The Cargo Clause

Captain’s Log: 2734 — Argos

Phox Security has been hired to recover what disappeared during the Deep Blink. Brick Walker discovers that the client’s definition of cargo includes people who witnessed it.

Brick found the cleaner trying to count the broken filters.

She had arranged the intact cartons along a freight lane and placed the damaged ones in a separate pile. Fine white membrane material clung to her sleeves. Every time she lifted a box, more of it drifted across the floor.

“They want a number before disposal,” she said.

Brick crouched beside her.

“Who does?”

“Claims.”

A compact security drone lay on its side beyond the pallet. Someone had made it safe and attached a tag to the ruined casing. Its weapon pointed toward a row of small water filters packed for households Brick would never see.

“Let’s count the sealed ones first,” he said.

“That won’t tell them how many were hit.”

“It will tell us what people can still use.”

She considered him, then handed him a carton.

By the time the depot manager arrived, they had filled a cart.

“Phox?” the manager asked.

Brick stood. The man took an involuntary half-step back.

“Yes.”

“The recovery area is this way.”

“I’ll need the receiving team to take these somewhere clean.”

The manager looked at the cart as though its presence complicated the morning personally.

“They’re part of the claim.”

“They’re also water filters.”

Lloyd called while Brick was examining the inner cage.

From the bridge of the Gemini Star, his partner had already assembled a neat account: a fabricated emergency aboard the Serendipity, ground diversions, a depot entry, destroyed drones, and a missing sealed consignment. The client’s representative wanted a discreet recovery before competitors learned how easily the depot had been entered.

Brick moved his camera along the latch.

“No forced entry.”

“We expected borrowed credentials.”

“Manager says those were used at the outer door. This release predates them.”

“A compromised clock?”

“Possible.”

“Good. Keep it possible until we know.”

Brick liked that about Lloyd. His arithmetic could be cruel, but it was seldom careless.

An older assembly sat behind the modern latch cover. Its event counter had advanced through a mechanical detent, leaving a small recorded position that could not be changed by editing a screen. It offered sequence rather than a trustworthy wall-clock time: release, then outer access, then alarm.

Brick asked the manager for the procedure that allowed that order.

The man consulted a technician. The technician consulted the drawing. Neither offered an answer.

“Preserve it,” Lloyd said. “Including the controller. Don’t let them recycle a convenient failure.”

The manager heard him through Brick’s open speaker.

“We need that cage back in service.”

“Then you need a replacement controller,” Brick said.

The contract arrived while the technicians removed the assembly.

Brick read it beside a column scarred by drone fire. Recovery of the consignment. Recovery of associated handling equipment. Recovery of contractor records and effects. A schedule listed two temporary workers and an unidentified man seen leaving in a shuttle.

He expanded the last category.

Return to client custody pending examination.

“Lloyd.”

“I’m looking.”

“They’ve listed witnesses as effects.”

“They’ve listed employees and subcontractors under obligations to assist the inquiry.”

“One of them was a cleaner.”

“She handled the affected area.”

“She came on shift afterward.”

There was a pause.

“Then that entry is wrong,” Lloyd said.

“It’s written broadly enough to catch anyone who touched anything.”

“Brick, the client wants people available for interview. They’re not purchasing them.”

“Then we can write that.”

He watched the cleaner push her cart past the far lane. She had tied a scarf over her hair to keep the filter dust out. The manager stepped in front of her and pointed toward an office.

She looked at the time.

Brick crossed the floor.

Her shift was over. The manager wanted her to wait until the recovery team finished its questions. There was no interview time, no written order, and no answer to whether she would be paid for waiting.

“My mother’s carer leaves in forty minutes,” she said.

The manager explained that the missing consignment was exceptionally valuable.

Brick asked whether the carer would accept that as payment.

The manager’s face hardened.

“You’re working for us.”

“On a contract we haven’t signed.”

The woman looked between them.

“If I leave, they’ll say I refused.”

Brick opened a contact form on his terminal.

“Will you speak to us tomorrow at a time you choose?”

“Yes.”

He recorded her answer and gave her a copy. Then he asked the manager to state, for the same record, whether he was ordering her detained.

The man stepped aside.

Brick returned to the cage. The technicians were wrapping the latch assembly in a clean protective sheet. He watched them seal it, counted the attachments, and signed as receiving witness.

Lloyd had not disconnected.

“That will cost us,” he said.

“Which part?”

“The part where the client feels accused in his own building.”

“Then send him someone smaller next time.”

“Someone smaller might still have had to read the contract.”

Brick smiled despite himself.

Aboard the Gemini Star, Lloyd had the agreement waiting on the main table.

He had removed the custody clause. In its place were defined interview arrangements, consent to supply specified records, and a procedure for referring any detention request to the proper authorities.

The client had objected to every change.

“He may hire someone else,” Lloyd said.

“Will we still have to return the assembly?”

“We’ll transfer it to independent storage with a receipt. He can contest the storage cost.”

Brick sat opposite him. The chair shifted under his weight.

“You kept the job open.”

“I haven’t found a profitable way to run a security firm without clients.”

“Nor have I.”

Lloyd rotated a second display toward him.

The depot had supplied a service sequence to help identify the fault. Its release authorization belonged to an inherited maintenance category the present staff could use only through a supervised procedure.

Nobody had performed that procedure during the heist.

“That doesn’t make Darkstar innocent,” Lloyd said.

“I didn’t ask.”

“It makes the story less convenient. Someone opened a door she intended to open herself. Or the equipment did it. Or we have bad records.”

“Three things to check.”

“Several things under each.”

Brick leaned over the contract and signed the revised version.

On Lloyd’s terminal, a message arrived from the cleaner. She had reached her mother before the carer left. Tomorrow, she could meet them after ten.

Lloyd entered the appointment, marked it as paid witness time, and charged it to Phox.

Then he sent the amended contract back to the client.