The scale wasn't half-measured either. I counted packages and did some quick mental arithmetic, then did it again because I didn't believe the results the first time. This container held a billion crowns at a conservative estimate. The krona isn't the rock solid currency it used to be. Its value has been steadily eroded since the start of the occupation and the slide has only accelerated since the liberation. Even so, a billion crowns was a staggering sum. A fraction of a percent of counterfeits in the cash supply will upset a currency's stability. With the Provo Government's grip already shaky, there was enough here to undermine the entire system's economy. If this container got through to Wunderland, Alpha Centauri would be in chaos within a month.
It wouldn't, though, because we'd gotten here first. I felt suddenly shaky. This was a major haul. I was well aware of what the Provos knew and did not know about the Isolationists. The scale of their smuggling system, their expansion into medical facilities and organlegging and their counterfeiting operation were all new pieces of information. We were going to get positive DNA idents from this site, and the Goldskin interrogators would get the names we didn't have from the ones we caught. This investigation was going to break the back of the Isolationists in the Swarm before they even got going and shut down a huge smuggling ring as well. The information we gained would let the Provopolizei put a major crimp in their operations on Wunderland too.
It was a good feeling—it was the way I used to feel when Prakit and I started to unravel one of our big cases back on Earth. And why not? This was just as big—maybe bigger. Tiamat might well wind up crowning my career and I'd only been here a month.
My enthusiasm damped itself. The whole Wunderland half of the project depended on the Provopolizei. They might well be “convinced” to close the case down by some pro-Isolationist politician.
I shook off the negative images. I was doing my job and doing it well. Wunderland was out of my control, but I'd already scored a major victory just by catching this shipment. No politician could take that away from me.
Merral came in, gasping when she saw the cash.
“Impressive, eh?”
She just nodded.
“Don't get too excited, it's not real.”
She looked at the stacked packages “There must be hundreds of millions of crowns here.”
“A billion at the very least.”
She whistled. “They could crash the market with this.”
“I think that's the plan.”
She tore her gaze away from the money and handed me a hardcopy. “Here, you're going to need this.”
It was from the data terminal in the inspection container. It listed thirty-six tranship boxes that had passed through 19J2 at some point, along with their points of origin, shipper, receiver and supposed manifest. This bay was a hub for smuggling activities ranging from UN outposts at the edge of the system to remote monorail stations deep in the Jotuns on Wunderland. One container was even shuttling back and forth from Earth itself.
Hunter came in and reported. “The crime scene team has arrived and the access tunnel has been secured.” He took in the container's contents and for the first time ever I saw him at a loss. “There is… considerable wealth here.”
“Almost certainly counterfeit.”
“Of course.” He was back in control that quickly. “Shall I inform the UNF authorities that they can recover their pharmaceuticals as soon as the team has finished their sweep?”
“I'll do it; you take over here.” His practicality reminded me that there was plenty of work to be done. The bay was secure and the sweepers would give me a report. I had to start coordinating the authorities whose jurisdictions were on Merral's destination list. It was a big criminal organization. Not everyone would get warned in time. A lot of crooks were about to get caught.
Johansen came in with First Tracker in tow. I took some time to fill them in on the findings and set them to tracing our runner. The sweepers were already at work in the bay by the time I left. I tubed back to the office and got the paperwork under way. I'd only been at my desk half an hour when the screen chimed. I punched the call through. It was Suze.
“Hi, am I interrupting anything?”
I smiled. “Big exciting things, but I'm glad you called anyway.”
“Why don't you knock off early and tell me about them?” Her smile was rich in promises.
“I really shouldn't…” I looked at my long list of to-do’s “… but what the hell.” Any excuse to dodge paperwork. A twelve-hour delay wouldn't make much difference in the course of the investigation. I was just sending preliminary reports anyway. Most of the information I needed wouldn't be back from the field lab until tomorrow.
“Great, your apt, thirty minutes. I'll order dinner.”
“Sold.” She punched off and I stored my work in progress.
Suze was waiting at the door when I got to my apt. I thumbed the plate and kissed her. We went in and I unslung my patrol pack and hung it on a hook by the door. She looked at it with curiosity.
“You carry a gun?”
“It's just a stunner.”
“Does that have anything to do with your big exciting happenings?”
“Not a whole lot as it turns out. We closed down an Isolationist smuggling operation in an abandoned container bay today. And we know who killed Miranda.”
“Who?”
“The Isolationists.” I paused, then shut up. I'd been about to tell her about their organlegging operation, but there was no need to upset her.
She didn't notice my hesitation. “Catch anyone?”
“Not yet, but we will. We got a big pile of stolen drugs and about a billion in counterfeit krona as well.”
She whistled. “That is big and exciting.”
I grinned, still very pleased with the success. “I have to convince the management that I'm earning my pay.”
“You won't get fired this week anyway.” She reached past me and took my pack off the wall. “What else do you carry?”
“Just what you'd expect. Comm unit, binders, medkit, beltcomp, shockrod, that sort of thing.”
She opened the pouch and examined the medkit. It was ARM issue on Earth, more advanced than what was given out here. “You're ready for anything, aren't you?”
“As much as I can be.”
She took out the binders, simple double circlets of stainless steel—very low tech. She locked one cuff to her right wrist.
“Anything at all?”
She held out her arms towards me, wrists together. Her eyes were high voltage arcs. She wore a look of invitation and defiance—“I dare you.”
I walked over and gently took her hands. Her gaze didn't waver. Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the other cuff and closed it around her left wrist. The lock is usually inaudible. This time the click sounded like a gunshot.
She parted her lips. I pulled her arms over her head and kissed her fervently, pulling her pliant body hard against mine. Eventually, I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. My apt is on the .8G level and she was as light as a feather in my arms.
The screen chimed, though I had it set for privacy, dragging me out of a deep sleep. Priority call. I punched it through and got the Goldskin dispatcher. Emergency. Johansen had arrested a suspect and shots had been fired. She was hit—no word on her condition yet—and the suspect was fleeing. The Goldskins were in pursuit but weren't pressing their quarry. He had a strakkaker and was moving along a pedestrian promenade. They didn't want to provoke a firefight.
I didn't blame them. I punched the dispatcher into audio only and patched in security surveillance. They'd be following him on the monitors. The screen showed a crowded arcade from halfway up one wall. A surging disturbance in the throng marked the escaper. He was a dark-haired Wunderlander, running awkwardly in the low G, brandishing his weapon and screaming. People were desperately scrambling out of his way. As I watched, a startled kzin leapt straight up and grabbed a light fixture on the ceiling fifty feet overhead. The fugitive jerked his gun up to cover the sudden motion but didn't fire. Between his panic and lack of coordination, it was a miracle he hadn't already emptied the strakkaker into the crowd. One hint of pursuit and he'd do just that. The Goldskins had made the right choice. Let him run, exhaust himself and then hole up somewhere. Even if he took hostages and wound up killing them all it would be no worse than a shootout down on that floor. Hopefully, it would turn out much better.