6. Jaantzen
1401 Words
6
Jaantzen
“Major Ximena Nayar is perfect,” says Toshiyo. She’s starting with the positive news, as is her preference, but Jaantzen can tell by her forced optimism there’s bad news, too. He glances at Manu, who’s watching Toshiyo with over-eager interest. Jaantzen guesses Manu knows what the bad news is.
Jaantzen braces himself and waits.
They’re sitting around the conference table in the upper office; Toshiyo pulls up Nayar’s file in the center of the table. There’s no picture.
Manu leans in. His hair is an electric orange today, glowing against his midnight skin — he’s darker even than Jaantzen — and his nails are painted an opalescent sherbet to match. He’s been draped in black for weeks, and Jaantzen suspects this return to vividity is in honor of Jaantzen’s failure to kill Coeur.
“She’s a requisitions officer, stationed at Redrock Prison and overseeing the supplies,” says Manu.
“Where’s the picture with this file?” Jaantzen asks.
Toshiyo ignores him and swipes to the next page.
“We have reason to suspect she’s turnable,” says Manu. “She was born here in Bulari, but her father was Arquellian, an officer in the Indiran Alliance stationed on New Sarjun. That gave her dual citizenship, and she eventually joined the Arquellian navy, then the Alliance forces. Because she was born here she’s primarily been stationed on-planet, though she’s seen combat, too.” Manu scrolls down. “Most notably the s*******r at Teguça. After that, she put in for a transfer back to New Sarjun. She took a command cut to take her current position, though she’s retained her rank and security clearance. This suggests that Teguça soured her for fighting.”
“And according to my contact at Redrock Prison, it soured her against the Alliance,” says Toshiyo. “She’s not bold about it, of course.”
“High enough rank and clearance status that she can command even the prison warden,” Manu says, “and enough connection within the prison that she can pull some favors if she needs to. But enough out of the main chain of command that she can act without as much suspicion. We think with the proper persuasion she would help us.”
Manu’s nodding as he says it, eyes wide and trustworthy like a waiter bobbing his head as he asks if you want dessert.
Jaantzen steeples his hands over his lips, leaning back. “She sounds ideal,” he says. He waits for the bad news.
Manu and Toshiyo exchange a look. Toshiyo swipes at the desk, and an image of Ximena Nayar fills the screen.
That rust-colored skin, those high cheekbones and fierce black eyes, and even though she’s not smiling in this image, he’s certain that once she does he’ll see a ferocious flash of gleaming white teeth, that million-mark smile aged by ten years.
“Coeur,” Jaantzen says.
Toshiyo clears her throat. “Nayar is Thala Coeur’s older sister.”
Jaantzen’s processing this. “Does she hate her sister as much as I do?”
“They have the same mother, different fathers,” says Manu; it’s not an answer to Jaantzen’s question. “We think she’ll work with us.”
Jaantzen’s staring at that face, marking the differences: it’s all steel and grit where Coeur’s is elastic and mirthful, but they have the same bones, the same eyes. “And does she hate her sister as much as I do?” he asks again.
Manu clears his throat. “By all accounts, they’re friendly,” he says.
“Then we’re not working with her,” Jaantzen says. “What are our other options?”
Manu and Toshiyo share a look. “They’re slim, boss,” Toshiyo finally says. Her nails click against the desk keyboard and another three files show up, replacing Ximena Nayar’s face. “Gia’s still friendly with some of the guards from when she did time there, but none that have maximum security clearance.”
Jaantzen scrolls through the guards’ profiles, frowning. They may come in handy, but none have the clout they’ll need to pull off either a release or a rescue. He’s never bothered to cultivate a relationship with anyone at the Alliance prison colonies. He assumed he’d never need it. He’ll die before he ends up there, and if he’s smart he’ll be able to protect his people, too.
As Raj and Lasadi should have been able to do.
Jaantzen remembers laughing over wine with Raj and Lasadi — and Tae. Talking safety nets and fortresses — “We’ll set up a child exchange,” Lasadi had said, “We’ll let you take her when she’s a bratty teenager,” and Tae, laughing, “Be careful, we’ve got two bratty teenagers in training to send your way.”
Over the years Jaantzen had understood that the Dusais weren’t just networking with business partners outside of Silk Station, they were engineering a safety net for their family to land in should the inevitable come.
Jaantzen hadn’t understood, then, that Silk Station wasn’t their fortress. Even when Raj had shown him diagrams, the way whole wings were actually spacecraft ready to launch at short warning, the escape pods in every home. The Dusais had never meant to hole up there and fight, they’d meant to scatter to the breeze and land soft as they could.
If Jaantzen had understood, he might have spent more time building safety nets and less time building his fortress, his stronghold, which in the end was so easily pierced.
He may not have understood in time to save his own family, but he can still do something for the Dusai girl.
“Who else?”
It comes out angry, and Toshiyo and Manu both tense up. Toshiyo’s fingers are hovering over the keyboard like she’s thinking, but he’s seen this before, her freeze response triggering at his anger. Some self-preservation technique built up during her indenture, maybe.
He takes a deep breath. “Manu?” he asks to give her time.
“We’ve learned they have a civilian social worker seeing her. A woman named Hali Fernanz. Tosh?” he says gently.
Toshiyo’s fingernails clatter again, and another file appears in the center of the desk, a doughy woman with steel-gray hair in a short, harsh bob.
“We think she’s a weak point,” says Toshiyo, back in the rhythm. Jaantzen takes a deep breath. “She’s got a spotless record, and by all accounts seems to be a good advocate for children in the Alliance’s prison systems. I doubt she’ll do anything illegal, but she seems the type who won’t want to see a girl locked up for her parents’ crimes.”
Jaantzen nods slowly. A woman like that could be useful, but her conscience makes her slippery. It’s much easier to work with someone whose loyalty he can buy.
“The officer in charge is Lieutenant Mahr,” adds Manu, and Toshiyo flicks Mahr’s profile onto the screen. “Reassigned to Redrock Prison seven years ago after misconduct charges in the regular Alliance forces.”
“What did she do?”
Manu shrugs.
“I haven’t been able to break the classification around that yet,” says Toshiyo. “But I did find something else. I broke into her bank accounts on a whim, and the Alliance isn’t the only one giving her a paycheck.”
“Who else?”
“I’m not sure,” Toshiyo says, obviously annoyed by her inability to give him an answer to that. “I’ve got a trace out on the account, hasn’t turned anything up yet. Too many layers. But it’s always the same amount: five thousand marks. And it’s irregular. Every few months or so.”
Jaantzen is intrigued. “What service is our Lieutenant Mahr performing for a mystery party every few months?” he asks. “Can you cross-reference that with records at the prison and see if anything comes up?”
“Already did it, boss.” It’s why she’s worth every penny he’s spent on her — her and her arcane equipment.
Toshiyo pulls up yet another screen. “There’s a couple things that match,” she says, drawing up the highlights as she talks. Manu leans in, curious — apparently they haven’t discussed this yet. “There’s four deposits. Three match with the prison’s grain shipment, and two match with interdepartmental sensitivity training seminars, but I’m guessing both of those are pure coincidence. Because all four match with this.”
She pulls up another screen and Jaantzen leans in, deciphering the list of names. “Death records,” he says, and Toshiyo nods. She’s highlighted four, each of them one day after the date of a deposit into Mahr’s account. Each of them listing the cause of death as “Unknown.” They are the only four records to do that in an otherwise well-documented list.
Something else about the four gives Jaantzen pause. All are juveniles.
“Inmates who die at Redrock Prison are cremated,” Toshiyo says. “But these four are missing cremation records. And” — she swipes at the screen with a flourish, her excitement bubbling over — “I checked into the prison undertaker’s bank account.”
Four dates are highlighted. Four transfers of one thousand marks each.
“Who’s buying these kids?” Jaantzen asks.
“Working on it, boss.”
Jaantzen nods. “Is there anything else?” Toshiyo and Manu both shake their heads, glancing at each other for confirmation. “Good work. Figure out how we use this thing with Mahr, and keep at the social worker. She seems useful, but I want to make sure we’re solid before we approach her.”
Jaantzen stands, buttons his coat. He’ll go for a walk, try to make sense of all this. Something here is tickling the back of his brain, and if he can just clear his head he’ll understand it.
“Boss, what about Ximena Nayar?” Manu asks.
“Find me more options,” Jaantzen says, and he sees the flash of frustration in Manu’s face.
He doesn’t care. He will not be negotiating with Blackheart’s sister.
- Writer
