moment, was a petulant prick who thought he had the world by the balls. The other was a scared little kid.
“That’s clever,” I said. “Don’t you think that’s clever?” I asked Silent Tommy. He did not answer. “How about you, Eddie? Don’t you think Jimmy’s joke is clever?”
“See, now, Harris, they don’t want to answer because they’re scared of you. They don’t have anything you want. Me …I have information you want, so I’m not scared. In fact, I think it’s about time you did me some favors.”
“Really?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the table in the center of the room. “You don’t think saving your ass from Patel was enough?”
Callahan’s mouth bent in a comical frown that took the corners of his lips halfway down his chin. “I’ve been thinking about that, and I don’t think Patel was after me. I think he was after you. Know what I mean? I never did anything to Billy. What would he have against me?”
“Well, there is this little issue about you fingering him to the Marines.” I said.
“You cannot possibly be talking about yourself, Harris? You’re not the Marines. Hell, you’re a specking deserter.” Callahan smiled at his own joke and flexed his biceps. “And as for saving my ass, who says that you saved it? Tommy and Eddie were there. They came out just fine ’cept what you did to them.”
Tommy’s jaw was wired shut and mending. Eddie was on crutches. Both my doing.
“And where did I end up?” Callahan continued. “I ended up in Fort frigging Washington, the biggest shithole on New Columbia. I figure you did nothing for me. The way I figure it, you owe me.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” I said. I hopped off of the table and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Callahan asked.
“Didn’t you hear?” I asked. “Your buddies from the Confederate Arms are getting ready to bag this planet. Should be quite a reunion. Their fleet will bombard this base until it’s defenseless, then they’ll probably send down commandoes to nuke it. That’s what they did on Gateway. Of course, Billy the Butcher probably didn’t have an old pal like you that he wanted to bust out of Gateway Outpost.
“You did know that they evacuated New Columbia?” I asked.
“So I hear,” Callahan said.
“If I were you, Jimmy, I’d be thinking about how I might get off this planet. They planted hot bombs around the base on Gateway,” I said. “You know what that means? It means that most of the jarheads who were in that building are alive and melting at this very moment. Mop them with a sponge and you’ll pull off their skin. And those boys were wearing radiation-proof armor.
“The lucky ones got cooked on the spot. They weren’t wearing armor, just like you’re not wearing armor. Lucky you. You will probably die just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “One moment you’re praying, ‘God, please don’t let them nuke me.’ The next minute, you’re face to face with God and he says, ‘About that prayer …’”
“What do you want?” Callahan asked, all humor drained from his voice.
“Where is the GC Fleet?”
“How the speck should I know?” Callahan said.
“You said you knew.”
“I asked what I would get if I led you to that fleet,” Callahan said. “I didn’t say I knew where it was. I just wanted to know what it would be worth to me.”
“You wanted to show off.”
“What?” Callahan thought about this. “Yeah …maybe.”
“What is the Hinode Fleet?” I asked.
“Never heard of it,” Callahan said.
“Right before the attack on New Gibraltar, the Intelligence Network intercepted signals referring to the Hinode Fleet. Is that what your Mogat buddies call the Galactic Central Fleet?”
“I don’t know,” Callahan said.
“How do the Japanese figure into this?” I asked, feeling more than a little frustrated. “Are they in with the Mogats?”
“Who the speck are the Japanese?” Callahan asked.
“Refugees from Ezer Kri,” I said. “Are they part of the Confederate Arms?”
“How should I know?” Callahan asked. He sounded frustrated and his face turned red.
“How about your pal Billy the Butcher?” I asked. By this time I was yelling. The mood in the room was thick with anger, and I wanted to hit Callahan. “Where is Patel?”
“I don’t know,” Callahan shouted. Then, lowering his voice, he said, “Someone else always arranged our meetings.”
Finally I was getting somewhere. “Who was that?”
Callahan sat slumped in his chair when Limping Eddie mumbled, “Tell him how to find the supply guy.”
Callahan looked at him and a smile stretched across his face. “I like that.” Then he turned back to me. “You could visit Batt, he’s your best bet. If anyone can answer your questions, it’s Batt.”
“Who is Batt?” I asked, the calm returning to my voice.
“Batt is Bartholomew Wingate,” Callahan said. “He introduced me to Patel.”
“Mogat or Confederate?” I asked.
“Neither,” Callahan said, the swagger back in his smile. “He’s one of yours. I guess patriotism isn’t his bag. Know what I mean?”
“He’s a punk like you?” I asked.
Callahan’s smile brightened. “Oh, he’s much bigger than me. You might say he has his own army.”
“I thought you had one, too?” I said.
“I do,” Callahan said, “but it’s not as good as Batt’s. He’s got a lot more clout around here than me. He knows everything and everybody.”
“Great,” I said throwing my hands up in frustration. “Only we can’t find Batt. We just evacuated the planet.” Players like that vanish into the woodwork the moment you look the other way.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Now Callahan sounded almost gleeful. “He’s still in Safe Harbor. He’s just up the road. He’s the commander at the Army base.”
“Let me get this straight,” Lieutenant Colonel Bernie Phillips said. “Your prisoner claims that Colonel Wingate is selling supplies to the Confederates?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Bullshit.”
We sat in an observation room in the brig. Behind Phillips, the video screens showed the room in which Callahan and his bodyguards sat idly waiting for me. I could only hope that the colonel did not glance at the screen. At the moment, Callahan was flexing his biceps and kissing them. Silent Tommy responded with a hand- gesture that meant “go speck yourself.” This only encouraged Callahan. He responded by flexing both arms at once.
“How well do you know Wingate?” I asked.
“I’ve known Batt three years now,” Phillips said. “Ever since I transferred in.”
“So you’re friends?” I asked, knowing that I could always play the Che Huang trump card if the need arose.
“I can’t stand the son of a bitch,” Phillips said, his expression dower. “He thinks he’s king of the goddamned planet just because he has a bigger base. Command airlifts our supplies in through his base. The prick makes me fill out so many forms to get my stuff you’d think he owned it. He’s always showing off. He must come from a rich family. He lives like a friggin’ king.”
“Let’s see here. Your supplies come through his base and he acts like he owns them. Is that right?” I asked. Phillips nodded. “And he lives like a king, but you don’t think he’s selling?”
Phillips’s expression brightened. “Bust Batt Wingate? Think we could shoot him for this?”
“Once this is over, I’ll hand you the gun,” I said. “For now I need him alive. If my hunch is right, Wingate might be able to lead me to the Confederate Fleet.”
“Just remember, I get to shoot him when you’re done with him,” Colonel Phillips said.
“Deal,” I said.
“What’s our first step?”
It was late at night and the sky over the city was still black. I crept through the alley behind a row of
