The Phoenix Conspiracy (21 page)

Titus had said these attackers were
members of CERKO and, judging from how well-equipped they were, it
seemed CERKO was not so defunct after all. Maybe even better
organized than before. That such a high-profile terror organization
could be active again without Intel Wing’s knowledge was
disturbing, almost as disturbing as the fact that they wanted
Calvin dead, at least ostensibly. He seemed like such a random,
arbitrary target. Yet they'd known in advance he was going to be
there, and who he was. Maybe Raidan and his mysterious allies had
planted them there to kill Calvin and slow down the
pursuit.

Something else stood out. The attack,
despite how well organized and funded it was, had been sloppy. It
fit CERKO's profile to botch an operation, but it still didn't make
sense how they were well-enough positioned to take him out yet
manage to fail so completely. Their information had been good.
They’d known he'd be there. They’d known who he was. They’d had the
hardware to kill him. So why had they done such a poor job of it?
For the first time since his brush with death, Calvin doubted
they'd ever intended to kill him at all.

But what else could they get out of
it? Why attack an Intel Wing agent if not to kill him? Scare him
off the chase? No, that would never work. Maybe it was someone who
wanted it to look like Raidan tried to kill his pursuer, who still
wanted Calvin alive to keep hunting Raidan.

Or maybe CERKO really had tried to
kill him and just botched it up.

Titus was the key to this riddle. He'd
worn an old navy uniform, probably to get Calvin's attention. And
he, like the others, was linked to CERKO. And he'd been involved in
the prison break that had liberated a good dozen ex-CERKO soldiers.
He was as much a red-handed CERKO operative as the rest, at least
at one point in time, which helped explain why Calvin's would-be
assassins seemed to trust Titus...

No
... Calvin realized something about the memory. The first set
of CERKO soldiers who escorted him away from the casino, they had
trusted Titus. Up until the moment when Titus killed them. But the
second group they ran into, the woman and man around the corner,
had opened fire without a word and killed Titus—their own man! Did
they intend to kill him all along to help clean up the operation?
Or did they somehow know Titus had betrayed them? Perhaps they
fired because they saw Calvin still alive? Calvin tapped his desk
wondering.
Always more questions than
answers...

After several minutes of getting
nowhere, he opened a secure connection to Aleator One, encrypted
using Aleator's own operating codes which Calvin had access to and
his crew did not. He gave the appropriate key phrases to connect
directly to Grady.

"What can I do for you,
Calvin?"

"I've reviewed some of the package you
gave me," said Calvin as he ejected the datadisc from his computer
and locked it in a drawer. "And I discovered that all people
involved were connected to CERKO. The only dead guy who wasn't was
my soldier whose body, I assume, is on its way to his
family."

"Yeah it's on its way first class. The
Empire forwarded the money a few hours ago. As for CERKO, that
doesn't really surprise me. We've been hearing that name thrown
around here and there. So far I don't have anything for you, except
for a couple of leads on how these guys got here. Unregistered
private craft, they came on at least two different ships. We've
locked them both down. There might have been a third but, if so, we
haven't found it yet. That's all I've got for you.”

"Any idea who owns those
ships?"

"No, they were found
abandoned."

"Too bad."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, it’s pretty likely one or more
of their operatives survived. Either by escaping your men or else
not being involved in the attack outside the casino. Not a soldier,
an accessory. Someone who housed them, or gave them directions, or
information. If so, that person or group might still be on the
station, especially if you're watching all the ships that leave.
Backtrack and find out where these guys stayed, who they talked to,
review whatever security footage you have. And see if you can find
something."

"Yeah, yeah, I know how to run my
outfit. When we find them, and we will, we'll nail the bastards to
the wall."

"Try to get some information
from them
before
you nail them to the wall."

"Yeah, yeah."

"One last thing. I want to know if any
of these CERKO operatives, at any point, had contact with the team
that came aboard from the Harbinger. Even for just a second. Or if
they could have contacted the Harbinger from your station. I have
to know if they're connected."

"OK, for you, I'll check
thoroughly."

"Thanks. Let me know when you find
something."

"Likewise."

The transmission ended and Calvin
rested his head in his hands. He was rattled a little from the
firefight but it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. He’d probably
never get used to seeing violence like that, but he knew how to
compartmentalize and deal with it.

He resumed analyzing the data in front
of him. Just as he finished looking over Titus' file again, the
name Tarmosis Beta stood out.

He tapped the comm. "Summers, would
you please come in for a minute?"

"Yes, sir."

A moment later his door slid open and
she stepped into his office. It was all he could do to keep his
eyes from combing her over top to bottom. Instead, wanting to keep
his dignity, he glanced away, back at his reports. "Please, sit
down."

She did, right across from him. "What
is this about, Lieutenant Commander?" He caught a whiff of
apple-scented lotion.

"You're from the Tarmosis System,
right?"

"I am. I was born on Tarmosis
Alpha."

"What do you know about Tarmosis
Beta?" he asked, finally looking at her. "Specifically, CERKO
activities there."

"I don't know much ," said Summers. "I
only lived in that system for two years before my family
moved."

He frowned. "OK here's what I'm
looking at. My attackers were CERKO operatives. Never mind my
source on that," he kept her from interrupting. "Now, I know CERKO
had its primary outfit on Tarmosis Beta. And that's where the
Empire cracked down on them hardest. I want to know who their ring
leaders were, where their strongholds were, and most importantly
how they financed their operations."

"Well, according to the military
records your own agency gathered," said Summers. "They were a
loose, disorganized alliance of small groups, not a large outfit,
and their strongholds were city basements and warehouses. Their
money came through extortion, kidnappings, theft, and the
occasional private donation. And the ring leaders were all rounded
up and executed."

"Hmm..." Calvin scratched
his head. That description of CERKO may have been accurate a decade
ago, but it seemed lacking now. It certainly didn’t explain how
they’d managed to arm a dozen people and get them halfway across
the Empire into neutral space to attack a low-profile, hard-to-find
target like Calvin...
that
required some serious organization and funding. If
nothing else, the information of who Calvin was, what he looked
like, and where he'd be wasn't easy to find and therefore wouldn't
be cheap.

"Who is your source?" asked
Summers.

"It seems," said Calvin, ignoring her
question. "That we're dealing with a new CERKO, one that is more
centrally unified and has access to a lot more money."

"So you're not going to answer my
question?" she looked irritated.

"One of the men on Aleator didn't
attack me, he helped me. He killed a couple of my attackers before
he himself was killed."

She sat up.

Calvin continued. "He didn't get a
chance to say much, but he mentioned CERKO. I don't think he said
that to throw me off. And his fingerprints match those of an
ex-CERKO operative and so do the fingerprints of all my attackers.
They're all connected to CERKO. I take that as a pretty strong sign
that CERKO is, to one degree or another, thriving. And that it had
its hand in the attack on Aleator One. Wouldn't you
agree?"

"Assuming your information is
correct," she said very carefully, "then yes, I think your
reasoning is sound. Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I didn't know before, I didn't run
the prints until half-an-hour ago."

Summers raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't
that supposed to be Shen's job?"

Calvin shrugged. "Yeah, but I got
curious. Anyway, he's doing the deep research. I just wanted a
quick glance to see if there were an obvious
connection.”

The connection seemed too obvious,
Calvin wondered if someone had meant it to be found. Perhaps trying
to plant a false flag. Or maybe CERKO was trying to announce a
come-back

"This just gets more and more
interesting," said Calvin.

"You're over-thinking it, I can tell."
Her eyes challenged his.

"Excuse me?” he asked, brought back to
the moment.

"You think you're so smart because you
see things other people don't. A conspiracy, a plot, whatever. But
sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

He scratched his head. "You know...
that's the second time I've heard that expression
today."

She shrugged. "Maybe it's fate's way
of giving you a hint."

"So you'd rather I not look for all
the information and just answer the question anyway. Jump to some
conclusion and be done with it. That's called guessing. You'd be a
terrible math student."

"You're not
looking
at all the
information. You're inventing information in your head that isn't
there. Adding to the problem, making it more complex than it
actually is. And just so you know, I'm great at math. It was my
minor at university. What about you?"

Maybe the math quip hadn't been such a
great idea. "What would you know anyway? You're in the navy. You're
not trained to investigate; you're trained to shoot
stuff."

"I'd put my powers of deduction
against yours any day," she folded her arms. Seeing her challenge
him like that, it made him smile.

"All right," he said. "It's a long
flight anyway," he tapped a command and the table between them
displayed a virtual chessboard.

"You're kidding. We don't have time
for this."

"That's what I thought," said Calvin.
"You're all talk."

"One of us should be on the
bridge."

"Who has the deck?" asked
Calvin.

"First Lieutenant Iwate
Shen."

"He's a good officer; we're in good
hands," said Calvin. "So what's the matter, chicken?"

"Do you have any idea how childish you
are?" She looked unimpressed.

"No," said Calvin. "So I'll say it
again, are you chicken?"

The hint of an amused smile cracked
her lips but she forced it away. "All right, I suppose I can spare
five minutes to prove a point."

"Only five minutes," said Calvin.
"Where's your confidence?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You really are a
piece of work."

They began. Calvin let her play white
and make all the first moves. He was curious to see how she'd
develop, what kind of position she'd create. He could learn a lot
about someone by fighting them. He made moves to match her
tactically. Not going out of his way to be aggressive or wrestle
away control of the board. Mostly he just wanted to see what she'd
do, how her brain worked, what her tendencies were.

He found her boring and unimpressive.
She was smart and her decisions were solid, but too cautious and
safe. She lacked creativity and her moves, although good, were
rarely surprising—and never dazzling. She built her attack
patiently and her side of the board was a granite wall of
well-placed pieces.

Calvin was another story. At first he
made his moves quickly, partially because he was familiar with good
openings and partially because he didn't take her all that
seriously. But, when it became evident she was no rookie to be
walked over, he had to focus a lot harder. And the slight mistakes
he made at the beginning haunted him throughout the game. In his
hurry to compensate and counter her threats, which were building
like a slow avalanche, he kept himself alive only through a great
deal of cleverness.

But he was no professional. And though
he was skilled at deduction, he had a difficult time keeping
focused on the game. His mind tended to wander free from the
shackles of the board and he'd catch himself thinking about
Summers, wondering what was going on in her head. He was more
gifted at playing the player than the game, and though he found her
style easy to predict, this talent was more useful in real life
than it was on a 64 square playing board with only a handful of
options available at any given time.

Eventually, when it looked like the
game would either end in stalemate or in her favor, he took a large
risk. Believing that sometimes the best move is a heterodox one,
something unpredictable that throws the opponent off her game.
Messes with her head, makes her unsure of herself. Defeats her
psychologically.