“Han, you can call Gunter Wong on the way. Let’s go, people.”
The call to Lancia had a lag time of fifteen minutes.
That was unexpected. The lag between Redmond and Lancia had always been at least two hours. In wartime, it should be longer still. Radko checked to be sure the call really was going to Lancia. It was.
“Han.” Gunter Wong’s smile was wide and relieved. “Your father has been trying to contact you.” The smile changed to concern. “What’s wrong with you? Are you in hospital? Who is your doctor?”
Han looked startled.
“You’re in disguise, dummy,” van Heel hissed.
“Oh. No, Gunter, I’m fine. This is just a disguise. I’m supposed to look like this. I’m working undercover, and have been out of contact.”
Cross-sector messages were always a little schizophrenic. Because of the lag, you fitted as much into the conversation as you could before the other person received it.
“We sent through an order.” Han glanced at van Heel’s screen. “WhiteRiver Company has ordered some Gippian shellfish for their base here at Redmond, and another order to go to the Factor of the Lesser Gods on Aeolus. We’re hoping we can travel with the shellfish. That is, four passengers.”
Fifteen minutes later, Wong’s reply came back. Warm and reassuring, “Of course, Yves. But where are you? Your family is frantic. Your father called the barracks, and they told him you were on indefinite leave owing to personal issues. Are you sure you’re well?”
“I’m fine. I’m working.” That answer wouldn’t get back to Wong for another fifteen minutes.
“If you have problems, you know you can go home to them.”
Han rubbed his eyes. “I’m fine, Gunter. I just need passage off Redmond for myself and my friends. We’re hoping to catch the shuttle your pilot brings the shellfish down in. It will need to carry at least four people. And we’ll need to be able to book passage on the ship.”
“I like your family,” Chaudry said, as they waited for the signal to return to Lancia and for Wong to reply.
“Me too, Chaudry. Me too.” Han glanced at Radko, looked away.
If Renaud and Amina Han knew he wasn’t their true son, and were complicit in whatever had happened, Radko wasn’t going to give him away.
By the time the next message arrived, Gunter Wong had someone with him.
“Papa,” Han said, but that wouldn’t get back for another fifteen minutes either.
How close were Gunter and Renaud, for Gunter to be able to call, and get, his neighbor over in less than half an hour?
Renaud Han looked haggard. “Yves. If there’s a ransom, we will pay it.”
“A ransom?”
Why would Han’s father assume such a thing?
“No one said anything about a ransom, Papa. I’m working.”
On a job that was getting more farcical by the minute. The longer this call went on, the more likely Redmond was to track it. Radko made winding motions with her finger.
Han nodded. “We need.” His voice caught and he paused to breathe deeply before he could continue. “We need to get off this world. We sent an order through to Gunter. We want to travel with that order. We called hoping to fast-track the order, and to ensure we could get passage with it. Please, Papa.”
Did he realize he’d added that last “please”?
This time, while they waited for the reply, Han muted the microphone on his comms. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Whatever we do,” van Heel said, “let’s not tell anyone we called your dad and asked him to get us out of trouble.”
Even Radko managed a chuckle.
Van Heel added, “Provided he stops panicking enough to help us out, that is.”
“I like him,” Chaudry said. “He’s worried.”
“Yes, but why, Chaudry? It’s a simple request. Please can you use your contacts to push this order through. Oh, and can you also make sure that whatever ship you send to do it picks up four passengers as well.” Van Heel held out her hands, palms up. “Yet this man is running around in circles. Both of them are. Haven’t you ever been away from home before, Han?”
“Of course I have. I work in Baoshan. My family lives in Han Province.”
“Never off world then?”
“I’ve only been off world once,” Chaudry said. “When I went to…” He trailed away. Radko strained to hear and thought the mumble ended in “Isador.”
Chaudry had spent six years as a trainee linesman at House of Isador.
“We travel,” Han said.
As van Heel had said, Han’s request was simple enough. So why had Renaud and Gunter reacted the way they had? What was Radko missing?
Han blew on his fingers as if they were cold. He said to Radko, “My father’s not normally—”
She nodded and cut off the rest of the apology with a motion of her hand. “If you can find out why he’s concerned, do so, but I want you to wrap it up next time through. We can’t talk much longer without Redmond picking up the signal.” She looked at van Heel. “Let me know when they do pick us up. And disable the tracker as of now.”
Han and van Heel both nodded.
It was closer to major population areas than she would have liked, but it might delay anyone associating this particular aircar with the call to Lancia. Redmond couldn’t track the signal through their ops comms, for autolocation had been turned off, but they could triangulate the call, then slowly check the aircars one by one.
They waited in silence for the return message. It wasn’t any less puzzling than the earlier communications.
Renaud struggled to speak. “I don’t know what lies they used to get you to Redmond, Yves, but they’re lying to you.”
Gunter Wong cut in. “Don’t do what they’re asking, Yves. It’s a trap. Cancel this order. They’re setting you up. The Factor is allergic to shellfish. Sending a gift like this. It’s as if you’re threatening his life. If you accompany that delivery, they’re sending you to your death.”
Maybe that was all they were worried about. If Wong was correct about the allergies, then delivering the shellfish to the Factor would be perceived as a threat. But why all the talk about ransom payments at the start of the conversation? Worse, not only had Renaud confirmed that they were on Redmond; Wong had told the enemy where they planned to go next.
“Yves,” Renaud said urgently, “I’ve contacted someone at Fleet Headquarters. They’ll know what to do. They’ll get you out of it.”
Radko nearly groaned aloud.
Van Heel caught her eye, pointed to the screen. “Aircraft.”
Closing in fast. That kind of speed meant military.
It was too soon for the military to have triangulated them. Too soon, even for Renaud Han’s well-meaning—if misguided—request for help from Fleet Headquarters to have been intercepted by a Redmond spy.
“Wrap this up, Han,” Radko said.
Han swallowed hard. “Papa, Gunter, I have to go. But please don’t cancel that shipment.” He clicked off.
“What weapons have we got?” Radko asked although she already knew. One tranq gun, six blasters, and a Pandora field diffuser.
She switched to one of the downward-facing cameras, to see what type of country they were flying over. Rocky outcrops.
“Can you set us down anywhere, van Heel?” On the ground they’d be stationary targets, but if the aircraft shot them out of the air, it would be worse. “Better yet, how far away are we from a town or city?”
Maybe they wouldn’t have to fight it out at all if they could hide.