Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings) (30 page)

Try as he might, Krijero couldn’t figure a way out of this.  Blowing out an exasperated breath, he grabbed a chair from a nearby empty desk and pulled it over.  He sat closer than he had stood, but still far enough away that neither man could touch him.

He crossed his arms over his chest.  “Fine.  But I get to talk about the case first.”

“Go right ahead.”  Gelan sat back and smiled at Krijero.  The Imdiko had an urge to punch that satisfied look off his face.

Instead, he dove into what he’d been doing.  “Okay.  The Frenzy dealers have been keeping really low key, not just in this territory but the entire Empire.  Same M.O. as Delir:  if someone is actually fingered, he dies.”

Wynhod grimaced.  “We’ve seen that.  All two cases of it, over in the Tundra Plains Territory.  This time around, the bastards are a lot better about staying out of sight.”

Gelan added, “The only reason those two got caught was because they’d been sampling their own supply.”

Krijero nodded.  “So in the last three months, I’ve gone at this from a different angle.  I started looking at the how, cross-referencing with the Delir case from ten years ago.”

Gelan looked at him, his expression both curious and confused.  “The
how
?”

“How they operate.  Like the weaponry we saw them use.  High-grade blasters, used mostly by the military, both now and then to judge from that small arsenal they found in Tundra.  Plus forensic reports on crime scenes with a Frenzy attachment are also indicative of military-grade arms.  They had a lot of that shit in the Delir case.”  Krijero’s leg bounced up and down in his growing excitement.  “Remember the oddest thing that came out about the few weapons found during Delir?” 

He got a slow nod from Gelan.  “No identifiers.”

Wynhod added, “None of the stuff we seized from Delir had tracking records.  Not one damned thing.”

The Imdiko leaned forward.  “Exactly.  No origin of manufacture, no previous owners, nothing.  And you know what?  The shuttles you confiscated, the ones that were at the lab when you took it down?  No origin there either.  The damned things had no identifying marks, codes, nothing.”

Gelan’s voice went soft with contemplation.  “I remember that.  Those vehicles were also military grade.  Keep going.”

“So what if that stuff was made by whoever was behind Delir?  Suppose the person or persons manufacturing and distributing Frenzy actually owns and operates manufacturing companies that supply our military?”

Wynhod jerked in surprise.  “That’s – that’s a bit farfetched, Krijero.  Although the unregistered shit is coming from somewhere,” he acknowledged.  He looked at Gelan, horror dawning on his face.

Gelan sat absolutely still, as if he’d been frozen on the spot.  He stared at Krijero, no sign of a smile anywhere on his face now.

The Dramok said, “Maybe not actual ownership.  Someone connected to those companies, who’s smuggling stuff out perhaps?”

Krijero shook his head.  “It would be pretty damned hard to do.  Insanely hard.  To qualify as a military supplier, there are all sorts of inventory controls, especially on the weaponry.  I checked.  If it’s not the actual owners of the manufacturing company, it would be somebody pretty high up in the pecking order.  Someone who can divert fully constructed weapons from coding and registration and never have them missed from the inventory.”

Gelan’s voice sounded strained.  “Someone who can hide that kind of activity from the military who contracted with the manufacturer.”  He swallowed.  “Okay.  What else points to an actual military supplier?  Why not someone who maybe once worked with one of those manufacturers, who knows how to build a better blaster?”

“The scale of how much of this stuff is out there doesn’t allow for a small shop maker.  Frenzy is all over the planet now.  It’s showing up on a couple of the colonies.  The operation is huge, Gelan.”

Wynhod still looked stunned.  “How many military suppliers of weaponry, and maybe vehicles, are we talking?”

“Over two thousand.”

Gelan whistled.  He looked ill.

Krijero kept going, nearly finished with his recitation.  “We have six manufacturers in our territory alone.  Three in our own precinct:  Benor Industries, Lekho Manufacturing, and Thoso-Manton United.”

Gelan rubbed his hands over his face.  “You keep saying this is coming out of our own backyard.”

“I’m sure of it.  Maybe not in our immediate jurisdiction, but I’m sure it’s in Southwest Mountain somewhere.”  Now came the chancy part.  “I don’t have the clearance to look into the backgrounds of the people in charge of these companies, Gelan.”

The Dramok arched an eyebrow at Krijero.  “That’s a researcher or investigator-level inquiry.  Krijero, there is no way Utta is going to let me pursue this on paid time, not on just a suspicion.  If I do it on my own, something of this scope will own my life.  How many managers does a company that size have?”

“A lot,” Wynhod said. 

Krijero bit his lip.  “I know.  You can clear me and Wynhod to look into it too, though.”  At the Nobek’s scowl, he amended, “Or just me.  I’ll do it.”

Gelan’s gaze was contemplative.  Krijero could tell the Dramok turned something over in his mind, examining it from all angles.  The psych held his breath.

Surprisingly, one side of Gelan’s mouth lifted in a smile.  “I’ll clear you for investigative research, Krijero.  I’ll work on it a bit myself.  Maybe we can even rope Wynhod into doing a little computer time.”

Wynhod’s look was thunderous.  “I hate that shit.”

Gelan grinned at him, the look full of deviltry.  Wynhod’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head as if to ask what his clanmate was thinking.

Gelan’s grin spread larger and he turned to Krijero.  “The help will cost you, Imdiko.”

Krijero squirmed.  Oh shit, the bastard was going to dangle the ability to continue researching as bait to re-open the issue of courtship.  Gelan had the psych right where he wanted him, and Krijero knew he wasn’t going to spare him one little bit.  He was in trouble.

He couldn’t help but plead.  “Gelan, don’t.”

“Shut up and listen to my proposal.  It may not be as horrible as you think.”

The Imdiko sagged in his chair.  He was so screwed.  “Fine.  I’ll listen.”

“Wynhod and I have been looking to add an Imdiko to our clan.  Things are usually pretty good when we start out, and then—” 

Wynhod interrupted.  “They walk out on us.  The complaint is always we make them feel left out.  That we’re too much alike for them to feel a part of the unit.”

Krijero frowned.  “How are you doing that?”

Gelan sighed.  “That’s the problem.  We’re not sure.”

Wynhod leaned towards Krijero.  “You don’t want to join a clan.  At all.  Ever.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

Gelan said, “Fine.  I won’t push you on that count.  However, I would like you to spend your personal time with us.  To act as if you’re being courted for clanship.”

Krijero blinked.  “Why?”

Gelan and Wynhod exchanged a look.  Then they turned to him again.  Gelan said, “We want to know exactly what it is that keeps us from finding an Imdiko who will stay with us.  We court you, and you tell us how we’re fucking it up.”  His gaze bore into Krijero’s.  “Tonight, you’ll leave work in our company.”  It was an order, not a request.

Wynhod added, “We’ll have dinner.  Talk.  Get to know each other like any three breeds exploring compatibility.”

Krijero stiffened.  He did not want them getting to know him.  He did not want to expose himself like that, not to anyone.  Most certainly not to these two. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse them outright when Gelan said, “You play along, and you can have investigative research access.  You can keep working on your theories about Frenzy.  And I’ll do some looking into it myself.”

Knowing the answer, Krijero asked anyway, “If I say no?”

Gelan shrugged.  “Then I can’t help you.  I’ve got a full workload without getting stuck chasing Frenzy ghosts.”

Damn him.  Damn them both.  If Krijero agreed to this, they might find out just how clumsy and stupid he was.  More importantly, he did not want to get emotionally invested in men who would leave him behind.  Especially not a Dramok.

But if he didn’t go along with Gelan’s ridiculous blackmail, his work on Frenzy would end.  The epidemic would grab hold of their territory and spiral out of control until someone got desperate enough to listen to his theories and give them a chance.  It could be ages before that happened. 

Delir and Frenzy had been Krijero’s obsession for years.  He simply couldn’t stand to let them go.

Between gritted teeth, he said, “Fine.  I’ll hang out with you and see if I can figure out what the problem is that you’re having with Imdikos.”

Gelan’s grin made the psych’s heart stutter though he’d have cheerfully punched all the man’s teeth in if he’d had the opportunity and ability.  Wynhod’s predatory smile was no less soothing on Krijero’s nerves.

Gelan said, “Great!  I’ll start the process of getting you that research access.  And we can all look forward to an enjoyable evening together.”

Krijero couldn’t keep the misery out of his voice as he said, “Yeah.  Terrific.”

Chapter 5

The moment his glass of bohut arrived at the table, Krijero grabbed it.  He needed plenty of alcohol to get through this night.  In typical fashion, his grip was awkward.  The drink sloshed on the table surface, running right towards his lap where he sat.

“Shit.  Never fails,” he muttered, scooting backwards on his seating cushion to get away.

Wynhod reached over and wiped up the spill with his napkin before it could drip onto Krijero’s trousers.  “You certainly drop stuff a lot.  You walk into things too.”

Crisis averted, Krijero took a hefty swallow of his drink.  “I have a balance disorder.  The room moves a lot, and I overcompensate.”

Gelan and Wynhod looked at each other.  Krijero had another generous swig and looked over the eatery they’d brought him to.

It was a decent but casual establishment, not a fancy restaurant where the Imdiko would feel out of place.  Krijero thought some faces of the patrons looked familiar, as they should.  There were a lot of the precinct’s uniformed officers in here, enjoying drinks and watching kurble, martial arts, and grappling matches on the various vids.  The place reverberated with conversation, laughter, and the clink of mugs.  The food smelled good too.  The dim lighting made the low table he sat at with his would-be suitors a bit intimate for his comfort, but it also helped him keep his face hidden from scrutiny.

The center of the table was missing for the moment.  It was in the serving area somewhere below the dining room, waiting for the kitchen to put the trio’s order on it.  Once their food was ready, it would rise up, making the circular surface whole again.  Krijero thought it one of the better serving systems he’d seen.  Drinks were delivered from the bar on the far side of the room where the loudest of the patrons gathered.  Alcohol was this establishment’s main business, and servers were ready to swoop in and refresh the glasses in an instant.

Gelan’s voice recalled Krijero to conversation.  “You told us about that before, back in the good old days of Delir.  So how did that come about?”

Having lost the thread of the conversation, Krijero gave him a blank look.  “Huh?” 

The Dramok explained patiently.  “Your balance disorder.  How did you end up with that?”

“Oh.  When I was five, I climbed up on a couple of boxes, trying to reach for something on a high shelf.  The boxes tipped under me and I fell, hitting my head extremely hard.  It actually damaged the part of my brain that communicates with my right inner ear, which has a lot to do with balance.”

Wynhod smirked.  “Damn, Krijero.  I knew you were off-balance, but I didn’t realize it was a medical issue.” 

Krijero looked down at his drink.  He started to hunch lower.

Wynhod grabbed his shoulder, smiling warmly.  “Come on, Imdiko, I’m only teasing you.  I don’t mean anything by it.”

Gelan cocked an eyebrow at Krijero.  His gaze was as sharp as ever.  “Something tells me you’re used to the teasing being cruel.” 

Krijero thought about keeping quiet then decided it wasn’t such a big deal to discuss.  At least they weren’t asking him about why he didn’t want to clan with anyone.

He explained, “I got picked on a lot when I was a kid because I was so clumsy.  It took a while to adjust to the constant sensation that the world was trying to shake me off, so I constantly tripped over my own feet.  I still do that, on occasion.  I’m a total klutz.”

“So much for inviting you to go mountain climbing.”  Gelan winked at him.

Krijero snorted at the thought.  At that moment the middle of the table rose, laden with a myriad of trays.  The Imdiko’s eyes widened to see all that food.  Then again, his dinner companions were extremely big boys.

“Help yourself to anything, even what you didn’t order,” Gelan invited, slopping a veritable mountain of food on his plate. 

Krijero carefully ladled half as much on his own dish, managing to spill very little.  Small victories were still victories, and he shoved his hair back behind his ears.  He was grateful anew for the dim lighting.