Earth unaware

CHAPTER 21

Imala

Imala Bootstamp wasn’t trying to get anyone fired at the Lunar Trade Department, but it sure felt good when she did. The culprit was one of the big uppity-ups, a senior auditor on the fifth floor who had been with the LTD for over thirty years. Imala, a mere junior assistant auditor with the agency, was so far down the totem pole that it took her a month to get anyone with authority to actually look at what she had found.

She had tried going to her immediate boss, a perverted idiot named Pendergrass, whose eyes dropped to her chest whenever she was forced to bring anything to his attention. Pendergrass had only told her, “Get off the warpath, Imala. Put down your little tomahawk and focus on your job. Stop following tracks you shouldn’t be following.”

Oh Pendergrass. You’re so, so clever. How witty of you to make reference to my Apache heritage.

She had thought the world had outgrown racial insults-she certainly had never heard any growing up in Arizona. But then she had never known anyone like Pendergrass, either, who called her cubicle her “wigwam” and who would always make a circle with his mouth and tap it with his fingers whenever she passed him in the break room. She could have gone to HR and filed a complaint a long time ago, but the HR bimbo assigned to their floor was actually sleeping with Pendergrass-a fact Imala found both repulsive and sadly pathetic. Besides, Imala didn’t want anyone fighting her battles for her. When she felt the need to “go on the warpath,” she’d be swinging her own tomahawk, thank you very much.

She couldn’t go to Pendergrass’s boss either. He was a pushover yes-man whose head was so far up his boss’s ass that he wore a kidney for a cap. All she’d get from him was a nice condescending lecture on the importance of following the chain of command. Then Kidney Cap would go to Pendergrass and give him an earful for not keeping his Apache on a short leash. And if that happened, Imala would have hell to pay with Pendergrass.

So she did the slightly unethical yet wholly necessary next best thing: She lied her way into the director’s office.

“Do you have an appointment to see Director Gardona?” asked the secretary, not looking up from her terminal.

“Yes,” said Imala. “Karen O’Hara, Space Finance magazine. Here for the feature interview.”

Imala felt ridiculous with her hair in a bun and dressed in such a fashionable jacket and slacks-which she had rented for the occasion-but she knew she needed to look the part. She wasn’t concerned about the secretary recognizing her. The agency employed hundreds of people, and all the grunts on the second floor where Imala worked never hobnobbed with anyone up here on the fifth. They didn’t even use the same entrances. It was like two neighboring countries whose borders were never crossed.

Imala had tried a week ago to set an appointment with the director as herself, but as soon as the secretary had learned that she was a junior assistant auditor, the secretary referred her to her superiors and hung up on her. Nor could Imala get an e-mail or a call through. All of the director’s messages were screened, and every attempt to contact him had been blocked. It was ridiculous. Who did the man think he was? This was the Lunar Trade Department, not the damn White House.

So here she was, doing the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life, all to get an audience with someone who might take her seriously.

“This way please,” said the secretary, leading Imala through two doors that required holoprint authorization. The secretary waved her hand through the boxy holo by the door, and the locks clicked open.

All the security made Imala nervous, and she was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. What if the director didn’t think her information important enough to overlook her unorthodox way of getting his attention? Or what if she was wrong about the data? No, she was sure about that. The last door opened, and the secretary ushered her inside. Imala stepped through, and the secretary disappeared the way she had come.

Director Gardona was standing at his workstation moving his stylus through his holospace, zipping through documents so fast, Imala couldn’t imagine how he could possibly be reading anything. She put him in his early sixties, white haired, fit, handsome. The suit he was wearing was probably worth more than three months of Imala’s salary.

“Come in, Ms. Bootstamp,” he said. “I’m most interested to meet you.”

So he knew who she was. Imala wasn’t yet sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He pocketed his stylus and faced her, smiling. “But tell me first, is Karen O’Hara a real journalist for Space Finance or did you pull that name from a hat?”

“Real, sir. In case you checked her on the nets.”

“As if I have time for such things,” he waved her to a cocoon chair, which resembled an empty sphere with the front quarter sliced off. They were great for minimal gravity, and Imala climbed inside. Gardona took the chair opposite her.

“Why did you agree to meet me, sir, if you knew who I was?”

Gardona spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “Why wouldn’t I want to meet any of my employees? And such a good one, too, I’m told.”

He was either lying or there were people watching her she didn’t know about. Pendergrass and Kidney Cap would rather yank out their fingernails than give her a positive review.

“I apologize for the silly deception, sir, but reaching you by traditional means wasn’t working.”

“I’m a busy man, Imala. My secretary protects my time.”

So he knew how she had tried to reach him as well. Or maybe he was simply assuming she’d gone to the secretary.

He laughed. “Disguising yourself as a journalist. That’s takes guts, Imala. Guts or stupidity, I’m not sure which.”

“Perhaps a bit of both, sir.”

“And under the guise of doing a feature interview, too.” He shook a finger at her. “Appealing to my narcissism, I see.”

“It seemed the most believable story, sir.”

“Well I’m flattered you would think me important enough to warrant a feature interview in such a reputable magazine.” He crossed his legs. “Well, you have my attention, Imala. I’m all ears.”

She got right to it. “I have evidence, sir, that Gregory Seabright, one of our senior auditors, has been ignoring and in many cases concealing false financial records from Juke Limited for the better part of twelve years.”

“I know Greg, Imala. I’ve known him since grad school. That’s a very serious accusation.”

“There’s more, sir. I also have evidence of financial payments to Mr. Seabright from a small subsidiary of Juke Limited in excess of four million credits.”

Gardona was silent a moment. He was still smiling, but there was no longer any life behind it. “If such an allegation were true, Imala, which I doubt, I can’t imagine Greg would be dumb enough to keep such payments on file or make them easily detectable. He’s one of our top auditors. He would cover his tracks.”

“Oh, he covered his tracks, sir. He covered them with so many layers it’s taken me two months to piece it together. I had to snoop and dig in places not normally accessible to me. It’s a very lengthy thread that I had to follow to connect Mr. Seabright with the payments, but if prosecutors are patient enough, I can connect the dots for them.”

“Prosecutors?”

“Obviously. Juke Limited ships have been exceeding weight limits for transshipments to Earth year after year without paying the required fees and fines. We’re talking about hundreds of millions of credits here. Juke has been paying him off to turn a blind eye and foster illegal tax and tariff practices.”

“And you can prove all this?”

She held up a data cube. “Over three thousands documents.”

“I see. And when did you research and compile all this?”

“After hours. I only stumbled on it because I was studying old files, trying to familiarize myself with some of our larger accounts.”

“This is troubling, Imala. Who else knows about this?”

“Just my immediate boss, Richard Pendergrass.”

“I see. Well I will have to look into this immediately. If this proves true, it would be devastating to the reputation of this agency. I would ask that you keep this quiet until we can conduct an internal investigation.”

He started to get up.

“One more thing, Mr. Gardona. Juke Limited is our largest account. To conceal something this big for this long is too much for one person. I can’t prove it beyond the legal definition of doubt, but I have six other names on this cube whom I suspect are aware of and participating in this practice.”

He took the cube. “I hope you’re wrong, Imala. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

She left his office, and by late afternoon of the following day word was spreading that Gregory Seabright had been terminated. Not suspended. Not given leave. Terminated.

Imala stood at her cubicle-which was smaller than most refrigerators and sometimes just as cold since it was directly below one of the AC vents-and felt better than she had in a long time. She had beaten the Man. She had taken on the giant and slung her rock and hit him dead center in the forehead. Gregory Seabright, dirty money-grubber, was down. And not just Seabright but Ukko Jukes as well, the wealthiest man in the solar system. Or, as Imala knew all too well, one of the most crooked men alive. Yes sir, not even old Ukko Jukes was safe from her justice.

She slapped her desk with the palm of her hand. Now this was auditing. If only her father could see her now. “Auditing?” he had said, when she had told him about her plans for grad school. “Auditing?” He said the word like it left a sour taste in his mouth. “That’s worse than accounting, Imala. You’re not even counting beans. You’re checking to make sure someone else counted beans. That’s the most pointless, fruitless, meaningless career anyone could possibly choose. You’re smarter than that. You can do anything. Don’t waste your life being a bean-counter checker.”

But oh how wrong Father was. Auditing was what made everything work. Without auditing, we’d live in financial barbarism. Markets would collapse. Banks would break. The whole system would crash.

But you couldn’t explain that to Father. He’d throw up his hands at talk like that. But taking a crook, putting a bad guy in prison, that Father could grasp, that was something he could wrap his head around.

Once she saved up enough to send a holo to Earth and once Lunar prosecutors got involved and the media caught wind, she could contact home and say, “See, Father? Your little girl taking on Ukko Jukes. That big enough for you?”

Pendergrass poked his head over the wall of the cubicle. “You heard about Seabright?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“You have anything to do with that?”

She shrugged.

“Come on, Imala. You told me he was duping. I didn’t think it was possible. I thought you were witch-hunting. You know, fresh out of school and ready to take on the world. All that idealistic crap. We get people like that sometimes.”

Imala said nothing.

“Guess I was wrong,” said Pendergrass. “I should’ve listened to you. My mistake.”

Imala raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually admitting you were wrong?”

“Hey, there’s a first for everything.”

He smiled, and for once he didn’t look at her chest.

“As a peace offering,” said Pendergrass, “I want to buy you lunch.”

Ah, thought Imala. So that’s where this was going.

He must have sensed what she was thinking. “It’s not a date, Imala. Hanixa is meeting us at the restaurant. It would be the three of us.”

Nothing could be less appetizing than to share a table with Pendergrass and his little HR hussy, but Imala wasn’t about to reject an offered olive branch. That would only make things worse. So she grabbed her coat and followed him outside.

The black car waiting at the curb was the first red flag. Pendergrass opened the back passenger door, still as friendly as ever, and Imala was climbing inside even though warning bells were going off in her head.

When the car door closed without Pendergrass joining her, Imala realized what a mistake she had made. A man was sitting across from her, his face hidden in shadow. Imala didn’t need to see his features to know who he was.

“Hello, Imala. My name is Ukko Jukes.”

The car pulled away from the curb and onto the track. Wherever they were going, Ukko had already programmed the destination into the system. Imala considered trying for the door handle and taking her chances jumping from the car. But they accelerated suddenly, and she figured he would probably have the doors locked anyway.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

He surprised her by laughing, a big belly laugh that filled the car. “You don’t mince words, do you, Imala. Rest easy, my dear. I’m not the villain you think I am.”

“Then who’s the villain? Gregory Seabright?”

Ukko frowned. “Director Gardona contacted me this morning and informed me of the investigation. I was as disappointed and shocked as he was. Furious, really. If this proves true, it means there are people in my company who think they can steal from me.”

Imala couldn’t hide the sarcasm in her voice. “So you had no idea this was going on?”

He looked affronted. “Absolutely not. Do you think I would be stupid enough to skimp like that? I’m a businessman, Imala. Some would even say a very savvy businessman. Do you think I would skate around regulations and risk losing shipping licenses that generate billions in monthly revenue? I’m no fool, Imala. Even if I were the three-headed monster you take me for, I’m not moronic enough to risk having my company broken up and dragged through the mud by international prosecutors all for a few hundred million credits.”

“You say that like it’s not a lot of money.”

“Do you know how much I am worth, Imala? Do you have any idea how much money my corporation has generated in the time you and I have been talking?”

“I bet you pick up a lot of women with that line.”

He laughed again. “Believe me, Imala, whatever my people were hiding with Gregory Seabright was a drop in my bucket.”

He was exaggerating. Imala had a pretty good idea what he was worth. She hadn’t seen all the files at the agency, so she couldn’t be completely certain. But she knew enough to suspect that the load Seabright had helped conceal was no chump change. Plus Seabright was only one person. Imala was near certain Jukes was filling pockets all throughout the agency. Seabright was simply the one careless enough to get caught.

“So you kidnapped me to convince me that you’re innocent of any wrongdoing?” asked Imala.

“Kidnapped? Goodness, Imala. You do gravitate toward the dramatic, don’t you? No, I shared this car with you on the way to your lunch appointment so that I may make you a proposition.”

“If you’re going to offer me hush money, don’t bother.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who thinks so little of me. I should have you around more often, Imala, just to keep me humble.”

She folded her arms and said nothing.

“I want to offer you a job, Imala. You’re still young, and you lack experience, so it’s not a senior position. But you obviously have a passion for the work and you’re very good at what you do. You uncovered a mess at the LTD that no one else saw for years.”

“The other auditors look at the totals. I look at all the numbers.”

“Exactly. You look at all the numbers. That’s what I need, Imala. Someone who looks where others don’t. There are people in my company who have cheated me, and I want to know who they are. I don’t know whom to trust. I need someone above reproach who will report directly to me.”

“You don’t need me,” said Imala. “Most of the files I found implicate people on your staff. Anyone on the investigation can follow those threads and give you a list of names.”

“Yes, but how big is this problem? Did you find every file? Did you uncover every concealment? I fear this may be bigger than we think. These people are auditors, Imala. They know how to make their crimes disappear. I want to know who they are.” His face darkened, and she saw a glimpse of the man he was rumored to be. “No one steals from me, Imala. No one.”

Did he honestly not know this was going on? Was he actually innocent? Imala couldn’t deny that it was possible. The man had hundreds of thousands of employees. He couldn’t know the actions of all of them. And none of the evidence she had found implicated Ukko in any way, not directly at least.

Ukko said, “You and I both know that no one in the private sector will even glance at your resume until you’ve done five years at the LTD, Imala. I’m offering you an early out. I know the bureaucracy you’re dealing with. I know you must hate it. And you’ve been there, what, six months?”

Seven months, thirteen days, thought Imala. Enough time to know she loved the work and hated the people. Aloud she said, “It didn’t cross your mind that hiring me would be a conflict of interest considering the pending investigation? I can’t possibly accept, Mr. Jukes.”

“I haven’t even told you the salary.”

“It doesn’t matter. It would taint the investigation. It would look like hush money.”

He told her the salary.

It was a lot of money, though not too much that it looked like a bribe. It was probably comparable to what people with a few more years experience than her were making these days in the private sector. And hadn’t she proved that she was just as capable as they were, if not more so? It was exactly the salary she knew she deserved. For a moment she hesitated. More income meant she could get out of that closet of an apartment she was staying in and start paying off her student loans. Maybe even send money home.

No. What was she thinking? He was buying her off. Just as he had bought off Seabright and Pendergrass. How could she forget Pendergrass? The snake had tossed her into the lion’s den.

“Stop the car,” she said.

“Am I to take this as a no to my offer?”

“You may take it as a hell no and you can shove it up that wrinkly white butt of yours. You’re not buying me off.”

His expression remained impassive. “You’re making a mistake, Imala. I am offering you an opportunity here.”

“You’re removing me from the investigation,” she said. “You’re mopping up. Make me go away, and your stooges in the LTD make the whole investigation go away. Tell me if I’m getting warm here.”

Ukko flicked his wrist, and the car pulled to the curb. Imala’s door opened.

“Enjoy your lunch, Imala. I hope you’ll show more respect the next time someone merely offers you what you deserve.”

She started to get out.

“And one more thing,” said Ukko. “A bit of unsolicited advice. Get to know people before you write them off as black-hearted scoundrels. You’re a quick judge of character, Imala. And you’re not always right.”

She got out. The door closed. The car zipped back into traffic and disappeared.

She looked around her. She was in the French Quarter, an upscale part of town with quaint shops selling chocolates and perfumes and ridiculously priced clothing. Every street in the city was covered with shielded domes that protected against solar radiation and that kept in air and heat, but only in the French Quarter were the dome ceilings painted the light blue color of Earth sky with the occasional white of fluffy clouds. Imala hated it. It was like everyone she worked with at the LTD. Fake and phony.

Across the street was a restaurant. Pendergrass and his dimwit vixen were sitting at a table outside, eating pasta through semi-sealed containers. Imala must have been doing circles with Ukko if Pendergrass had beaten her here. He saw her, smiled, and waved at her to come join them. Imala turned on her heels and began walking back toward the office, ignoring him. If she crossed the street and approached Pendergrass she was fairly certain she’d grab his pasta and smear it in his face.

It took Imala well over an hour to get back to the LTD, and that was after removing her greaves and taking big moon leaps down the sidewalk in the lesser gravity. She got contemptuous looks from people since moonwalking was unfashionable in the French Quarter, but Imala didn’t care. It’s the Moon, people. Get over it.

A message was waiting in the holospace at her cubicle. It read, COME TO MY OFFICE. ROOM 414.

Imala checked the agency directory, worried that the room was assigned to one of the auditors she had fingered. She was relieved when she saw that it wasn’t. A senior auditor named Fareed Bakarzai, whom Imala didn’t know, occupied the space. She felt leery about being summoned to a stranger’s office so soon after meeting with Gardona and Ukko Jukes. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

She took the tube up to the fourth floor and knocked on the office door.

“Come in.”

Fareed Bakarzai’s office was an organized disaster. There were stacks of discs, boxes, and files everywhere, all strapped to the floor with long bands. Rows of old tariff and tax-code books lined shelves, though they had to be years, if not decades, out of date. It was the most paper Imala had seen since coming to Luna.

Fareed flicked off his holospace and faced her. He was about the same age as Director Gardona, but the similarities stopped there. Fareed reminded Imala of a few professors from Arizona State: cardigan, beard, slightly unkempt appearance, the kind of person you’d find running an antique store filled mostly with junk.

“Ms. Bootstamp,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Fareed. Welcome. You probably don’t know this, but I’m the man who brought you here. To Luna, I mean. I read your paper on iron trade discrepancies and found it naive in places but mostly on the nose. Very keen observations for a grad student. I had HR do a little digging. When they saw that you had actually submitted an application, I had them pull it from the slush pile and told them to interview you.”

Imala was momentarily speechless. She had no idea. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, sir.”

He shook a finger. “Not ‘sir.’ Fareed.” He gestured to the mess. “I’d offer you a place to sit down, but there isn’t one and we’re nearly weightless up here anyway.”

She looked around and said nothing.

“You’re wondering why I brought you here,” he said. “And I’ll be forthright with you. It’s not good news.” He took a moment and sighed. “Essentially you were terminated about half an hour ago.”

“What!”

Fareed held a hand. “Now, before you get angry and say something you might regret, hear me out. You are not terminated. The executive team met, and I fought for you.”

“Wait. I’m not fired?”

“You were. I talked them into keeping you on, though not with your old job. That was out of the question. You’re getting a new assignment.”

“Why was I terminated in the first place?” But as soon as she asked the question she knew the answer. Ukko. She had turned him down an hour ago, and Ukko had wasted no time getting a holo to whomever he owned in the agency.

“Does Ukko Jukes own Director Gardona?” asked Imala. “Is that what this is?”

“Careful what you say, Imala. These walls are thin. There were several legitimate reasons for your termination.”

She folded her arms, furious. “Such as?”

“You pretended to be a journalist and lied to a fellow employee, violating the agency’s code of ethics.”

Imala threw a hand up. “I lied to a secretary. And I did it in the interest of the agency. Gardona wouldn’t see me otherwise.”

“You also snooped around agency files for which you had no authorization to access.”

“I was conducting an investigation into illegal practices. I couldn’t exactly go to Seabright and ask to see his files.”

“There are channels to follow for this kind of thing, Imala. You skipped them all and played sheriff.”

She couldn’t believe this. Here she had done what no one else in the agency had the courage to do-and maybe even the brains to do-and they were vilifying her.

“Whom was I supposed to go to?” she asked. “Pendergrass? Because I did go to him. He blew me off.”

Fareed seemed surprised. “When was this?”

“A month ago.”

“Do you any have documentation of this? E-mails? Holos?”

She tried to remember. “No. I pulled him aside and showed him everything in person.”

Fareed was disappointed. He shrugged. “He’d probably only say he thought you were being zealous and admit he made a mistake.”

“That’s exactly what he said. Right before he led me outside and put me in a car with Ukko Jukes.”

Fareed was startled. “When?”

“An hour ago. That’s where I was at lunch.”

“I see.” Fareed went back behind his desk, paced a moment, then turned to her. “I can’t get you your old job back, Imala. Even knowing that you went to Pendergrass. The executive team was adamant.”

“Of course they were. Ukko Jukes has them in his pocket. They’re trying to shut me up and make the whole scandal with Seabright go away.”

“It already is going away,” said Fareed. “Jukes has agreed to pay all the back taxes and tariffs as well all fees and fines. Both the agency and Jukes will conduct separate internal investigations, and that will be the end of it.”

“Tell me you’re joking. We should be taking this to prosecutors.”

Fareed shook his head. “Not going to happen, Imala. They’re going to bury it.”

“Then I’ll go to the press. I’ll tell whomever will listen.”

“No one will listen, Imala. There are influences here much greater than you realize.”

He was telling her that Ukko owned the media as well; that anything she did would be squashed by Jukes. Unbelievable. They were letting this man bully them. Even Fareed-who seemed like a decent enough guy and who probably didn’t take a dime from Ukko-was stuck under Ukko’s thumb simply because he was in a system Ukko controlled.

“I got you on at Customs,” said Fareed. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s working with people, which you need.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a little rough around the edges, Imala. You haven’t made any friends since you came here. You despise everyone. This could be good for you.”

“I don’t despise everyone.”

“Name one person in your department with whom you have a friendship.”

“They all kiss up to Pendergrass. They don’t care about the work. They make constant mistakes.”

“How would you know they make mistakes?”

“Because I’ve checked their work. It’s sloppy.”

“Yes, and I’m sure they greatly appreciate you, a junior assistant, combing their work for mistakes.”

“Pendergrass sure isn’t going to do it.”

Fareed sighed. “You’re done, Imala. I stuck my neck out for you when the guys upstairs were ready to put you on a shuttle back to Earth. You can at least pretend to act grateful and take this job. Who knows? In a few years, I might be able to help you get on with a private firm.”

Imala wasn’t sure if she should punch the wall or cry. A few years? He might help her in few years? This was his gift to her? This was him pulling a favor? She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to shut him down the same way she had rejected Ukko. But what good would that do her? The moment your work permit was tagged as terminated, you were gone. If she walked out of here without a job, she’d be shipped to Earth no questions asked. And then what? Back to Arizona to face her father and tell him how right he had been? No, she couldn’t do that.

“What would I be auditing at Customs?” she asked.

“You won’t be auditing. You’d be a caseworker.”

“A caseworker? I’m not trained for that.”

“Show them how smart and nice you are, Imala, and I’m sure they’ll give you more responsibility.”

He handed her a data drive.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Your first case. A free miner who came in a week ago from the Kuiper Belt on a quickship. No identification. No docking authorizations. Deal with it.”

“How? I don’t know what to do with this.”

“You know customs law, Imala. You know the regulations. The rest is paperwork. If you smile occasionally, you might actually be good at this.”

She walked out of the office, holding the data drive. She stepped into the down tube and slowly descended, feeling numb. She had come to Luna because she believed she could do something important with her life, something meaningful. Now she was relegated to resolving petty customs violations. Pendergrass was right. She had gone on the warpath and picked a fight she had no chance of winning.

She didn’t bother going to her desk. There was nothing there she needed.

She paused in the lobby and connected the data drive to her wrist pad. There was a single file. A thin dossier on Victor Delgado. It didn’t tell her much, other than the fact that Delgado had been asking to speak with someone in authority since he had arrived. Imala found this amusing. Sorry, Victor. You’re stuck with a blacklisted former junior assistant. I’m about as far from authority as you can get.