by Dan Fairview
Dan Fairview
Copyright © 2018 by Dan Fairview
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ESCAPE
Dan Fairview is an author of Science Fiction and Fantasy.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Finding Purpose preview
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One
Develocorp Planetary Police Headquarters
New London, Earth 2053 AD
John Finder stepped off the elevator. Conversations stopped instantly in the unusually dark squad room. Rain pelted the large windows on the outer side of the room. He paused to smooth his wrinkled black suit and lock eyes with people he had once thought of as friends, only to have them look quickly away.
He sighed and weaved his way through the desks toward the captain's office. Holographic interface computers chimed, and conversations resumed in hushed tones. He checked the time on his comm unit against the chronometer on the wall that displayed galactic standard time. He was late.
John knocked on the mirrored glass door to Captain Bryson’s office and then pushed in.
“You wanted to see me?” John said.
Chet Bryson, who had been his supportive superior for the last five years, sat behind a plain metal desk, identical to the others out in the squad room. He was in his fifties, gray hair, thick around the middle, and very easy to underestimate. He motioned to the seat before his desk. “Sit down. I've heard from internal affairs, and I'm afraid it isn't good news.”
The chair creaked and groaned as John slumped into it. He rubbed his stubbly face with both hands. “The reception out front was a giveaway.”
“Don't be too hard on them. Most are good eggs and don't care about this telepathy business with you wife. It’s a tired argument if you ask me, but I suppose you will always find those that hate telepaths for some reason or other.”
John closed his eyes to the family pictures on the walls. “How did they find out about her?”
“I can't tell you that.”
John focused on the ceiling. “I suppose they figured it out during her autopsy.”
Bryson said nothing.
“What now?” John asked, “My wife is dead because of this. Am I going to lose my job too?”
“Her death was officially ruled an accident and that’s that,” Bryson said firmly, “I’m just thankful your daughter wasn’t with her.”
John nodded.
Bryson shifted in his chair and wouldn't make eye contact. “You are officially removed from the cloning case, and any others you are currently pursuing. With consideration for past service, internal affairs is giving you the option to retire instead of facing the indignity of a trial.”
“You mean they don't want a scandal,” John said loud enough to be heard outside.
Bryson looked away. “Don't shoot the messenger.”
John sank further into his chair. “Can they even make a case against me?”
Bryson nodded. “Someone has come forward.”
John shook his head, took a deep breath and stood. He removed his firearm and his badge and laid them on the desk with a resounding thud.
“I'm gonna show you something,” Bryson said, “but you didn't see it, understand?” John nodded. “It may or may not have bearing on the case, but I felt you should know about it.” He unlocked a pad with his thumbprint, and passed it to him.
John looked up sharply after he read it. “Why?”
“Doc doesn't know, but he’s certain it occurred before the accident.”
“How does he know?”
“Says it was starting to heal, so the cut has to have happened earlier. Did she have some sort of medical procedure while she was away?”
“She said nothing to me about it.”
“I'll let you know if I find anything out, but you stay out it.” He pointed a finger at John. “If I find you poking around, I'll have to arrest you.”
John handed the pad back and nodded. Without another word, he turned and left.
All eyes in the squad room turned to John as he exited the office. The door closed behind him, and the symbolism wasn't lost on him. His friend Ancil Harwood stepped in front of him.
“I've heard,” Ancil said.
John started for his desk. Ancil followed. Lightning flashed outside, bathing the room momentarily in white light.
“Grapevine says it was your partner who sold you out.”
John paused. “Figures. That’s what I get for trusting.” He continued to his desk.
“You have to trust somebody. Do you need a box?”
“No.” John unlocked the top drawer, reached in, removed a small object, and stuffed it into his pocket. He tossed the key on the desk and headed for the elevator.
Someone whispered. “No wonder he was promoted so quickly.”
Ancil followed him onto the elevator. Two other occupants moved back to make room.
The elevator's glass walls revealed a spectacular view of the open interior of the building. The artificial sunlight ran at a low level, matching the weather outside.
John put his back to the glass and focused on the control panel, as the elevator lurched and began its decent. Twenty levels down, the elevator stopped and one passenger got off, leaving the last passenger alone with them, then the elevator continued down.
“Good riddance to you.” The man said from behind.
John kept his eyes forward, but cocked his head slightly. “What did you say?”
“I said, good riddance to you, and your filthy secret stealer.”
Ancil turned to speak.
“Keep out of it,” the man said.
John slowly turned to face him.
The man puffed up and said. “She got what was coming to her.”
John lunged at him, but Ancil stepped between them.
The man threw Ancil aside and swung at John.
John dodged, caught his wrist, twisting it behind him, making him cry out in pain.
The elevator stopped and opened.
“This must be your floor.” John tossed him out, and he rolled face down into a heap.
John straightened his suit, the elevator closed and continued. He resumed his position at the control panel.
“That was fun,” Ancil said.
John rolled his eyes at him.
Ancil slapped John's shoulder. “I hope you know you can trust me to stick by you?”
“Why would you even want to?”
“Because you were that twelve year old kid who saved my life.”
The elevator opened, and they made their way out of the building into the rain. Ancil adjusted his coat, closing it tighter. Sheets of rain highlighted by the streetlights danced on the wind coating them in a fine mist even though they were both under the awning.
“How is Clarissa taking all this?” Ancil asked.
“Luckily she is too young to understand. She thinks her mother is gone on a trip or something.”
“I hope you don't mind me asking, but has Clarissa shown any signs of telepathy like her mother?”
“No.”
“Is there anything I can do? Do y
ou need money?”
John shook his head. “Thanks, no.”
“What will you do about a job?”
“Detective work is all I know, so it looks like the private investigator racket.”
“You'll make a damn fine one.”
An air taxi sliced through the rain and landed.
“This must be you.” John grabbed his friend by the forearm, pulled him close and slapped him on the back. “Don't worry. I'll land on my feet.”
“I thought you might. Yell if you need me.”
John gave a sharp nod. Ancil covered his head with his coat and dashed to his ride.
The air taxi lifted off and sped away. In a few moments a ground taxi rolled up for John. He opened the door, slid inside, told the computer his destination, and slumped back into the cushion with his chin on his chest. Stale cigar smoke assaulted his nostrils and he cracked the window.
He pulled the small object from his pocket and rubbed his thumb over the smooth flat surface. It was unbroken, except for an interface slot the width of his fingernail on one edge.
It was a piece of evidence from the cloning case that he would have eventually turned in, but now he would hold on to it a little longer; At least until the head geneticist turned up. He slipped it back into his pocket and closed his eyes.
Two
John's new office, weeks later
John sat on a metal office chair. Ancil sat across from him on a similar one, inspecting the new office. The expression on Ancil’s face wasn't one that he would call pleased.
Bars over the windows cast faint shadows onto the faded red walls. The table between them was well worn, but serviceable.
“It may not look like much, but it's mine,” John said. “Well, for a year at least. I had to pay in advance.”
Ancil pointed to a door behind John. “Where does that lead?”
“To the apartment upstairs.”
“Oh.”
“You don't like it do you?”
Ancil looked down at his hands. “It's not that…” He shrugged. “I don't know what I was expecting. You had to pay for a year? That must have cost you?”
John nodded. “It took nearly everything I had, but I needed the place upstairs and the daycare around the corner.”
“It’s a shame they took the house from you. I have some money if you need it.”
“I'm fine. Business may not be booming, but it's steady, even if most of the cases are crap.”
“Couldn't you take on a partner for the lesser cases?”
“You asking?”
“No way.”
“Then that leaves me.”
“John, no man is an island. At some point you're going to have to let someone help you.” A vehicle passed by outside as they sat silently.
John finally said in a low voice “It's time for me to pick up Clarissa.” He rose, and straightened his blazer.
Ancil rose. “I only want to help.”
“Then wish me luck, and leave it at that.”
Ancil shook his head slowly. “Good luck then. You know where to find me.”
Ancil left and the cold damp air rushed in, causing John to shiver involuntarily. He grabbed his overcoat and hat, locked up, and went around the corner to the daycare.
“Mr. Finder, this the third time you been late this week. Told you when I accepted Clarissa that you gotta be punctual. I have a life too you know.” She passed Clarissa's hand to him with an exaggerated motion.
John helped her into her coat and settled her hood into position. “I'm sorry. It wont happen again.”
The lady put both hands on her generous hips. “See that it don’t. Bye Clarissa.”
Clarissa smiled and waved as John pulled her outside. The sky was leaden, small drops of rain mixed with a mist that seemed to perpetually hang in the air. John couldn't recall a sunny day since his wife had died. He knew that couldn’t be true, but it certainly seemed so.
He and Clarissa hurried down the empty sidewalk. When they rounded the corner, someone was messing with the lock to his office.
John pulled Clarissa behind him. The person was obscured in a long overcoat and hat just like his, so there weren’t any identifiable features. He reached under his coat for his firearm, but the person dashed off. If it weren't for Clarissa, he would have given chase. The rain was coming down hard now.
Clarissa stomped a puddle, unaware of anything wrong. John pulled her toward the office. “Lets get out of the rain.”
“Aww.”
Once inside, he barred the door, hung up their coats, and turned the heat up a notch.
His comm unit sat on the table where he had forgotten it. A message waited. He put it on speaker, while he helped Clarissa out of her wet shoes.
“Mr. Finder,” a baritone voice said from the speaker, “my name is Marcus Cornwall of the Casino Mojito, on the planet Viata. You come highly recommended. I have a job for you. All expenses paid and ten thousand credits guaranteed. Contact me as soon as you get this. Good day.”
John stuffed the comm unit into his pocket, and herded Clarissa up the stairs.
Next morning, John arranged to meet with his sister Amanda.
The artificial sunlight glared off the solid glass bar, making him squint. He dug into his wallet to pay the robot bartender for their drinks.
“You should let me pay,” Amanda said.
“Absolutely not.”
“I can pay for my own at least.”
“No. I made you come all the way here. The least I can do is buy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Have it your way mule head.”
John paid and put his wallet away, but the robot didn’t move. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else tin man.” It turned and rolled away.
“Tin man?” she asked.
“Why can’t they just hire real people?”
Amanda sipped her drink and her whole face puckered. “They make the best grapefruit blast here.”
Soft music echoed around the room, covering the din of conversations. A woman at the end of the bar wore a hat with a single flower twice as large as her head. John hated the place, but he hadn’t picked it, she had. He preferred more rustic and traditional, instead of… he didn’t even know what to call the style of the place.
“Not that I mind, but why did you drag me out here?” Amanda asked.
John surveyed the room. “I need a huge favor.”
She wrinkled her mouth. “What kind of favor?”
“I have an off-world job offer, and I need you to keep Clarissa for me.”
She sipped her drink again.
“How long are we talking about?”
“I'm not sure. I won’t know the particulars until I get there. Say, six months.”
Amanda shook her head. “I hate to say no, but we have our big vacation next month. Besides, I don't think Clarissa should be away from you right now.”
John sighed. “I feel funny about taking her to a place like Viata.”
Her eyes widened. “What’s wrong with Viata? I hear it’s nice.”
“A lot of things happen on a resort world. Things she shouldn't see.”
“Oh come on. It has to be safer there. I know it will be warmer. It would do you both good to get a little sun.”
John let out a long breath. “I hope you're right, because you leave me no other choice. The money is too good to pass up.” He downed his whiskey and placed it gently on the glass bar. The robot bartender dutifully removed it and offered another. John waved it away.
“How is Clarissa adjusting?” she asked.
“She doesn't understand.”
“That may be a good thing. What about you?”
“Some days are better than others. Right now, I just want to get us stable again.”
“You should’ve come to the house, the kids would have loved it?”
A person hovered outside the front window, but moved on as soon as John looked. He was silent a long time, and then finally said. “Did Mel
anie mention having a medical procedure to you?”
“No.”
John surveyed the room again.
“What’s wrong? Why are you so on edge?”
“Someone has been poking around my office. It may be a coincidence, but I’m not sure yet.”
“John, you’re scaring me.”
He smiled and patted her on the leg. “It's probably nothing, but you know my business, so keep an eye out.”
“Are you sure you're ok?”
“I'm fine. Fine as I can be. Have fun on your vacation. I better go. I have a trip to prepare for.”
“Let me know you arrive safe.”
John rose. “I will.”
“Please take care of yourself.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “You too sis.”
Three
Planet Viata
John sat in his seat on the transport. Clarissa slept next to him. He flipped through orbital images of the planet below on a viewer. It seemed to be totally covered in water, but John knew that wasn’t true. Somewhere down there was a continent that promised every imaginable distraction.
John zoomed the viewer on the main continent of Hishu and located the spaceport on the southern shore. Further south of the coast were hundreds of islands of all sizes. The largest one, New Monte Carlo, was covered with casinos. He would meet Director Cornwall there tomorrow to discuss the case.
When they landed, he woke Clarissa, gathered their things from the overhead compartment, and led her down the aisle toward the exit. She insisted on carrying her own bag, which included the object that John had retrieved from his desk on Earth. It blended in well with the rest of her tech devices. She swung the bag as she walked, bumping him on the shin with it.
People flooded the baggage claim area, pushing and shoving. A thin greasy-haired man with a scar on his cheek bumped John hard.
