Pray for Rain, Page 2

  “I’ll get us moving, go and apologise before making contact. I do think we should return the package before it kills us,” Gulch said and slithered off.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ben Grant sat in his office in the city of Karllt on the planet Shallar in the Petruthsian galaxy of Jotar. Karllt was a small city with lots of green spaces; clean air and few skyscrapers. It had a small space port that was a feeder for the Twin Cities; neither of which wanted a space port ruining their nice cities. Which was fair enough when you considered that the larger space ports of Ictopia and Constine were famous hubs of criminal activity. Karllt was not so much a hub of nefarious activity even though most of what came through the space port was illegal goods. Coming from the likes of Ictopia and bound for the Twin Cities. Because rich people like to get their stuff cheap.

  These links to the criminal Underworld (and it’s sources of information) without having to live in it was the reason Ben Grant had his office there. It was useful in his line of work as a Universal finder of stuff. Pan-Galactic Location Agency was the official title of his little business. Gulch had come up with that as he felt Grant’s proposal of Universal Finders of Stuff, Things and Occasionally People, while definitely telling people what they did, didn’t have a professional enough ring to it.

  He sat behind his desk in his office. They had an office each, Gulch took care of logistics and liked to be hidden away from clients, though he was wired in to listen to Grant’s office. Grant took care of all the stuff that needed legs and arms rather than tentacles. He was staring at his computer trying to decide whether he should do anything with it when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened to reveal an older man and a teenage girl, maybe eighteen years old. Father and daughter to be sure, he thought; it was the way they stood together after they walked in.

  “Mr. Grant?”

  “According to the door.”

  “Right. Yes, well.”

  “Come and take a seat,” Grant made a welcoming gesture, but didn’t bother to stand. “You must be Warboys.”

  “Mr. Warboys, yes. Gerald.”

  “And your daughter.”

  “Yes,” Warboys said before sitting. “Gail.”

  “So,” Grant brought up the details on his screen as they sat. “You’re here on behalf of the Miles family?”

  He looked up at them, one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, well, they didn’t want to come themselves. They are in shock, Mr. Grant.”

  “OK. So this is,” he checked his screen, “about a missing person. Why did they send you?”

  “I was with them,” Gail said.

  “And they thought you could tell me what happened.”

  She nodded.

  “They are angry, Mr. Grant, angry that she came home and the others didn’t. We know it is the shock and grief,” he nodded to himself in understanding.

  “But it wasn’t your fault,” Grant said to Gail.

  She shook her head slightly and her lip quivered.

  “It’s OK,” he soothed. “They call it survivor’s guilt, it doesn’t mean it’s true though.”

  “We have documents, to hire you. From the Miles family,” Warboys said and pushed them over the desk.

  Grant looked at them, but didn’t pick them up.

  “They’re angry that Gail here came home and so they sent you. They felt that you somehow owed them. I don’t like that.”

  “Gail is the only witness.”

  “And I could have come and interviewed her once they hired me,” he said with a little venom.

  He didn’t like these people already. They would be rich and used to getting what they wanted. They would feel entitled to it all and they would use others to get it. Just like they were using the Warboys here. They’d come a long way and no doubt used their own money to pay for the fuel. And all because they’d been bullied into feeling guilty.

  A message flashed up on his screen. Gulch was listening and had already done a little research on the Miles’. Yup, his suspicions were correct. Made their money in real estate, old money, business started by great, great Granddad and worse, they’d made money from the Laikan War.

  He looked down at the contract.

  “I’m going to say no,” he said finally.

  “Why?” Gail gasped.

  “Why have you come to me? What about the local police?”

  “They’re waiting for a ransom demand, every day is crucial in a case like this,” Warboys said.

  “Yes, I’m well aware of the job, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he looked at his lap.

  “InterG?”

  “Haven’t taken up the case, say it’s a local matter until there is a demand.”

  “Why?”

  “They went off with some men, we were at a club,” Gail said and her lip quivered again.

  “Ahh, and it’s only been three days.”

  “They’re not that type of girls,” Gail insisted.

  “But you’re voice says you’re not so sure,” Grant replied.

  She looked down into her lap.

  “We were friends in high school…”

  “Private school, Gail got in on a scholarship. Bright girl,” he said proudly.

  “…but since we’ve left,” Gail continued, “I don’t know, I guess I’ve changed,” she said without looking up.

  “And they haven’t,” Grant finished.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Grant, and if it’s true you will have earned money for very little work. These are just parents that want their child back,” Warboys implored.

  “How many kids?”

  “Four,” Gail said.

  “And if you make a breakthrough the other families will hire you,” her father added.

  “The Miles’ are just paying to find theirs, huh?”

  “Yes,” Warboys said a little ashamed for them.

  “Four girls go missing, one of them is rich. Still suggests kidnapping, doesn’t it?”

  “Wouldn’t you have expected a ransom by now?”

  “Yes. Yes, I would,” Grant admitted.

  “And if you look at the contract, you still get paid if that does happen.”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll send a contract to the Miles,” he knew Gulch would be on top of that. “For now, Gail, tell me everything you remember about that night.”

  She did so as the two men listened. She was obviously a little embarrassed telling it in front of her Dad, but he urged her on.

  “OK,” Grant said as she finished. He got out a piece of paper and pen. “Now write down anything that comes to mind about the men and the van. In fact anything about that night that springs to mind, don’t think about it, just write.”

  She took the pen and paper and looked at it.

  “I said don’t think,” Grant said angrily and that kicked her into writing as he had hoped it would.

  He didn’t want thought, he wanted memory. So many people that came to him focussed so hard on remembering that they couldn’t actually come up with anything.

  She started slowly and then built up speed as she wrote until she got to the bottom of the page. She turned it over, looked at the blank side and then turned it back over.

  “That’s everything, I think,” she said and slid it over.

  Grant picked it up and scanned it. Not a lot of use that he could see, though a few interesting bits, not least the mention of a tattoo.

  “This tattoo, can you draw it for me?” he slid the paper back.

  “I don’t know, I only saw a bit, poking out from under his sleeve. On his bicep, right?”

  “Just what you saw.”

  She picked up the pen again and made a few attempts to draw it.

  “Like that, I guess, the line is his shirt sleeve,” she handed him the paper.

  “OK, well, I think that’s enough. I’m sorry you’ve had to come such a long way for very little.”

  “It is fine,” Warboys
said.

  “It’s not fine, the Miles’ should be sitting here, not you two. Until I start looking I don’t know what is and isn’t important so I may come and visit you again, ask some better questions. OK?”

  “Yes,” Gail nodded. “I want my friends found, Mr. Grant.”

  “Yeah. That’s the idea.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “What do you make of it?” Gulch asked, sitting on a sofa against the wall. Above him on the wall was a painting of ‘The Fall of Darken’.

  “From what she said and what you’ve dug up? I can’t see the kidnapping angle,” Grant admitted wearily from behind his desk.

  “Agreed, from the police reports it doesn’t sound like a professional job, no ground work laid, though…” he shrugged his tentacles.

  Grant knew what he meant, the local police weren’t always the best people for a job like this. It was normally swiped by the InterG before they could get any good at it.

  “What about that tattoo?”

  “Still running it,” Gulch picked up a portable computer screen and looked at it. “No hit yet.”

  “It’s bugging me,” Grant said.

  “Like you recognise it.”

  “I don’t know, not enough of it on show, could be anything.”

  “So we hit the streets,” Gulch said and got up, or more technically, down from the sofa.

  “Yeah. Start at this nightclub.”

  “Good. Never been to Mo’Tau.”

  “Life’s just one big holiday.”

  “I can think of worse jobs,” Gulch shrugged in a way you can only do with tentacles.

  ***

  “Going somewhere, Grant?” the InterG agent asked.

  “Normally when I’m walking out of the door. Though sometimes I just do it for fun.”

  “Back inside.”

  “I haven’t technically left yet. You’re in my way.”

  “In,” the agent said sternly and Grant sighed.

  He walked back and sat behind his desk without offering a chair to the two agents.

  “Lost something?” he asked.

  “If we had, this would be the last place we’d come,” the other agent said.

  “How menacing of you. Now, what do you want?”

  “We hear you were on the Dearmo Express.”

  “Good for you.”

  “That was robbed between Rachain and Faloo.”

  “It was, I know, I was there. Terrible business.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “At the time? Drinking cocktails.”

  “On the train,” the agent said sternly.

  “Drinking cocktails.”

  “Why were you on the train in the first place?” the other agent asked just as sternly.

  “Getting from A to B, that’s what trains are for, isn’t it?”

  “We could continue this down the station.”

  “Why? Because I was on a train?”

  “A train that was robbed.”

  “Are you going to get to a point or should I order in some lunch?”

  The InterG officer slammed a hand down on his desk.

  “We know you were involved.”

  “No you don’t because I wasn’t. If I was, then you would have taken me to the station.”

  “You think all this fools us? That you’re some sort of detective?”

  “I don’t care what you think,” Grant said angrily. “You got facts then arrest me, if not get out of my office.”

  “This isn’t over, Grant, we’ll get you. And your friends.”

  “Oh yes,” the other agent said. “We know about your friends.”

  “Really? How fascinating. I assume you’re talking about Mavis next door, are you?”

  “You hang out with criminals because that’s what you are, Grant.”

  “Really? Could you name one?”

  They just stared at him.

  “Didn’t think so,” he stood up. “Now, I was going out and you two buffoons were going back to chasing your tails.”

  “This isn’t over, Grant,” one warned.

  “Part Two: Return of the Buffoons, I can’t wait. Get out.”

  They both gave him a long, malicious stare and then left together.

  “Idiots,” Grant said to himself.

  “Gone have they?” Gulch asked from the door.

  “How come you get the secret office and I get the front door?”

  “You’re a people person,” Gulch shrugged with a smile.

  ***

  They drove to the space port where their ship, the Lark was parked and took off into space where their larger ship, The Albatross was moored. The Albatross was far too big to land at Karllt’s space port as it was more of a mobile HQ. Named after the Earthen bird that could stay in the air almost indefinitely, Grant and Gulch used The Albatross to cover the Universe without having to go back to the office.

  “It still bugs me,” Grant said as he flew The Albatross to the star-gate.

  “That they sent the Warboys?”

  “No. Well, yeah, that too. No, I mean how did the Durden Raiders know about the train heist?”

  “Maybe they didn’t, maybe they were planning the same thing.”

  “So they rock up at exactly the moment we’re emancipating the Stone?”

  “They couldn’t know when exactly we were hitting the train, Ben.”

  “No,” he said quietly.

  “You think it was one of us? Regrette?”

  “I trust him.”

  “He’s a Hitman.”

  “He’s an Assassin, it’s different.”

  “He’s also a Hitman and you know it.”

  “Alright, yeah, but he’s got no reason to sell us out. We paid him.”

  “You don’t think Tsyrker?” Gulch raised an eyebrow, or the Petruthsian equivalent.

  “Of course not,” Grant said looking over at him.

  “Me?”

  “Shut up, Gulch.”

  They went through the star-gate and arrived in the Lampeer Galaxy.

  “Ever been to any of the planets here?” Grant asked.

  “Montoi, in the Frass solar system.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “Research. There was a week of lectures as well, fascinating stuff, Grant, all about the how the Universe was formed, earlier cultures and what is beyond the known Universe.”

  “Known?”

  “We can only go so far, only see further a certain distance.”

  “What about all the new star-gates they made before and after the war?”

  “That was it, the furthest reaches. Oh we can see far enough to know the Universe continues, but not far enough to see the next galaxy,” Gulch schooled.

  “Well you learn a new thing every day.”

  “You should have learnt it at school,” Gulch chided.

  “Huh?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Right, well I’m going to get the Lark prepped if you’ll dock this bad boy.”

  ***

  They landed at the space port and took the van that fitted into the back of the Lark and drove to the Miles’ house. The city of Canberi’do was clean and the sky was blue between the widely spaced skyscrapers; there was obviously money here. Unfortunately Grant knew that said money came from the work of others in manufacturing and mining.

  “Very nice,” Gulch commented.

  “Works against the Miles’ for once.”

  “How come?”

  “I assume I don’t need to tell you the history of this planet,” Grant looked at him.

  “Three planets, known collectively as The Zydra, were discovered to have minerals, gems and the like. Plus the Geudaa beast has good hair for weaving. When people exploited these resources they settled here, by far the nicest planet in the system. All the Headquarters are here.”

  “Right, all the eggs in one basket, so they have to have one hell of a Police force to protect them, right?”

  “Right,” Gulch nodded.

&nbsp
; “Wrong. No one wanted to share so they all hired private security firms. The Police have a minimal job and therefore a minimal budget. On the rare occasions that something slips past the security then it’s their job to investigate, most of their money and resources goes to that.”

  “No one cares about personal crimes?”

  “Not over their business. Unless it happens to them,” Grant shrugged as he took the on-ramp up to the skyway.

  Skyways were floating roads held up by numerous jets and were a much safer alternative to flying cars.

  Grant and Gulch joined the fast moving traffic and headed out of the city. Past the suburbs and into the countryside the houses got real big and expensive real quick. Many were in gated communities surrounded by high walls and Grant wondered what the point of living in the countryside was if you couldn’t actually see it.

  “See yourself living in a place like this?” Grant asked.

  “Lots of walls, seems rather restricted,” Gulch said and Grant nodded.

  They took an off-ramp and drove for a while through tree lined streets that bordered fields and woods. After a while they came to a village. Once again the houses were big, but this time their walls surround large tracts of land.

  “Ahh, I see, put the outside inside,” Gulch said and Grant smiled.

  They pulled up to a gate and spoke into an intercom before it opened and they drove up a long driveway.

  “I must admit, it’s rather nice,” Gulch said looking across the sculpted gardens.

  The house was massive, but Grant didn’t get to see much of it. Gulch stayed in the car, he wasn’t a people person and a lot of people didn’t trust Petruthsians. And with good reason, they were excellent, if somewhat scheming business people. Slugs. Whatever.

  Grant entered a hallway that was bigger than their office with a grand staircase leading up to a wraparound balcony and was led, by a butler of course, into a small room just to the right. It was small, but elegant. Not as elegant as the rest of the house, Grant knew. This was where they brought guests such as himself, the room was empty of anything of real class or value, nothing that would be wasted on his dull sense of taste. Despite the fact that the Miles’ had hired them, Grant got the distinct feeling that they didn’t want anything to do with them and were not best pleased with him coming here.

  “I’m not best pleased about you coming here,” Mrs Miles said as she entered. “I thought Warboys would have sorted it all out.”

  “Yes, but it’s not his daughter that is missing.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be, would it?” she withered.

  “I don’t understand what that means.”

  “Never mind. Sit. Holson, fetch us drinks.”

  The butler left as Grant took a seat. It was nice, more expensive than his whole flat probably, but still not anything compared to what else they had. She wouldn’t let him sit on it if it was.