Last Train To Nowhere

by K. C. Sivils

  “The other one?”

  “Related to your friend.”

  “My SP friend?”

  “No. The pretty one.”

  I grabbed the sweeping device and did a fourth sweep of the room as my paranoia raged. I was as spooked as Bones was now.

  “She called him a watcher. None of us ever spotted him unless she was with us and pointed him out.”

  “Hide in plain sight.”

  I hated to ask Bones to do what I was about to ask. Not because we would both be guilty of tampering with evidence, but because it wasn’t fair to the deceased.

  “Have you got a John Doe you haven’t autopsied yet?”

  “Way ahead of you Inspector. This little talk never happened.”

  “I may need a real report in the future.”

  "Just give me enough advance warning, and I will produce it and the actual evidence. But promise me this Inspector, don’t ask for it unless you can actually put somebody away.”

  “Don’t worry, Bones,” I promised. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt my pretty friend. I’ll take this to my grave if I have to.”

  ---

  "I was quite pleased," the Sergeant reported. "Our packages are in immaculate condition. The labor force changed the procurement method, showing initiative. In doing so, they left absolutely no traces of their work and no witnesses.”

  “That’s a different song you’re singing now,” the red head groused, rubbing her aching temples. The painkillers weren’t working fast enough to relieve the relentless pounding of her stress headache.

  “I told you,” the Sergeant snapped, letting his irritation show, “specificity of labor is required. Our labor force has excellent skills for the original task we contracted them for. Work of a wet nature should be left to me.”

  “Fine,” the red head snapped, not noticing the change in her Sergeant’s attitude toward her. “If we have need of such skilled labor in the future, you will be assigned the task.”

  He nodded, only slightly mollified his Colonel had accepted his appraisal of the mercenary’s performance and his demand she allow him to handle the special, solo tasks their mission might require in the future. Like making a certain Chief of Detectives vanish from existence.

  ---

  Chief O’Brian looked as surprised to see me walk into his office as I was to be there. I shut the door quietly, pulled out my own sweeping device and checked his office. He didn’t object.

  “So, Inspector, may I ask why I have the pleasure of a visit from you today?”

  I didn’t say a word. I reached into my greatcoat and pulled out a tablet and laid it on his desk. He picked it up, pressed his thumb on the biometric scanner and began reading. I let him.

  Three minutes later he laid the tablet down and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  "Winston Vitter. That's a name I had hoped never to hear again."

  “Tell me what’s not in that file Chief.”

  “Why do you need to know Inspector?”

  "I can't go into it right now, but this Vitter was running a gang of pickpockets in the neighborhoods around where I live."

  “Go on.”

  “He had in his employ an individual who may, or may not, be involved in the murder case the military requested me to take on. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “The murder in Brownstown. Dead SP.”

  I nodded.

  “Sensitive matter. What do you need to know? I’ll tell you what I can.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, Chief.”

  “Of course not. They don’t exist. Every decent cop knows that.”

  "So tell me Chief, who was Vitter close too? There is no record of a partner. I've picked up he got careless, and that's how he got busted."

  I watched Chief O'Brian rub the bridge of his nose again. He didn't want to relive this, but I had no choice. I had to know if what I suspected was true.

  “It was right after my wife left me for another man. Took the kids and filed for divorce.”

  I didn’t say anything. What can you say to that?

  “Sully, all I have left is my job.” He looked at the pictures on his Wall of Fame. "I haven't done my job the past years like I need to and that's part of why you're here. To clean up a mess, I should have handled."

  He paused to collect himself.

  “The Vitter case almost got me relieved of my duties as Chief of Police for Beta Prime. Markeson stepped in and, how shall I say it, handled some of the backroom political deals I am terrible at. I was a good cop, Sully, a good administrator too. I got sent here to clean things up. Made a good start, but then my wife left me. I just lost it for awhile, and all the ground I'd gained was lost and then some."

  I had to get him back on track. “Vitter, sir, if you don’t mind.”

  Still staring at the images in his Wall of Fame, he spoke softly. “Vitter was Markeson’s partner before he was promoted by my predecessor to Captain and made Chief of Detectives. Do I really need to say more?”

  It was pretty obvious. Markeson made the Vitter situation go away, saving O'Brian's job. O'Brian looked the other way afterward, giving Markeson a pass to do whatever he wanted so long as it was discrete. Markeson got Vitter to keep his mouth shut and do the time. Six months in any jail was a long time for a cop. Markeson had to have promised Vitter something for when he got out.

  Police corruption usually meant five to seven if the cop was lucky. A six-month hitch in a medium security facility close to his home planet was more than Vitter could have expected. A sentence that sweet meant politicians had to be involved. Politicians Markeson either had in his pocket or was in bed with.

  I thought back to my hearing. Just to make sure, I pulled up the video of the hearing right before it started. My memory was correct. Governor Rankin and Mayor Xue had both attended. I was starting to see the bigger picture.

  I picked up the tablet and turned to leave.

  “Inspector, a moment, please?”

  I turned and looked back at the Chief.

  “I want my dignity back. The only way I can get it back is to do my job the way I should have done it the last five years. I plan to do that. Please, I ask you to be patient with me and to believe me when I tell you I was a good cop.”

  I didn’t say anything. This sort of thing makes me uncomfortable.

  “I need to find a way to make amends. I can’t live with myself otherwise.”

  I hated even to think it, but the Chief would probably benefit from a talk with the good Father.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I wasn’t expecting a visitor. I certainly wasn’t expecting a visit from a man I wasn’t fond of. So when the Desk Sergeant paged me, I was curious what would bring Kilgore to Capital City. He could have just sent me a comlink.

  We didn’t speak in the lobby. I showed him to an interrogation room and made sure all the recording equipment was turned off. I sat down across the table from the Major.

  “Why are you here?”

  “This couldn’t be done any way other than face-to-face.”

  I nodded I understood.

  “I think the source of the clone is the research facility on my base.”

  I didn’t say anything while I thought about this.

  “Are you sure,” I finally asked. “What led you to this conclusion?”

  “In all the time I’ve been stationed there, I’ve never seen anybody enter or leave the facility.”

  “That doesn’t mean their cloning humans.”

  “It doesn’t rule it out either,” he said adamantly. “The entrance has to be underground. That would allow people to come and go as they please. They could get the clones out that way too.”

  “Makes good sense,” I told him. “But any entrance, underground or not, would have to be carefully controlled so nobody gets wise to what’s going on.”

  Kilgore nodded in agreement. “Let me rephrase this then. There are multiple approaches to the entrance. I pulled up all the plans for the base
since it was built two decades ago. Lots of modifications and some of them are classified. But when you sit down and start piecing everything together, there have to be three tunnels to the entrance. Sully, there's even a secondary tunnel that leads to our freight house where the rail spur is serviced."

  I nodded again. Then I sprang a surprise on the Major.

  “One of the clones is lying in our morgue. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “How do you know,” Kilgore asked, the concern growing on his face by the second.

  “I blew it away myself. It was drawing down on me so I didn’t have any other choice.”

  “So you shot a guy Sullivan, that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Two ways. Remember Sarah?” He nodded. “Let’s just say in the course of a police matter our surveillance never uncovered this guy until Sarah spotted him. He had the same ability she does to hide in plain sight, just vanish in a crowd.”

  The Major shrugged. “You know as well as I do most Marines and Army Special Forces are trained to develop that skill.”

  “I understand. But think about it. What if some of these clones, like the dead guy and Sarah, were genetically engineered to have this ability? How much more effective would they be?”

  “Why would this guy be loose in society?”

  "No idea. Maybe there was something wrong with him, or he just went off the grid on his own accord. Sarah certainly has ideas about not being property.”

  “Still doesn’t mean he’s a clone.”

  “My coroner says he’s a clone.”

  Kilgore sat in silence, thinking. I let him.

  “This is above my pay grade,” he finally said. “The problem is, if I kick it upstairs, I might be kicking it right to the person running the illegal program.”

  “Raid the place. Act like you didn’t suspect cloning. Say you had evidence black marketers were getting into the facility; selling off secrets or technology they stole. Beg for forgiveness later.”

  He sighed. This was weighing heavily on the man.

  “That’s what I thought, but Sullivan, you know as well as I do, people get killed in raids.”

  I didn’t feel too sorry for him, considering our past.

  “That’s why the Corps pays you the big credits.”

  “It’s also why you get paid big credits,” he responded, reaching into his pocket. Kilgore pulled out two military comms and sat them on the table.

  “Secure, one channel only, encrypted burst transmissions. Nobody can intercept anything between these two comms.”

  He pushed one across the table to me.

  "The raid is going down at 2100 hours. Bring Sarah. I need someone who can spot clones visually. Don't worry. We won't bring her in until the facility is secure."

  I pocketed the comm. "I can't promise Sarah will be there. She's pretty spooked, and given what I know of her past, I can't blame her. I'm not going to force her to go on the raid. I'll ask, but that's all."

  “Fair enough. I’ll have one of my Marines meet you at the building where the dead SP was found.”

  Kilgore stood up, indicating the meeting was over. I stood and opened the door for him. He didn’t say a word, just walked out and left the building.

  I had a lot to do today if I was going to make it to the rendezvous on time.

  ---

  Markeson let himself in O’Brian’s office and took a seat. “You wanted to see me Chief?”

  O’Brian placed his tablet down and rubbed the bridge of his nose again, the headache that had started earlier in the day was still pounding away.

  “I have some news for you. Figured you’d rather hear it from me than through the rumor mill.”

  Markeson tilted his head in concern. Something was up.

  "There's no good way to put this so I'll just tell you. In a police matter, your ex-partner was killed. Vitter's body is in the morgue."

  O’Brian watched Markeson’s face carefully for any tell. The Chief of Detectives handled the surprise news well. The only reaction his countenance betrayed was a hint of sadness and disappointment.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I haven’t seen Vitter since he got sent away. It’s not wise to be seen with ex-cons who are cops.”

  "Still, he was your partner. Evidently, Vitter didn't learn his lesson. His is not the only body in the morgue. We believe the other stiff is a hit man in Vitter’s employ.”

  Markeson nodded. “Who was the officer who put him down?”

  “Sullivan.”

  ---

  I had to find Sarah. For a bunch of reasons, I thought she had a right to know about the raid. So I headed for St. Christus Hospital. I figured she was comfortable enough now to sit with the Father for a spell and might be there. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone.

  I took my leave of the precinct, letting Josephson know where I was going. I also told him we would be leaving for Brownstown again right after dinner. The evil in me prevented me from telling the pup we were flying. I didn’t want to give him a chance to bail on me.

  Ralph picked me up in his cab and hustled me over to the hospital. I told him to leave the meter running, I’d be back quick.

  Just like I thought, I found Sarah with Father Nathan. Her nervous pacing when I entered the room told me Sarah was about at the end of her rope. She could only be confined for so long, even when it was her choice.

  “Sarah, we have work to do. Are you up to leaving with me?”

  She nodded, relieved to have a reason to cut the visit short.

  “Father, how are you feeling?”

  “I’ve felt better,” he grumbled. “Physically and spiritually.”

  “Sorry to cut and run, but something has come up. Turns out the dead perps might have something to do with my dead SP. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Father Nathan brightened at the news. “I told you the Boss Man was no good.”

  I smiled. Despite our disagreement, it made me feel better to see the good Father still had some spunk left.

  “Yeah, maybe more than you realized.”

  I extended my hand to him. “Are we going to be okay Father?”

  He nearly crushed my hand. “Of course we are, in time. I can forgive most things.”

  “I’m glad,” I told him and slipped my hand out of the vise.

  Sarah was standing at the door, ready to escape. She gave Father Nathan a quick smile and slipped out.

  I stopped at the door and looked back. My friend gave me a hard look. “We’re going to talk later. Take care of yourself and keep an eye on Sarah.”

  I just nodded and followed Sarah, letting the door shut behind me.

  ---

  Sitting in his office, Markeson didn’t notice the buzzing of his comm until it stopped. He picked it up and looked at the number and tossed it back on his desk. Nothing important.

  Sullivan was getting to be a real problem. His share of the take from the operation Vitter ran was not huge, but as far as Markeson was concerned, every credit counted. Despite his well-deserved reputation as a lady’s man who liked to have a good time, Markeson had plans for the future.

  Those plans required large amounts of capital. To make sure that capital was available to him with no strings attached, the detective had long ago set up hidden accounts where the income from various enterprises as he liked to call them was deposited and never touched.

  Vitter’s operation was one of those streams of income.

  Unable to do anything about the situation, Markeson decided the current scheme with the Colonel was now paramount. He trusted her about as far as he could throw her and he trusted her henchman even less.

  “Time to dust off your investigative skills Markeson,” he told himself. “Find out where the money’s coming from, where the product is coming from and become the sole supplier.”

  In the process, perhaps he could find a way to rid himself of Sullivan.

  He picked his comm back up and sent a link. A leer spread across his face at the sound of
the familiar voice on the other end. “We need to meet. Now. I’ll come to you.”

  ---

  Without warning the door to his office opened causing Bones to jump in his chair.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you,” Chief O’Brian told the nervous coroner.

  “It’s okay, Chief. Sometimes it gets a little creepy down here, that’s all.”

  “I suppose it would at that,” O’Brian said, looking around the office.

  “Anything you can tell me about the two dead perps Sullivan brought in?”

  “Uh, yeah, Chief. I haven’t finished the final reports yet, but I can tell you this much. Cause of death for Vitter, the ex-cop, was repeated blows to the head. The other dead perp, gunshot wound to the head. No ID on him. Ran the DNA and didn’t get anything. I’m thinking he’s from off-planet, new gun for hire.”

  “What’s Sullivan thinking?”

  “Same thing. I believe Sullivan thinks Vitter was looking into moving teenage girls in the sex trafficking trade. You’d need some hired muscle to move into that racket.”

  “Makes sense,” the Chief replied, nodding in agreement.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, when you see Sullivan next, tell him I want to be kept up to date on this one.”

  O’Brian left and shut the door behind him, leaving Bones to try and stop his hands from shaking.

  “Sullivan, you owe me,” he whispered to himself. “You really owe me.”

  ---

  O'Brian walked to the elevator pressed the button and waited. The doors opened, and he stepped in, touching the number for his floor. In seconds the elevator was speeding him on his way.

  He stopped for coffee on his way back to his office, watching the police officers that worked under his supervision going about their jobs. Most of them that is, some were slacking off, just waiting until the end of their shift to leave.