Free Counterweight by A. G. Claymore Page A

him
upright.
    Graadt turned toward the only other door in the room. “Let’s
take a tour.” He moved to the left side of the door and gestured politely to
the hand scanner in the middle.
    G’Mal was shoved over and his hand placed on the pad. A
light chime sounded as the door slid open.
    The space beyond was more than just a warehouse. It was a
honeycomb of glazed enclosures, each containing a craftsman. Above the
enclosures, huge slabs of wood were fed into molecular cutters, producing
custom-shaped blanks with a minimum of waste. The blanks were conveyed to each
cubicle where the Tauhentan workers incised bracelets with custom scrollwork,
installed hinges on boxes and rubbed a false patina of age onto most of the
pieces.
    The enclosures contained the smell of the work and the
workers all wore masks with hoses that provided fresh, breathable air. It saved
them the trouble of figuring out what to do about a constant flow of scented
air. Simply exchanging the air of the work spaces would have filled the city
with the heady scent within days.
    Graadt was stunned. He had expected to see a fortune in
wood, but this was staggering. This facility was processing more than the
output of every plantation in the Republic. “What’s your source?”
    “Secret,” G’Mal wheezed, still holding his midriff.
    “So you want us to beat it out of you?” Kaans offered in a
helpful tone.
    “Did the Empire get the secret out of Qel’Kun?” The
Tauhentan glared back at them.
    Graadt nodded at Nid, who moved to grab the smuggler’s arms,
but stopped as a door, just ten feet away, slid open and a youngster – perhaps
five years old – trotted out.
    Nid automatically halted and looked to his leader.
    Graadt gave him a barely perceptible wave off before turning
a pleasant smile on G’Mal. “Your boy?”
    A nervous nod. The Tauhentan put a protective hand on the youngster’s
head, drawing him in close.
    “Well, I’m sure you’re busy,” Graadt went on, “and we need
to be going.” He saw the mingled surprise and relief and decided that the time
was right to beat the bushes.
    He swept a gaze around the facility. “I bet few people have
ever seen this place…”
    G’Mal’s eyes darted to the side, telling Graadt he’d struck
a nerve. He stepped toward the two, smiling down at the Tauhentan child.
    “Someone was here yesterday,” G’Mal blurted. “Said his name
was Yoyeco and he acted as though he’d been in here with the old man.”
    “Another Tauhentan?” Graadt raised an amused eyebrow. “And a
stranger, from the way you talk about him. How do you know he isn’t a
competitor?”
    A guarded nod. “Didn’t even think we had one till you showed
up.” He scratched idly at the back of his head. “Gonna need to do some sniffing
around.”
    “Maybe we can help you run him down,” Nid suggested.
    Graadt nodded non-commitally. “We can keep our eyes open for
you, in return for a little support to our local operations…”
    G’Mal looked relieved to hear the request for money. Bribes
were a standard part of life in the Republic but the preliminaries were often
extremely unpleasant. “Thirty thousand?”
    “Better make it fifty,” Graadt stated his counter-proposal
as a decision, rather than a suggestion. These people could afford a half
million without breaking a sweat. “What does this Yoyeco character look like?”
    G’Mal’s eyes darted to the floor and a grimace formed.
“Dammit,” he muttered. “I try to picture his face and all I can see is that
damned hat.”
    “And you have no cameras in your office, do you?” Kaans
rolled his eyes.
    “Not a healthy idea in our line of work,” the smuggler
replied. “If clients or partners find out you have them, you’re finished.”
    “We’ll see what we can turn up,” Graadt said in a tone that
indicated his low opinion of their chances. “We’ll stop by your front desk for
the funds.”
    They collected their ‘retainer fee’ and left the