by John Bowers
Kline looked at him in surprise. Nick nodded, then turned and walked out of the Vega.
Chapter 25
Nothing is ever as it seems. Expect the unexpected.
Page 332, U.F. Marshal Handbook
Nick returned to his office, turned on the air, and spent a couple of hours taking care of accounting matters. He’d promised Suzanne to catch up the tab at the Vega and he found a few other invoices that also needed paying. As he worked, he had a sense in the back of his mind that somewhere a clock was ticking (whatever that meant—he’d heard the phrase all his life but had no idea of its origin).
Tatum and Peloni, the two KK men, had left town very unhappy, their mission unaccomplished. Nick had no doubt they would be back, probably with reinforcements. Nick had killed three of their colleagues and hijacked a very expensive cargo of live slaves—they weren’t likely to let that go. Nick couldn’t prove it, but he now knew without a doubt that Ron Gates had been murdered by the KK. The crime would probably never be punished, because the KK would never admit it and the Federation wouldn’t be willing to take the necessary steps to resolve the issue—not with Sirian autonomy looming on the horizon.
Having paid the bills, Nick checked the time. While he waited for Gerald Graves to return to jail, he wrote up a report describing the morning’s visit by Tatum and Peloni, and his conclusions about the death of Ron Gates. He didn’t file the report yet, knowing it wouldn’t satisfy his superiors; instead he sent it to a remote mailbox on the SolarWeb, one that would be opened in the event of his demise. If he ever came up with hard evidence, and lived to tell about it, he would update the report and file it.
Bowing to a sudden impulse, he also wrote a recommendation for Nathan Green, addressed to the U.F. Marshal Academy, and sent it to the same mailbox.
A few minutes before six he heard a hovercar in the street and looked out. A dirty but fairly new Kline Ranch pickup had stopped in front of the jail, and Gerald Graves got out. Nick crossed the street before Graves had time to go inside; Graves saw him and stopped, his eyes narrowed. Nick nodded toward the sheriff’s door and Graves disappeared through it. Nick stopped beside the pickup and tapped on the roof.
He’d expected Willis Kline to be driving the vehicle, but it was someone he hadn’t seen before, a younger man. The driver opened the clamshell and stepped out. He was about Nick’s height and very close to the same age.
“Marshal Walker?” he asked with the beginning of a smile. “I’m Jason Kline.”
Nick shook his hand, sizing him up. He looked nothing like his brother or father, nor did he appear to have an attitude. His demeanor was businesslike, but not unfriendly.
“Nice to meet you,” Nick said. “I’ve met your dad and brother, and I was hoping to make your acquaintance eventually.”
Jason Kline smiled. “They call me the quiet one,” he said. “I’m not really that quiet, but when my brother is around I never get a chance to say much.”
Nick laughed. He was starting to like this Kline already.
“Can I have a word with you in my office?” he asked, and Jason Kline followed him across the street.
Inside, Nick offered Jason a chair.
“Sorry I don’t have anything to offer except coffee, and it’s not even Brazilian.”
Jason laughed. “You’ve been talking to my dad. He thinks Brazil is the center of the universe. As far as I’m concerned, one coffee is as good as another. It all depends on how you brew it.”
“I can brew up some, if you’d like.”
“No, thanks, it’s too damn hot. How can I help you?”
Nick settled into his desk chair and rested a boot across his knee.
“First thing I want to tell you is that Gerald Graves’s bail is suspended. Due to some developing circumstances, I don’t want him out of jail until after his arraignment.”
Jason’s brow wrinkled slightly, but he nodded.
“Okay. That isn’t going to make my brother happy.”
“Too bad. He said he needed Graves until the weather hit; it’s here, so I figured that no longer applied. In any case, he’ll have to do without him.”
Kline nodded. “I’ll tell him. Was there something else?”
Nick nodded. “Do you have any idea where Joel Graves might be?”
Jason shook his head decisively. “Dad was asking me the same thing. I haven’t seen Joel in two or three days.”
“Does Gerald Graves know?”
“Probably, but he denies it.”
“You know both men pretty well, don’t you? What are the chances that Gerald has no idea where his son is?”
“Truthfully? Not very good. Joel and his dad are pretty close. I don’t think the kid would run without calling Gerald.”
Nick was silent a moment.
“Did you have any idea they were abducting serf girls and selling them to slavers?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed as if in pain. He shook his head.
“I knew that girls were missing. The serf workers were talking about it. But it never occurred to me that any of our employees were responsible.”
“What about Slim Owens?”
Jason’s lip curled. “I never did like that son of a bitch. Everybody knew he was a pedophile, and I tried several times to get him fired, but he’d been here since Jesus was a kid and Dad said there was no evidence against him.”
“No evidence!” Nick looked angry.
Jason shrugged.
“It was all rumor. Everybody knew about it. Slim even bragged to some of the men. But nobody had ever seen him actually do anything, and no victims ever came forward. A few years ago, I leaned on Dad real hard, so he put out the word in the villages to come forward if any of the cowboys molested any women. Nobody ever did.”
“What does that mean to you? Were the rumors false?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think the serfs were too afraid of Slim.” Jason removed his hat and set it on his knee. “For what it’s worth, Marshal, I’m glad you killed the old bastard. And I’m glad you got those girls back.”
“I didn’t get all of them.”
“Well…maybe you saved a lot of them that would have disappeared later on.”
Nick made no reply. He studied his visitor a few more seconds. Ron Gates had been undecided about him, but Suzanne had told him Jason intervened to save Nathan Green. Nick decided to take a chance.
“Are you a white supremacist?”
Jason laughed. “No way.”
“Are you affiliated with the KK?”
“Fuck no!”
“Can I trust you?”
“Absolutely.”
Nick took a deep breath and let it out dramatically.
“I had a visit from the KK this morning,” he said. “They said the men I killed yesterday were Texiana police officers, which tells me they were also KK. So the organization is not very happy with me. I sent them packing, but I have no doubt they’ll be back. I also believe they’re responsible for the murder of Ron Gates. And that tells me that when they come back, they’ll be gunning for me.”
Jason Kline leaned forward, concern in his eyes.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Let me worry about that. But I’d like to ask you a favor.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“I brought in around thirty women from that confrontation yesterday, and another half dozen before that. They’re all over at Dr. Taylor’s right now, but the KK wants them back, because they represent a sizeable cash investment. When they show up again they’re going to tear this town apart until they find those women. What I’d like to ask you to do is get those women out of Kline Corners and scatter them among the serf villages. Spread them as wide as you can, no more than one or two to a village. Can you do that?”
“Sure. I’ll get a few men together and—”
“Men you can trust. Make damn sure anyone who helps you is not a racist.”
The youngest Kline nodded. “I know several men like that, men w
ho have daughters. They don’t want to see any girl get hurt, no matter what color she is.”
“How long will it take?”
“You said thirty women?”
“About three dozen.”
Jason considered briefly. “If we use six or seven cars, we can take them all out at the same time. We can have the job done in two or three hours, four tops.”
Nick heaved a sigh of relief, unaware of the tension he’d been holding in.
“I’ll be eternally grateful to you, Jason.”
Jason Kline got to his feet. He extended his hand and Nick also stood, taking it.
“Marshal, this is a tough planet, and I imagine you’ve formed a pretty sorry opinion of it since you got here. But we’re not all assholes. You can count on me to get the job done.”
As Jason Kline drove out of town, Nick started across the street toward the sheriff’s office. The wind was starting to pick up again, and he noticed that Sirius A was close to the horizon. The sidewalks were deserted again, except for a solitary figure walking toward him a block away. He recognized the slinking figure of Judy Norris, apparently returning from dinner at the Vega. She smiled and waved to him, and he waved back. As she entered the hotel, he reached Roy Blake’s office.
Blake was nowhere in sight, so Nick pushed open the door into the back and entered the short corridor between jail cells. Gerald Graves was reclining on his bunk, his arms folded across his chest, his hat over his face.
“Where’s Sheriff Blake?” Nick asked, and Graves removed his hat, making eye contact.
“He went to get me some supper,” he said. “What do you want?”
Nick pulled up a chair that rested against the wall and straddled it.
“I came to see you. Your bail is cancelled.”
“What!” Graves swung his legs to the floor and sat upright. “What the hell for? You said the arraignment isn’t until next week!”
“Willis Kline told me he needed you because Sirian Summer was about to hit. Well, it’s here, so he shouldn’t need you anymore.”
“What the hell do you know about it? You’re not a rancher. There’s lots of work to be done.”
“Just the same, you’re not going out any more.”
Graves took a single step forward and gripped the vertical iron bars of the jail cell.
“What is your fucking problem, Walker?” he demanded.
“My fucking problem is anyone who kidnaps young girls and sells them like animals to other men.”
“You’ve got the wrong man.”
“You admitted it!”
“I didn’t know it was against the law. They were serfs!”
“Where’s your son?”
“Joel? I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. He called you, didn’t he? He was out there at the intersection with Slim Owens, waiting to sell that girl to those Texiana slavers. In all the dust and shooting he got away, but after we left he took that pickup and disappeared. But he called you first.”
Graves’s eyes narrowed in caution. “What makes you think so?”
“I hear you and your son are very close. He’s young and he was scared. He wouldn’t know what to do or where to go. So it’s a sure bet he’d want some fatherly advice.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. He wasn’t even there.”
“Don’t even pretend to believe that, Graves. Willis Kline told me I’d find him with Slim Owens. Well, Slim was there, and so was Joel. And you know it.”
“Doesn’t mean he was involved in whatever was going on.”
“Tell me about Harry Reed.”
Graves almost recoiled with shock. His mouth fell open and his eyes expanded. For a moment he was speechless.
“Who?” he finally managed in a weak voice.
“Didn’t know I knew about him, did you?” Nick smiled. “How long have you been a KK member?”
“I’m not a KK member!”
“No? But you have friends who are, don’t you? You sell the girls you steal to the KK. How much do they pay? A thousand sirios apiece? Did you know they sell them in the Outback for twenty times that price?”
Graves’s face had gone pale. He gulped involuntarily.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“How long have you been doing this, Graves? How many girls have you sold? How many innocent lives have you ruined? How many families destroyed?”
Graves stared at him another moment, then stepped back and sat down stiffly on his bunk.
“I have the right to remain silent,” he said. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”
Nick stared at him another few seconds, then turned and walked out of the jail.
On the street, the wind was getting worse. Dust swirled in gusting eddies, stinging Nick’s face, and he lowered his hat in defense. Two blocks away he saw Roy Blake walking back from the Vega, a covered dinner tray in his hands. Nick was about to turn in his direction when his porta-phone rang.
Surprised, he pulled the phone off his belt and looked at the incoming number. He didn’t recognize it, but he’d only received a couple of calls on it since arriving and didn’t know anyone’s number yet. He triggered the answer button and put the phone to his ear.
“This is Nick Walker,” he said.
“Marshal Walker?” The voice was disturbingly familiar. “Daniel Tatum, Texiana State Police.”
Nick’s blood chilled. Now he recognized the voice.
“Trooper Tatum!” he said. “Or does the KK use a different designation?”
“You’re quite the comedian, Marshal,” Tatum said from the other end. “I just called to tell you that Harry Reed is still waiting to hear from you.”
“Is he, now? Well, advise him there’s no point in waiting up. Tell him to get a good night’s sleep. I’m sure a man with his heavy responsibilities needs his beauty rest.”
“You’re getting funnier by the minute, Walker,” Tatum replied. “This is just a courtesy call, to remind you that it isn’t prudent to show contempt for the Texiana Parliament. Mr. Reed is a respected member of that august body and is not accustomed to belligerent attitudes.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But I’m not a citizen of Texiana, so the Texiana Parliament has no authority over me. And neither does the KK.”
Tatum was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped several octaves.
“I’m sorry you choose to take that position, Marshal. As I said, this is a courtesy call. You can either meet with Mr. Reed or you can return the Texiana citizens you abducted. Those are really the only choices you have.”
Nick turned his face away as a particularly violent blast of dust sprayed his face.
“Actually I have another option,” he told Tatum. “It’s called enforcing Federation law. And Federation law does not condone the purchase or sale of human beings. Tell Harry Reed that if he wants to pursue that kind of commerce, he should keep it out of Federation territory.”
“Very well, Marshal, I’ll tell him. And I have a message from Mr. Reed to you as well. That message is: This is your final warning.”
Nick was about to retort, but the call disconnected. Daniel Tatum had hung up.
Nick took a deep breath and hung the phone back on his belt. Roy Blake had arrived with Graves’s dinner and Nick turned to meet him. He was about to speak when, across the street, the hotel blew up.
Chapter 26
Events have a habit of escalating rapidly.
Page 339, U.F. Marshal Handbook
The blast knocked Nick off his feet and drove Blake into the side of the building beside him. Gerald Grave’s dinner splattered against the wall and slopped down to the sidewalk. Windows shattered all over Kline Corners and the building on the west side of the hotel buckled. A brilliant mushroom of heat roiled upward; the wind caught it and pushed it westward, dissipating its intensity within seconds.
Kline Corners had no fire department, but the town was fully piped, with
automated fire hydrants every thirty yards. These went into action immediately, soaking the buildings in the vicinity to prevent the fire from spreading, but the hotel was completely consumed. The bomb had been high explosive with a plasma base, designed to pulverize and vaporize at the same time. Even before the automated fire suppression could douse the flames, little was left to burn.
In less than a minute, the street was crowded with people. Just moments before the blast, Kline Corners had looked like a ghost town, everyone taking shelter from the wind and heat. Now it seemed the entire town was there. Nick spotted Dr. Taylor and eight or nine of the serf women she was sheltering. He approached the doctor immediately.
“Get those women back inside!” he told her urgently. “This is all about them! The KK was behind their abduction, and wants them back.”
“The KK!” Alice Taylor looked shaken.
“Jason Kline is getting some men together. He’s going to move the women out to the villages, for their protection. I want you to cooperate with him when he shows up. Understood?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll tell Julia. But what about the hotel? Is anyone still alive in there?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll call you if there is.”
The doctor herded her guests back down the street and Nick turned back to the disaster scene. Suzanne was there with Willard Kline, Kristina with Nathan. They all looked stunned beyond belief.
“What happened?” Suzanne asked. “What caused the explosion?”
“It was a bomb,” Nick told her.
Willard Kline gripped his arm.
“Was anyone inside?” he demanded. “Do you know if anyone was inside?”
Nick glanced into the man’s eyes, and was surprised to see a look close to panic.
“I think Sam was,” he said. “And Judy Norris.”
“Judy?”
Kline’s grip tightened painfully. Tears cascaded down the man’s face, like water flowing over cracked granite.
“Judy! Are you sure?”
Nick nodded. “I saw her go inside about ten minutes ago.”
“Oh my god—Judy!”
To Nick’s utter astonishment, Willard Kline sank to his knees in the middle of the street, covered his face with both hands, and sobbed like a child. Nick glanced up at Suzanne for an explanation. Suzanne looked as pale as Nick felt.
