms of your parole with your nonappearance, but you seem to have violated it much more seriously. We’d like you to come down to Poldep with us and to answer a few questions.”

“What about? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That is what we need to determine,” DeVeer said.

Klonski eyed them. “You’re on a fishing trip, Officer,” he said, grinning maliciously. “You haven’t got a thing that could make me go anywhere with you. You’re from them, out there.” He jerked his thumbs toward the apartments on either side of his. “They want me to leave, but I won’t. I like it here, see, and I’ve got a long, long lease. All paid up through the year double-dot.”

“Yes, we have that data in our files. But there are other discrepancies in your record that are currently of interest to Poldep.”

“Yeah? What, for instance? Ask me anything you want to ... right here.” The former felon hitched himself up into a huge, thronelike chair.

“On a routine investigation of your case,” DeVeer went on, ignoring the sneering voice, “it would appear that the robbery for which you were incarcerated involved a death.”

“It was an accident!” Klonski said agitatedly. “He shouldn’t oughta have been there in the first place. That’s all in my testimony.”

“The laws are explicit in the case of death, whether accidental homicide or premeditated murder. Especially murder. You were rocketed up without the possibility of parole. So how, Askell, were you allowed back on Earth at all?”

“I was given clemency for being a sick man.” Klonski essayed a few dry rasping coughs, then he looked up, his expression far more genuinely indignant. “Hey, those records were supposed to be sealed!”

“To Poldep?” DeVeer asked scornfully. “Well, they might remain sealed to the public at large, or they might not. That’s up to me—and up to you. I think Poldep might ignore that anomaly if you will help us with our inquiries in another matter. Come down to my office to talk.”

There was evidently something in those records which Klonski didn’t want made public. Or was there someone he didn’t want to know that his file had been opened? He was on his feet and standing by the door, exhibiting a marvelous agility for a man ill to dying from a cough.

“You call for a private copter, then, hear? I don’t want to be seen talking to no Poldep inspector.” He straightened his tunic as they stepped outside. “I got some standards.”

* * *

As soon as they had arrived, Klonski made himself comfortable in a chair in DeVeer’s office. When the computer recorder was turned on, he took the oath to give a true statement. (Not, Kelly thought, that the truth was likely to mean much to a man like Klonski.)

“So I’m sworn in. Let’s get this over with.”

DeVeer began austerely, “You’re known to have unusual laser skills. We have reason to believe that you have perfected a means to alter or undo freeze-dry chemical brands on the skin of herd animals.”

“What?”
Klonski bounced up and down in his chair in amazement and began to howl with laughter, rolling from side to side, until the tears streamed down his warty face. “That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard a Poldep say! Ohhhoo, hhahaha!” He was off again in paroxysms of mirth.

With hands lightly clasped on his desk, DeVeer regarded Klonski patiently while he enjoyed his amusement at their expense. Getting madder every moment because she knew this little weasel was a key find, Kelly wanted to box his ears or kick shins or do something to stop him laughing with such abandon. She saw her hope disappearing to the sound of his cackles. They merged into a genuine coughing fit. DeVeer poured a glass of water and passed it on to Klonski, no emotion whatever on his face.

“Me? Rustling?” Klonski demanded when he finally caught his breath. “Waste my time and know-how changing freeze marks? Mind you, that’s beyond even me.”

“It made a starting point,” DeVeer said, not the least bit disconcerted. “A man must keep his skills up or lose them. Right?”

“Ri ...” Klonski began, and then realized he was being indiscreet. He pressed his lips together.

“However,” DeVeer continued, “you do have laser skills and we do believe that a laser technique had to be used to alter freeze marks. Therefore, if you do not wish to be charged with aiding and abetting the theft of livestock and the illegal transportation of animals, you might just clear up the point of what you are doing with your special skills.”

“Now, wait a minute ...” Klonski began, no longer so arrogant.

“You know the drill, my man. Rustling’s grand larceny, and between unauthorized planets, it carries a double penalty. There’d be no possibility of parole for an offense of this magnitude.” He pulled his console to him and began typing. “We’ll just enter you for a preliminary, based on those unusual deposits in your credit account.” DeVeer peered at Klonski from under his thick eyebrows.

“You’d never trace the source of those deposits,” Klonski said with a sneer, his confidence somewhat revived.

“Really?” DeVeer asked cheerfully. “Anything on a computer tape, no matter which mainframe, can be opened for inspection—especially when a major crime is involved.”

“They told me no one could crack their codes!” Klonski was mutinous with fear.

“They?” DeVeer asked softly. “You forget that Poldep has extraordinary powers to investigate any department, given sufficient cause. Rustling is an excellent example.” He turned back to his keyboard.

“Stop!” Klonski cried. DeVeer’s face was immutable stone. “I never rustled nothing, nor helped no rustlers.”

DeVeer pushed the keyboard slightly to one side, folded his arms on his chest, and gazed at Klonski. “I’m waiting.”

“I need a deal from Poldep.”

“Our budget is exceedingly tight this quarter.”

“I don’t need credit. I need immunity. I want an undetectable change of identity and location.” He paused as DeVeer nodded solemnly. “I didn’t help rustlers, and I sure didn’t change freeze marks, ’cause you can’t. But I’ll tell you what I did do. Is that enough to deal?”

“I can’t say until I know,” DeVeer said. “I may just consider your information sufficient to return you to your current quarters with the parole violation forgotten.”

“I gotta have security.” Klonski was so insistent about that point that Kelly’s hopes began to rise again.

“Security you’ll get for cooperating with Poldep.”

“Okay,” but Klonski’s expression indicated he was still dubious. DeVeer just waited while Kelly found it hard to restrain herself from jumping up and shaking the truth out of the weasel. He gave a nervous cough and then said, “What I did do was a little patching and splicing of log tapes. Nothing that looked illegal.”

“For that kind of credit?” DeVeer allowed his face to register disbelief.

“And ...” Klonski hesitated, his eyes darting from DeVeer to Kelly. She tried to look encouraging. “And ... I showed ’em how to neutralize security systems.”

“Really?” DeVeer’s response was mild, but Kelly had to grip the arms of the chair to keep from jumping up in exultation. “I thought your specialty was improving such systems.”

Feeling slightly more confident, Klonski grinned, showing badly discolored and jagged teeth. “Improve, disimprove. Same techniques needed.”

“Who?”

“You think I’m stupid, Polly? No blinding way do I name names. You find ’em yourself with all your extraordinary powers.” He leered smugly. “We made a deal. And I don’t say nothing more. I got rights, too, you know.”

“However, for a new location, new name, and the right to retain the credits in your account, you might nod your head if I drop a familiar name or two?”

Klonski was not too pleased to be probed so deeply but he didn’t deny further assistance. DeVeer pulled over a flimsy.

“Your file indicates that you worked for Spacedep before your ... first prison term,” the Poldep inspector said conversationally. Klonski gave a sharp nod of his head and darted a glance at Kelly. “You were in Research and Development, is that correct?” Klonski did not hesitate to nod, since that was known fact. “Wasn’t old Bert Landreau in charge of R&D?”

Kelly hoped that DeVeer noticed the shuttered look that altered Klonski’s expression.

“Isn’t his son an Admiral now?” DeVeer went on in that deceptively casual fashion. This time Klonski’s head moved as if physically restricted. “I think that about covers it, Klonski,” DeVeer said more briskly. “You’ll be moved in the morning to similar quarters in a different sector. New ID will be issued and Klonski/Boronov will be listed as deceased, cause of death, a fatal respiratory condition. Does that suit you?”

Klonski’s nod was enthusiastic.

“I’ll have you returned in an ambulance to your current residence. Tomorrow a reputable firm of undertakers will arrive and your ‘corpse’ will be removed for the benefit of any observers.” DeVeer pressed a button on his comunit and a uniformed constable appeared in the door. “Medical escort is to be provided for this person, Constable. Do you wish a guard?”

Klonski snorted in his arrogance. “No one could get in my place!” Then he clamped his mouth shut, shooting a quick glance at the rigidly attentive constable.

“Use the discreet exit from the block, Constable.”

“Very good, sir. This way, sir,” and the constable gestured courteously for Klonski to follow him.

“We got a deal, Polly,” Klonski said, turning in the door and jabbing his finger at DeVeer, who nodded acknowledgment.

The door hissed shut behind him and Kelly bounced out of the chair in her elation.

“He admitted it. Those log tapes were altered. Todd and Hrriss
are
innocent.”

“Do calm yourself, Miss Green,” DeVeer said, flicking off the recorder. “This is only the beginning of what is going to be a very difficult investigation.”

“But he said he altered log tapes and tinkered with security systems. Don’t you see what that means?”

“I see what you wish it to mean, but the wish is not always parent to the proof. However, such statements do cast doubt on the authenticity of the logs in question. Nor did he give us any inkling as to which security systems he has adjusted.”

“But don’t you see? It has to be the Doona/Rrala satellites. That would explain how rustlers could get in and out with livestock and be undetected!”

“Oh, I take that point, Miss Green. But it doesn’t solve the matter of mismarked hides, does it?”