Crisis On Doona (34 page)

“It will have to,” Kelly said, her tone expressing her intense gratitude for understanding and assistance.

Just as Madam Dupuis was about to close the door behind her, she added, “If you need a haven, my office is on the first floor above the commissary.” Then she closed the door firmly behind her.

The first thing Kelly did was to look about the sleeping quarters for a hiding place for herself. The heavy curtains would do and they gave onto a small shrub-lined yard but the bushes would be nothing for her to scale.

His closets yielded nothing except that the Controller was a fastidious person, for everything was neatly hung and arranged in outfits for lounging, public appearances, and ceremonial receptions. Nothing among the films and flimsies in his desk looked like official documents or reports. She read Hrruban, High, Low, and Middle, but a quick scan told her there was nothing incriminating in the drawers.

The communications unit was like any other on Doona or Earth, with no place for concealment in, on, or under the console. Brushing her hands on her legs to dry nervous perspiration, she started on the other furnishings.

She was halfway through her hour’s dispensation when she found her prize. The document box was hidden underneath the last drawer in the bedroom bureau. The Treaty Controller had sawn out and removed half of the supporting board under the drawer, leaving a large hiding place accessible without turning the heavy chest over. Kelly drew the box out and rested it on her knees.

It was a very ordinary document box, like any other used for conveying official papers back and forth between offices. Kelly had seen, and handled, dozens like it at Alreldep. She hefted it: light, couldn’t be much inside. But then she didn’t need much, only the right sort of document.

She examined the lock and here the resemblance to ordinary courier boxes ended. It was fitted with a custom lock intended to discourage unauthorized entry. The lock was flat, but a glance inside the keyhole with her tiny torch showed that it was made to accept a key with multiple wards each as narrow as a strand of hair. Box in hand, she looked about the room for something she could use to manipulate the lock. She found a straight pin but it was no use. She didn’t dare try to force the box or break it open and her time was nearly up.

She started to put the box back into its place of concealment, but stopped when she noticed the remains of an official seal on the untied tapes that dangled from the sides of the container. It reminded her of something, and the memory tickled at the back of her mind. She had seen a seal used by the High Council of Speakers of Hrruba. This one was a lot like it, but not as complex. Using the point of a pin and an old scrap of film she found in a wastebin, she copied down as much of the seal as she could.

Madam Dupuis’s gift of an uninterrupted hour was definitely over. Not daring to try the lock any longer lest she be caught there fiddling with it when the Treaty Controller returned, Kelly put the box away and replaced the drawer.

On her knees, she backed out of the room, fluffing up the woolly carpet with her hands. At the door, she stopped, and tried to remember if there was anything she had left open or out of place. No, she had been thorough, if unsuccessful.

“There,” she said. “I hope he doesn’t check for fingerprints.”

Striding with as much nonchalance as she could, Kelly made her way to the research quarters where she knew Hrruvula was quartered for the hearings. Without explaining her presence or her occupation the past hour, she showed him her drawing of the seal. He gave her a startled glance and peered at it closely. When she opened her mouth to explain, he held up his hand, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

“You are not my client, Kelly Solinari, so anything you might wish to impart to me would not be done under the cloak of confidentiality,” he said, still studying the scrap of film. “You have not been here. We have not talked of anything, especially about a replica of the private insignia of the Third Speaker.”

He handed it back to her, gestured politely for her to exit as quickly as she had entered, and turned his back on her.

She left Hrruvula’s office at a trot, heading for the transport grid. So that was it! The Treaty Controller was, against all the precepts of his current position, actively collaborating with his sponsor to prevent the renewal of the Treaty! She hoped the evidence Dalkey had found was indeed on the next shipment. There wouldn’t be another medical shipment for weeks, and by then Doona might be just a memory. The thought scared her so much she ran all the way back to the grid station.

* * *

The grid operator transferred Kelly and the remaining pallet directly to the transport station in First Village. She all but fell off the platform into Todd’s waiting arms and let him sustain the embrace to restore her self-confidence. Hrriss watched the salutation with glowing eyes, Nrrna beside him, delicate hands nervously clasped together.

“It’s here,” Kelly said excitedly, thrusting the dark gray envelope into their hands. “He came through. I just love Dalkey. He did it.”

Todd eagerly opened the packet which contained a sheaf of printouts, folded neatly in half. To the top a note in Dalkey’s precise, impersonal handwriting was attached, which Todd read aloud. “None of these account numbers Earth-based. Good luck. D.” Todd’s fingers fumbled as he opened the sheets and glanced quickly through them. “He’s done it. We’ve got it!”

Hrriss hissed softly. “This will take time to decipher,” Hrriss said, reading over Todd’s shoulder. “First it must be determined which numeric prefixes pertain to which worlds.”

“A lot of money changed hands,” Todd said, and whistled at the size of separate amounts. “I don’t think it’ll be that hard with so many good minds”—he grinned about him—“focused on the job. Look. The numbers repeat. Some of these accounts have had several deposits. With what we already know, we ought to be able to figure out which worlds are involved. We can start by checking the amounts against what we’ve got in Klonski’s.”

“Shouldn’t we take this right to Poldep?” Kelly asked.

“Call me paranoid if you want, Kelly, but I want to decipher this for ourselves first before we show it to anyone else.”

“Yeah, if they turned out to be legitimate supply payments,” Kelly said with a grimace, “we’d damage our cause. We can’t afford to do that! And” —her voice strengthened and her eyes flashed up at him—“you’re not paranoid—not any more than you have reason to be.”

Todd grinned down at her, really enjoying their newfound intimacy. “These could turn out to be quite legitimate remittances to free-lancers on infrequent invoices.”

“I think Dalkey would know if that’s what they were,” Kelly said, slightly defensive. Dalkey had taken risks to get these to her, and he wasn’t stupid. “But you’re right. Let’s divvy them up among us so it’ll go faster.”

“All for one and one for all,” Nrrna startled Todd and Kelly by saying. Seeing their surprise, she smiled in pleasure at the effect. “I found that quote in one of your Earth classics.”

Todd grinned. “I think a more appropriate quote might be ‘If we don’t hang together, we will most assuredly hang separately.’ Any luck on the other half of Project Infiltrate?” he asked Kelly, his arm still lightly about her shoulders.

Kelly rolled her eyes over that little escapade and then gave her friends a quick summary.

“Madam Dupuis is on our side?” Todd exclaimed when she had finished. “That’s a real plus.” Then he shook his head. “It’s just tough luck that you couldn’t get inside the document box, but the seal’s incriminating. The Treaty Controller is supposed to be impartial. He certainly shouldn’t be receiving documents from Third Speaker. No wonder he collected the shipment himself. Let’s get cracking on what we do have.”

They quickly determined that what Dalkey had sent was the complete printout of all transactions within the slush fund account for a period of fifteen years, ending two years before the present date. Once decoded, it might provide the hard documentation they needed.

“Three eight one is the prefix for Zapata Three,” Todd said, referring to the printout that had been presented to the Treaty Council by Landreau. “So shall we assume that this first number is the account opened by ‘Rikard Baliff’?” He compared the dates with missions he and Hrriss had been on: those which Rogitel had intimated had included nefarious side trips. “Well, whaddya know? Every single transaction date matches with one of our trips, Hrriss.”

The Hrruban hissed softly between his teeth. “Someone has most scrupulously kept track of our journeys. But that could be anyone on Rrala. We made no secret of our departures and of our estimated time of return.”

“And told their Zapatan contact just when to make lodgments,” Kelly said, seething at the complicity and the way it had been turned against her friends. “Isn’t that a second Zapatan account?” and she tapped her stylus on another 381 listing. “Is that our rustler being paid off? It’s too neat to be mere coincidence, especially when all the figures match all that incriminating junk Rogitel was waffling on about. Sure looks like a connection between Spacedep and that rustler to me. Let’s take it to Inspector DeVeer.”

Todd grinned at her for her enthusiasm. “Not yet,” he said, ticking off the entries they had identified. “I’d rather find out where all these other entries fit in.” He held up his index finger. “One correlation is not sufficient. We present the entire package and they have to believe us. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make us look as guilty as possible. We have to shoot down all the brrnas in the flock.”

* * *

Rogitel left the official chamber as soon as the Treaty Council adjourned for the day and transferred by grid back to Earth. Without a word to Hrringa in the Hrruban Center, he made his way swiftly out of the Alreldep block and directly to Landreau’s office at Spacedep. The secretary silently admitted him to the director’s small private office.

He stood vector-straight before Landreau’s desk while his superior finished a comp call.

“I have information from our contact in the Archives,” Rogitel reported as soon as Landreau had completed the call. “Inquiries are being made through to Zapata and several of the other worlds where the Reeve accounts are being maintained. They are in possession of specific deposit information, so they must have a source, within Spacedep, providing them with data from our records.”

“So that is what’s going on,” Landreau said, his face suffusing with anger. He began scrolling through his console, his finger hard on the key. “A report came to my notice a few days back but I couldn’t see why I should be bothered with minor infractions. Here it is!” And he gestured for Rogitel to scan it. “Trivial matters must never be ignored: even something so insignificant as a junior making copies of old screens. Take this Dalkey Petersham into custody, for illegal copying of official documents. Find out who he’s been working for, if he’s sent on the documents and to whom. Take his brain apart if you need to. Use querastrin if you must. But get a full confession from him.” Landreau sprang out of his seat, pacing up and down, his stocky body quivering with fury.

“A confession under duress, sir? That’s not altogether prudent. Nor can we obtain permission to use the truth drug on him for copying old, declassified accounting records. Wouldn’t it be wiser, Admiral, to leave him in place and watch him? If he thinks he has gotten away with this first foray, he’ll feel bolder about repeating his success. If you catch him in the process of committing a crime, you have far more latitude in extracting information from him.”

“I don’t like it,” Landreau said, sitting down again, and flicking his fingers at the damning report on the screen. “I don’t like it in the least.” He pressed hard on the scroll key, stopping it and rewinding to position a new document, bearing the Poldep seal. “Reeve has had the damnedest luck. Couldn’t you have done something to keep that beacon from being discovered?”

“Admiral, we had to get it out of the way as fast as possible and that meant using the most accessible transport, a merchant ship. Safe enough under most circumstances.”

“But it wasn’t! And that Mayday has removed one of our weapons against the Reeves. How did they find that shipment, Rogitel? That beacon should never have seen the light of day and it surfaces ... plainly marked to Spacedep.”

“Freak accident, sir,” Rogitel replied calmly. He had often discovered that the calmer he remained, the sooner the Admiral’s rages cooled. “Meteorite hole penetrated the hull and the carton, setting off the Mayday. I interviewed the captain himself. He was eager to talk about it. He appears to have been ‘dining out’ on it. Fortunately I was able to cancel the pickup and the crate remains unclaimed. If someone inquires, we say that it could well be an attempt on the part of the Reeves to implicate Spacedep to clear themselves of complicity.”

“Good thinking, Rogitel, good thinking,” and Landreau began to relax, even to smile. “But we’d better find out if there’s any connection between this Petersham clerk and Doona. They can’t slip out of any other charges or our plans will be ruined.” He rattled his fingers on the desktop. “And I’ve an unsettling report from Varnorian’s contacts in Codep. A Dr. Walter Tylanio from Prueba V was hired for a special job by someone from Doona.” Landreau’s eyes narrowed. “The only laser technology that Doona has is in its security satellites.”

Rogitel could well appreciate how serious that could be, but he didn’t know how anyone had discovered Klonski. Surely not the Petersham clerk. Maybe he had better acquire a vial of querastrin from his sources. Then an angry thump brought his attention right back to Landreau.

“I want Doona to be totally discredited. I want our plans to succeed in every particular, and for that to happen, the Doonan Experiment has to fail. Fail! Be wiped clean of its contaminated Humans and especially those misbegotten animals.”

“Sir, calm yourself,” Rogitel said, leaning across the desk toward his superior. “Your plans will succeed. While it’s too late for subtlety, it’s not too late,” and he paused to smile reassuringly at Landreau, “to remove the primary cause of the entire problem.”