The Omega Command by Jon Land Page A

Stimson.”
    “He is unavailable.”
    “Get him.”
    “He is—”
    “Get him, you ass! Now!”
    “I’ll send out a page,” the voice said after a brief pause.
    Blaine wished he could have reached through the phone to tear the damn bureaucrat’s throat out. It was another minute before Stimson came on the line.
    “This is Stimson.”
    “We’ve got problems.”
    “Blaine, is that you? What’s happened?”
    “Long story. You’ll be hearing about much of it before too long, I suspect.”
    “Complications?”
    “Violent ones. There are lots of people dead up here, Andy, and I was lucky not to be among them.”
    Stimson paused. “Were you blown?”
    “My investigation of Madame Rosa’s didn’t include the fringe benefits.”
    “Blaine, please !”
    “No, Andy, I wasn’t blown. They were waiting for somebody, that much I can tell you, and they must have had a pretty good idea it was me.”
    “I need details, Blaine, details!”
    “Madame Rosa’s dead. Her whole place is deserted. Somebody pulled a lot of strings and they waited until I got there to pull them. Outside I was made by Santa Claus and a bunch of elves who carried sawed-offs instead of Christmas presents. And you might be getting a bill from the city for one truck.”
    “When I told you to crack all the balls you wanted, you took me at my word, didn’t you?”
    “Only because I didn’t want mine cracked, Andy. This thing must be even bigger than we thought. And if you ask me, the Santa Claus I blew away has connections in places other than the North Pole.” Blaine paused. “What about the microfiche? Anything?”
    “Nothing concrete, but we’re making progress.”
    “If your computers can handle a little more work, I need a few checks made.”
    “I’ve got pen in hand.”
    “First, I need everything you can get me on someone or something called Sebastian.”
    “That’s it, just Sebastian?”
    “He or it was involved somehow with Madame Rosa, if that helps any.”
    “It might. What else?”
    “An Oriental named Chen, probably of Chinese extraction. Very small but very deadly. Alas, now very dead.”
    “Somehow I’m not surprised. …”
    “He’s probably a hired gun. Freelance. I’d like to know who he’s been working for lately.”
    “Why?”
    “Because somebody placed him with Madame Rosa, somebody with a lot of time, patience, and reasons. The Easton thing was set up for quite a while. Either Madame Rosa’s was infiltrated through and through, or Easton’s killers were invisible.”
    “Do you need to be brought in?” Stimson asked grimly.
    “The way I look right now, Andy, I’d have to travel in the baggage compartment. No, I’ll get cleaned up and hole up here for a few hours while you dig up that information for me. When should I call?”
    “It’s almost two now. Say anytime after four.”
    “Perfect.” Blaine was about to say goodbye when one final thought occurred to him. “Oh, and, Andy, that Santa Claus who’s seen his last chimney?”
    “Yes?”
    “He was black.”

Chapter 7
    “THE SPACE SHUTTLE ADVENTURER ?”
    Sandy Lister couldn’t believe what a nervous T.J. had just told her. She had spent the balance of the morning reviewing the information he had gathered and passed on the previous day concerning Krayman Industries. Little of his research would stand up in court, but it was accurate with one point irrefutable: Krayman Industries had channeled vast energies and resources into gaining control of different segments of the media and all spheres of telecommunication in general. The corporation was the controlling force behind twenty-seven local television stations nationwide, skirting FCC ownership regulations by forming new companies to control subgroups of stations in different regions. Holding all of them together and serving as an umbrella unit for Krayman’s vast holdings in the media, electronics, transportation, and computers was Communications Technology International. Tens of