Trespassers: a science-fiction novel (33 page)

A proud grin stretched across Web
’
s face. After all, he had been responsible for that phony heart signal
—
probably the only functioning imitation heart signal ever created.

“
And you haven
’
t been able to pick up a signal since?
”
Stewart asked.

“
No.
”

“
We have to move fast,
”
Lyntic spoke up, addressing Stewart on a more personal level.
“
The Mundle know as much about her location as we do. And with her memory blocked, she won
’
t know to hide from them.
”

“
We
’
re asking for your help,
”
Dexim said,
“
to find her, restore her memory, and take her off the planet. As you can see, we can
’
t go to your government, because they
’
re already helping the Mundle, believing that she
’
s a fugitive.
”

“
I don
’
t know that they believe it,
”
Stewart countered,
“
but you
’
re right about not going to them. The government will do whatever the Mundle want, just to keep the peace.
”

Stewart knew this well. The safety of Earth depended on a healthy alliance with all alien civilizations. Earth didn
’
t take sides in alien politics. Since the Mundle showed up first, Earth would acquiesce and do everything it could to get this girl into their hands and get the whole matter over with as quickly as possible.

“
We have another little issue,
”
Dexim said.

Why not
, Stewart thought.
“
Go ahead.
”

“
One of your agents was snooping around,
”
Dexim explained,
“
and we had to restrain him.
”

“
One of our agents?
”

Dexim tossed a wallet on the coffee table, and it flipped open, showing a government I.D. that read, KARL BRUNER - ALIEN RESEARCH AGENCY. Stewart looked back to Dexim.

“
You have this man?
”
Stewart asked. Dexim nodded.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
Dexim said.
“
It
’
s what we had to do at the time.
”

“
No, no, no,
”
Stewart shook his head,
“
this isn
’
t one of our agents. This guy is a problem.
”

“
He
’
s getting good,
”
Web marveled.

“
He
’
s getting to be a pain.
”
Stewart looked to Dexim.
“
You didn
’
t show him any alien shit, did you?
”

Dexim wasn
’
t sure how to take this, but he got the sense that Stewart didn
’
t mean any offense.
“
We just
—”

“
All right.
”
Stewart cut him off.
“
Let me see him.
”

Bruner was sitting in a wooden chair in the sewing room, with his arms tied behind his back. As Stewart entered, Bruner didn
’
t recognize him. Stewart, on the other hand, recognized Bruner instantly.

“
Karl Bruner,
”
Stewart said, as he pulled an empty chair from against the wall
—
the others flowing into the room behind him.
“
You were looking for me earlier today. I
’
m Stewart Faulkner.
”
He slid into the chair.
“
I
’
m going to be straight with you. I
’
m not from the Limestone Deposit Survey Group, because there isn
’
t any such group. That name was just chosen because .
.
. well, because it
’
s boring. And it won
’
t attract any attention. What we actually do .
.
.
”

Everyone in the room was hanging on his words, now.

“
. . . is investigate land fraud, which is the fourth largest crime perpetrated against the American people, from a financial standpoint. Did you know in rural America, on average, for each acre of land that is purchased, the buyer only receives 0.9 acres? That
’
s a 10 percent pilferage. That means the buyers are losing a tenth of the land that they pay for. Also, on average, every acre that is sold is sold 1.03 times. Most people don
’
t know what that means. It means that when you see a thousand acres, someone was sold thirty acres of that completely fraudulently, meaning that the buyer owns nothing, even though their deed says they own thirty acres.
”

At first, Mindy was lost, but then she realized what was happening. In orientation she had learned about improvised cover stories. In the classroom they had never seemed this compelling. Stewart was a master. He almost had Mindy believing his story. She wondered whether he committed every detail to memory, as they said to do in orientation.

“
I
’
m sorry for the rough stuff,
”
Stewart said,
“
but your presence here was pretty suspicious, and you can imagine how many crooks have it out for us. We have to watch our backs.
”
Stewart called over his shoulder,
“
Hey, can somebody untie him, now?
”
Jin and Web moved in to do the honors.

“
Anyway,
”
Stewart continued,
“
I ran your name and checked you out .
.
. and once again, I apologize for the misunderstanding. I hope you can see where we
’
re coming from.
”

Stewart managed to build an almost instant camaraderie, causing Bruner to laugh.

“
Well,
”
Bruner said,
“
you certainly gave me some excitement, I
’
ll tell you that .
.
. and I
’
m sorry for disrupting your operation.
”

“
Of course, you can
’
t tell anybody about this,
”
Stewart said.
“
We
’
re still in the middle of an ongoing investigation.
”

“
Oh, sure.
”
Bruner nodded.

Stewart stood from his chair and returned it to the wall. He couldn
’
t resist a parting shot.
“
And, while we
’
re out in the field doing our work, we
’
ll let you know if we come across any
little green men
.
”

It was all wrapped up in a neat little package. But this little package wasn
’
t sitting well with Bruner. As he sat in the driver
’
s seat of his car, with the key in his hand, he was drawn to introspection.

Bruner
’
s subconscious was analyzing details, gathering evidence, and preparing a case. The evidence it had come up with seemed random: a string, a bruised jaw, a badge, and Ernesto Arturo Miranda.

Missing from this collection of images were his wife and a glass of Dewar
’
s Scotch. That in itself made this train of thought worth following. He began to inspect the evidence.

Exhibit A: The string. His subconscious was showing him the string that was used to tie his hands behind his back and fasten him to the chair. It was a tad too thin to be called rope, but pretty thick for string. Whether it was rope or string wasn
’
t the point. The point was that these guys were supposed to be federal agents investigating criminal activity. Neither string nor rope fit the profile. They should have had handcuffs or zip ties. He couldn
’
t toss out this piece of evidence. He would set it aside for later.

Exhibit B: His jaw. It was still sore from where Jin had sucker punched him .
.
. with a closed fist. The blow had taken him completely off guard and had dulled his reflexes long enough for Jin to overtake him. Bruner grimaced as he relived the experience. Five years ago, when Bruner was in better shape, there
’
d
’
ve been no way this kid could have taken him down. Bruner analyzed the struggle more carefully. He was able to recall the kid
’
s clumsy moves. As amateurish as they were, they showed signs of training. But it wasn
’
t training from any federal agency. Agents were taught open-handed strikes and martial-arts-based takedowns.
Can you really identify someone
’
s training just from one scuffle?
Bruner thought.
Of course you can
. He had hit the training mats with hundreds of fellow agents and servicemen back in the day, maybe thousands. He knew the style. And that style certainly didn
’
t include sucker punching someone in the face without properly identifying yourself.
Okay
, Bruner conceded,
no handcuffs and no federal training .
.
. what
’
s next?

Exhibit C: His badge. Seconds before being attacked, Bruner had flipped his badge perfectly and had clearly identified himself as a federal agent. In fact, as he thought back on the incident, it seemed that identifying himself as an agent was exactly what incited the man to attack him. Bruner added this to the pile of evidence.

Exhibit D: Ernesto Arturo Miranda. A curious image to have pop in one
’
s head, he was a man twice convicted of kidnapping, rape, and armed robbery, whose first conviction was set aside by the US Supreme Court because he was not advised of his rights after his arrest. That landmark ruling led to the
Miranda warnings
, which were taught to every law-enforcement agency in America. It became ingrained in every agent
’
s natural thought process. Miranda warnings were automatically read to anyone taken into custody. The only way Bruner would have been attacked in such a way after identifying himself as a federal agent would be if he were suspected of being a dangerous man who was impersonating a federal agent. That
’
s the only explanation that made sense. However, if he was suspected of impersonating a federal agent, he would have certainly been arrested, and he would have immediately been read his
Miranda rights
. But that never happened.

Bruner watched Jin and Lambert walk up the drive and out of sight. He wanted to file a report on this incident, but you don
’
t file a report about a misunderstanding with another agency.

As Jin and Lambert returned to the farmhouse, Stewart was easing into a chair in the living room as if he planned to kick back and stay awhile.

“
You realize I can
’
t officially help you sneak a fugitive off the planet, right?
”
Stewart said, without looking at anyone in particular. The others were still filing into the room and finding their places.

“
I
’
ll say it again,
”
Dexim replied, as he slid into a chair across from Stewart.
“
She
’
s not a fugitive. The Mundle are playing word games to manipulate your people.
”

“
Yeah, fine,
”
Stewart said.
“
But if I get caught with her, she
’
s a fugitive.
”

“
Fair enough.
”
Dexim nodded.