Engaging the Enemy (33 page)

“Don't let me stop you,” Ky said.

“Want to know if he's really going to the bank?” Rafe asked, tossing the cube from hand to hand.

“What did you do, bug the entire station?” Martin asked.

“No. I did, however, bug him as he strolled along following the tagger's directions. He ran right into me; he wasn't looking.”

Martin's mouth quirked upward. “I think there's a story in that, right?”

“A story?” Rafe cocked his head. “Well, I suppose. Someone happened to be carrying a large container of liquid in the passage, from a pub interior to one of the tables overlooking the walkway. None too steadily; I suspect the fellow was a new hire. Our good captain didn't want to be splashed; between watching the man with the pitcher of ale and five glasses on a tray, and trying to keep up with his tagger's direction, he didn't notice the person squatting down to look at a walkside display of plaster figurines—”

“You,” said Ky.

“No,” Rafe said, with a lift of his eyebrows. “I was the person just inside the door who rushed out and helped him up. Suspicious brute, our captain. He was sure someone had stolen something from him, but no one had. We're all honest here in Cascadia. He had to pat all his pockets and pouches, though, to be sure. If I had wanted any of his valuables, it would have been easy—” He shot a look suddenly at Ky. “You do realize I haven't done anything illegal.”

“Yet,” Martin said, echoing Ky's thought.

“It did happen that in the course of brushing the dust off his cape—and for a man of such long experience, Captain, he certainly does have a fine, unmarked cape. Yours, I've noticed, is already showing some wear—in the course of brushing off his cape for him, I did just happen to lose a burtag.”

“You
lost
it,” Ky said, struggling not to laugh.

“Lost it. It stuck to his clothes, I imagine. At least, when I queried it, it was moving along at about his speed. According to my implant, he's now on the same corridor as the bank. Yes…yes. He's heading for the bank.”

“I'm surprised you didn't plant an audio tag on him as well,” Ky said. She couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.

“That
would
be illegal,” Rafe said. “I prefer not to break the laws, wherever I am.”

“Really.” Martin looked him up and down; Rafe didn't respond, except to raise an eyebrow.

“It's not illegal to tag someone to follow their movements,” Rafe said. “I checked. Audio is illegal, but visual isn't.”

“You have a permit?” Martin asked.

“I obtained my own permits,” Rafe said. “That way there's no confusion about who had permits for what.”

“I see,” Martin said.

“As Captain Furman is not a citizen of the Moscoe Confederation, local law says that I am under no obligation to notify him with due courtesy of my intent to track his movements…”

“Technically, that is correct. However, arranging for him to fall down is a direct injury, and in public. For that you should have notified him,” Martin said. “I hope no one on the scene figured it out.”

“Why would you think I arranged for him to fall down?” Rafe asked.

“Because you said—”

“I described a series of events,” Rafe said with perfect calm. “That does not mean I caused those events.”

“No, but—”

Ky intervened. “Stop it, both of you,” she said. His bow to her was a model of grace.

“Captain—” That was Toby. “I have a cost analysis ready.”

Ky dragged her attention away from Rafe and Martin, and said, “Yes, Toby?”

“It all hinges on how many collections they can do while we're here: I don't know how long we're staying, or how often Rascal can be collected. I did research the market, and we could easily sell enough for one hundred inseminations. The crossover point is eight collections: below that, the sharing with the vet clinic would be more profitable, but if we can do more than eight, we'll be better off paying them and taking the whole profit. Of course, that assumes we can do the collection, or we can make the customer pay for the collection. Some might.”

“So—what do you think is best, Toby, from a trading standpoint?”

He scowled in thought. “I was wondering. If we just hire them to do the test, they don't have much incentive to support Rascal's suitability. If we go in with them, it's in their best interest to make sure he works out.”

“There's the public relations side, too,” Ky said. “If it turns out that we want to trade here again, and perhaps ask Rascal for another contribution, we will need a good relationship with a vet clinic. Our profit's lower, but I'm inclined to work with the clinic on this. How about you?”

“Me?”

“He's your dog, Toby. I don't think the company has any precedent for this particular situation, so I'm going to assess ten percent of the profit to the ship, but the rest of it's your money. You're going to want to finish your education, and we don't know how things are back home for you.”

Toby's eyes were wide. “But Captain—that's too much. Twenty-two hundred per collection?”

“You can always invest it in company stock when we have some again,” Ky said. “But for now, that's what I'm suggesting.”

“Yes…yes, ma'am.”

“I'll call the clinic back, then,” Ky said. This time she was put through immediately.

“Captain Vatta—you have made your decision?”

“Yes, thank you. We want to take you up on your offer of cooperation, splitting the profits of sale of the dog's semen. Do you have a standard contract for that?”

“Thank you! That's wonderful. Yes, we do have a standard contract, which I'll forward to you at once. Er…what is the animal's name?”

“Rascal,” Ky said, very glad now that Toby had insisted on changing it from Puddles.

“Rascal? Is that all? I mean…most animals used for stud service have…er…”

“Fancy names?” Ky said.

“Yes. Perhaps we could use a breeding name, something more…er…impressive?”

Ky turned away. “Toby, your pup needs a fancier name. Make something up.”

“Vatta's Ridiculous Rescue,” Rafe suggested with a sardonic grin.

“Vatta's Nipping Nuisance,” Lee said.

“Star Rover's Rascal,” Toby said, glaring at the older men.

Ky turned back to the screen. “How about Star Rover's Rascal?”

“That's better. We'll put the name in the contract. I'll assemble a team and we'll be on our way…probably tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Ky said and closed that connection. She glanced at Rafe, who was staring at scrolling figures on a cube reader screen. “What's that?”

“That, my dear Captain, is the contents of Captain Furman's secure files.” His tone denied the reality of
secure.
“Very interesting man, our captain. He's been double-dealing Vatta for years.”

“Furman? He's so upright you could use him for a flagpole.”

“Hardly.” Rafe squinted at the dataflow, entered a command, and the screen froze, full of figures Ky didn't recognize. Rafe apparently did. “This is the sum of his various accounts, the ones he holds as sole owner, both in his own and other names.”

“Other names?”

“Yes. He has a half dozen aliases. And one in particular will interest you. Olene Vatta.”

“There isn't any such person,” Ky said after a moment's query of her implant.

“You may not think so, but there's a bank account on New Jamaica in the name of Olene Vatta, and the money sloshing about in it came from two sources: Furman and another Vatta with the initial O.”

“Osman?” Ky's voice almost squeaked. She took a deep breath and consciously steadied her tone. “Are you suggesting that Furman was actually dealing with Osman?”

“I'm not ‘suggesting' it. I'm saying it's true: Furman was working some kind of scam with Osman. From what I've found so far, money flowed both ways, but most of it flowed from Furman to Osman Vatta. At first I thought Osman was blackmailing Furman, but now I think Furman was fronting for him, selling something Osman sent him, and sending money back.”

“What?”

“Think about what's on this ship. Those salvaged implants. Those data cubes of readouts from implants. Valuable information.”

That part of Osman's cargo had given Ky the creeps. Putting together salvaged implants and their files with what she'd found in Osman's cabin, she could imagine all too easily how his prisoners had “disappeared.”

“What I don't know,” Rafe continued, “is where the transfer was made. Furman traveled a well-known route through reasonably respectable systems. Osman's presence there would've been noted. And you said Furman had a reputation for early and on-time deliveries, so I don't see how he'd have had time to meet Osman between systems.”

“Maybe those files will tell us,” Ky said.

“Maybe. But I'll probably need navigational help if they do. I'm not a pilot or navigator.”

“Just keep after it,” Ky said. “I would love to put Furman in the villain's seat.” Another idea hit her. “If Furman's involved, he'd have access to current Vatta schedules…maybe it was Furman who gave the attackers the locations of Vatta ships and crews.”

“I thought you'd decided it was Osman,” Rafe said.

“But if they were working together—wait—wait—” The horrific vision propagated in her mind. “Furman knew,” she said. “Furman has been working with Osman. So Furman tells Osman, gives him all the schedule data, all the call signs, all the passwords. And Osman tells his allies, those pirates. Only Furman's been transferred to this new route…and what do you want to bet he was supposed to meet Osman here, or in another port of this route, but here is logical…it's so close to Nexus.”

“Furman was spying on ISC's defenses,” Rafe said. “Has to be. Hated being sent out here but then found a way to profit even more.”

“You're not setting foot off this ship until we know who he's been working with,” Martin said.

“Agreed,” Ky said. “But when this identity thing is settled—”

“It's not going to be settled,” Martin said. “You're too dangerous to him. You've got Osman's ship; Furman doesn't have to know Rafe to know that something incriminating him might be on
this
ship.”

“It might be still,” Rafe said. “I haven't had time to go through half the files; I prioritized on things that might kill us quickly—”

“I'm not blaming you,” Martin said. “Just pointing out that Furman must worry that there's data somewhere on this ship that could point to him…and you, Captain, of all the Vattas, are the one most likely to give him trouble.”

“But why did he turn on us?” Ky wondered aloud. “We have excellent compensation; people want to work for us. He came here of his own accord—”

“Some people are never satisfied,” Rafe said. “Or maybe Osman got to him somehow, twisted him around—”

Ky delved into the personnel section of her implant and was startled to find gaps, obvious erasures, in Furman's record. They could only come from her father—it was his very personal implant—unless Grace had been able to make changes after Gerard died. She glanced at Rafe; he might well know how to interfere with implants or even recover data that had been erased. But no: he was not Vatta, or sworn to Vatta. It was too dangerous to risk. She would figure Furman out on her own.

As the days passed, Stella's worry grew, and she finally decided that she could not wait to call Ky about Furman. The man was too dangerous. This business with Furman might even focus Ky's mind back on the Vatta family and business, make her realize that she needed to concentrate on saving the family first.

To her surprise and annoyance, Rafe answered the comunit instead of Ky. “Stella! What a delightful surprise. You're as lovely as ever—”

“Haven't gotten into her bed yet, have you?” Stella asked tartly.

“Stella, dear Stella, don't tell me you're jealous because I'm here and you're there. Ky tells me you have a handsome new shipmaster—isn't that enough to play with?”

She should have known better than to tackle Rafe; he always had a comeback that stung worse than her attacks. “I need to talk to Ky,” she said.

“Our esteemed captain is busy at the moment, improving her physical skills with Gordon Martin. Her combat skills, I hasten to add; I'm sure she and Martin have nothing on otherwise. Are you sure I can't help?”

“Quite sure,” Stella said. “
Katrine Lamont
has docked, hasn't it?”

“Yes, why?”

She was not going to tell him and let him relay what he chose of it to Ky; she was not going to miss the triumph of having figured out so much, either. “Just call her, please. I do think it's urgent.”

“Very well. Excuse me a moment.” He vanished from the visual pickup; apparently he was going to go after Ky in person. Stella spotted Toby across the bridge, with Rascal by his side as usual.

“Toby!”

He turned, spotted her image on the screen and came over. He had grown even more since she'd seen him last. “Stella! I'm glad to see you. Have you heard about Rascal?”

“Rascal? No, tell me.”

“They don't have many dogs here,” Toby said. “And they're really valuable. We've had offers for him up to thirty thousand credits—”

“You're going to sell him?”

“No! No, I'd never sell Rascal. But Captain Ky thought of using him to breed, for artificial insemination, and she found this vet clinic that'll do the collection. And she's giving me ninety percent of the profit, for my education if…if something's happened to my parents back home.”

“That's—very generous, Toby.”