War's End, Page 5

“Free? Where’s my jacket?”

  He ignored her, just gestured for her to move through the doorway. She headed through the opening and out into the charging area. Men and women filled the small room and she waited. She needed her jacket, utility belt, and holster back.

  He snatched them up from a desk and thrust them at her. “The sooner you are gone, the better things will be.”

  She smiled and it took some effort to force her lips into the action. She hoped he’d forgive her eventually, then shrugged off the thought. “Fine, I’m gone.”

  She set off; long, easy strides took her through the corridor and out onto the concourse. She knew where she was, and the level she was on. Without chancing a look either way, she headed for the lift, thrusting her hand into the pocket of her jacket. The tracker was exactly where Renjiro had told her it would be. She ran her thumb along it, grateful for the small device which now acted as a tangible link to Renjiro.

  Once aboard the lift, she determinedly faced forward, watching the girders and metal doors until she reached level seven. The doors whooshed open and she strode down to the berth. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d last been there, but it felt so surreal to be back at the Sylvie’s Dream. But unlike last time, no one was there to watch her bid goodbye to the freighter.

  “I wonder where everyone is.” The muttered phrase echoed. She shrugged and headed up the ramp, taking her time, quite sure that she would be locked out of the primary systems. Ashford was quick at dealing with those who caused him issues.

  She tapped her unlock sequence, but the light determinedly glowed red. Just as she’d expected. A message flashed on the screen. Auto systems denied. Error Emp 01 - Termination of Contract.

  She hissed. “So he’s already worked it out.” She laid her head against the cold gray metal, her fingers touching the locked door. “Thank you, Sylvie. You’ve been the best ship ever. I hope your next pilot appreciates you as I did.”

  Selina pulled back. She’d prepared herself for this, but a hollowness existed in the pit of her belly.

  This was the only way she had a chance of a future with Renjiro, and not even for Sylvie’s Dream would she give it up. Instead, she made her way to the concourse, snagging a small directional reader to help her find every possible bar on the moon base. She stopped into the first and bought a cooling drink, sipping it thoughtfully until the bartender came over.

  “Umm, I’m looking for Jensen Orden,” she said.

  The man just shook his head and she looked at the tankard then the back of the retreating barman. Nothing more to learn here. She pushed away from the bench and left, heading for the next public house.

  She repeated the pattern several times, with no success on the seventh level. On the eighth she visited five bars. Already she could recite her request by rote as the fogginess of the alcohol crept along her senses. “I better not drink any more alcohol.”

  She entered another bar. This one was dirty, grimy almost, and she didn’t want to consider what she might find on the seats. So she stood at the bar, ordered a drink she had no intentions of touching, and asked after Jensen Orden.

  “I might. Why you looking for him?”

  “I knew him many years ago. I’m looking for work and hoping he might help me out.” Excitement zinged through her. Finally! Her hand strayed to her pocket, and she ran her thumb over the small locator button once more.

  “Reckon if he wants to meet, he’ll choose where and when. Where you staying?”

  Selina wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t found anywhere yet. No one has a vacancy.”

  “Hostel next door. Tell them Gravind sent you. They’ll find a spot. If Orden wants you, he’ll find you there.”

  Knowing she’d been dismissed, Selina pushed away from the bar. “I’ll go now.”

  The man merely nodded.

  * * * *

  Renjiro watched on his palm system as she moved again. The tracker was working efficiently and it gave him some peace, knowing where she was at any point in time. This time she had found her way to a small hostel on the eighth level. He knew it well. It wasn’t the best place on the moon base, but while the rooms were basic, they were private, clean, and cheap. It was also favored by prostitutes and freighter crews.

  His fingers curled around the unit as a knock came at his door. He slipped the reader into a drawer as he called out to the person on the other side.

  Jordan entered, his eyes stormy. “She’s been cast off from the Sylvie’s Dream. I’ve just received word from the traffic authority. Her contract was cancelled.”

  Selina had told him that was what she expected. It took every ounce of willpower not to smile. “Then I suppose she’s going to be looking for work. Come on, Jordan, why are you so concerned?”

  “Because she nearly made a mockery of you and our systems.” The man was vibrating with anger and some other undefined emotion.

  “Nearly, but she didn’t, did she? We got her back and as it turns out, the only thing she was guilty of was—”

  Jordan placed both hands on the desk, his knuckles white. “Evading the authorities, causing a snafu in the traffic systems.”

  “And each of those is nothing more than a petty misdemeanor.” Renjiro pushed back into his seat as anger welled. He wanted desperately to tell his second he had no idea of the deep game they were playing. He stopped himself before he said anything. It was a covert mission. Even so, the thought that she was being treated as a petty criminal burned him.

  “But without a contract, she’s ineligible to remain in the Federation.” Jordan’s eyes gleamed. “Let me find her and authorize her removal, sir. Then we can close the file and no one will know what happened.”

  The lump in Renjiro’s throat was back. Hell, here’s a sticky problem indeed. One I knew would come eventually, just not yet. “Let’s leave it for today. The problem could go away overnight. All we have to do is—”

  “But sir, we could—”

  “No. Leave it for now, Jordan. That’s...” He closed his eyes, about to do something very unlike him. “That’s an order.”

  “Sir?”

  He knew Jordan didn’t understand. There was an emotion which he thought was shock in the single word utterance. “Jordan, don’t. Just leave it alone.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jordan’s stiff tone spoke volumes about his level of frustration.

  Selina had to follow through and do her bit, and he couldn’t afford to jeopardize the plot they’d hatched. She was their only opportunity to find a way in. Once she was in contact with Orden... Well, then it wasn’t a huge leap at all. She could find out who was involved. That’s all they needed to plant someone firmly in the group.

  But he did damn the fact that he couldn’t see her. Be with her. He needed to know she was safe. On one level, he was aware that she knew what she was doing, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. His hand curled into a fist. It felt wrong knowing she was doing this, but what other option was there?

  He looked up at Jordan, noted the scowl, and sighed inwardly. “I’ve paperwork to attend to, so unless there’s anything else...”

  Jordan bowed in silence and retreated.

  Slowly, Renjiro started his computer, found the files he needed to work on, and immersed himself as best he could, but his mind wandered in a skittish fashion.

  By thirteen hundred hours he was pacing, waiting for anything that would tell him they were moving forward with their inquiries. So when the communicator beeped, he answered it immediately.

  “Renjiro here.” His stomach coiled. Who is it this time?

  “Carmichael. I need to meet you. Eatery on the fifth floor far end. Zone something.”

  “I know the one. When?” What has gone wrong?

  “Now.”

  The single word had him heading through the door like a flash, tugging on his jacket and striding for the lifts.

  * * * *

  The rapping on the door took Selina by surprise as she stepped out of the ablution unit
. “Just a minute.” She threw the towel on the bed and pulled on the uniform she’d discarded. Her holster contained one tiny but lethal laser pistol, and she slipped it into the small of her back, down the pants.

  She carefully opened the door, with one hand on the auto stop button.

  In front of her was a face she hadn’t seen in over five years. Jensen Orden. He hadn’t changed from the squat, hard-faced man of her memories of Seicha. No hair adorned his head. His clothes were a faded blue work overall that sagged in the middle. He looked as grubby and unkempt as she recalled.

  “So, I heard you were here looking for me, Codecko.”

  She stilled her grimace, grabbed her aging leather jacket, and thrust her arms into the long sleeves. “You know me, Orden. I turn up like a bad credit. Look, I have a problem and need some assistance.”

  He grunted, never really one for much talk. “Not here. I have a place.”

  She engaged the door and followed him down the narrow gray hall to the exit. “It is far?”

  “Nah. Just this way.”

  Her fingers sought for and found the tiny button. She hoped like hell Renjiro was watching where she was headed. Something about this felt wrong on a lot of levels. She’d always trusted her instincts and right now, they were screaming.

  He opened a tiny, nondescript door and she found they were in the middle of a long corridor filled with sheds. They were dirty and battered. He led her to one and she stepped into the dark of the small enclosure. Movement in the corner caught her eye. “Who’s here?”

  “Codecko. Never thought I’d see you again.”

  Oh gods no! She knew that voice, and it wasn’t one she ever wanted to hear again. Winstead.

  * * * *

  Renjiro hurried along the concourse, seeing the eatery ahead. He ignored the raucous music and cries of the touts. People brushed past him, but he didn’t pay any attention. Waiting outside was the imposing form of Carmichael. He hunched over, as if trying to hide his height, but nothing could disguise the barely leashed power. His eyes narrowed as soon as he spotted Renjiro, and for a heartbeat, Ren was filled with fear.

  What would make Carmichael take the chance of meeting him face to face? Why now? Why here?

  Carmichael held the door. “We can talk inside. I had my men book the place out.”

  If he has to take such extreme steps... “Selina?”

  “I don’t know. Inside.” The man gestured to the inside of the eatery and Renjiro nodded. He ducked his head and hoped no one had paid too much attention to his attendance there. It wasn’t like him to be out at this time of day. Nor did he want the fast exchange to take place in public. He followed Carmichael in, and his stomach was a mass of coiling and tossing snakes.

  Carmichael headed to a table in the far corner, hunkering down, his back against the wall. A classic pose, thought Renjiro. It was the same kind that Selina used.

  “We have credible information that Winstead is here, on Moon Base 703. I think he somehow realized she was here too. We have intercepted a communication with some Indy freighters. Renjiro, she could be in danger.”

  It was a blow, one he physically reeled from. “We have to find her.”

  Carmichael stared at him. “Yes, we do. But that means someone knows. I haven’t told anyone. Who have you told?”

  His heart stopped thudding in his chest. When it resumed, it was a sickly and pale shadow of his normal beat. Jordan. Only Jordan knew there was more to his actions.

  Nausea rose, hot and bitter. “Only my second knows a little. Not a lot. Just that something is going on.”

  “Thank heavens for small mercies then. But what exactly does he know?” Carmichael leaned forward. “And where is Selina?”

  Renjiro pulled out the small handheld device. “Eighth level. A small... A small engineering unit full of sheds near the hostel.” His mind hit overdrive. What if we’re too late? For an instant he panicked, feeling the force of his concerns crashing down upon him. Then his training kicked in and he calmed himself. Searched for his center to latch onto. Found it, like a drowning swimmer with a lifebelt. He hung on for dear life. Or at least, Selina’s. She was a trained spy. He’d seen her in action before. She could take care of herself. Still, the what if’s floated through his mind.

  “You must go find your man. Leave Selina to us.”

  “No. I can’t. Surely you must see...” Even though his brain told him she was safe, he couldn’t leave her to Carmichael.

  Carmichael smiled. It was a sardonic uptick of his lips. “And what if your man—”

  “I can set him a task. Make it so that he’s busy.” All the while his mind shifted and examined possible options at lightning speed. He tapped his communicator. “Renjiro to Jordan?”

  “Jordan here, sir.”

  “Good. I need you to do something for me. I overlooked the latest claims against overtime. Bella has been pinging me since last week about them. Can you clear them? They’re urgent.” Silence met his request. Then a sigh.

  “Of course. Do you wish me to add you to the report when complete?” He heard the stiffness in Jordan’s words and the realization of what Jordan was, hit him. Jordan was the traitor.

  “Yes. Renjiro out.”

  Carmichael pinned him with a glance. “Overtime?”

  “It’s honestly all I could think of. And it is urgent. Bella, from credit applications, has been requesting them as urgent for the last week. It will keep him in the office and busy. For now, anyway.”

  The man opposite shrugged. “Whatever works.” They rose, as did the men and women in the eatery. Dozens of eyes were trained on him. “They’ll follow you in a variety of different directions. Once they know where.”

  He gave the directions. Noted the way they split off in groups. Some to follow him to the lifts, others would take transportation from other locations. Some would be more covert in their actions he knew. Renjiro just hoped they made it in time.

  Chapter 5

  Selina’s stomach was quivering. “So, Winstead, what are you doing here?” This was a trap she’d wandered into. One she hadn’t even conceived. She’d be willing to bet neither had Renjiro or Carmichael.

  Winstead stared at her, his blond hair sticking up in spikes with purple and blue tips that matched his immaculate ship suit, his finger rubbing slowly across his hairless upper lip. “Oh dear, Codecko. Is that any way to greet a long lost friend?” The leer he gave her left ice in her veins. Chilled, she tried to pull away, but Orden had grabbed her arms, forcing them painfully together behind her back, his meaty hands like manacles.

  “You were never a friend. But how the hell did you persuade Orden to work with you?”

  His smile was the signature oily smile she remembered from years ago. Except his face didn’t respond quite so easily. He’d no doubt undergone many transformative and re-aging treatments in the last five years, she deduced. “Oh dear. You do have it so wrong. Orden is an Indy who I’ve been allied with for a good many years. Even back during the war he gave me information.” The look he gave Selina sickened her.

  He stood then moved forward, each step careful. The spiteful gleam in his eyes was of more concern. She knew from past experience he would lash out and strike when least expected, and he did so with glee. She’d been on the receiving end of those nasty jabs in the past. He did so now, delivering a stinging slap across her cheek. The same one that bore the scrapes from the bar room brawl.

  “I knew from your report that you’d had contact with Commander Ito previously. Let me see, it was the skirmish on Seicha Two Seven Seven, wasn’t it? Yes, I know all about your actions.”

  He grinned as she blinked back the tears, her face stinging. How the hell am I going to get out of this mess? And what does he know about me and Renjiro?

  She struggled, pulling against Orden’s hold, but he just gripped tighter. Delivering more pain and bruises for her trouble.

  “Anyway, I have kept tabs on you, and when the information was received from my contacts her
e... Well, let’s just say, I reacquainted myself with your files.” He leered, looming close. “I told you not to contact anyone from those times. But you never listened. Not even then.”

  Crack! Another quick blow split her lip and she contained the cry.

  “Now, obviously I don’t have a lot of time. My work with the senate has brought me here, surprisingly enough, to undertake discussions with the governor, and I’m expected at a function soon. So I won’t make you wait too much longer.”

  He stepped back and, for the first time, she noted the restraints attached to a girder.

  “You won’t get away with this. Others know. They will bring you down even if you—”

  “Oh, do be quiet, tiresome woman.” He picked up an implement, long and thin. He flicked it and it whistled through the air. “I rather like some of the affectations of ancient history. This one in particular is fun. It’s called a whip.” Again he used it and it cut through the air.

  Meanwhile, Orden gripped her, propelling her backward toward the girder. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs, and prepared to scream. Just as she opened her mouth, the whip struck across her midsection and she doubled over. Blood seeped over her uniform. The cut wasn’t deep, she was sure, but it hurt.

  Pain radiated though her entire body. Her breath was short and she panted. Each expansion of her lungs felt like a knife in her solar plexus.

  She gasped and Orden gripped her hands, fastening them firmly before pushing her back. Even as she pulled and tugged, he fastened her legs tightly, and she knew they would quickly cut off the circulation.

  “Orden, don’t do this.”

  He just grinned, showing a mouth of missing and cracked teeth at her thin request. A rag was thrust in her mouth and a bandage wound around to hold it firm. “Oh, I rather like where I am. Better than where you are.”

  Orden moved and fear spiked as Winstead took his position in front of her. His arm pulled back and he struck. Once. Twice. A third time. She cried out as pain arced through her, but the sound was muffled by the rags.

  “You never were much good at listening. So here’s your chance.” Now Winstead straightened his jacket and stood straight and tall, his eyes gleaming with delight in the darkness. “We will be leaving you here. Alone. Maybe before you die, you’ll become more adept at hearing. No one will hear you. They will be so close, yet so far away. Ah well, that’s how spies die. Quietly. Unseen and unheard.”