Page 41 of Sweetwater and the Witch

Chapter Nineteen

You couldn’t trust anyone in the mining business, but sometimes you had to roll the dice.

Travers Bowen huddled in the alley behind the abandoned, boarded-up warehouse. It wasn’t cold—it was never really cold in the Shadow Zone—but he was shivering from the combined effects of adrenaline, anticipation, and fear. He was almost afraid to believe his good luck. The years of fruitless prospecting in the Underworld had finally paid off. Glass House was the discovery of a lifetime.

The moment he realized exactly what he had found, he had also understood the danger involved, hence the fear that sparked beneath the excitement. He knew the only safe thing to do with Glass House was unload it as quickly as possible. That meant he had to sell it to one of the big corporations and he had to do it fast.

Bowen had been in the prospecting business long enough to know he was in mortal danger. There were a lot of people who would cheerfullyslit his throat in exchange for the coordinates to Glass House. The big outfits, like Sweetwater and Coppersmith, could afford private security. They also had the money to deal with the paperwork involved in filing and protecting a rich claim like Glass House.

He was a one-man operation. He took plenty of precautions, but he could not protect himself indefinitely against the ruthless raiders and pirates who operated in the Underworld.

It wasn’t that he trusted the CEOs of the big companies any more than he did the small-time operators. You didn’t get to be the guy in charge of a large outfit by playing by all the rules. But there were two things in favor of dealing with a big firm. The first was that the head of a large corporation had access to the kind of cash he was looking for. The second was that it seemed unlikely a CEO would resort to violence—not because of inhibitions about using such tactics, but because murder tended to draw the attention of the police, and that, in turn, led to bad publicity. A CEO had to protect the brand.

There were only a handful of corporations who could afford to buy what he was selling. It would have been great to set up an auction, but that approach would have been equivalent to suicide. Auctions were too risky for small-time independents like him because it was impossible to keep them entirely secret. Too many people invariably got wind of what was going down. There were always leaks and rumors in the rough-and-tumble environment of Underworld mining.

In the end he had been forced to choose between Coppersmith Mining; Amber, Inc.; Spooner Technologies; and a couple of other players in the hard-rock tech market. He had opted to approach Spooner Tech because word in the mining world was the company would pay top dollar, no questions asked, for any specimen that looked like Alien engineering.

He had known from the start there were going to be a lot of questions about his find—the kind of questions that could easily lead to having the government step in and take charge on the grounds the discovery was toodangerous and too powerful to be left in the hands of the private sector. Glass House definitely came under the heading of Strategic Importance. The Feds would be very interested.

It wasn’t that he cared if the government took control of the stones. The problem was that he was pretty sure he would get stiffed in the process. Sure, the Federation of City-States would give him some compensation, but it wouldn’t amount to anywhere near what he could make by selling to a company like Spooner Tech.

The transaction that was going to be concluded tonight had been a delicate process. He had sent a single crystal anonymously to Taggert Spooner along with a note explaining it was merely a small sample. He had also included the number of the anonymous bank account he had opened.

The following day an impressive sum of money had been deposited in the account. Tomorrow morning there would be a lot more. He was about to become one of the richest men in Illusion Town. Make that one of the wealthiest people in the Federation of City-States.

He put his hand into the deep pocket of his battered leather jacket and touched the small crystal pyramid for good luck. Energy pulsed, fortifying his resolve. No need to mention to the buyer that he was keeping one little specimen as a souvenir.

The psi-infused fog that swirled through the Shadow Zone seemed heavier than usual tonight, more oppressive, but he told himself that was a good thing. It offered plenty of cover. The location he had chosen for the meeting was in a neighborhood of boarded-up storefronts and defunct nightclubs. The nearest operating casinos and clubs were several blocks away, close to the Dead City Wall. In this part of the zone there were no inconvenient passersby on the sidewalk. No random cars cruising the street.

He checked the time. Spooner was a few minutes late. Maybe he had gotten lost. The corporate man was from out of town. He didn’t know hisway around. The thought elicited another little flicker of panic. How long should he wait?

Out on the street headlights glowed briefly in the fog and then winked out. A car stopped. Bowen breathed a sigh of relief. Spooner was here.

A moment later a figure appeared at the entrance of the alley, silhouetted in the paranormal radiance that infused the fog. Another wave of anxiety swept through Bowen. This was it. The deal was going down. He released the pyramid and took his hand out of his pocket.

He put his other hand into the pocket on the opposite side of the jacket. His fingers closed around the small mag-rez.

“Spooner?” he said.

“Yes.” Spooner moved toward him. “And you are?”

Bowen relaxed a little when he realized Spooner’s hands were in plain sight.

“You don’t need to know my name,” he said.

“How can I be sure you won’t cheat me?” Spooner asked. “Maybe give me phony coordinates and then turn around and sell Glass House to my competition.”

“We both know I need to make this deal happen as soon as possible.”

“You’re a highly motivated seller. I understand. If there are even a few more crystals like the one you sent to me, that cache is worth every penny you’re asking.”

“It’s not just a cache of crystals, Spooner. It’s an incredible place. So much power. I don’t know how to describe it. Not just another Underworld ruin. I think it’s an Alien lab of some kind. That little pyramid I gave you is just a tiny sliver of what’s in Glass House.”

No need to tell Spooner he had found the crystal and the one in his pocket lying on the floor in the tunnel, and that there was a massive crystal gate protecting Glass House.

“An Alien lab?” Spooner said. He sounded astonished. “Are you sure?”

“That’s my guess.”

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