Xenotech Queen's Gambit: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 2) (23 page)

How many times in one day can a guy’s eyes get as big as saucers?

Cornell, one of Anthony Zwilniki’s more annoying henchmen, was lying on the floor, out cold.

“Seat belt,” said my phone.

I looked. Cornell hadn’t fastened his safety harness. When the robot fell over, Cornell must have been tossed around the control room and knocked unconscious.

Shepherd produced a couple of zip ties from his vest. Was he always ready to immobilize someone?

Mike fastened the ties around Cornell’s wrists and ankles.

“Do you think you can pilot this thing?” I asked him.

“Sure,” said my first employee. “You did it. How hard can it be?”

I didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“Take it down to Zwilniki’s hangar,” I said. “Fly low and slow and under the radar. We don’t want anyone calling the authorities to say they saw a giant robot.”

“Not a problem,” said Mike. “I can do this. You do know this is a morphogenic robot, right?”

“Its body is Orishen,” I said. “I’d expect it to be.”

“I’m going to program it to look like a T-Rex,” said Mike. “It will only take a minute.”

“Because who’s going to call in to say that they saw a flying robot tyrannosaur decked out with missiles and autocannons?” said CiCi, smiling.

“Or believe them if they do?” said Shepherd.

“Fine by me,” I said.

“How are you going to get into the hangar?” asked CiCi.

“Call Martin,” I said. “He’ll give you the door code.”

My phone gave Mike’s phone the number for Martin’s phone.

“Thanks,” said Mike. “That should work.”

He took the pilot’s seat, strapped on his safety harness, and pointed CiCi at the optional co-pilot’s station. She strapped in, too. He started to run through a checklist on the pilot’s console.

Shepherd and I made our way down from the robot’s head and out its “collarbone” maintenance hatch. Cornell, trussed up with zip ties, was slung from the two octovacs walking between us. When we reached the robot’s feet again, the octovacs transported Cornell, then the two of us, down to ground level. There weren’t any military or law enforcement vehicles on site. Maybe Tom
á
so had dissuaded Martin from calling all cars.

My phone instructed the octovacs to put Cornell down just inside the Inn. Then they returned to the robot where they carefully unwound the fabric ribbon from its ankles. When they were finished, Shepherd, the two octovacs, and I stepped inside the hall and stood next to our prisoner. Cornell was still out. I could see a large, purple goose egg rising on the back of his head. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

Poly and her family were standing together near the table halfway down the hall. I hoped Poly was filling Pomy and Perry and Barbara in on why the Macerators had attacked. Martin and Apple were talking to Tom
á
so, who was down by the award ceremony platform at the far end with Queen Sherrhi, Terrhi, Spike and the royal body guards. Poly gave me a thumbs up as Shepherd and I, with octovacs doing the heavy lifting, transported an unconscious Cornell past her and her family to the front of the hall.

We all had an excellent view of the robot through the Teleport Inn’s tall windows. We heard a squishy, creaking sound as its exterior reconfigured itself from well-armed giant robot to well-armed giant robot dinosaur. Transformation complete, it got back on its feet, leaving broad scrapes in the lawn outside. Huge splinters of shattered pines fell from its head and shoulders and a six-foot wall of water, dammed by its hips, went sweeping down the river. I hoped no one was fishing downstream at eleven o’clock at night. Then I heard a familiar rumble. The robot’s boot thrusters were kicking in. Seconds later it was airborne, its rockets’ red glare fading into the night.

Chapter 26

“Sometimes when you push someone,
you find out who that person really is.”
— Keith Ablow

“My name is Gordon Ambrose Cornell. I’m thirty-six years old, self-employed, and live in Alpharetta, Georgia.”

It was the twentieth time I’d heard Cornell recite his name, rank and serial number and I was getting tired of it. Martin had arrested him for damaging the landscaping at the Teleport Inn and destroying trees in a state nature preserve. I didn’t know if there was a law against operating a two-hundred-and-fifty-foot combat robot and neither did Martin, which was just as well, because I’d be equally guilty.

Cornell was tied to a chair on the award ceremony platform with cords the chefs at the Inn used to truss up turkeys. The cords’ new use seemed particularly apt under the circumstances. Shepherd, Martin and I were standing on the platform. Chit was on my shoulder and Tom
á
so was on the floor so he could look the man who tried to kidnap his wife and daughter in the eye. If I were Cornell, I’d be intimidated. Unfortunately, Cornell didn’t have the same reaction.

The last two hours had been eventful. Poly and her family had taken my van back to their hotel. Poly hugged me and said she was so glad she’d invited her parents and sister for her graduations. A pair of giant, pink, heavily armored tanks the size of wide-load eighteen wheelers had pulled up in front of the Inn to transport Queen Sherrhi, Terrhi, Spike and her security detail back to the Dauushan consulate. The tanks had over-sized rubber tires instead of treads and triangular fuchsia flags with white crowns flew from their front corners. Mike’s car was driving itself to Zwilniki’s hangar by the airport. Fran
ç
ois had put CiCi’s dress, neatly folded, in the front passenger seat along with her shoes. Apple had kissed Martin goodbye and left in their car, saying their sitter turned into a pumpkin at midnight. Martin’s Capitol Police cruiser had been summoned and the two helpful octovacs seemed to have disappeared along with my top hat.

I collected a dozen discarded Macerator power pack cylinders off the floor and wrapped them in a Dauushan-sized napkin. You never know when things like that might come in handy, either as energy sources or as high explosives if all their energy is released at once. I stowed the bundle of cylinders unobtrusively by the entrance.

Two squads of soldiers had arrived in olive drab trucks and a transport van an hour ago. They’d expeditiously extracted the two dozen men and women from the disabled Macerators and bundled them off in the van. Several of the enlisted men had snickered at the operators’ incompetence, but the officer in charge of the detail had assured us the operators’ injuries would be seen to promptly. A different group of soldiers with forklifts showed up next. In less than fifteen minutes, they’d carted all the empty combat suits into a truck and had driven off. I didn’t think too much about where the soldiers had come from, though Dobbins Air Reserve Base, where Tom
á
so had said his rapid response force was located, was just up I-75.

Kijana had taken Pierre home. She’d said she’d stay with the distraught little Pyr until he got to sleep. The chefs and kitchen staff had left, too. Fran
ç
ois had mopped up the oil in the hall and straightened up some of the wreckage, but last I’d seen him he’d been sitting in the kitchen with a large snifter and a bottle of
Calvados Napoléon.

François would stick around and lock up, but for now we were alone and not making much progress in our interrogation.

Shepherd, Martin, Chit, Tomáso and I left Cornell to stew and moved to the far end of the hall by the door to talk privately.

“I don’t understand why this jerk isn’t still in jail,” I said.

“I didn’t hear about it myself,” said Martin.

“Aren’t you in law enforcement?” I said. “Aren’t your brothers and sisters in blue supposed to keep you informed?”

“Different hierarchies,” said Martin. “The port is City of Atlanta territory, and I’m with the state.”

I dimly remembered something about the mayor taking credit for Cornell, Penn and Princeton, but I was recovering from a concussion at the time. I turned to Shepherd.

“And what about you? Are my illusions of P
â
kk omniscience going to be shattered, too?”

Shepherd just shrugged. Crap. He didn’t even give me something to rant about. Tom
á
so looked down at his P
â
kk friend and shook his big head side to side. Maybe his illusions regarding Shepherd weren’t doing so well, either.

“Gordon Ambrose Cornell was released from the Atlanta City Detention Center at nine on Monday morning,” said my phone.

About the time I was having a second breakfast with Poly, I thought.

“Bail was posted for him and his two associates by his lawyer, someone named J. S. Walters.”

“Would that be Jennifer Susan Walters?” I said.

“Correct,” said my phone.

“Then we’re dealing with another pseudonym. Jennifer Susan Walters is a lawyer, all right—in Marvel comic books. She’s Bruce Banner’s cousin, She-Hulk.”

“Missed that,” said my phone.

“I thought they were using college and university names, like Duke Vanderbilt,” said Martin.

“And Cornell, Penn and Princeton,” intoned Tom
á
so.

“Maybe they’re getting smart and changing their pattern?” I said.

“Or maybe we’re dealing with a different team?” said Martin.

“With the same players?” I said, pointing at Cornell back on the award ceremony platform and wondering what Penn and Princeton were up to. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why are you arguin’ over comic book characters?” said a voice from my left shoulder.

Chit had a point.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I might,” she said. “It’s just a matter of findin’ the proper incentive.”

“Like what?” I said.

Chit whispered something in my ear. I listened and nodded my head slowly. It might work.

Then Chit flitted over and whispered to Martin, Tom
á
so, and finally Shepherd. The P
â
kk didn’t look happy. I could understand why.

“No,” said Shepherd.

“Come on,” I said, “restore my faith in the P
â
kk mystique.”

“I have no interest in pandering to your human misconceptions,” said Shepherd.

“It’s Cornell’s misconceptions you’d need to play to,” I said.

“My answer is still no. The very idea is repugnant.”

“But the misconceptions are about Short P
â
kk, not Long P
â
kk,” I said. “And you can’t tell me it’s never happened on a Short P
â
kk hunt.”

“To the eternal regret of every Long P
â
kk across the galaxy,” said Shepherd. “I can’t do it.”

“My friend,” said Tomáso. “My old and very dear friend. I do not ask for myself, but for the sake of my queen and my daughter.”

Shepherd stood silent.

“We would never speak of it,” Tom
á
so rumbled.

The rest of us all nodded solemnly.

“Very well,” said Shepherd. “I will do this distasteful thing.”

That was probably not the best choice of words.

“I’ll start us off,” I said. “Follow my lead.”

As we walked back to the award ceremony platform, we could see Cornell staring at us. He wasn’t sure what would happen next.

“No way,” I said to Shepherd, speaking loudly.

“My friend, this must not be done,” said Tomáso. “It is unworthy of you.”

“Go ahead,” Chit said to Shepherd in her surprisingly loud voice. “Maybe I’ll try some, too.”

“Hey,” I said, “One monster is enough.”

Shepherd growled.

By now we were up to the award ceremony platform. Shepherd climbed up the stairs and stood very close to Cornell, growling louder and licking his lips. Cornell was sweating and squirming in his bonds.

“I don’t want to watch this,” I said, turning around to face away from the platform.

“Neither do I,” said Martin. “Remember, you said you’d stop at his elbows.”

“No promises,” said Shepherd, opening his mouth to reveal rows of sharp teeth.

Cornell’s hands were white from gripping the arms of his chair. He was looking left and right and moaning softly.

The P
â
kk used a claw to slit Cornell’s right sleeve and rip it away, leaving his prisoner’s arm bare.

The chair started to shake from Cornell’s trembling.

“Stay in control, my friend,” said Tom
á
so, turning his back. ““You have to give him one last chance to answer.”

“No promises,” repeated the P
â
kk.

Despite his earlier reluctance he seemed to be really getting into his part. Saliva dripped from his mouth onto Cornell’s bare forearm.

Chit rotated on my shoulder to watch Shepherd.

“T’ hell with questions,” she said. Her bloodthirsty tone made me start to worry if we’d pushed things too far.

Shepherd was leaning over with his mouth open and ready to bite when Cornell lost his nerve.

“Questions,” he said, “ask your questions. I’ll spill, I’ll spill.”

Shepherd paused, but didn’t lean back. His warm breath swayed the hairs on the back of Cornell’s arm.

“Keep him away from me!” said Cornell.

“My friend,” said Tom
á
so. “Let him answer.”

Something between a growl and a whine came from the back of Shepherd’s throat, but he stepped back. The rest of us turned around. Martin and I climbed up to the award ceremony platform and stood between Shepherd and Cornell. Chit stayed on my left shoulder. Tom
á
so stood at the edge of the platform glaring at Cornell. This time, Cornell
was
intimidated.

“Who hired you to operate the robot?” said Martin.

“Columbia Brown,” said Cornell. “This whole thing is her deal.”

He’d looked particularly nervous when he’d said her name.

“She worked for Zwilniki?”

“No,” said Cornell, “She was at the same level or higher than Tony Zed, but for a different part of the organization. I always got the sense that she scared him.”

Curious, I thought. Like she scared Cornell.

“What’s Brown’s plan?” said Martin.

“I don’t know,” said Cornell. “I’m just a foot soldier for her. I was a lieutenant for Tony. One of the guys at training was joking about balls and bugs, though.”

“Balls and bugs?” I said.

“Spheres and nanoparticles,” muttered Chit by my ear.

“Training?” said Tom
á
so.

“Robot pilots’ training,” said Cornell. “We only had a day and a half for it.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” said Cornell.

Shepherd growled.

“I really don’t know. It was inside. On simulators. There weren’t any windows. Underground, maybe.”

“How many pilots were there?” asked Martin.

“Twelve.”

“Including the other two clowns in jail with you?” said Chit.

“Uh huh,” said Cornell. “All three of us.”

I wondered what were they going to do with
twelve
giant robots.

“And what was your mission supposed to be?” I said.

“Take advantage of the chaos caused by the Macerators, lift off the roof of the Teleport Inn, steal the Queen and the Princess, and fly them to a rendezvous point.”

“Where?” I said.

“A big hangar near Hartsfield port. I think they wanted to get the Queen and her kid off planet fast.”

Now it was Tom
á
so’s turn to make threatening noises.

“What’s the exact location?” I said. I may have growled myself.

Cornell told us. My phone chirped to acknowledge that it had recorded the details and marked the spot.

“What was up with the Macerator operators?” asked Martin. “The didn’t seem to know what they were doing.”

“They trained separately,” said Cornell, “but the robot pilot trainers considered them jokes, only there to provide a distraction.”

“While you literally raised the roof?”

“Yeah. I think they got the Macerator operators from Craigslist.”

That explained a lot, I thought. We’d probably gotten as much out of Cornell as we were going to.

I motioned to my companions.

“Step into my office,” I said, waving toward the far end of the hall.

We all walked back near the rolling door, out of Cornell’s earshot.

When we stopped walking, my phone read me a new text message from Mike.

“The robot is not the one from WT&F. I parked it next to the WT&F robot in Zwilniki’s hangar.”

“Tell him thanks,” I said. “And let him know he can take the rest of the night off.”

It was already two in the morning and Mike and CiCi would soon be on their way to their homes, or maybe one of their apartments.

“Thanks, boss,” read my phone.

Thanks, Jack,
would be fine, but I’d worry about that tomorrow, or rather, later today.

“Do you have anywhere you can keep Cornell on ice temporarily?” I asked Martin.

“There’s a holding cell several levels below ground at the Capitol,” he said. “It would be perfect.”

“Great,” I said. “I’m going to check out the rendezvous point.”

“I’m going to have a high altitude drone scan O’Sullivan Fabrication’s facility with ground penetrating radar,” said Tom
á
so. “If they’ve got a duplicate shadow production floor and bio-hazard lab fifty feet down, I want to know about it.”

“Works for me,” I said. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Heads nodded around our circle. Shepherd didn’t volunteer to do anything. He just looked thoughtful and enigmatic and full of P
â
kk mystique.

“I guess I need a ride,” I said.

“Your van is waiting for you outside,” said my phone.

Another attempt at reconnaissance was in order. I hoped it would turn out better than the last time.