The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 3

“I didn’t say I’d get him out,” Barbour said defensively. His gaze shifted quickly around the big room, but he didn’t make eye contact with the Astra leaders. “I said you could get him with what I’d give you.”

“Well go on, then, man!” the Widow said. “How? Tell us!”

She stepped close to the Frisian and caught his chin between her right thumb and forefinger. He jerked his face away. Her ornate silver rings traced glittering arcs as she slapped him hard.

“Tell us!” she shouted.

Barbour turned his head away. “Look, they’d kill me if they knew I was doing this,” he whined. “The major would say it was treason!”

“Via, boy!” Roberson cried. “Where—”

“It’s the TST offices, you see?” the Frisian blurted. “They aren’t guarded like L’Escorial bases are. You go in there and pull the core from Suterbilt’s private data bank, you see?”

They didn’t see. Guzman and the merchant looked blankly from Barbour to one another, then back.

Barbour shook his head in disgust. “Don’t you see?” he repeated. “Suterbilt’s cheating both TST and the Confederacy, faking the amount of gage that goes out of here. If the Confederacy learns they’re being done out of port duties, they’ll clean L’Escorial out of here, right? And it’s all there in Suterbilt’s private data bank, it’s got to be!”

The music from the patrol stockade paused. For a moment, the only sound within the trading post was the breathing of the three occupants.

Barbour had chosen the meeting place, an Astra-controlled village twelve klicks from Potosi. He’d demanded that no one be inside the post save himself and the two principals. The Widow agreed and held to her agreement, overruling Roberson on the point. It was now evident to the merchant also that the Frisian would have noticed guards, no matter how well concealed.

“He’ll have the information coded,” Roberson said cautiously. “We won’t be able to read it, will we?”

“What does that matter, you fool?” Barbour snarled. He appeared to be a man clinging to the ragged edge of his sanity. “The Marvelans can decrypt it, can’t they? And anyway, it doesn’t matter—Suterbilt won’t dare take the chance.”

“We’re not using the information,” the Widow Guzman agreed in a distant voice. “We’re trading the information for Adolpho. But if Adolpho’s been harmed or they won’t give him up—”

Her voice had been bleak. Now it became as cold as the heart of a comet.

“—then I will give it all to the Marvelans. And they will gut this planet when they learn how they’ve been cheated.”

“Now, Stella,” Roberson said nervously. “We don’t want that to happen. If the Confederacy really takes direct control here, it’ll put a crimp in our operations too. Or worse.”

The Widow looked at him. “Do you think I care?” she whispered.

“Look, that won’t be necessary,” Barbour said. “Look, I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll give you the codes to get through the TST security system and you give me the money.”

His moods appeared to change as abruptly as a rat’s did. He was whining again.

“No,” said the Widow.

Roberson looked at her in surprise.

“What do you mean?” the Frisian said. “You need the codes or you won’t be able to get into the offices without setting off alarms. If L’Escorial comes in, you’ve got a war!”

“You’ll come with us,” the woman said. Her combs shimmered. Glow-strips covering most of the ceiling illuminated the post’s interior. The light was diffuse but considerable in total, like that of a clear sky as the sun sets.

“I can’t!” Barbour whined. “Via, you’ll have me killed to save the money!”

“We’ll messenger the payment to Hathaway House in your name,” the Widow continued in icy determination. “You understand the security system better than we do. You’ll get us through it with less chance of a mistake.”

“We?” Roberson said, hugging himself. “I’m not going on a raid.”

“I am,” said the Widow. She gestured in the direction of the music coming from the patrol stockade. “We’ll take those men. Twenty should be sufficient. And we’ll go now.”

Barbour covered his face with his hands. “Oh Lord, oh Lord,” he whimpered.

He looked up. “All right,” he said. “Let’s do it quickly before, before …”

He covered his face again. “Oh Lord, don’t let the major learn about this!”

In the lobby of Hathaway House, Sten Moden looked up from the console. “Do you think Bob’s going to need help, Matthew?” he asked.

Major Matthew Coke looked at the four soldiers waiting with him. All were fully kitted out with weapons and extra ammunition.

“If he does,” Coke said, “then we’re ready to give it to him.”

Cantilucca: Day Eight

Robert Barbour projected a hologram for Kuklar, the Astra chosen to remove the guard. The monochrome display was a schematic of the back of the building which held the TST offices. The building itself was a dark blob fifty meters away. Stella Guzman watched over his shoulder.