The Infiltrators Page 11

  He had arrived realizing he was going to have to do something slightly bold and risk exposure, so he decided to proceed now rather than wait for Koksun to step outside of his own accord.

  He flew high into the sky, almost directly above the Great Dane. He then dropped at free-fall speed until he was around sixty feet from the ground.

  He then flared his wings out wide and flew directly past the handsome animal.

  Mervin leapt to his feet and began chasing the intruder, barking ferociously for good measure.

  Mervin’s hearing was far better than his eyesight, however, and while he would never have fallen for such a trick with a terrestrial animal, he continued chasing in Harold’s direction not realizing Harold had doubled back towards the house while traveling at several hundred feet.

  He landed on the roof carefully, just as he heard a door flung open, followed promptly by quick footsteps.

  He saw Pitkins with a nasty-looking sword in hand, turning around in all directions, scanning for the source of the usually peaceful Mervin’s alarm.

  When Pitkins was a good thirty paces away, Harold risked letting out a soft meow. A moment later, he saw the slinky beast cautiously exit the house, nose twitching and ears perked halfway up to the roof.

  “Koksun,” Harold said softly.

  He looked up.

  “It’s Chip. Southeast corner of the property in ten minutes. Climb a tree; I’ll find you.”

  Harold left the house in the opposite direction, thinking it best if Koksun didn’t see Chip was about five hundred times his old size, and while Harold glided silently over to the western edge of the property, he realized how lucky he was that it was a moonless night.

  As soon as he reached the cover of the woods, he circled around to the southeast corner and climbed a large tree.

  He wasn’t sure if he’d risk doubling back again if Koksun didn’t come, so he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the slinky little rascal approaching the southeast corner, stopping every several yards to sniff and investigate for danger.

  “Hey, hurry it up, would ya?” Harold called once Koksun was within a few hundred yards.

  Koksun speeded it up, but couldn’t help notice the once chirpy voice sounded far more majestic and authoritative.

  Some of Tristan’s tinkering, no doubt, he thought to himself, having no idea how right he was.

  He climbed swiftly up the tree, still expecting to see the little bird he could swallow at a whim, and when he saw the monster sitting atop a large branch he nearly fell from the tree.

  “It’s all right, Koksun. Tristan gave me an upgrade. You spared my life when you could have taken it many times. You have nothing to fear from me now that I could do the same.”

  Koksun was grateful for the statement of goodwill but not for the observation that his life existed only at Chip’s pleasure.

  “They no longer call me Chip. Tristan himself changed my name to Harold.”

  “I’ve hoped you’d come by for a long time.”

  “You have?” Harold asked in genuine surprise. “Why?”

  “Do you have any idea—can you even imagine—what it’s like playing the role of housecat when you’re fully capable of engaging in intelligent conversation?”

  “I guess I’ve never been in that situation. Well, do you want to come with me? What’s keeping you here?”

  Koksun looked at Harold suspiciously.

  “What have you done to occupy your time lately? I suspect you eat pretty damn good.”

  “I haven’t suffered hunger yet,” Harold conceded.

  Koksun was at a loss as to the sudden opportunity to exit his painfully boring life at Pitkins’ house. He enjoyed playing with Mervin, but he was too used to a life of adventure to stay here forever. Even when with Tristan, he had played the role of close adviser to a man constantly scheming. But life at Pitkins’ house could not be more routine.

  Yet, now that he was offered an escape, he suddenly felt himself unable to leave. He felt somehow he might be needed there one day, yet he had no idea why, other than it related to Smokeless Green.

  “What is Tristan up to these days?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. I haven’t seen him in years. I found him shortly after I left you here, and then he disappeared.”

  “Then what have you been up to? You were always a workaholic. And why the hell did Tristan upgrade you like that if he was just going to leave you afterwards?”

  “He told me he was training my new master and that one day he will return to me.”

  “But you don’t know when?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, what the hell do you do all day?”

  “I’m currently a partner with my future master’s father.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Selling Smokeless Green.”

  “YOU WHAT?!!!”

  Koksun leapt across the five feet separating him from the trunk Harold’s branch was connected to, pushed off it, and within less than a second he had his claws wrapped around Harold’s throat.

  Harold knew he could take off and let the prospect of a several-hundred-foot drop inform Koksun’s decision as to whether it would be a good idea to slash his throat, but instead he looked right at Koksun unmoved and unshaken.

  “Remove your claws, Koksun. It’ll be better for you.”

  His calm demeanor impressed him more than the command itself.

  Reluctantly, he let go and hopped down onto the same branch Koksun was on.

  “Why the hell’re you doing that? What’s gotten into you?”

  “As you said, I’m a workaholic. I was bored before I came across my current partner, and now I rarely have a boring day. I’m not even so sure I’ll accept my new master if and when he appears.”

  “But Tristan will—”

  Koksun stopped. He admired Harold’s new mentality. His sycophantic deference to Tristan had been a bit repulsive, even though he himself had done the same to save his hide. He wished he had the nerve to stand up to Tristan—even if it was just by talking like that behind his back. Tristan had robbed him of a promising career in the Varco. He was no friend.

  He stopped his thoughts when he noticed the intimidating sharpness in Harold’s eyes.

  “What are you here for, Harold? I’d be happy for a social call, but I doubt that’s why you’re here.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then?”

  “I need information.”

  “And what do I get?”

  “I just offered to take you out of this place, but you weren’t interested.”

  Now Koksun was seriously beginning to consider the offer. Donive would cry for him—at least he thought so. Mervin would probably miss him, maybe even Pitkins. But he was getting sick of pretending to be an ordinary house cat.

  Why in the hell wouldn’t you take him up on this? You won’t even have to see Tristan anymore.

  “Okay, fair enough. You’ve made a pretty good offer. I’m not saying I’ll take it, but it’s appreciated.”

  “What is it you want to know about?”

  “The source of Smokeless Green. Everything about it. Where it comes from. Who plants it. Everything.”

  “Okay, so first let me ask you something. How well do you get along with this ‘partner’ of yours? Does he know you can speak?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And he’s okay with that?”

  “Wouldn’t you be if you were him? I’m a rather convenient tool, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I thought you were his partner.”

  “Obviously not in the way a human would be. I’ve got no use for his money. But I exercise independent control over a large number of his agents.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Not so fast. You’re getting lots of information, but not giving any.”

  Koksun grew silent. He knew Harold was right.

  “What would my position be if I were to join you? I’m not answering to you. I can tell you that right
now.”

  “The best I can do is promise to highly recommend your skills and wisdom to my partner, and I’m sure he’ll find a way to put them to use.”

  “In what?”

  “You’ve got all the information you’re gonna get from me until you start answering some of my questions.”

  “Well, what makes you think I know a darn thing about Smokeless Green?”

  “It’s a hunch more than anything. There’s this guy—”

  Harold was about to explain the strange visitor at the ranch, his talk of a highly trained people transporting the Smokeless Green into the country, and let Koksun know he had overheard a conversation or two between him and Tristan many years ago, where Koksun discussed things—sabotage, combat, strategy—he had learned while part of an elite organization.

  “No!” he said almost shouting. “You start talking. Or I leave you here. You can go back to chasing mice and lounging around all day.”

  “All right,” Koksun said, hostility in his voice.

  “Before Tristan downgraded me to cat, I was a highly trained Varco agent—the elite organization in Metinvur responsible for sabotage, combat, etc. We use Smokeless Green sometimes on missions to give us enhanced stamina, strength, fighting capabilities, energy, speed. But during training we are forced to learn how to take it in small amounts and then go days or weeks without it so that we can resist the drug’s strong addictiveness. That’s why I was so upset to learn you’ve gotten yourself involved in that. But I’ve overheard Pitkins talking, and it’s everywhere, so I’m sure it would be spread around even if you weren’t involved, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Why are the Varco doing that?”

  “I’m stunned that they are. It was often said that introducing it into surrounding countries and encouraging laws against it would be the perfect way to spread our secret influence. Addiction would spread like wildfire, laws would be completely ineffective at stemming the tide, and in fact its criminal status would send prices through the stratosphere, causing rich drug barons to emerge, men whom the Varco could befriend or take out at their whim.

  “All that disorder and corruption would then make it easier for us to secretly increase our influence in those countries. There are many routes the operation could take from there. It could be an ongoing money operation—exporting the drug surreptitiously to other countries. After all, whenever there was talk of such an operation, it was clear it would only be done with seedless Smokeless Green. As long as we retained the seeds, we could end the project at any time.”

  “So why was it never done?”

  “There were those who pointed out that it would only take a few seeds getting mixed in with the powder to lead to men having access independently of us. In fact, there was sometimes talk of sending out Smokeless Green seeds but that would create seedless plants.”

  “Why would that be necessary?”

  “Those getting the drug directly from us could ultimately be tortured by the authorities and lead them to us. Even though any Metinvur supplier would be using a credible fake identity from a country besides Metinvur, it was always understood that any supplier getting the product directly from Metinvur would have to be protected from law enforcement.”

  “Would that be difficult?”

  “Not really. But part of spreading disorder and corruption required that a kingpin completely unconnected to the Metinvurs be allowed to emerge. By introducing a large amount of seeds, it would be possible for a man to create his own crop and become the top of the food chain. Thus, any investigation into him would have no chance of leading him to us. That way, he could be made a scapegoat and become the target of law enforcement. Having a public enemy was always considered to be an integral part of spreading disorder and chaos on a massive scale.”

  “But wouldn’t that cause you to lose the ability to eliminate access to Smokeless Green outside Metinvur?”

  “The plan was always that, if seeds were released, they would be just enough to allow a man to become wealthy and a credible threat to the public but not so wealthy that he would become too difficult to take down.”

  “And if someone screwed up and some of the seeds created plants that were also seed-bearing?”

  “That was always pointed out as the danger with that strategy, and it was made clear that before the seeds were released they would be rigorously checked by Varco botanists.”

  “And if they screwed up?”

  “Well, I guess theoretically it would be possible for the man who got a hold of those plants to create as big a farm and as many farms as he wanted, giving himself his own personal money machine and acquiring riches that would rival the wealth of sovereign governments.”

  “You’ve just described my partner,” Harold said, with no small amount of satisfaction.

  “Good heavens,” Koksun shuddered. “There’s a war coming that’ll make what happened between Sodorf and Dachwald look like a spat between two lovers.”

  Chapter 20

  Pitkins felt now was as good a time as any to go check on Robert’s progress on the store in Sivingdel. He found him hard at work in a store full of customers. He noticed several staff members scurrying around helping people find the tools and hardware they were looking for.

  Is this a sign—given that the facade for my real business runs smoothly while my real business can never find enough damn bumps in the road to hop up and down on?

  “Sir!” Robert said with a happiness far more genuine than that which Righty supposed most bosses were greeted by. But Robert was a man who had reason to stand tall when his boss arrived, and thus, it seemed natural enough.

  “Got a few?” Righty asked.

  “For you, I’m always available, Mr. Simmers.”

  “Let’s go to the back.”

  They sat down and Righty got straight to it.

  “How are we doing? Can you show me some numbers?”

  “We’re definitely in the black. Business is going real well,” Robert responded, pushing over a sheet of figures.

  “Those are from last week. I aim to have this week’s done Sunday night or Monday morning at the latest.”

  “Let’s see some cash,” Righty said. He felt it was probably unnecessary, but it couldn’t hurt for even a young man of Robert’s caliber to be left a bit on his toes.

  Robert went to a vault in the back of the room, maneuvered a rather lengthy combination, and then extracted a large bag.

  “Divenzoni.”

  “Sir?”

  “The safe. You’ve got taste, Rob. I like it.”

  Robert blushed. “This is today’s. I go to the bank once a day. I don’t like letting too much of it accumulate.”

  “Bank deposit slips,” Righty said calmly.

  Robert went through a door, pulled out a file, and handed it over to Robert.