“All right, so what are we looking at?” Tarlo asked.
“The machinery in this consignment is all agricultural; combine harvesters, tractors, drillers, irrigation systems. It’s shipped in sections like this to be reassembled on Far Away. Makes life quite easy for us to scan it all. We were lucky Urien was on duty when this lot went through; his family are landowners on Dunedin. The man knows his farming tools. He thought there was something odd about the wiring, especially as these are all diesel fueled. Turns out he was right.” Edmund held up some of the cabling, which was as thick as his wrist. “Heavy-duty superconductor. And these current modulators have a massive power rating.”
“Not the manufacturer’s spec then?” Tarlo said.
“Heavens no. This is intended for something that uses a phenomenal amount of electricity.”
“Any ideas?”
Edmund Li grinned as he shook his head. “I have absolutely no clue. That’s why I made the call to your office. I thought you should know right away.”
“Appreciate that. So where was it heading?”
“The address is for Palamaro Ranch in the Taliong district, that’s a long way east of Armstrong City; they say that’s where the Barsoomians are.”
“All right. What we really need are the shipment and financial details. Who was the agent? Which bank was used? Where was the machinery packed?”
“Yeah.” Edmund Li scratched the back of his neck, giving the muddle of machinery a doubtful look. The rain pounding on the roof grew even louder as a dense squall lashed down. “Look, I’m sure that back on Earth that kind of data is beautifully formatted and filed for instant access. Things are a little different here. For a start, some of this stuff is already missing.”
“Missing?” Renne exclaimed. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. Everyone knows we keep expensive goods in here overnight. Take a look around, lady. Do you see any guardbots on patrol outside? We’ve got sensors, but even if an alarm goes off, the nearest CST security agent is eight kilometers away over in the terminal, and right now they’re all real busy on crowd control. The police are farther away, and care even less.”
“Goddamnit,” Tarlo hissed. “Did you manage to get a record of everything you found in this shipment?”
“I’m pretty sure Urien recorded it, yes. There will be the deep-scan sensor record if nothing else. It just hasn’t been loaded in our official database yet; it’s probably in his console’s temporary store folder.”
Renne made a strong effort to keep her growing anger in check. No good shouting at Edmund Li: they were lucky he even bothered to call them. “What about the associated datawork Tarlo asked about? Is that in a temporary folder somewhere?”
“No. I haven’t started rounding that up yet. It shouldn’t take too long; a lot of the inventory and authorization will be filed with the station’s Far Away export control office.”
“How’s their staffing level?” Tarlo asked bitterly.
Edmund Li just raised an eyebrow.
“Hogan is going to go apeshit,” Renne decided. Another setback. This case is truly jinxed.
“Well, he needn’t try blaming us,” Tarlo said. “But I’m beginning to understand why the boss never found any decent leads here.”
“It’s only since the attack things have gotten like this,” Edmund Li said. “It didn’t help that this operation was still being set up at the time. I can’t even complain about not having any money; it’s lack of people that is the problem.”
“Right,” Tarlo said decisively. “Renne, there’s no point both of us staying here; you get back to Paris. I’ll stay on and run the checks on this consignment. Once we have the basic source, route, and finance information, we can start the backtrack operation from Paris.”
Renne gave the shaded, gaping warehouse a final examination. “No argument. You’d better arrange for what’s left to be shipped back as well. Forensics can start going over it. They might be able to tell us what it’s for.”
Tarlo put out a hand to shake. “Ten dollars they can’t.”
“No takers.”
***
