Manz’s com chimed for attention and he pulled it from a pocket.
“Yes, speaking.” He listened to the privacy grid. “Yes, all right. I expected as much. Of course we understand the situation. Of course I object, but what good would that do? Right. You’ll register my objection anyway? Thanks. Pray for us.” He clicked off the com and replaced it in his pocket.
Hafas was watching him expectantly. “Anything?”
Manz wanted to break something, but it would probably be expensive to fix and it wouldn’t have the slightest effect on the corporate decision that had been made without him. His gaze flicked from the Inspector, to Vyra, to Moses, and back to Hafas again.
“We’d better come up with some possibilities fast. The Albuquerque labs have been working overtime to try to mollify those corporate customers whose shipments were jacked. They’re going to try to make up some of the resultant shortfalls by sending through an unscheduled shipment. Three times the usual size. Tomorrow. Just one little package overstuffed with pharmaceuticals worth multiples of millions. Also maybe my career, and yours.” He gazed meaningfully at Vyra.
No one had any immediate comment.
“Maybe,” said Hafas finally, “this would be a good time to relate an interesting item we’ve turned up.”
Manz turned on him. “I’m all in favor of interesting items.”
“It may be of no consequence, no consequence whatsoever,” the inspector went on, “but we’ve been forced to cast such a wide net that the department Minders are dragging in all sorts of odd coincidences.”
“Feed me,” said Moses expectantly.
“You’re a straightforward sort of mechanical, aren’t you? Not too long ago the city went through a big remodeling and clean-up of both the airport and shuttleport. Refinished interiors, scrubbed exteriors, installation of new public facilities; that sort of thing. Went over well with the citizenry. It was a big job, and the work was subcontracted to some fifty different firms. One of them was Tatsumi Brothers.”
“I’m so thrilled the good burghers of JeP are pleased with their new facilities,” Manz commented dryly. “What’s your point?”
“Tatsumi Brothers is eighty percent owned by a division of Borgia Import and Export.”
Vyra made a face. Even her brows were a striking deep purple. “I thought the likelihood of someone having tampered with Port facilities had been checked out.”
“So it was. Several times over.”
“Well, that certainly was a useful bit of information.” Manz sniffed derisively. “Maybe we’re just pulling our own chains here. Maybe our jackers have decided to total up their profits and retire to more congenial climes. Maybe not. But this is one BRK shipment that’s going to reach orbit on time, if I have to watch the case from the moment it’s checked in ’til the minute it departs.”
“If we hang too close, our happy-jacks won’t go near it,” Vyra reminded him.
“Too close,” Manz echoed her. “Interesting notion.”
The self-propelled luggage cart was designed to handle far heavier loads than the single dull red box that presently rested in the center of the mobile platform. Sealed inside the maroon container were enough custom-biogeered pharmaceuticals to impress even a very wealthy individual. The cart and its operator were surrounded by four edgy, heavily armed men and women clad in reflective flak suits.
The thick, insulated walls of the service corridor shut out the noise of the Port while individually powered lights provided ample illumination. Flanked by two of his best people, Hafas met the cart convoy near the end of its journey. Each of his men cradled a large, snouty projectile gun.
The convoy entered a small, nondescript storage chamber. Vyra was there, and Moses, and several technicians. Manz eyed the locksealed crate. He’d spent much of the previous night studying a virtual forwarded by the company. His Minder hovered unusually close to his shoulder.
“That’s it.” He turned to the waiting techs. “Let’s play house.”
Special lockseals were uncoded and cracked. The double-strength top slid smoothly out of its guides to reveal the container’s heavily padded interior. In addition to the pharmaceuticals packed in their foam mounts, there was plenty of air space in the center of the box. Secured to the ends of flexible guide ladders, two of the techs leaned over and went to work on the crate’s interior without touching the sides. Guards and techs ignored one another, each tending to his or her own work.
The inspector was intrigued by the peculiar, long tube strapped to Vyra’s back. “Ms. Kullervo, wouldn’t you prefer a real gun to that … device?”
She reached back and patted what at first glance appeared to be an ornately engraved walking cane. “No, thanks. This has been in my family for generations. It’s a lot lighter than it looks, it doesn’t look like a weapon, and I’ve practiced with it since I was a child. So you see, Inspector, my reasons for carrying it around extend beyond nostalgia.”
He shrugged, his gaze lingering on her an unavoidable instant longer. “Suit yourself.” He turned back to the gurney and its precious cargo. “How much longer?”
“Just finishing up.” One of the techs sat back on her ladder and smiled as she removed her surgical gloves. “Have a look.”
One at a time they each climbed to the business end of an empty ladder. On command, the flexible arm raised them up and over so they could peer down inside the crate without disturbing it or its contents. The other tech was moving back as he finished the last of his work.
Hafas contemplated the hastily remodeled interior. “There you go, Manz. Just what you asked for. All the comforts of home, if you don’t mind living quarters on the slightly cramped side. Personally I don’t find it very inviting. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“If I was in the least claustrophobic, I’d never have thought of it, much less proposed trying it out. Gemmel thinks it’s worth a shot, even if our jackers somehow find out about it and pass on this one. In that event, this is at least one shipment that will find its way to its intended destination.”
“You’ll be completely isolated in there,” Hafas reminded him unnecessarily. “We’ll be in touch on the prearranged secure channel, but if something goes wrong it’ll still take time to get you out of there.”
The adjuster smiled reassuringly. “I’m alone with my thoughts most of the time anyway, Tew. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine so long as our faceless happy-jacks don’t decide to make any sudden changes in their modus and try blowing the shipment instead of sneaking it.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Not their style. They’re not that direct. Besides, explosives could damage the entire shipment. Unless they used just the right amount.” A grinning Hafas turned quickly serious. “We’d better get on with it. If they’re out there somewhere timing this, they’ll be getting suspicious soon.”
Manz nodded and eased off the ladder into the yawning crate, careful not to make contact with the interior any more than absolutely necessary. Once tightly curled in the position he’d chosen, he flashed a ready sign to the waiting techs.
It was dark as dark could be inside once they slid the lid back in place and recoded the lockseals. To all outward appearances, the container had arrived in untampered condition direct from the production facility in northern New Mexico.
Hafas addressed the special com he was carrying. “Testing; one, two, three … what’s it like in there?”
The adjuster’s response came through clear and prompt. “Cramped. Like a coffin. The Minder keeps bumping into my ear. How do you get room service on this setup?”
Hafas smiled to himself and gestured at the guards. They resumed their original positions on all four sides of the cart. “We’re ready here,” he murmured into the com.
Flanked by the four Port guards, the two heavily armed JeP police, Hafas, Moses, and Vyra, the cart operator once again eased his vehicle forward.
So much organized firepower was bound to draw attention, but for the most part the clerks and administrators ignored the procession as it traveled through the outer offices and entered the atrium. There Port guards stood watch while Hafas, Vyra, and Moses checked out the security shed and its immediate, heavily landscaped surroundings. Finding nothing untoward or unexpected, the cart was signaled forward and its cargo deposited in the middle of the shed floor, whereupon its satisfied escort withdrew. At a command from Hafas, the redundant security system was switched back on, its feathery, pale green beams crisscrossing the air within the freeform planter.
