The Sting of the Bee Read online

  John stammered, “I’m sorry. I thought I was supposed to come to a meeting and—”

  With his lips taut, Sergei snarled, “Get out! NOW!”

  “All right!” Turning, John shuffled out the door and down the corridor. He glanced back as he turned the corner, making sure no one was following him, and took off running.

  Lowry was pacing the hall when John jogged to his cabin. Only her eyes betrayed her anticipation as he approached.

  “Are they following you? Did you get the video?” She was shooting questions at him under her breath.

  With a crestfallen looked, he shrugged. Her face fell. Then he doffed his cap with a grin to show her he had accomplished his mission.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, John. You’ve done a great service for Antarctica today.” Her hands shook as she pulled the tiny disc out of the cap and clasped it in her hand. She handed back his cap. “Okay, you can disappear now.”

  John put the cap back on his head and leaned toward her. “You were right—they want total control. We would never be safe in a country run by those S.O.Bs.” He waved her to follow him into the cabin. “Ginnie is having breakfast with friends. Come in and I’ll show you.”

  With a smile, Lowry patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to our troupe.”

  Once inside, he synced the disc to the monitor and hit play. He zoomed in on the holomap and Lowry’s eyes grew wide at the damning evidence. All the key blocks were denoted with the acronym ANT.

  She sucked in her breath. “That’s our proof! It is ANT trying to monopolize the land grab. Those”—she tapped the screen—“are the plans for the proposed capital city, Amundsen. That man pointing to the center of the city is their head, Lorenzo Durant.”

  “ANT?” John asked.

  “That’s the syndicate that ‘won’ the transportation contract: Antarctic National Transport—ANT for short.”

  John pointed to the screen. “And the parcels in green—the city, transport routes, and tracts near the port—those are the ones our group is supposed to grab for them.”

  “Yeah. Bastards. They’d stand to make billions!” Staring at the screen, Lowry’s face went white. She rewound and paused the video.

  John glanced at her shocked face, then turned to the monitor with its frozen image of the meeting. “What’s wrong?”

  Lowry stuttered hoarsely, “Th-That man in the back.”

  “I figure he must be the Antarctic connection.” John hit play. At the edge of the video, the older man slipped from behind the table when John focused on the holomap. “He slipped away just before the ANT guy told Sergei to throw me out. I didn’t see him in the hall, so maybe he left the ship.”

  In a voice strangled with emotion, she whispered, “That man is my father.”

  John’s mouth dropped open. “Your father?”

  Lowry shook her head as she stumbled away from the monitor. “My own father is in the middle of this.”

  John shook his head and gazed at the image on the screen. “Why would your father be involved?” He glanced around and realized Lowry was no longer in the room. “Lowry?” The door to the cabin was open, and he stepped out as she ran down the passageway. “Wait,” he shouted. “Where are you going?”

  He took off after her. She disappeared around the corner, but he caught sight of her on the long hallway. A housekeeper trundled a linen cart out of a cabin and he knocked a set of towels on the floor. “Sorry!” and kept running.

  Lowry disappeared down the steps. She seemed to be headed to the cargo bay—and the ramp out of the ship. He followed the echo of her steps. A door opened and shut in front of him. He was gaining on her. He opened the door, blinded for an instant by sunlight spilling through the open doors of cargo bay. The dockworkers had connected the ramp to the ship and robo-lifts had begun the massive task of off-loading the crates and gear of the settlers.

  Her long hair flowing behind her, Lowry zipped past the guards at the top of the ramp. Sprinting, he was right behind her. The guards screamed for them to stop, but they continued down the ramp, the shrill of whistles in their ears.

  Lowry headed toward the city, racing through the covered passageway that connected the port to the center of the small mining town. He could hear her labored breath.

  The tunnel split, and she took a right toward a domed building. Above the entrance, the Antarctic expedition emblem hung over the doors. She burst into the building, John steps behind her. She slowed to a walk as she strode through an empty reception area and into a large office. John entered just behind her, but remained at the door, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

  A hologram of Earth floated in the arched portion of the room, spinning on its axis, the weather patterns changing as the globe rotated. Behind the desk a monitor played a continuous loop of Antarctic scenery with the name DUFF WALKER floating in front of every photo.

  Lowry stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, staring at the man bent over a tablet at the desk. John recognized him as the older fellow in the infamous ANT video. And as the photo montage behind the desk indicated, his name was Duff Walker.

  She sprang at like a lion tamer and shouted, “Why did you do it?”

  Duff jerked up at the assault.

  Lowry shook a finger at him. “You sold out Antarctica for what? What did they promise you?” She leaned over the desk. “I have video showing you at the meeting with the transport conspirators. I know it’s ANT and I’m going to turn the video over to the UN authorities.” With teeth bared, she yelled, “You son of a bitch!”

  Several uniformed men burst through the door. The sergeant glared at John and motioned to another of the bodyguards, who pinned him to the wall. He turned to Lowry’s father and asked, “Are you all right, Governor?”

  Smiling, the man behind the desk waved the gorillas away, speaking with a soft brogue. “Yes—this is just a friendly father/daughter visit. You can go back to your duties. Shut the door behind you.”

  John’s eyes grew wide. Governor?

  The lead sergeant threw a warning look at John. He waved his arm and the trained goon released him from the wall. John exhaled and straightened his clothes.

  With a cock of the sergeant’s head, the guards left.

  John studied the Governor. A handsome man, dressed in a fine wool suit, with a polished air of someone who takes pains with his appearance. But as he watched Duff, busy straightening his tie, he noticed something odd about his face—a suppressed current of hostility in the way his expression shifted from cold to hot in an instant. John had known men of that sort. Like a twisted rubber band, they could snap at any moment.

  Lowry shook her head slowly. “This is serious business. You’re allowing illegal acts to take place under your watch.”

  Duff snapped at her, “What am I to do? They have me in a box and there’s no way out!”

  Lowry touched the side of her face and blinked. “You owe Durant money, don’t you? You swore your gambling was over!”

  Her father’s eyes became fixed to the top of the desk. She pointed at him with an accusatory finger. “You put yourself in a box. Now you’re not only turning a blind eye to the corruption of this ‘government,’ you’re helping the Russian mafia get a foothold into Antarctica!”

  Duff met her gaze. “Lowry, even if they hadn’t bought my gambling debts and held them over my head, they would have found someone else to blackmail.” He shook his head. “These men are not to be trifled with. I know I’m not a perfect man, but let this go, not for my sake, but for yours.”

  Lowry’s face softened, and then she leaned toward him. “You can be a better man. Take the high road. Resign. Let Antarctica have elections to start a new government.”

  Duff crossed his arms and tilted back in his chair. “You can have your elections, but Durant will win, either with him as president or as the puppet master of some fool.” He exhaled. “I love you, Lowry, but my hands are tied; there’s nothing I can do.” He pointed at her. “I’m not kid
ding about these thugs. Watch your back.” He nodded toward John. “I hope he’s your bodyguard.”

  Lowry stared at Duff. Her shoulders sagged, and her hand touched her stomach as if she was nauseous. The tense silence between them was deafening. With a grimace, she pivoted, and stalked toward the exit. She glanced at John and cocked her head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  As she turned away, Duff glanced up, and the initial charm which had been present on his face was gone, replaced with a deep rage. Swallowing hard, John followed her out, with a bad feeling in his gut. This game had just begun.

  CHAPTER 7

  Anger and disappointment dogged Lowry’s steps back to the ship. “Why can’t Dad change?”

  It was wishful thinking that somehow all the barriers would drop between them, that some epiphany would occur and that she and her father would have a loving relationship. It would never happen. He was a little man—not in height, but in character. His spirit had not survived a violent past. It had been broken long ago by his drunkard father.

  She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to skirt around her bad memories, the way one avoids a dead animal in the road.

  John caught up with her and touched her arm. “What’s going on?”

  With a slow shake of her head, she gazed at John. “Sure you want to know?”

  John grimaced. “No, I’m not sure, but I need to understand the situation.”

  She sighed. “Okay, but it’s not pretty.” They walked up the ramp of the ship. “My father is a ‘functioning’ alcoholic and gambler, who drowned any hope for adulthood in a bottle of booze. He’s one of those people with a varied career path. In other words, he couldn’t keep a job for long.”

  “How did he get down here?”

  “Remember my Uncle Nick? My dad’s brother. He had taken a job in Antarctica as a geologist with the first UN expedition, and my father followed him after he lost a job in the States. Uncle Nick got him on a short-term project, and then Dad snagged a minor position in the temporary government created for Antarctica. Within a few years, he’d charmed his way—or snaked, depending on your point of view—into the provisional Governor’s post. Not that it’s an esteemed role. It mainly deals with such high-powered issues as backed-up septic systems and black-fly invasions. But in his shallowness, he’s pleased to make a speech every year at the annual New Year festivities.”

  “Everyone has skeletons in their closets, but that one’s a beauty.” John looked at Lowry with a furrowed brow. “I wish you’d mentioned that your father was the Governor.”

  Lowry shrugged. “It never came up in conversation. Does it really matter? I didn’t know he was involved with the scam, apparently sucked into it by gambling debts. Durant bought the debts and leveraged them to his advantage.” With a wag of her head, she continued. “If Uncle Nick and I have any sway, he won’t survive in a leadership role after the new government is formed.

  “That’s it in a rather large nutshell.” Lowry squeezed John’s arm. “I know it’s been a lot to throw on you, but I want you to know that I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  “I’m not sure the game is over.” At a buzz, John looked at a message on his phone. “Ginnie forgot to unpack her coat and wants me to meet her in the hold to get it out of the crate. She’s heading that way and I don’t want her down there by herself.”

  “I need to get the video from your room.”

  He pulled a small card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “You can borrow my back-up keycard. I’ll swing by your cabin later and pick it up. Does that suit?”

  “Sure.”

  Lowry walked along the hall to John’s cabin, her stomach queasy. The screaming match with her father brought back memories from the past—ones that she preferred to keep locked away.

  A decade past, she’d been a grad student on the International Space Station, freshly divorced. After a terrorist attack on the ISS, she had become an inconvenient witness, caught in a web of political corruption spun by the Attorney General of Amerada, Elliot Halder.

  She closed her eyes. The face of Halder—a man with no morality—flashed into her head. Her youthful innocence of the world had been burned to a crisp by that conniving bastard. She had been the mouse, and he, the cat. She inwardly shivered. I never want to feel that helpless terror again.

  Her father’s role as a bit player in the tragedy had led to their huge fight, but it was Duff’s willingness to be bought and sold that had revealed his failings as a man. And now Duff’s flaws had resurfaced to be manipulated by a new puppet master pulling the strings.

  Her fingers trembling, she swept her hair back. Whatever it took, it was imperative that Antarctica did not fall under the same shadow of immoral leadership. Durant and his ilk must not get their claws into her.

  ***

  Emotionally drained, Lowry meandered along the corridor to the cabins. She stopped at a housekeeper’s cart with a tub of small water bottles marked with CLEAN ANTARCTIC SPRING WATER on the front. She took one, opened it and guzzled the water. Exhaling, she put the bottle into the recycling bin and continued toward John’s hallway.

  She pulled out John’s keycard just before she turned onto his hall, but stopped in mid-stride at the sound of muffled voices in the adjoining hall. Gasping, she recognized one of the voices—Sergei’s. Lowry flattened herself against the wall and hid behind the corner, listening to their hushed conversation.

  “Is this John’s cabin?” Sergei asked.

  With a snap of his fingers, Buck said, “Yep. Boy, that Pee-Wee hacked into the ship’s computer like that—”

  “Shut up, Buck.”

  Lowry heard the sound of the door latch opening and peeked around the corner as they disappeared into the room. Silently, she leapt toward the closing door, catching a glimpse of the two hoodlums gazing around the cabin. She slipped John’s keycard at the edge of the jamb and the door slowly closed until it met the card, keeping a narrow slit open.

  She squinted through the slit with only a thin sliver of the room visible. But she could hear their conversation.

  Buck mumbled, “Nobody home.”

  “Look around,” Sergei growled. “Something’s rotten with that John guy—I smell it.”

  Amidst the sound of drawers and cabinets opening, Sergei passed the monitor, with the video frozen at the image of the ANT holomap and the ringleaders of the meeting. His head jerked up and his mouth tightened. “That asshole—he videoed the meeting!”

  Lowry covered her mouth with her hand. Shit.

  “We have to find the camera disc. It’s gotta be close.” He knelt and searched the desk area under the monitor.

  Buck walked into her narrow line of vision, staring with his mouth open at the captured scene of the meeting on the screen. “Son of a bitch.”

  Sergei straightened up and backhanded Buck across the face, knocking him to his knees. “As I remember correctly, you vouched for him.”

  With his hand to his cheek, Buck staggered up. “Shit, Sergei. You know as well as I there was nothing connecting him to anybody gunning for us.”

  Ignoring him, Sergei found the tiny disc in the corner of the desktop. He lifted it to the light and studied it with narrowed eyes. Then he synced it to his watch. Watching the screen, he shook his head, and then clasped the disc in his fist. “Bastard.” He snarled to Buck, “I’ve got it—I doubt he had time to make a copy. Let’s get out of here.”

  A chill went down her spine. Lowry’s mind whirled as the two approached the door. She pressed herself flat against the wall outside of the cabin. What should I do? Buck and Sergei were stealing the evidence they needed to stop ANT, and with the Land Rush only days away, it was too late for another chance.

  With her jaw set, Lowry braced herself for a fight. The door eased inward and the small keycard fell onto the ground as Sergei stepped through the opening. With a puzzled look, he dropped his gaze downward at the motion of the card. His clenched left hand, still holding the disc, was fair game.

/>   Lowry kicked his fist like driving a soccer ball into a net.

  “God-dammit!” He screamed, clasping his hand. Like a coin, the disc flew across the hallway, hit the opposite wall, bounced, and then rolled across the carpet.

  Lowry bounded to the tiny disc, swept it into her hand, and bolted down the hall.

  “What the hell?” Sergei yelled. “Buck! She grabbed the disc! Get her!”

  Lowry spotted a crew maintenance area, and skidded into the tiny room. She slid into a small, dark cabinet and shut the door. The sound of their footsteps thundered past, matching the beat of her heart.

  She breathed shallowly, her mind whirling. Where to go—where to hide? The cargo bay. In the stalls with her mares. Who would think to look there?

  Lowry gazed at the small disc in the palm of her hand. Was it worth losing her life? She stuffed it deep into her pocket, opened the cabinet door and slithered out. Her heart pounded as she crawled out of the crew service room and stuck her head into the corridor to see if they were gone or just waiting for her. No one in sight. With a sigh of relief, she stood, tiptoeing toward the stairway that led to the lower decks.

  “There she is!” Buck’s voice echoed in the hallway. “I knew that bitch was still around. Catch her!”

  Lowry opened the door and flew down the stairs. Her skin prickled as she heard the door slam again and their footsteps—and labored breath—close behind. She burst into the cargo hold with them on her heels. She darted around a robo-lift and sprinted to the stalls, knowing there was no chance to hide.

  Sensing something was wrong, Sparky leapt up, barking like mad.

  Hadeel shied as Lowry threw open the door to the mare’s stall. Lowry grabbed a handful of her mane and swung up onto her back. The mare reared, but Lowry hung on.

  Sergei blocked the exit of the stall. The veins in his skinny neck throbbed. “Going for a ride?”

  Lowry dug her heels into the mare’s flanks, and Hadeel reared again, then bolted forward. Sergei dodged the horse but caught Lowry by an ankle, twisting her halfway off the horse. She clung to Hadeel’s mane.