Last Train To Nowhere
Page 1
LAST TRAIN TO NOWHERE
AN INSPECTOR THOMAS SULLIVAN THRILLER
K.C. Sivils
Copyright © 2017 by K.C. Sivils
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
K.C. Sivils
www.kcsivils.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2015 BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
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Last Train to Nowhere/ K.C. Sivils. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-0000000-0-0
“The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.”
Thomas Jefferson – 3rd President of the United States
I want to thank my precious wife Lisa for all of her patience and encouragement.
I would also like to thank Ann Smith and June Poleski for all the time and effort they spent reading the rough drafts and finding my numerous errors. Any mistakes you find are all mine.
My mother-in-law Dona Green deserves my heartfelt thinks as well for her patience and encouragement.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER ONE
I watched Sarah as she stared out into the frozen, snow-covered countryside as the archaic train sped toward our destination. Annoyed with Josephson for our chosen mode of transportation, I glanced at my watch, noting time was wasting.
“Tell me again why we are taking the train? Is there a slower way we could have traveled,” I growled at my partner, Sergeant Detective Josephson. He shrugged indifferently, confirming what I suspected.
“You don’t like to fly.” I snapped. Josephson, fresh back from medical leave, let his head drop in response. “Valuable time is being lost at the crime scene.”
“Yes sir,” the humbled youngster replied, drawing Sarah's attention. The mysterious, aloof doe eyed beauty glared at me, frowning as she shook her head in disapproval.
Not wanting to damage an already fragile relationship, I swallowed before explaining the source of my frustration.
“Look, you know every minute lost hurts our chances of solving the murder. If you have issues with flying, you should have booked a flight for Sarah and me and taken the train yourself.”
"Yes, sir. It won't happen again, Inspector Sullivan."
I settled back into my seat, casting a glance at Sarah whose gaze had returned to the frozen countryside. Looking out at the snow and ice covered plain; I closed my left eye and adjusted the vision in my right eye, the cybernetic one. Doing so eliminated the “snow blindness” effect of the light reflected off the snow, allowing me to view the scenery with perfect vision as it sped by.
I considered the purpose of our journey and grew even more worried. An officer in a Shore Patrol detachment attached to a company of Space Marines had been found murdered. That wasn’t what disturbed me, though any time a Space Marine dies is troublesome. No, it was the fact the officer in command had specifically requested my assignment to the case.
Typically, in such a situation, the Shore Patrol would handle its own investigation. Calling in civilians was bad form, and a fight over jurisdiction was inevitable. For me to be requested by name raised my normal level of paranoia even higher.
It could mean only one thing. Somebody knew about my past as a Sergeant in the Shore Patrol during my hitch in the Space Marines.
I smelled a rat.
---
Annoyed with Sully for chastising Josephson, Sarah focused her attention on the beautiful scenery as the train sped through the rolling, snow-covered white hills. The chilling winds from the west buffeted the train, enhancing its gentle, comforting rocking motion as it rolled along.
Ignoring Sullivan, her new employer, Sarah took a quick peek at Josephson. He’d donned the special glasses most humans needed to not suffer snow blindness in the open spaces of Beta Prime. Sullivan would just close his left eye and use his cybernetic eye to scan the countryside.
Sarah did not need the special glasses but had accepted a pair of regular sunglasses from Sullivan. Feeling for the glasses stored in the inner pocket of her new coat, Sarah recalled the knowing look from Sullivan as he’d handed her the glasses.
"Better nobody learns about your eyesight. Don't attract attention by not wearing these."
Sarah’s cheek touched the cold plastiglass, returning her attention to the present. Most trains were maglevs. The high tech design relied on magnets built into the track and the train. Each set of magnets repelled each other, creating a frictionless electromagnetic buffer for the train, allowing the train to travel at speeds otherwise not possible due to friction.
Worlds like Beta Prime did not permit the use of such technology. The extreme cold required levels of power that made the use of the maglev technology impractical. The centuries old earth design, steel wheels on steel rail, proved to be the most efficient method of moving large amounts freight and people under the planet’s extreme weather conditions.
Sarah sensed Sullivan was worried. Not just about the murder of a Space Marine, a sensitive issue for any Space Marine. Sarah had learned in her short time with Sullivan there was no such thing as an ex-Space Marine. They simply were no longer on active duty.
No, something else was bothering Sullivan. Sarah was certain. If it bothered the Inspector, it was serious.
Something about the assignment was more out of the ordinary than the Inspector was letting on.
---
Looking down at the dead, frozen body, the young Marine wished his watch would end soon. Each time he checked his chronometer it seemed like time was moving backward. A layer of white frost had collected on the blue and red uniform of the dead Shore Patrol officer.
Typically, like any Marine, he wouldn't have felt any emotion other than irritation at the presence of the military policeman. Seeing the frozen, lifeless form made the young guard feel something entirely different. The SP was the first real, dead body he'd ever seen.
On his first deployment following basic, the Marine had been relieved his first tour would be a boring one on Beta Prime. It would give him a chance to adjust to life in the Corps on active duty without worrying about getting killed.
Now he wasn’t so sure. SPs were invincible. They fearlessly broke up bar fights, arrested Marines and manhandled them into the brig if necessary. Marin
es viewed SPs with respect even though they disliked them. Mainly due to the fact SPs were armed to the teeth and knew how to take down Marines. Application of brute force and weaponry being two things all Marines respected.
Sneaking another glance at the dead SP, the guard noticed for the first time the dead man’s eyes were open. The eyelids drooped slightly; giving the appearance the dead SP had been struggling to stay awake when he died. His imagination began to get the better of him; giving the young guard the impression the dead man was watching him.
Another strong gust of freezing wind with ice particles mixed in slammed into the guard. He decided the body wasn’t going anywhere, being as it was dead and frozen stiff, and retreated around the corner of the building the body lay next to.
Snow drifted as another gust of wind blew, depositing another fine layer of flakes on the body. Lying on his back, the dead man’s tired, unfocused eyes stared up into the blue sky, never blinking as white clouds moved overhead.
---
Still feeling the sting of Sullivan’s rebuke, Josephson slumped further down in his seat, pushing his shades up to rub the bridge of his nose. His fear of flying had clouded his thinking. The Inspector was right. He should have been honest and booked passage by air for his boss and Sarah and taken the train with their luggage.
Josephson shifted position again, his new hip still stiff despite the months of rehab. His new skin grafts itched like crazy. Sullivan had promised the genetically neutral tissue grown specifically for skin grafts would stop itching after a couple of weeks. Josephson was starting to think his boss had lied to him.
He stole another glance at the strange new team member sitting across the aisle of the coach from him. She wasn't a partner, or even a real law enforcement officer for that matter. Sully had informed Josephson while he was still in the hospital that Sarah, the young woman's name, would be their assistant.
Upon his first few days back he’d learned Sullivan was paying this Sarah out of his own pocket, which raised more than a few eyebrows. Somehow, Chief O’Brian and Captain Markeson had not objected, leading Josephson to expect Sullivan his partner had something on the two.
He was undecided about the new addition to their team. Mainly how the girl's presence would change his position with Sullivan. There were, however, two things Josephson was certain of when it came to the enigmatic Sarah.
Sarah was easy on the eyes.
That and her mere presence made Sullivan uneasy.
---
I went through my mental checklist. We’d arrive at Brownstown in an hour, providing the train didn’t breakdown or derail. Sarah seemed distant, but that wasn't unusual. I just needed her to stay close enough I could keep an eye on her. That and I wanted to be able to pry her observations from her without the usual verbal sparring required.
Josephson, the puppy dog, was going to be more trouble now than when first assigned as my partner. Coming off medical was hard for anyone. Already lacking in confidence, Josephson was a bit more fragile than normal. I’d have to be watchful of my sharp tongue.
He was a good kid and might make a good detective in time.
Murder is serious business in my book, this murder even more so. SPs were tough to kill.
I ought to know. I used to be one.
Keeping my two partners safe while solving this would be a challenge ordinarily. This case was going to be more difficult. Somebody wanted me here for a reason.
And I didn’t as yet know what that reason was.
CHAPTER TWO
The Major brushed a snowflake off the lapel of his coat, annoyed by the constant dusting of snow the brisk wind applied to his uniform. He glanced again at his chronometer, the act of which did nothing to hasten the impending arrival of the noon passenger train.
Alone on the station platform, the others, waiting to either catch the train or greet travelers, remained in the waiting room of the train station. He needed to be alone when he met Sullivan.
It had been a lot of years since they had last spoken. Hopefully, those years had taken off some of the edge to Sullivan anger. Anger the Major’s former Sergeant had a right to feel.
He was counting on the fact Sullivan was a professional. That and the Inspector was straight as an arrow when it came to matters of law enforcement.
He’d changed a lot since the incident. Changed for the better. Losing nine good Marines, SPs no less, in what was an avoidable incident could have been a career ender. His mother’s connections and father’s wealth had saved him and in the process destroyed the military career of the real policeman. Time and a lot of guilt and reflection had shaped him into a good officer.
Not good enough to ultimately overcome the silent stain of the fix that had been put in to save his career. But good enough for him to rise to the rank of major in the Corps and earn another chance at a real combat command.
It had been hard, but Kilgore had paid the price. Transferring from the police arm of the Space Marines, the Shore Patrol, to the regular infantry had cost him. He’d had to go through infantry school again as well as combat officer school. But Kilgore saw the sacrifice as necessary. He had nine lives and a career to atone.
---
Chief O'Brian looked at the report for the seventh time since dispatching Sullivan and Josephson to Brownstown. With that strange woman Sarah in tow no doubt. Sullivan had violated an untold number of protocols by hiring her. Earlier, when confronted, Sully had bluntly told both him and Markeson there was nothing immoral going on. He needed an assistant, and she would not be involved in actual police work.
Sullivan was a straight enough arrow he might be on the up and up about the immoral stuff, but O’Brian was certain Sullivan wasn’t on the level with him about something regarding the girl. Markeson had just smiled when Sullivan departed after the testy exchange between the Inspector and his superiors.
"Let'em do it, Chief," Markeson had mumbled. "You know, give him enough rope, and we'll be rid of him."
O’Brian had glared at his Chief of Detectives. “Yeah, like you thought we’d be rid of him with that hearing.”
He’d enjoyed the speed at which the grin on Markeson’s face disappeared at the mention of the disastrous Internal Affairs hearing months earlier.
"How was I supposed to know Sully was that smart? Everything indicated he was a screw-up."
“You’re supposed to be the best detective on this planet,” O’Brian grunted back. “Nothing should surprise you.”
Markeson frowned and stood up to depart. "He got lucky. Sooner or later Sullivan's luck will run out." To emphasize his point Markeson disrespectfully slammed the door to O'Brian's office when he left.
Something was up with Sullivan. That much O’Brian was sure of. The military, particularly the SP’s, never requested civilian help in solving a crime involving one of their own. Yet, the officer in command of the unit had requested Sullivan by name and insisted he be placed in charge of the investigation.
“Sullivan, so help me, trouble just seems to follow you,” O’Brian mused aloud. “See to it you make sure it stays your problem and not mine.”
O'Brian shifted in his standard issue office chair to get slightly more comfortable. The chair creaked loudly in protest, making O'Brian wonder again just how was it Markeson had a comfortable, custom chair and he, the Chief of Police of Beta Prime has a standard issue government chair.
Putting all thoughts of Markeson aside, O’Brian focused his attention again on the limited details provided about the case he’d just assigned Sullivan on. O’Brian’s cop sense told him it was a bad deal all the way around.
Military bases were few in number on Beta Prime and its two moons Serenity and Persephone. Brownstown was a mining town trying to masquerade as an up and coming tourist destination. Besides a little seasonal activity from the local farms and loggers, the only other source of income for the town was the military base.
The fact Markeson had taken an interest in the case, albeit a casual interest, told O’
Brian he’d sent his best detective to disarm a time bomb.
He hoped Sullivan was up to the task.
---
I stumbled as the swaying motion of the train suddenly lessened as the screeching sound of brakes being applied filled the coach. Sarah and Josephson stood up and began putting on their long, military styled great coats before retrieving their carry-on luggage from the racks over their seats. I pulled down my own backpack and slipped the right strap over my shoulder like school kids have been doing for centuries.
Sarah pulled on her backpack, using both straps to secure her load. Josephson struggled with his large suitcase, as the brakes released for a moment, causing him to stumble into me, earning him a frown in the process.
I moved past Josephson to get a view of the station as we approached. I was irritated enough with him already. Sometimes it was just better if I didn’t say anything.
The train continued to slow as it passed through a sharp curve to the right. In the distance, I caught my first glimpse of Brownstown. Judging by the rail facilities coming into view, there couldn't be much to Brownstown.
As the locomotive pulled through the long curve, it began to obscure my view of the freight yards located to the eastern, or left, side of the train. From what I had been able to see the freight facility was primarily dedicated to the transfer of minerals and ore to freight cars. A small container transfer facility passed from my view while the train entered a section of straight track as it entered the edge of the town.
I adjusted my right eye to take in all the detail possible as the train continued to slow its approach to the passenger station. Unlike the large passenger facility we’d departed from in Capital City, this depot was not covered. An open platform greeted the passengers on the train, promising a cold reception before they rushed to what I hoped was a warm waiting room in the station.