War World X: Takeover by John F. Carr Read Free Book Online

best he could do was extract the active ingredients with alcohol from his failed distilling projects and get a concentrated liquid form, but even that proved no real competition for the natural product. He could not even get the customers to gamble in his establishment, and that was unheard of.
    Worst of all, he hadn’t been able to contact any of the other company or CoDo agents, or even learn who they were. A bar and grill and whorehouse usually had no trouble collecting information from customers, but for some reason his clientele was remarkably close-mouthed. Some odd reticence seemed to overcome them the minute they set foot through the doorway: a strange solemnity, almost a feeling of guilt, which precluded merriment and small-talk. The relocated Golden Parrot was the gloomiest bar—and the poorest information-source—that DeCastro had ever seen and he had no idea why.
    Discreet strolls around Kenny-Camp had told him nothing except that the free prospectors viewed the indentured miners with mixed pity and contempt. Everybody hungrily awaited any out-of-town trade, the settled farmers seemed to be prospering and everyone hated Kennicott Metals.
    What he knew from his own sources was that Kennicott had long since made an uneasy truce with Anaconda and Dover, such that they all dug for different minerals, in widely separated and distant locations. Reynolds was left out in the cold, and resented it.
    Perhaps it was time to make a personal visit back to Castell City, just to see what he could learn. His excuse would be buying some decent brandy, since he couldn’t find or make the product locally. The only difficulty lay in trading company scrip for CoDo creds, since the company’s currency-exchange always gave a miserable return and he knew well that nobody accepted company scrip outside of Hell’s-A-Comin’.
    When he heard the news that Captain Makhno was pulling up to the dock, he took the opportunity. DeCastro left explicit orders with his staff, packed up a sack full of CoDo creds and strolled down to the waterfront.
    Instead of the familiar steamboat, there sat the most outlandish ship that DeCastro had ever seen. It had three hulls, all long and narrow, the two outer ones set back from the central—and larger—hull, each carrying a raked mast with double booms and sails made of some thick unbleached cloth. The central hull also sported a paddle wheel at the stern, and the two outer hulls had what were clearly steering wheels attached to rudders hidden below the water. The hulls were joined with angled and arched wings where cargo was strapped. The whole construction was made of a pale gray wood that gleamed with some sort of lacquer. Though smaller than the old Celia , this bizarre boat—sporting the name River Dragon in what appeared to be metal letters on its bow—looked as if it could carry just as much cargo.
    And yes, there was the familiar captain making fast to the dock. Now DeCastro could see that the Dragon was towing a homemade barge loaded with what looked like blackened logs, canvas-covered pigs of metal and crates of odd fruit. In the ship itself sat three passengers, hulking miners or prospectors, two of them guarding the third. DeCastro guessed that the third man had made a good shimmer stone strike down river at Hell’s-A-Comin’ and was taking it to Castell City, rather than the assayer’s office, in hopes of getting a better price. Best leave him carefully alone , he decided.
    DeCastro strolled up to the River Dragon with a smile on his face and his hands in plain view.
    “Greetings, Capitan Makhno,” he chirped. “Could you take another passenger up to Castell City?”
    “I could,” said Makhno, giving him a measured look. “What pay?”
    “CoDo creds. Not a penny of company scrip, I swear.”
    Makhno glanced at his other passengers, who shrugged. “That’ll do,” he said. “I have some business ashore, but be here in an hour and I’ll take you.”
    “Indeed, I shall be