Spitfire Station: Triple-Cross, page 7
Ryder was the last to arrive, taking a place besides Logan in a vestige of a more normal meeting; the second-in-command always sat next to the commanding officer. Tapping out a drinks order, Logan waited patiently for it to arrive, distributed the drinks, and leaned back against the padded wall, his arms crossed.
“It won’t be news to any of you that there is a lot more going on out here than I have been at liberty to tell you.”
“Sir,” Ryder said, “I hate to point this out, but Colonel Redwood…”
“I’m not going to go running to terrorists, Lieutenant. I give my word that I will not share any secrets given to me at this meeting with anyone else, no matter what uniform they wear.”
“Colonel…,” Ryder began, but Logan interrupted her.
“That’s good enough for me. I’ll start with the big one – Bernie Spender is a deep-cover Triplanetary agent.” Everyone’s eyes were fixed on him, and Logan retreated slightly to the wall in response. “His mission – his five-year mission – was to infiltrate the UN rebel forces.”
“Why?” Ryder said. “Are we sponsoring them?”
“No, and a big part of his mission was to find out who was. His primary job, though, was to use rebel intelligence networks to keep an eye on the UN for us.”
“Clever,” Thorin said.
“It was his idea. He could launch high-risk operations, and if anyone was caught, they were UN citizens working against their government and no trace would leak back to us. It worked, for three years.”
“He seems to have assumed a leadership role, though,” Melissa said. “That million-credit bounty can’t have been planned.”
“It wasn’t. Apparently he was the last man standing after a sweep of the rebel leadership last year. That should have raised some red flags. Anyway, last month he signaled that he wanted to be pulled out, and I was sent here to conduct that operation.”
Ryder’s eyes widened again, “You weren’t here to support Alamo at all!”
“I was. Let’s just say that was my secondary objective. And one I accomplished, I should add.”
“What’s gone wrong?” Harper asked, bluntly.
With a thin smile, Logan said, “What makes you think anything’s gone wrong?”
“The fact that you are telling us all this.”
“Originally, the idea was that I would snatch him with a force of mercenaries and quietly sneak him back to Mars. That went wrong when I got promoted, so I improvised the idea of arresting him, tying him in with the pirate raids.”
“No wonder that mission went so easily.”
“They wanted to be caught. The freighter is new, though. That wasn’t part of the plan, and at no point did Spender report that it was a rebel asset.”
Frowning, Melissa said, “That could just mean they didn’t trust him as much as he thought.”
“I hope so,” Thorin said. “Logan, the UN rebels – especially over the last year – have been really escalating. They’ve gone from being a pressure group to an active terrorist organization. Are you telling me that was part of the plan?”
“Decidedly not. The idea was to keep everything low-profile, quiet. The last thing we wanted was increased UN attention on the rebel forces.”
“Then what went wrong?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe nothing; this could be a bluff, Spender improvising. I’ll find out after I’ve had a chance to interview him. That’s next on my list.”
“The freighter is Republic in origin,” Harper said. “Perhaps they’re after him – if they know he is a UN operative.”
“Republic?” Thorin said. “What are they doing here?”
“We know that someone is backing the UN rebels,” Ryder said. “They are as good a candidate as any. They gave us a few old ships during the war.”
“All of which turned out to be more trouble than they were worth. But that’s possible.”
“Then why would they want him?”
Logan raised a hand, “We can sit around this table firing questions at each other all day without coming up with any answers. Harper, you’re our resident spook. Any thoughts?”
“Without a line-of-sight communications link, there isn’t much I can do.”
“I could take her out in a shuttle, see if I could give her that link,” Thorin said.
Ryder shook her head, “That’s a bit risky. A lot risky. The fighters would overwhelm you.”
“Not if we had ours on standby to protect us. A couple to screen us while we got back to the station.”
“I’m up for it,” Harper said.
“Good. Ryder, I want a plan to deal with that ship. Find weak spots, anything, and keep poking Boris…”
“Must I?”
“Until we get the station defenses into some sort of shape. At the end of the day it’s only a freighter, and we’ve got fighters as well now. Sounds like it should be a more than even contest; at this stage I’d be perfectly happy with just living through this.”
“Lieutenant,” Melissa said. “You’re going to the cells from here to interview Spender, yes?”
“That’s the plan. I’ll let you know anything I find out.”
“I’m coming too.”
“This conversation is likely to contain much restricted information…”
“May I speak freely?”
“We’re in a bar,” Harper said. “If you can’t speak freely here, where?”
“The lady has a point,” Logan said.
“You don’t know everything. If I’m guessing right, you were reactivated after we learned of the scope of the Cabal’s infiltration – which means you are only recently back in the service.”
“That’s perfectly true. I’ve been deactivated for a while.”
“Then I’m a lot more up-to-date with the political state of interstellar space than you are.”
Logan smiled, “And I’m sure you’ve already been given far too many secrets.” He nodded, forestalling a protest, “Fine, come along. Is there anything else?”
“One more thing,” Thorin said. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about this, but Mr. Spender is one of the senior figures in an organization that has committed terrorist acts.”
“A deep-cover agent,” Logan said.
“Granted. But I’m thinking about the attack on the Izanami last month. More than a hundred dead, Logan. All civilians.”
“You think he might have been involved.”
“Bluntly, yes. Given that he has become a leading figure in the rebel movement. And if he was, I want your assurance that he will face justice for his crimes. Those are my people he’s been attacking, and without even the excuse that he himself was being ‘oppressed’.” He paused. “I want your word on this.”
Melissa broke in, “I think the Senate would be reluctant to link a Triplanetary citizen…”
Logan interrupted, “I give you my word, Colonel. If he’s been involved with anything of that sort, then I will see that he faces punishment for his crimes.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Thorin drained the last of his drink, leaving the container spinning in the air. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 8
Melissa floated down the central corridor, Logan behind her, looking at the passers-by. Since the encounter with the assassin – or assassins, potentially – last night, she was looking at the world in a very different light, and one she did not particularly care for. On a normal space station, there were no problems with murderers randomly wandering about. Even Mariner Station had tamed down since the Espatiers had cleaned house last year, under the guise of training.
She was relieved to be under the guns of the troopers as she approached the security office; Petty Officer Howard, nominally the chief of security if anyone currently held that position, was hovering by the door, glaring at Corporal Volski, who was cordially ignoring his nominal superior. He smiled as Melissa approached, and waved a datapad at her.
“I’ve got the DNA results you wanted, Tech.”
“Who was he?”
“A man named John Smith.” Before she could say anything, he continued, “People are called that, or the name would never be used. It was his real name – born in Gagaringrad, twenty-seven years old, and worked security for Cornucopia until the company collapsed.”
“So pretty much as we thought, then,” she mused.
Logan said, “Anything in his file about why he suddenly took a dislike to our new Political Officer?”
“Not a clue. After his termination, there’s no record of his activities at all. No listing of any new employer in his file, registered for self-employment status three weeks ago. From here, incidentally, though there’s no record of him being assigned to the station’s staff.”
“Which means I can’t have been the specific target. Three weeks ago, my position didn’t even exist,” Melissa said. “I guess they wanted some blackmail fodder after all.”
“Possibly,” Logan said. “Still, good work, Corporal.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Howard broke in. “Why is a marine handling this investigation? This is my department.”
“He was here. You weren’t,” Melissa said, curtly.
“I was down in the lower levels working on the reactor components…” he began, but she cut him off.
“Funny. I was down in the lower levels being assailed by a pair of gunmen. Where were you when all of this was going on? Taking a break?”
“I don’t have to take this from you, you…”
“Yes you do, Mr. Howard,” Logan said with a bark. “She’s your senior officer.”
“She’s a political hack, damn it.”
Logan’s face switched into a thin smile, “We live in a very strange universe, Howard. One where I’m actually about to put someone on report for insubordination. You want to do your job? Stop whining at me and do your damn job. Get on the investigation, and do it now. I shouldn’t have to order you to investigate a murder!”
Howard, red-faced, looked back from one to another, as if he was considering what to say. He contented himself with a rueful stare, snatched a proffered datapad from Volski, and drifted off down the corridor.
“Sorry about that, sir,” the espatier said. “He’s been hanging around for half an hour, asking questions.”
“Has he?” Logan said. “That’s interesting.”
“He is supposed to be in charge of security, sir.”
“The first rule is to trust no-one, Corporal. Remember that.”
With a wry smile, he replied, “Does that include you, sir?”
“Absolutely.”
Nodding, Volski said, “Would you like to see the prisoner now, sir?”
“Take him into the interrogation room.” He turned to Melissa, saying, “Charming name, isn’t it.”
Volski saluted and drifted back into the office, followed by the others; Logan swung down into a hatch on the floor, and into an empty, bare cabin. A pair of cameras covered the room, and as Melissa watched, he pulled out a pair of cutters and disabled both of their power feeds; the surveillance equipment hung limp from the wall.
“You do realize the prisoner has the right to have his interrogation recorded?” Melissa said with a frown.
“At the moment this is a debriefing. It only turns into an interrogation if I don’t like his answers.”
“Did you ever consider becoming a lawyer?”
“Hell, legal trickery was a required course at spy school.” He glanced up at the hatch, “Don’t say anything to him unless he says something you know is untrue. I’m going to imply that you are working for Intelligence as well, and whatever happens, don’t contradict that. I want him to think he can speak freely.” He smiled again, continuing, “And don’t worry, this is being recorded. Just not in a constitutional manner.”
“I will consider myself unconstitutionally reassured, sir.”
“Call me Logan, for heaven’s sake.”
“Why? What’s changed?”
Logan shrugged, “Maybe the sort of person who remembers to take a DNA sample from a man who just tried to kill her is the sort of person I think I can work with.”
“You need a better recruitment test.”
The hatch above them opened, and Spender was pushed in by a pair of espatiers, implacably drifting down to the floor. His hands were secured with magnetic restraints; otherwise he was unencumbered. Volski looked down at Logan.
“I presume you are going to want your privacy?”
“Correct, Corporal. Be ready outside in case anything happens, though.”
“Will do, sir.”
As soon as the hatch slammed shut, Spender gestured at Melissa with his head, asking, “Who’s she?”
“She’s an associate of mine, Bernie, and that’s all you need to know for the present. You can speak quite freely.”
“That’s good, because I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“We do indeed. Principally the fact that there is a rebel-flagged carrier hovering out there ready to blow up the station if they don’t hand you over.”
Spender looked down at the ground, nodding, “I see. I had thought they would show more sense than to come after me.”
“Then you know about them?”
He looked up, nodding, “You must understand, Logan, that I sympathize with the goals of the rebels. They want independence, and I don’t think that is any different from our war with the United Nations.”
Eyes narrowed, Logan said, “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that I don’t want to do anything that might hurt their cause. Which means not providing any unnecessary information except over secure channels; I don’t want the UN security forces finding out about a few surprises we...they have planned.”
“I’ve got a little news update for you, Bernie. That ship is out there, and everyone on the station must have seen the fighter attack. By now the UN know all about it, so the little secret is out.”
Sighing, he continued, “I know, I know, but this isn’t a military hierarchy we’re talking about. There are a lot of different factions in play.” He frowned, then said, “What about the information I did send you? Did that get through?”
Nodding, Logan said, “It did. I don’t know any details, but we got everything you sent.”
Melissa’s attention was drawn to the floor of the room. She could swear there was something different about it, and then she realized what it was – the panels were rising, just a little, and a thin cloud of dust was pushing up into the cabin. Her eyes widened, and she kicked up towards the ceiling, grabbing Logan behind her.
The room shook, a loud report from the floor, pieces of debris flying around as alarms began to wail. The pressure telltales were all green, but red lights were flashing on the system status boards. Volski ducked his head in through the hatch, pistol in hand.
“What’s going on down here?”
“Explosion, outer hull,” Logan said. “I don’t think we’ve lost pressure, but get this room sealed off, and I want a work team outside – guarded by espatiers – right now.”
Nodding, Volski ducked out of the way to give the necessary orders, and Logan started to pull a dazed Spender – with a bruise on his forehead from some of the debris disturbed by the blast – up into the security office. Melissa looked around the room, following as soon as they were clear, then turned with a start as she heard a loud rumbling coming from the corridor.
“Damn blast doors have closed!” Volski said.
“Should we be complaining that something on this station is actually working as it should?” Logan replied. People were ducking into the emergency shelters, sealing themselves off from the potential danger of decompression, but Melissa noticed something more than the usual urgency. These people weren’t just heading for safety, they were looking around, glimpsing into the shadows, as though they expected something else to happen.
This time she wasn’t unarmed. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pistol, and Logan looked at her with a start, nodded, and drew his own, pushing Spender vaguely in the direction of his cell before turning to cover the door.
“What is it?” he said.
“I don’t know. This all seems too convenient.”
Volski was over by the door, tapping at a series of controls, “Our hatch should have sealed automatically. The system isn’t working. I can’t call out of this area, either.”
“Look,” Melissa said, pointing down the corridor; Howard was pushing himself towards them, swinging from one handhold to the next, a pistol in his hand. He was shouting something, but the babble from outside and the grinding of the strained locking mechanisms made it too difficult for her to hear. A series of cracks resounded through the corridor, and Howard started to tumble end-over-end, his face a mask of silent horror as crimson blood spilled from his chest.
“Take cover!” Logan shouting, and the espatiers hurried to comply. A bullet whistled past Melissa, and she hugged herself behind a bulkhead, pistol in hand, looking for targets. The crowd had emptied the corridor now, the last few stragglers encouraged by the gunfight, but she couldn’t make out where the shots were coming from, and was reluctant to look for herself.
A small ball flew past her, and she turned to see Logan’s hand ducking back into cover. She glanced back in alarm – surely he could not be using a grenade in a confined space like this – but then the wall monitors lit up with a visual feed. A clever gimmick, and she was able to see a trio of men wearing body armor, carrying what looked suspiciously like UN-issued firearms. One of the men had a combat monocle, another UN gadget.
Volski took a series of shots in the vague direction of the gunmen, trying to pin them down rather than shoot them, then turned over to Logan, who shrugged and fired off a few shots of his own in response.
