“No,” Kydd replied flatly. “Part of me wants to… . I admit that. But another part wants to know the answer to a very important question.”
Zander’s eyebrows rose. “Which is …?”
“Why is my father on Turaxis II—having dinner with Colonel Vanderspool, who is a self-aggrandizing asshole, and almost certainly a thief?”
Zander shrugged philosophically. “Um, remember Fort Howe? And the load of jammers? We’re still spending the money.”
Kydd knew Zander was correct. It was hypocritical to accuse Vanderspool, and by implication his father, of crimes he had committed. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and cross what seemed like a vast chasm. He’d been living a lie for months now, but somewhere in the middle of it all, that lie had become reality. And there was Vanderspool to consider… . What would happen if Kydd walked up to them right then and there? It would be catastrophic! The truth regarding his identity would come out—and his father would insist that he leave the military.
Kydd felt a vague plan start to form in his mind. A childish scheme, really, that involved following his father back to wherever it was that he was staying, and a possible reunion without Vanderspool being present. He warned his dinner companion, and gave the other man a chance to bow out, but Zander shook his head. “Are you kidding? No way … I’ll watch your six.”
The two managed to enjoy the rest of their dinner, but Kydd never took his eyes off the pair.
Having already paid the rather extravagant bill, Kydd was ready when the two men rose from their table, paused to say something to the formally attired maître d’, and left. It was easy to follow them out of the restaurant and down a darkened walkway.
But rather than head for the pedestrian causeway and the shoreline beyond, Vanderspool and Bennet turned in the opposite direction. Kydd was surprised to see that neither one of the men was accompanied by bodyguards, but supposed that was indicative of where they were, and the nature of their relationship.
Despite being off the beaten path, there was still a bit of foot traffic. So Kydd and Zander were able to remain inconspicuous as they followed the two men to a low-slung building that had the name F ISHC O painted on the side of it in big black letters. A boatyard was located right next door. There was the glow of what might have been floodlights from the water side of the structure, and based on the intermittent sound of power tools, it appeared that work was going to continue well into the night.
As the door to the FishCo building opened to let the men enter, a shaft of light shot out onto the walkway. Kydd caught sight of two Bennet family retainers and a couple of men who might have been resocialized marines dressed in civilian clothes.
What could that mean? Kydd wondered as he and Zander paused at the end of the boardwalk and pretended to look at the view. A throaty rumble was heard and a dimly lit wave skimmer appeared out of the darkness. It slowed as it passed under them, and Kydd could hear waves slapping against the pilings as the engine died.
Were more people arriving to meet with Vanderspool and his father? Or was that simply a fishing boat? Kydd had no way to know but was very curious. “Wait here,” he said, as he turned to Zander. “I’m going to find out what’s going on in there.”
“Forget it,” Zander responded. “I’m coming with you! Remember Firebase Zulu? I had your back then and I’ve got it now.”
Kydd slapped the other man on his shoulder and smiled. “You’re just as crazy as Harnack. You know that?”
Zander grinned. He was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the chatter of a power wrench. “Look who’s talking! How are we going to get in?”
“Over there,” Kydd replied. “See the outside stairs that lead up to the second floor? Maybe the door’s unlocked.”
That seemed unlikely, but Zander didn’t have a better idea, and seconds later he was a few steps behind the sniper, tiptoeing up the wooden stairs to a landing and a weather-beaten door. It was, as Zander had expected it would be, firmly locked. “Damn!” Kydd whispered. “We’re fekked.”
“I have an idea,” Zander replied. “Boost me up… . Maybe there’s a way down from the roof.”
Kydd looked up, judged that the roof was flat enough to stand on, and nodded. “Good idea … be careful, though. I know my father’s people will be armed, and chances are Vanderspool’s bodyguards are, too.”
Zander nodded, put his right foot into the cradle that Kydd provided, and was ready when the larger man heaved him upward. There was a muted thump as Zander threw his forearms out onto the roof. Then, having brought a leg up and over, he disappeared from sight.
Three long minutes passed, and Kydd felt very exposed on the open stairway, as Zander did whatever he was doing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the other Devil was back, his head projecting out over the edge of the roof. “Ryk … there’s a set of skylights. Half of them are propped open. I could hear them talking. Here … grab my belt.”
The leather strap wasn’t very long but Kydd was in good shape, and once he had hold of the belt, was able to pull himself up to the point where he could transfer his grip to the roof. Then, with help from Zander, Kydd scrambled onto the slanted surface. Thanks to a splash of light from the boatyard next door, he could see well enough.
Zander held a finger to his lips, motioned Kydd forward, and led him across the heat-absorbing roof to a row of partially opened skylights. Somebody was hammering on metal in the boatyard so there was very little chance of being heard.
The inside of the glass was painted in keeping with blackout regulations, but triangles of buttery light could be seen from the sides, and Kydd could hear the soft murmur of conversation emanating from below. Part of it anyway, until a chain hoist rattled momentarily and drowned everything out.
He knelt next to one of the openings, looked down through the gap, and realized that except for some side galleries the second floor was open. Judging from the hooks that were visible, plus a net that was stretched from one side to the other, the space was used to repair fishing gear. Three men were gathered directly below him, including his father, Vanderspool, and a man Kydd had never seen before. And it was he who was speaking. He had a deep, gravelly voice.
“I’m talking about a billion credits worth of ardeon crystals all headed for Port Horthra,” he said. “That’s where they will be uploaded to transports and shipped to a more secure planet for safekeeping.”
“Except we plan to intercept them,” Vanderspool put in smoothly, “and that’s where Bennet Industries comes in. A Confederate task force is scheduled to drop into orbit three days from now. That will force your armored freighters and ore carriers to withdraw for a few days. At that point, a second-party ship contracted by Bennet Industries will take on a high-priority government cargo. One which my troops will guard.” There was something else as well, but the words were lost as some sort of announcement was made over the PA system next door.
Kydd felt sick. He remembered the speech his father had made at the university the last time he saw him. About how profitable the wars were for the Confederacy. Now he knew why.
“Which raises a very important question,” the KM official interjected. “After your troops hijack the crystals—what’s to keep them from talking later on?”
“I have a plan for that,” Vanderspool assured him. “The raid will be conducted by the 1st platoon, Alpha Company, of the 321st Colonial Rangers Battalion. That includes the squad the press calls ‘Heaven’s Devils.’ Once the operation is over I will send the survivors off to be resocialized.”