Chapter Twenty 

Oliver stared down at Dane with a mixture of irritation, lust and a reluctant touch of amused admiration. That was twice now Dane had caught him, teasing him when he knew Oliver wasn't in a position to follow through. He might be a slow learner, but next time he would be ready. If Dane tried anything like that again, he might find he'd get a lot more than he bargained for. He touched Dane lightly on the tip of his nose and smiled. "I'm counting on it." 

The look of uncertainty on Dane's face was enough to have him smiling all the way out of the ship. 

XXX 

Callan had been allowed to get up, which he did very gingerly, to use the facilities and wash his face. He thought Tate believed what he had told him but he wasn't so sure about the other man. There had been no talk of letting him go back to the ship, for instance. He considered he had been patient enough, it was time to get some answers. 

As soon as he was back in the small room, he sat down with his back to the wall, making sure he was facing both men. He still couldn't hear, he needed to see their mouths. "What happened from your end?" he asked. 

The two men exchanged glances. Although Tate was the one who answered him, he got the feeling the man in red was the one in charge. He studied him carefully for the first time, he was slightly built, of average height, black hair and brown eyes. What was particularly interesting was, until that moment, he hadn't really seen him. He had been focussed on the red uniform. If he had been asked to describe the man wearing it he would have floundered. He would have bet a month's pay now that was no accident. 

"Much the same. Chang got a similar message, supposedly from Ser Keating, asking for an urgent meeting in room 201." Tate grimaced. "We didn't check the room above either." 

"Do you know who is behind this? You must have some idea," Callan pushed. 

Again the exchange of looks. "Chang has one main rival, a man who wants to take over the whole neighbourhood, run his own form of protection in this part of Kapunda. He doesn't like the way we do things, you know, trying to provide legitimate security, without threats and intimidation. It's got to be him, we're almost certain." 

"He was the one behind the attack on the Argos and Sprite?" 

"Without a doubt." Tate was confident. 

"So who is this guy?" 

"He goes by the name of Mo Khan." 

Callan frowned. As far as he knew, he had never met the man personally, but the name was familiar of course, given the line of work he was in. It was a name muttered in whispers, in dark alleys or dingy bars, with a look over the shoulder first to see if anyone was too near. Not someone you wanted to take an interest in you. 

"So what are you doing about him?" 

An odd expression crossed the face of the man in red, before he answered with a faint smile. "We're letting the police do most of the work for us." He checked his wristcom, "By now they should have received a ransom demand for a high profile figure, which unless they are completely incompetent, can be traced back to one Cutter Levi, Khan's right hand man. There should be 'lice swarming all over them any minute." 

"How is that going to work out? Have you actually kidnapped someone or is it a bluff?" 

The man opposite just smiled a little more broadly. 

Until that moment, Callan had completely forgotten that as well as being in charge of Ser Keating's security, he was also the Governor of Asra. 

"Your scheme is going to go up in a puff of smoke when they discover you've got me, not Khan." He protested crossly, irritated more than afraid. Who's idiot idea had this been? 

"Don't worry," Tate soothed. "It will be enough for our purposes to have Khan under the microscope, being hunted by the authorities. He won't have a spare moment to worry about taking over our territory. And besides, this room we are in? It's in the basement of a warehouse, belonging to Khan." 

"We'll leave you some food and water, I expect you'll be out in a few hours, tomorrow at the latest," announced the man in red. 

"You're going to leave me here, alone?" asked Callan, alarmed. What if Mo Khan found him first? Would he decide to dispose of the most obvious piece of evidence against him, permanently? His mind conjured up an image of his helpless body being thrown down a mine shaft or stuffed into an industrial disposal unit. 

"At least leave me a weapon!" 

"Sorry, can't do that," his captor apologised. "We want everything to look as realistic as possible." 

"You'll be fine," Tate attempted to reassure him. "I'm sure you won't be here for long."  

It didn't help. That was what Callan was worried about. 

XXX 

Captain Spier listened carefully to what Lieutenant Oliver had to tell her about the meeting arranged between Ser Keating of Asra and Jian Chang in room 201. His information meshed nicely with what she had already discovered, although she wasn't too impressed with the fact that she was getting it second hand through the Lieutenant. She considered he should have brought the principle witnesses with him and found his reply that Ser Keating needed medical treatment, unconvincing. 

She dispatched a couple of officers immediately to the Mercy Clinic to interview the three men, quietly studying Oliver as she did so. He was wound as tight as a drum, she could see that only his training was keeping his agitation under control. 

It seemed to her that Lieutenant Oliver had rather too much of a personal interest in the case. His main concern appeared to be the safety of Governor Callan, rather than the capture of the people responsible for the bombing. Naturally the Governor's safety was important, but kidnappings these days tended to be nonviolent affairs. As long as the family could come up with the negotiated amount of money the victim's safety was assured.

Although, come to think of it, one hundred thousand credits was a very steep ask, it smacked more of political extortion than ransom. Maybe she had been too eager to take the demand at face value. 

Still, she didn't trust Oliver's impartiality. If she needed help from the Patrol, she would call on Captain Takamoto from the Oriell space station, in orbit above Burra. 

"Do you have any further information on the dead man's identity?" Oliver broke into her thoughts. "I'm guessing Jian Chang wasn't his real name." 

"Not so far," she replied. "His DNA is not in any of the usual bases." 

Well wasn't that interesting! Although it was not compulsory to have one's DNA registered, it was always taken as a matter of course when a person attended a medical clinic. Numerous jobs also required a DNA check for health reasons, such as the Patrol, or anyone applying for public office. The last two were scarcely an issue here, but it was very unusual for a Burran citizen to have been born outside a clinic and also to have never suffered a significant illness or injury. It also meant the dead man had never been imprisoned, or even charged with an offence. 

"We have a few more avenues to explore," Captain Spier was saying, "But they'll take a bit more time. I've already sent the request through to Capella, if we don't get lucky there, we'll have to look further afield." 

Oliver nodded. Of course. No-one knew for certain that Chang had been born on Burra, in theory he could have come from anywhere, providing he hadn't used the legal channels where DNA checks had long since replaced passports. 

At that moment, the console unit on Captain Spier's desk gave a small 'ping' alerting her to the arrival of important information. A hit! Finally. She would have preferred not to share the information with Lieutenant Oliver but she wasn't quite ready to make an issue of it. After all, what could it matter? 

"We've got an identification for our deceased. He may have been known as Jian Chang, but his birth name was Tod Joyce- Are you alright?" She stared in surprise at Oliver, his face had gone completely blank. 

He looked down at his wristcom, frowning. "Sorry I thought I was getting a message through from Ser Keating there for a second." He shook his head and met the Captain's questioning gaze with a small smile of apology. "I'm sorry, what was that name again?"