She couldn’t complain. She’d react the same way if she were in his boots.
Huckness would rant at her but she wasn’t going to sit back and let these thugs have their way with the Belle. Not now, not ever.
A hand landed on Sam’s shoulder from behind, a heavy-handed grab with fingers digging into the fabric.
Not a friend.
Without turning she jabbed her right elbow back and followed up with a kick. Her mag-boot smashed into something hard, probably a shin bone.
A painful grunt accompanied a meaty arm wrapping around her waist, tight against her skin. She felt hot air against the back of her neck, heavy breathing tinged with anger.
Sam bent forward, preparing for a brawl. Her right hand brushed against her leather holster, feeling the bulge from the enclosed weapon.
No.
She wasn’t going to be responsible for another innocent’s death.
Emerson hadn’t been innocent, not in the true sense of the word. But he’d been one of her men, one of her soldiers and she’d failed him and the rest of her squad.
She flashed back to the present.
If Sam Keller couldn’t handle a single angry, horny miner without shooting him, she’d eat her dress uniform with a bottle of hot sauce.
She kicked back again, this time with the left foot, curling her leg up as high as she could. The resounding crunch told her she’d hit something better than before.
The grip around her waist lessened and then disappeared as the arm retracted.
Sam spun around to face the thug.
He snarled at her, one hand pressed to his left knee. His bald head gleamed in the dim corridor lighting as he put his fists up, most of his weight on his right foot.
“Bitch,” he yelped. “You broke my knee.”
“You wanna go?” Sam whispered. “You wanna go?” Her pulse was racing. She felt a bead of sweat run down her back, pooling at the base of her spine. This wasn’t some kid fresh off the boat. This was an old-timer with impressive biceps straining the sleeves of his dirty jumpsuit. That was okay. She had energy to spare. And it’d been a while since she’d gotten physical with anyone.
It wasn’t sex, but it’d do for the moment.
“You feeling lucky?” she said, waiting for him to make the first move. She motioned him forward.
Something shot by her left ear.
She froze.
The miner watched her with widening eyes, rooted in place. A trickle of drool began rolling out of the left side of his mouth. His eyes rolled up showing only the whites.
He passed out. His arms rose in front of him, giving him a movie monster look. All he needed was to start roaring and goose-stepping forward.
Sam spotted the tiny dart in his chest, the small, dark green tufted needle almost invisible against the dirty oil-stained shirt.
“You seem to have an interesting effect on men.”
The low voice behind her brought Sam back around, automatically assuming a combat stance with her hands up, fingers balled into fists.
He stood there, two fingers on his right hand up to his forehead in a mocking salute. The other hand held the standard law-enforcement weapon of choice, the P-112 pistol. Her mind went through the identification process. Official issue for the military or the Marshal Service, not something handed out to station security. The lightweight weapon fired either tranqs or bullets, and she’d just seen the tranq side of it.
“He’ll be awake in an hour or so. United Nations Service Marshal Daniel LeClair at your service, ma’am.” The leather jacket, dotted with UNS patches from various bases and a set of identification pips on the lapels, was snug on his broad shoulders, and tight jeans hung low on his hips. A white T-shirt finished off the informal uniform, matching his short white hair.
He smiled at her, a sheepish twist to his lips. The only thing missing to make the cowboy image complete would be a hat perched at a rakish angle on his head.
“Family trait. My father had a full head of white hair by the time he hit twenty,” he replied to the unasked question. “You must be Sam Keller.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped back.
He holstered his weapon and stepped toward her, his smile dissolving into a confused grin. “Helping.”
Sam punched the miner in the ribs, not hard enough to break them but enough to leave a reminder for when he woke up. “This is my ship and those people are under my protection. I don’t need your help to take out the trash. I can deal with these idiots.”
LeClair put up his hands and stopped. “Whoa there. I just figured—”
“You figured you’d save a damsel in distress.” Sam walked up to him and jabbed her index finger into his chest. “First lesson of working with me is that I’m as tough as you are, Marshal.” She eyed him. “Probably tougher. So don’t think I can’t handle myself or get the job done.”
LeClair grinned. “I think I’d like to see you handling yourself.”
The angry words fell away from Sam’s mind, leaving a black hole. She stared at the lawman, uncertain what she’d just heard.
He didn’t look away, not giving an inch.
Two could play that game. Not bothering to be subtle, she mentally undressed him, exposing rock-hard abs and a body built for action. All-night action like one of the heroes in those detective novels she’d been devouring.
God, I’ve lost it. I’m getting hot for a damned cop.
She took a deep breath. It must be the damned stink in the air. The frustrated sexual energy from the miners.
Among others.
Another deep breath.
Cool, collected, professional. That’s what she needed to be right now.
“Okay, let’s try this again.” She rubbed her cheeks. “You’ll have to excuse my temper. I’m a little wound up.”
Daniel nodded. “Totally understandable, given the circumstances.”
“No kidding.” She glanced over at the miner. “Idiot.”
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Huckness stood in a nearby doorway, flanked by a pair of security guards. He growled at Sam. “What are you doing?”
“He did it.” She jerked a thumb at Daniel, a wry smile on her face. She wasn’t above handing him over to the security chief’s tender ministrations.
“Marshal LeClair.” Daniel didn’t extend his hand. “Your man here was about to bushwhack the good captain from behind.”
Sam blinked. Bushwhack? What sort of a word was that? Who still used it?
Huckness shook his head. “Sorry, Marshal. I know you’re here to deal with a murder and I appreciate your fast response, but I can’t have the captain going around brawling with my men and you shooting them down like we’re in the Wild West.” He locked eyes with Sam. “I saw you on the monitors. You cleared them out from the entrance but then you came down here, spoiling for a fight.” His tone dropped. “You know better than this.”
She paused, her gut churning. It was like being chewed out by her old drill sergeant.
He was right.
Sort of.
“I figured I could clear away the jerks myself. After all, they were on my doorstep.” She wasn’t going to give Huckness the victory without at least an attempt at a defense. “I figured I’d make sure they were actually leaving and not regrouping in one of the side corridors. I didn’t know Stupid here was going to try and grab me from behind.”
The chief nodded. “Point taken. But now I’ve got to explain to Trainer and Swendson why you went all vigilante on his ass and tranq’d him.”
“He shot him. Not me.” Sam smiled. “Take it up with the good marshal.”
The security chief let out an exasperated sigh. “You remind me of my ex-wife. That’s not a good thing.” He turned his attention to
the marshal. “Thank you for your assistance. Otherwise I’d probably have a damned complaint from the Guild about one of their captains being manhandled and no response from security.”
He gave Sam a sideways glare during the last word.
She didn’t say anything, taking her lumps like a good little girl. This wasn’t the time or place and she didn’t need any more enemies on this landfall.
Huckness studied the stunned miner. “Idiot. Taking on a marshal and a Mercy captain at the same time.” He gestured at the two guards. “Take him to Danforth for a fast medical check and then haul his ass to the brig. I don’t want to hear a peep from him until the end of shift. He can explain to Trainer and the rest of his squad why he’s locked up.”
They stepped up and took hold of the unconscious man none too gently. He groaned.
“His knee might be broken.” Sam wriggled her mag-boot. “Might be.”
Huckness sighed. “Of course. Just don’t make a habit of beating up the fellows. I’ll clear this up with Trainer, talk to Swendson and keep the union happy. At least we have it on film so no one can claim you jumped him first.” He allowed himself a smirk. “So to speak.”
Sam glared at him, signaling the end of her patience.
Huckness turned to LeClair. “Got the notice you arrived only a few minutes ago. I see you’re a fast worker.”
“So I’ve been told.” He gave Sam a flirty wink.
She ignored it, crossing her arms in front of her and watching the two guards drag away her attacker. This marshal was going to be trouble.
Huckness didn’t notice or didn’t care to react. “Marshal, when you’re ready to talk to us we’ll be available. I’ve got full statements from the men still on the Belle and those who were on board the previous hour.” He nodded at Sam, all joviality gone from his tone. “Next time, please call me. This is what I get paid for, not you.”
She nodded. The chief was right even if she didn’t want to admit it.
But it had felt so good.
Daniel waited until the troop had disappeared around the corner before speaking. “Good way to say hello to the locals. Although I haven’t heard you say ‘thank you’ yet.”
Sam resisted the urge to kick him. “If you’re waiting for tea and crumpets you’ll have to talk to Kendra. All I can give you is crappy galley coffee better suited to cleaning the hull.”
The marshal smiled. “I’d be honored. After I look over the crime scene, if you don’t mind.” He shot a glance down the nearly empty corridor behind him. “That is, if you don’t think anyone else is going to visit.”
Sam turned in the direction of the Belle’s front door. “I think we’ll squeeze you in the schedule somewhere.”
The miners’ glares followed them like laser sights as they went through the landing bay. No one said anything, including Daniel.
A few minutes later they stood outside Halley’s cabin.
“Locked since the M.O. declared the body,” Sam said. “Belle?”
“There has been no attempt at entry since you instructed me to secure the door.” Belle’s tone was flat as if she was trying to figure out what to make of the lawman.
“Acknowledged.” Daniel nodded at the hatch. “Please.”
Sam heard the locks disengage with a clink and pulled the hatch open. She wrinkled her nose at the odor drifting out. The air circulation fans had cut out when Belle locked the doors, keeping inside not only the stale air but also the less-than-enticing odors that accompany death. “After you.”
“Right.” Daniel moved inside, his mag-boots keeping him anchored to the floor. He turned back. “Come on along if you’d like. I love company.”
She suppressed a snort but walked in, careful where she stepped. Her first instinct was to turn off the boots and float free, but every item she touched could prove to be a problem later on and she couldn’t risk contaminating the scene more than she already had.
“You came in, checked on the woman and left?” Daniel was almost out of sight, already in the back room.
“Yep. April, one of the other courtesans, found the body. Says she came in to take a break with Halley and found her dead. She screamed for help. Belle reacted and activated the alarms that brought me running.” Sam moved forward, watching every step she took. The metallic smell grew stronger. She began taking shallow breaths as she caught up with the marshal to keep herself steady. The last thing needed was for her to make a mess by vomiting.
She’d seen worse.
Jackson trying to scoop his guts back into his belly, sobbing a prayer as the slick intestines kept escaping his grip.
Anderson sobbing for his mother as the sucking chest wound drained the life from him.
Tango pulling his right arm to his chest, hugging it after it’d been blown off along with most of his right side.
She fought through the memories and anchored herself in the here and now of a murdered woman’s cabin.
It still didn’t calm the pain in her gut.
Daniel studied the body, which was still rotating in a morbid orbit around the room. The drops of blood had started to smash into each other, forming larger and larger deposits that bounced off the walls.
“Hmm.” He plucked a small black box the size of a candy bar off his hip and brought it up to his mouth. “Etts, hook up with the mainframe and gather what we need. Security footage, comms transmissions and the like.” Daniel tilted his head to one side, looking back at Sam. “If you don’t mind.”
“Belle, allow...” Sam frowned. “ET?”
“It’s short for etcetera. Pronounced ‘etts,’ actually. ’Cause everyone’s always wanting to add stuff at the end of their statement—usually ‘and I’m innocent.’”
She eyed the small black box. “Is that a recorder or—”
“Etts is my computer AI, much like Belle is yours.” He touched the back of his right ear. “Implant means I’m the only one who understands him. This—” he tapped the glossy black surface, “—is an extension of the AI. He rides along with me and keeps a running record for the Service. Lets him get out and about, keeps the little fellow happy.”
Etts gave an easily decipherable snort.
“Okay. Belle, let him access all records allowed by his status,” she said. “Hope you know there’s some info you’re not going to get, like financial, without a darned good reason. Security footage, well—” She tilted her head. “The only cameras on the Belle are trained on the landing bay, the cockpit and exterior shots of the ship’s hull. Sorry, but the Guild’s rather particular about some things. Privacy and all that.”
Sam waited for his response, more tired by the minute. The initial rush of adrenaline from the confrontation in the hallway had worn off. Her feet dragged on the ground as she moved around the room, and not just from the mag-boots being heavy.
“I’ve heard about the Guild’s restrictions.” Daniel nodded as the small box’s lights began to flash rapidly. “He’s on the job. Who had appointments with her before she was discovered?”
Sam tried not to shuffle her feet. “We don’t know.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Belle purges the appointment books after a client checks in. Part of the whole privacy agreement.”
“Excuse me?” Daniel repeated. His tone crept up an octave. “Deleted, you mean.”
“Purged. As in, not a chance in hell of recovering the records.” She held up a hand before the marshal could respond. “The Guild offers total privacy to their clients. That means every trace of our visitors is erased from the records after their appointment is completed, period.”
“You believe that? You think the Guild doesn’t keep records of their more famous visitors?” The disbelief in Daniel’s voice grew. “You’ve got to be smarter than that.”
“I believe the Belle’s going
to tell you that.” Sam chose her words with care. “In keeping with the Guild’s policies, posted in the landing bay and also on the back of every registration form on board signed by the clients.”
She knew Belle’s speakers weren’t activated in the private quarters unless by specific permission by the courtesans. The AI wasn’t supposed to be overhearing or recording anything that happened in here.
She also suspected the Guild wasn’t above eavesdropping if there was a profit in it.
She wasn’t enough of a fool to badmouth the Guild in public.
Daniel frowned for a second. His eyes darted upward toward the ceiling and he nodded slowly.
He got it.
“I understand. So there’s no way to find out who she saw before her death?”
“None,” Sam said, glad to be off that topic. “You can ask the men individually but I’m not sure how much response you’re going to get to that. Huckness was taking statements but I don’t know if he included or tried to include which courtesan each customer visited. And they’re totally within their rights to refuse to answer that question.” She sighed. “Still some haters out there who would jump at the chance to target someone for their choices on a Mercy ship. Better to keep a secret than admit something and get beaten up in the back room if your buddies find out.”
“Gotcha.” He gestured at Etts. The small black box began wandering around the room, small puffs of air helping it maneuver. “Let’s get a closer look.”
She knew where his eyes were wandering, over the sparse decorations.
“Sort of empty, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“Everyone does their own thing. I guess Halley liked keeping it this way.”
Daniel grunted. “Suite layout?”
“Three rooms, standard.” Sam gestured to the sides with one hand. She wasn’t sure how much he knew about Mercy ships, but her report stated she’d found Halley in the personal bedroom and Daniel had come right in without any hesitation, turning to his right upon entering. He could have done his research on how the suites were laid out before he’d arrived or—
In the Black Page 8
