18

Ganston watched as Mojica strode into his office with Jax hot on her heels. Jax could never get her to wait in the outer office until summoned, and it amused Ganston that he still tried to restrain the woman with the Amazon-like stature.

“What’s the emergency, boss-man? I was at the other end of the Mountain conducting training exercises. If you want us to be ready next month we need—”

“Have you seen the alert about infiltrators in the Mountain?” Ganston asked.

Mojica plopped in the chair in front of him and lifted both feet to rest her boots on the edge of his antique oak desk. “I’m head of security, remember. Nothing escapes my notice. They’re just a bunch of merchants. No big deal. I’m sure the alert is an overreaction.”

Ganston frowned and made a flicking gesture toward her boots with his right hand. “Well, this one could cause a few problems.”

She lowered her feet to the floor. He motioned to the halo-screen. Mojica turned in her seat and came face-to-face with Jax’s chest. Using her left arm, she brushed him out of the way.

“That will be all, Jax,” Ganston said. Jax backed up a step and moved his arms behind him to rest in a military at-ease position.

Ganston stared at him. “I said that will be all. You can leave now.”

Jax huffed out of the office while Mojica smiled. “He keeps track of your every move.”

Ganston ignored the comment and directed her attention to the screen. He enlarged the frame with the three interlopers and zoomed in on Cleon. “This man is my person of interest. I need to know what he’s being charged with and what he’s said.”

“Why?” Mojica sat forward to get a better look at him.

“He was doing some . . . work for me that I’d like to remain private,” Ganston said. He hadn’t thought he would have to impart this level of trust to her so soon. The concept felt as foreign as entrusting someone else to prepare his food, which was something he’d stopped doing years ago.

“What kind of work?”

He cleared his throat. Even Jax wasn’t privy to this level of his business.

Mojica leaned in toward him. “I’m your head of security. That’s like being your doctor. You don’t keep things from me.”

“And I would expect that you don’t keep anything from me either.” One of Ganston’s spies had reported she sometimes spent inordinate amounts of time in the secure biometrics records. When questioned, she passed it off as scanning for a specific warrior gene of behavioral aggression in her new forces.

Mojica sucked her teeth and wagged her index finger back and forth like the antique metronome in Ganston’s music collection. “Of course, but as I said, I need to know what I’m dealing with if you expect me to protect you from consequences of your actions.”

Ganston dropped his head. He could feel his hands getting moist. Could he trust her? He didn’t have much choice. “He was one of the men who brought a delivery yesterday.”

Mojica sat back in her seat, stared at Ganston, then rose. “If you’re not going to be straight with me, then we have nothing to talk about. Take care of it yourself.” She headed for the door.

“Wait!” He sighed and ran a hand across the back of his neck. The stress felt palpable. He lowered his voice. “He and his brother brought me a shipment of wild rabbits.”

Mojica turned back to face him. “Wild rabbits . . . as in diseased, do-not-eat rabbits?”

“Yes.” Ganston ran his hands down his pants legs to soak up the moisture.

Mojica strolled back to her seat. Her voice lowered as well, as though speaking out loud was a crime. “Why would you do something like that? What did you do with them?”

Ganston’s breathing increased. His heart pounded in his ears. He was about to rest his survival in a veritable stranger’s hands. “I incorporated them into the food service that feeds Everling’s inner circle.”

Mojica started to laugh. Ganston sat stone-faced. She stopped and her mouth fell open.

“You’re serious? You deliberately poisoned people?” She rose again. “What’s wrong with you?”

Ganston bolted to his feet and pounded a fist on the desk. “I made the hard decisions. I’m doing what I have to do to protect the people in this mountain from that megalomaniac. If there are a few unforeseen consequences to the process, then so be it.”

“How many?” Mojica clasped her hands together and rested them on top of her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “How many people have you killed?”

“Everling’s father carried the corrupt gene in his system at the time of his death, and tests show that his wife Bethany has the gene present in her cancer.”

“So someone in the lab knows about your misguided plan?”

Ganston set his jaw. “No, of course not.”

“Then how are you getting these test results?”

Ganston sat back, a little relieved the question was easily answered. “As a member of the Board I can look at all data on every resident of the Mountain. You just have to know what to look for.”

Mojica shook her head. “So what you’re telling me is you aren’t even an effective murderer. You take numerous chances at getting caught. Involve people that you can’t control. And you don’t even get a plausible rate of return on your investment. I’d say your plan was not well thought out.”

Ganston’s bluster deflated at hearing her assessment. It had seemed so perfect. Only Everling’s food source had been contaminated, and Ganston expected an almost immediate death similar to that of the four Mountain residents who’d inadvertently eaten a contaminated rabbit while on an expedition a few years ago. The men had died agonizing deaths within three weeks. He’d been trying to rid himself of Everling for years, and this had looked like the perfect plan at the time.

Ganston stared straight ahead. He shook his head then rested it in his hands. “Why did it take you to show me that? Maybe I just thought doing something constructive was better than doing nothing at all.”

“I think your plan of moving people out of here is a much better one, and I would suggest that you let this rabbit plan die a natural death. How many people were involved in salting the food service?”

“Just one. I can trust him implicitly,” Ganston said. He rocked back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Good. Now let me get down there and take care of this one. What’s his name?”

“Cleon Chavez. He came with his brother Raza, who I paid for the shipment.”

Mojica shook her head. “You’ve left a lot of loose ends that could come back to haunt you.” She sauntered to the door. “Stay available in case this goes bad.”

Everling could hear the sirens. They hurt. He sat in his lab clutching his head. Make them stop. Turn them off. Why were pains shooting through his head? This wasn’t normal. He banged his head on the desk. Make them stop. Where was Bethany? She’d help.

Finally the sirens stopped. He breathed heavily. Peace. He dropped his hands from his head and looked at them, turning them over and then back again. His fingers looked too long, too straight. Were they really his hands? He could actually hear his fingernails growing.

He must stop being distracted. He had a mission and he was boss of the Mountain. Why had the alarms sounded? He might need to identify spies. They were everywhere, trying to steal his research.

He went to find out.

Mojica strode into the L-shaped security area on the first level, entering from the short end that contained the check-in stations for out-of-Mountain merchants and their wares. The walls, awash in earth tones, held posters and banners telling merchants what was legal and illegal to sell.

She made her way through the noisy crowd to the security station at the corridor where the holding cells and inspection stations were located. It functioned as a temporary jail for unruly or inebriated miscreants coming into or leaving the Mountain.

The holding area was composed of neutral-colored rocrete walls and composite plascine dividers defining cell spaces that could turn transparent. Several bench surfaces projected from the outer wall near the security station.

Her boots clipped along the patterned tile floor. She noted the well-worn patterns, in contrast to the pristine confinement areas for Mountain citizens. To their credit, the officers manning the security station recognized Mojica out of uniform and saluted her as she approached. She returned the gesture. “What do we have with the three interlopers?”

The officers seemed nervous to see their commander. The one sporting a fresh crew cut stepped forward with a halo-tablet. “Commander, we didn’t know you’d be here for such a minor infraction. We’d have completed a more detailed report.”

Mojica fingered the screen. Incompetence didn’t surprise her these days. “What’s been left out of the report?”

The officer conferred with his partner, an overweight man who was obviously embarrassed. Mojica made a mental note about physical exercise as a requirement of service to the Mountain. “Well, ma’am, the video feed shows there was a young child with them. She squeezed through the gate and activated the entrance. A hovercraft was involved in an incident with the fence. The pilots caught the interlopers and at some point the child slipped away. The pilots didn’t pursue or initiate a record about her.”

Mojica looked up from the tablet. “Has that gate been secured? And who were the pilots?”

“Yes, ma’am, the gate’s been secured. It’s been sealed off until repair can be initiated. Merchants will be directed in and out via Unit 3. They’ll have a slightly longer walk to get over here, but that’s the way it goes.” The crew cut officer looked relieved he knew answers. “The pilots were from Recon 5.”

Mojica knew that to be a pilot training unit, meaning they were fresh new faces and not the swiftest pilots. It was probably a miracle they’d caught and detained anyone. “Tell me about the interlopers. Have they been interviewed or scanned?”

All outside detainees were supposed to be bio-scanned. It was a throwback to when Everling had started bringing in Landers eighteen years ago. He’d expected incursions to free them, but no plot ever materialized and over the years scanning fell to hit and miss.

The officers exchanged glances. The crew cut guard addressed Mojica. “We haven’t done a scan in years.”

The overweight officer flushed. “We didn’t know it was still required. We’ll start it right away.” He scrambled to the panel, pushed a few buttons, and ran his hand over the delivery screen. “Uh, ma’am? We’ve got an anomaly.”

Mojica looked up from the tablet she was reading. “Well, tell me.”

“The first subject was here yesterday to see Charles Ganston.”

Mojica had come prepared for that response. The crew cut officer stepped forward. “We’ve already put in a summons for him to come here.”

If they weren’t so overzealous, she could have talked them through it. She would have to hope Ganston’s demeanor didn’t set off any alarms. She turned to face the three people behind the transparent wall. Her gaze locked with Bodhi’s and threads of adrenaline coursed through her chest. Mojica cursed under her breath. “Stop the scan.”

Both officers snapped to attention. “Ma’am?”

It occurred to her that Ganston might have left out other details that could be uncovered, or security could start asking about the missing brother. “You’re probably correct. Don’t waste the energy for three scans.”

At that moment Ganston barged into the area, looking frazzled. Mojica hurried to his side. “All they know is Cleon was here yesterday. I made them stop before anything else showed up.”

Gaston pulled back. “Like what?”

“Like where the other brother is. You apparently didn’t contemplate there could be another person running around inside my Mountain while you’re worried about keeping your secrets,” Mojica said through clenched teeth.

He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.” He turned to the officers. “Please separate the young man who met with me yesterday into private containment. I wish to talk to him alone.”

The crew cut officer opened an enjoining doorway with the containment cell and ushered the man into it.

Ganston sauntered into the room with his hands clasped behind his back. Cleon stood near the doorway. A half smile of nervous jitters played at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, young man, what do you have to say for yourself?” Ganston asked. He moved closer. He didn’t want the boy creating any more of a problem.

Cleon lowered his head. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s a mistake. Our little sister was playing around the fence. We went to get her, and—”

“Who are these people and where is your brother Raza?” Ganston peered through the doorway, then back at Cleon.

Cleon averted his eyes from Ganston and motioned. “These are the rest of my family. My brother . . . he was set upon by marauders last night. They killed him and stole his ComTex with the payment you made. I was coming back to see if you could help.” He swallowed.

“I’m sorry to hear of your loss,” Ganston said. “I’ll rescind the payment so the thieves will get nothing. Do you have a ComTex?”

Cleon shook his head.

Ganston walked to the doorway. “Officer, I need a payment chip.”

The two security officers looked at each other as though he were speaking a foreign language. The crew cut one turned to Ganston. “Sir, we don’t have those here.”

“Then I suggest that one of you get me one now,” Ganston barked. He wanted this boy paid off and gone from here as soon as possible.

The overweight officer scrambled from the office, hurried down the hall, and disappeared around a corner, the echo of his heavy footfalls receding. Ganston stared at Cleon. He’d always dealt with the older brother and didn’t have a relationship with this younger one. He didn’t know what would intimidate him into silence.

Ganston turned and looked at Mojica, motioning for her to move the other guard out of earshot. She moseyed to the office and busied the officer with a data station in the back.

He turned to Cleon. “I’m increasing the payment by 10 percent for your troubles. But when you leave this Mountain there will be no more deliveries. And I never want to see you again. Am I understood?” Ganston stared. He could feel the twitch in his left eye betraying his stress.

Cleon nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, you are perfectly clear. We will not return.”

He appeared relieved. Ganston had never anticipated that—he’d thought this was some sort of power play. He felt his shoulders relax. It was time to go before someone from Everling’s circle spotted him. He turned to leave.