Ambassador 7: The Last Frontier

Chapter 2

2

AFTER THAT DISTURBING discovery, we finished breakfast quickly.

Devlin and Veyada had already disappeared to their room to see if they could shed any light on the lack of communication or the nature of the block that we had shamefully, utterly and completely failed to notice.

Shit, s**t, s**t.

I joined them as soon as I could wolf down the eggs and bacon, sadly not appreciating Eirani’s excellent cooking.

Devlin and Veyada sat in the room with the curtains closed, blue light illuminating their faces from below. When I was young, this used to be one of the kids’ rooms where all the cousins used to sleep. The bunk beds that used to stand here were gone, replaced by five single beds, but the curtains with dinosaur prints still hung over the windows and the door that led into the back yard. Apparently, long before my parents bought the house, the room had replaced a lean-to shack that housed a chicken coop.

Veyada, Sheydu, Evi, Telaris and Devlin had called it their home for the past few weeks, complete with the dinosaur curtains, the set of shelves with old toys, the ping pong table—and watching games of ping pong between Veyada and Reida had turned out to be nothing short of amusing—and the cartoon murals.

I didn’t see Telaris until I was already in the room. He sat in the very corner, on the Tommy the Space Pilot bedspread, fiddling with a frequency map on his screen. This was still a very normal guest bedroom. Normally, my association would set up all their equipment on a table in the middle and there would be screens and projectors everywhere. We hadn’t even bothered setting up a communication hub. We were on holidays, damn it.

Veyada didn’t meet my eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out again while staring at the screen.

I remained near the door and let them work for a while.

There was no need to deliberate on their failure to detect that we were being blocked. They were going to be beating themselves up over this a lot without my help. I had no doubt that I would have to field expressions of failure and offers to leave my association, and they would be uncomfortable with my refusal to be angry enough about it to let them leave. That was the Coldi way.

I’d have trouble getting some of them to change their mind, too. This was a serious business, especially for young people like Reida and Deyu, who were training and aspired to be the very best.

Damn. I should have known that there really was no such thing as a relaxing holiday as the head of a Coldi association, especially if you were not Coldi yourself and possessed none of the instincts that told Coldi people what to do and how to feel.

“We were led astray because we have been getting news and communication, but not all,” Veyada said. He still didn’t meet my eyes.

He was fairly prone to taking on too much guilt and I hated, hated that the confident man who had once been part of Ezhya’s guards acted subservient to me. Veyada knew so much. I loved Thayu and Nicha, but if I had a diplomatic problem, Veyada’s was the opinion I would consider the most.

“Find out where it’s coming from and who might be involved,” I said.

Serious nods. Very serious. This was deeply serious business. I needed to give them the opportunity to redeem themselves or they would start making stupid suggestions, such as leaving my household. I should address the issue later, when the dust had settled.

Telaris looked up. “I wonder what else we’ve missed.” How many messages were waiting for us about truly important stuff?

I said, “We might go for a little trip once we find out how big this blocked area is.”

“Any thought that it could be for another reason than us being here?” Telaris said.

“I can’t see why.”

My father came to the door, a frown on his face. I realised we had been pretty cryptic about what was going on, and was going to explain it, but he said, “Were you expecting a visitor?”

A visitor? “No. Why?”

“There is someone outside.”

“At the door?”

“Not yet. In the driveway.”

I went with him to the living room, where Erith was looking out the window.

The white car that we’d seen earlier had returned and had stopped in the house’s driveway. The door was open and the occupant was coming out. With his grey suit, he looked like a real estate agent, but failing that, a lawyer or undercover cop. Nobody in this laid-back area wore jackets like that.

“Do you know him?” my father asked.

“Not at all. We did see him drive past when we were on the beach.”

The man came up the path through the rose garden to the front door. This was telling, because no one ever used the front door of my father’s house. While it was at the front of the house, you had to turn off the driveway and walk through the garden to get to it.

My father went to open it. I remained in the hallway around the corner, out of view of the front door.

Thayu and Veyada stood behind me, Thayu with her reader, Veyada with his hand on his jacket. I didn’t think he carried weapons, but it wouldn’t be the first time that he would have surprised me this way. Devlin waited further down the hallway with Evi.

A waft of cool air came in as my father opened the door.

“Mr Wilson?” The man’s voice was clear. He sounded younger than he looked.

“Yes. How can I help you, young man?”

Never underestimate my father’s capability of diplomacy. I probably would have told him I didn’t buy from door-to-door salesmen.

“My name is Jarek Malicki and I work for Benton Gonzales International Lawyers. I would like to speak to your son.” He spoke with the cultured accent that was typical of the Nations of Earth diplomats. International lawyers were mostly German.

“My son is on recreational leave,” my father said.

“But I understand he is here? Please. It’s quite important. He sent my client a message about a possible collaboration and I’ve been trying to contact him. He’s a very hard man to get onto.”

I frowned at Thayu. Did I send a message? His client? Wait—was he talking about Robert Davidson?

I glanced at Veyada. He nodded. Thayu, too.

I stepped out from around the corner. “I’m Cory Wilson.”

My father turned around. The visitor smiled. Relieved?

His face cleared. “Ah, Mr Wilson, I was just asking your father about you. I’m so glad to see you. I’m Jarek Malicki, from Benton Gonzales International Lawyers.”

Glad to see me?

From close up, he was a fairly thin man. His suit was clearly designed for cooler weather, and drops of sweat pearled on his forehead. It didn’t look like it was a cheap suit either.

I said, “I hope you understand I’m on leave. I don’t make a habit of letting work intrude on my sparse free time.”

“I do understand, and I do apologise. I’ve come a long way especially to meet you.” Yes, he was a bit whiny, but that was not why I distrusted him.

“You could have sent a message announcing your intention to visit.”

“I could have, but the matter I’d like to discuss is too confidential for messages. I would have contacted an office if you had one, but this was the only address I had for you.”

And I didn’t feel comfortable with him coming to my father’s house. I guessed finding out the address wouldn’t have been too hard. My father didn’t keep his address a secret. But I felt protective about him. My father was retired. Even when he still worked for Nations of Earth as station manager, he’d never been involved in high-level diplomatics and he didn’t deserve to become involved in it now.

I said, “Well then. You were talking about a client of yours. Who are we talking about?”

“Robert Davidson. I understand you sent him a message inquiring about his cooperation in naming people in Barresh that he knows to have a relationship with the Pretoria Cartel.”

“And the fact that you’re here means that he’s interested?”

“Interested, yes. But I need to explain his position to you. It’s not quite as simple as it sounds.”

I couldn’t see, for the life of me, what was complicated about giving information, but I stepped back, repressing a sigh. “You better come in.”

I preceded him into the hallway. There was no way that I would take him into the kitchen, but I could not let him stand at the door, either.

Thayu, Veyada and the others were smart enough to duck into doorways so that he couldn’t see we had an audience, although he would probably know who else was here. The time I’d seen him this morning might not have been the first that he came past the house.

We went to my father’s study, just to the left of the front door.

After retiring, my father had little desire to keep up with the highly-strung world of politics and diplomacy, and the farm was his priority.

Therefore, the study had been relegated to the smallest room in the house save the toilet. When I was little the room used to hold nothing except a wardrobe with coats and other spare clothing, because there wasn’t much room for anything else.

The wardrobe was gone, replaced by a desk with the home hub and computer on one side and a bookshelf on the other. The bookshelf held pictures and other memorabilia of his working life: pictures of meetings with important people, like then president of Nations of Earth Pedro Gonzales, and his meeting with Joyelin Akhtari, who had been part of the furniture at gamra for so long in her position as Chief Secretary. I remembered that first meeting well. It had been at Midway Space Station and I’d been ten and I’d been more concerned with recapturing my classmate’s pet rabbittooh than the most powerful woman in all the inhabited worlds.

Of course she had now also lost her position in the aftermath of the turmoil over the old Aghyrian ship and whether or not the Aghyrians in Barresh knew about it.

The top shelf also held a picture of the three of us, my father, mother, and me as a little boy, on the beach outside with our previous dog Mitty.

It was all deeply personal, and I felt reluctant to have this man in here and to let him look over all these sections of my life. I let him sit in the room’s only chair, which had its back to the shelves and faced the computer screen—dark, because the computer switched off after half an hour of disuse.

I leaned against the doorpost, as there was no room for anyone else to sit. It also made me look like a headmaster berating a naughty student. I wasn’t sure that this was the message I wanted to give him, but my feelings about this situation were definitely not all positive.

Both Thayu and Veyada had come into view of the door.

Jarek looked at them, his eyes widening briefly.

I gave him a nod. “Please, do tell me why you’re here.”

“You wrote to us asking my client for information. My client is happy to talk to you about his contacts off-world.”

“Is he?” Just like that, huh? No response and then all of a sudden he sends someone across the world.

He reached for his reader. Veyada and Thayu, both in the hallway behind me, stiffened and reached inside their jackets.

Jarek looked up. “Whoa. No need to be so nervous.” He held his hands flat on the table. That was a position that was shown in the Nations of Earth anti-attack and safety manual. I remembered getting that training myself.

I looked pointedly at his hands.

He withdrew them, not sure if he got why I picked up on it.

He continued, “I understand if you’re suspicious, but I was only going to show you the letter.” He looked pointedly at the pocket in his jacket.

“Just show me the document, then.”

Veyada and Thayu relaxed. Jarek blew out a breath.

He extracted his reader from his pocket and turned it on. After flicking through a few pages, he turned the screen to me. It displayed a handwritten document. The writing was messy, as if the writer was unused to writing on a pad. The letter was only two paragraphs long.

I read aloud so that Veyada and Thayu and the others in the hallway could hear it.

Mr. Wilson,

I have now received several of your messages regarding my contacts in Barresh. I understand that if I were ever to return to Barresh, I would need to present some form of compensation for grievances held against me by both kehu and Pingali tribes.

Real classy, misspelling keihu and Pengali. Keihu were not a tribe, either. That showed how much respect he had for those groups.

My business interests in Barresh are important enough to me that I am prepared to talk to you and reveal my contacts there. I have sent Mr Malicki, my lawyer’s legal assistant, to instruct you on how to contact me. As you will be aware, I was placed on house arrest and cannot travel anywhere. Mr. Malicki will assist you. He was trained in international law and worked at the Nations of Earth court before going into private practice. He is registered with the International Law Association. You can check out his details there. He is a trustworthy person.

I glanced at Thayu when I finished. She glanced back. Suspicious. We weren’t wearing feeders, but I didn’t need a feeder to see that. When someone needed to point out that someone else was trustworthy, this was not usually a good sign.

I met Jarek Malicki’s eyes. “What leads him to this change of mind? I wrote to him several times, but did not receive a reply.”

“He wanted to reply, but he needed his lawyers to clear it for him.”

“Wanted to reply?” I could not imagine Robert Davidson wanting to do any such thing.

“He feels sorry for his actions in Barresh and wants to make up for it.”

Sorry for his actions? Sorry for himself more like. “Mr Malicki, please don’t waste my time. I know Mr Davidson just as well as you do, and he would not be sorry for any of his actions. He might need to come back to Barresh, because he’s got unfinished business or money parked there, but sorry, no. Tell me what Mr Davidson’s conditions for giving me this information are and I might think about it. I want to stress that while it would be nice to have his information, it is not of vital importance to me, so it had better be good, or he had better not ask too much.”

A short but uneasy silence followed.

I didn’t know what he had expected from me. That I would roll over and tell him that I’d do anything for this information?

He asked in a soft voice, “Then why did you write?”

“I asked Mr Davidson purely out of an opportunistic mindset, knowing that he might apply for some favours in return for some names. There are some, limited, favours I could give him, things that are in the realm of travel bonuses. I could provide accommodation. I could arrange security—which he’s going to need if he will ever visit again. But please stop trying to appeal to me for sympathy, because he won’t get it.”

“I told you, he’s sorry for what he did. Genuinely sorry. He spent a long time in custody and had a lot of opportunity to think about it.”

“And my name is Santa Claus.”

Another uneasy silence.

I asked, “How long have you known him? Did you know him before you got this unenviable job?”

“Well, no . . .” he wiped sweat off his upper lip.

“In all the interactions I had with Robert and the stories I’ve heard about his business ethics, I very much doubt that he even understands the pain he inflicted on people, let alone feels sorry for them. Robert Davidson serves Robert Davidson, no one else. But let’s just say we both understand this and go into the discussion from that point of view, what can he bring for me that I don’t already know and that is not going to cost me something I cannot or am unwilling to give? Money is one of those things. I do not pay for information.”

“Oh no, I understand that.”

There had been a number of recent scandals involving bribery of that type.

“All right then.” I crossed my arms over my chest. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Thayu and Veyada in the corridor, listening to every word.

He started haltingly, “As you know, Mr. Davidson is a member of the Pretoria Cartel—”

“Let’s establish this first: he is or he was a member of the Cartel?”

“That’s immaterial.”

“No, it is not. If he was a member, he’d be inclined to give me information that harms the current members. Also you may like to know that I am in contact with Minke Kluysters about a matter of business.” A bit of bluff. The man—considered to be one of the Cartel’s leaders—had asked me to help him establish an office in Barresh, and I’d indirectly told him to perform an anatomically impossible act on himself, but because I’d never formally told him as much, I suspected that if I came back with an attractive proposal, the door was still open.

“Mr Kluysters told me that he is no longer interested in getting this office.” His blue eyes met mine. So, there was a bit more grit to this man than appeared from first impressions. Not that I believed him, but we were all bluffing here.

The game was on.

“All right. Now what exactly is it that Mr Davidson wants me to do in return for this information?”

“He’ll tell you, but he wants to meet you, but since he’s under house arrest by order of the court, he’ll pay for you and up to two companions to travel to him.”

“To South Africa?”

“That’s where he is.”

“And who is to say that I’ll be safe travelling there?” From what I understood, Robert’s property was quite remote and the territory was hostile, in the hands of the free landholders who made up the Pretoria Cartel.

“That’s what the companions are for. You can take guards. Really, Mr. Wilson, I’ve been there several times and it’s safe. I would think that you have faced much more dangerous situations. Mr. Davidson will send a driver to Pretoria to pick you up and take you to the property. The van is very nice with comfortable seats and a minibar. The driver will handle any problems, but none have ever presented themselves when I travelled there.”

We’d see about that. “And I get to take two people?”

“Well, he’s facing a lot of court costs, and cost is a consideration.”

For a man who owned many mines and city renovation projects? I was more inclined to believe that the number restriction existed so that he could control me and prevent me from leaving when I wanted, or from investigating places where I wanted to go rather than where his minders wanted me to go.

When I’d been silent for a while, he asked, “So, can I make the arrangements?” He sounded much too keen.

“I’d still like to get an idea of the type of information he can give me and if it’s going to be worth my time.”

“It will be worth it. Take it from me.”

“And what conditions will be attached to the information?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Wilson. Mr. Robertson instructed me explicitly not to talk about that.”

“So I’m supposed to travel across the world for some unknown information—”

“That you asked for.”

“Maybe I did, but I don’t play games. I’m not going to see him unless I get more details about how useful it is likely to be. It’s a long way to South Africa, and I’m officially on holidays.”

“I can guarantee that it will be very useful.”

“I think I prefer to be the judge of that.”

His face worked. He put his hands on the armrests of the chair. “Well, if you’re going to be like that . . .”

“What else did you expect? That I would commit to coming with you without knowing what type of thing I’m going to be told and what sort of situation I’m being led into? Anyone with an inkling of experience in the diplomatic circuit will know better than that.” Come to think of it, why didn’t he know better?

“I’ll have to talk to Mr. Robertson about what information I can share. It’s night in South Africa, so I’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

He got up from the chair and I accompanied him out of the door. Pearls of sweat glistened on his upper lip.

He walked down the path back to the car, lonely and kind of forlorn.

“What do you think?” I asked Thayu and Nicha, who had come up behind me.

“He is a strange fellow,” Nicha said. “He is either very smart or is kept deliberately dumb. Why would he come here and not tell us anything? That seems like a waste of money.”

“Because he knows someone is listening?” Sheydu said from further in the hallway.

That brought me back to what we had been doing when he turned up: checking our communication and wondering what was being blocked, how, why and by whom. And wondering if perhaps Jarek Malicki came here because he knew about it.

“He’ll probably be back,” I said. “He’s probably been told to hang around until we give in.” It might all be a game, including his statement that he needed to talk to Robert.

Sheydu said, “I’m not sure that he is just a runner.”

Thayu shook her head. “I don’t think so either. He’s a strange man. That’s all I can say.”

Through the window, I could see Jarek walking through the rose garden back to the car.

“It would be worth trying to find out more about him.”

“We already did that,” Nicha said, holding up his reader.

Seriously, this was why I loved my association.

“He checks out,” Nicha continued. “He’s a lawyer, as he said. He has worked for the Nations of Earth court, but now he works for private clients. Robert Davidson is listed as his client.”

Somehow, I thought about the last time my team had checked out someone and their information had been consistent with their promises. That had been Jemiro, and his information had turned out to be fabricated.

“Someone is playing a game with us,” I said, to no one in particular.

“Yup,” Veyada said. “We have to prove that we’re better at it than they are.”

Sheydu, Thayu, Nicha, Devlin, Evi, Telaris, Reida and Deyu all exchanged serious nods and looks. Because the first thing that would occur to a human—notifying authorities so that they could stop the game being played—did not even enter their minds.

Outside, Jarek took a look at the house as he got into the car and drove off, in the western direction, to the main road across the peninsula.

Yes, there was a good chance that he would be back, and I had no idea what I could offer him if he did. I had nothing Robert would want, and nothing I was happy for him to have.

Robert was already in the only place where he was safe: his own house, surrounded by his own vigilante. If he left his property, he wasn’t safe. The Cartel probably operated in Barresh, and he wasn’t safe there either. He definitely wasn’t safe from the Thousand Island tribe if he ever came back.

If he had pissed off the members of the Pretoria Cartel, there didn’t seem to be any places where he could flee. They were everywhere.

I stared at the idyllic setting of the bay and the beach and the green headland and the yachts that lay offshore and the blue sky. It didn’t feel so safe anymore.