by K. C. Sivils
“This operation does not belong to her. We need to make sure this is the last fight or find out who the operation belongs to.”
Josef leaned forward and shoveled in a bite of his food. He glanced up warily before speaking softly. “Why does this fact matter? We are in no position to change things.”
“Yeah,” XT added, leaning back confidently in his chair. “Ain’t like the compensation ain’t good. You don’t see no shortage of names goin’ in the lottery. Nice revenue stream for all of us. Winners go home after two wins. Winners we all know weren’t never gonna see dirtside on any world but this piece of rock.”
Amazed at how little time his equals spent thinking about matters of importance Dmitry leaned back and pushed his empty tray at them. “Have any of you ever heard from a winner? Have you? Da? Nyet?” He waited while the other kings looked at each.
"Da, it is what I thought. Listen to me carefully. There are no winners."
XT frowned and snapped his torso forward, causing Josef and Dmitry’s bodyguards to stand quickly. Dmitry held his hand up as he shook his head sadly at XT. “Did not Jamaal order each winner to communicate with a subordinate upon arrival at the home planet?”
Silence filled the table, surrounding the three kings, each alone with his thoughts.
“They’re killing the winners and not telling us,” Josef said.
THE TRAFFIC LIGHT TURNED green. Ralph checked both ways before accelerating through the intersection of the hoverway. Interested in the history of cabs, he’d studied the traditions and technology of his profession. Ralph had traced the evolution of the technology of cabs, going back as far as animal drawn carriages up to the present generation of hovercabs.
“Some things never change,” he muttered as a hovercar piloted by a teenage girl flew through the interchange nearly hitting his cab. Glancing up at his rearview mirror, Ralph noticed Sarah had not flinched in the slightest at the near collision.
"Don't worry," he promised. "I'll get you to the spaceport on time." Sarah continued to look out the window, a slight nod of her head the only acknowledgment she'd heard Ralph. Concern filled Ralph. Sarah was usually quiet but animated in watching everything in the city whenever he drove her somewhere. Something was wrong.
“Want to talk about it?”
Sarah shrugged, feigning indifference as she brushed the long, dark strands of hair from her face.
“Not much time till we get to the spaceport. So if you want to talk, you better talk quick.”
His words seemed to penetrate the fog clouding Sarah’s mind. Ralph watched as she first frowned, then blinked as if waking up.
“Do you trust Sully? I mean, really trust Sully?”
Ralph remained silent as he thought, navigating the off ramp to the ground level hoverway to the spaceport. Sarah seemed to slip back into her mood when he didn’t answer.
“I trust Alice more than anyone I know,” he suddenly volunteered. “I don’t know if I trust Joe so much as Alice and I owe him so much. Father Nathan? I haven’t met too many priests in my lifetime. The ones I have met were fakes or couldn’t live the words they preach. Father Nathan, he’s the real deal. He lives out his faith, so, yeah, I trust him. I’ve seen the good he’s done.”
Sarah focused her intense gaze on the rearview mirror, glaring at Ralph.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Ralph cut into the departure line and began braking to stop and let Sarah out. The inertial dampeners absorbed the energy bleed off as he brought the cab to a halt and set it in hover. Placing his arm on the back of his bench seat, Ralph turned his torso to look his passenger directly in the eye.
“He’s a hard man to know, Sarah.”
Hard eyes stared back at him.
"Yes, I trust him. He does what he believes is just, even if it hurts him. He's a protector by nature Sarah. Sully will make the hard choice to achieve the greater good. Does that mean I always want to be around him? No. Like I said, the Inspector's a hard man. But you can trust him to do what he believes is right. You can trust him to protect you, Sarah."
NOT USED TO BEING AWAKE so early in the day, Markeson leaned back in his desk chair, rocking gently back and forth, still staring at the screen. Feeling the very beginnings of a stress headache forming behind his eyes, the detective pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. The Chief opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the tablet he had left on his desk.
Tired of staring at the pages and pages of research on the monitor screen, Markeson lifted the tablet and opened the file. He read the contents in minutes, closed the file and placed it back on his desk.
Fifteen minutes later Markeson found what he was looking for. He read the file for the third or fourth time. This time, the story made sense. He spent another ten minutes searching for specific items in the database. Glancing at his chronometer, Markeson realized he didn’t have much time to think things through.
It took less than a minute to make the difficult choice. It took a bit longer to decide how to act upon his decision.
I STOOD IN THE COLD, watching the cabbies drop off their fares. I'd stopped to update Bones on the current plan and made him promise, against his better judgment, to let the pup and our C.I. into his refuge when they arrived. I promised they were bringing supplies and the tech they needed and would not venture out again till the case was done.
Father Nathan had gone inside where it was warm. I was beginning to wish I had the same good sense he had.
I decided to go inside and wait by the entrance. At that moment a familiar cab cut off another cab and slipped into the line to drop of his fare. As is typical, the two drivers promptly lowered the windows on the driver's door and began hurling profane insults at one another along with the universal hand gesture declaring the other individual to be number one.
Ralph had arrived with Sarah.
She hopped out, spun around taking two strides towards the rival cab and pounded the hood of the waiting vehicle. Standing stock still, the cold wind blowing her black great coat back away from her legs, Sarah stared down the driver who fell silent while Ralph unloaded Sarah's equipment bag and backpack.
A broad grin on his face, Ralph saluted the other driver again before running around and slipping behind the controls of his cab. In a second he was gone. Slowly, and with the disdain, only a female of the species was capable of, Sarah turned and picked up her two bags. With one final turn of the head to make it clear what she thought of the other cabbie and his passenger, and Sarah made her way towards the entrance where I stood waiting.
“Good to see you,” I said, grinning.
Sarah’s response was a chilly look as she brushed by me to enter the warm terminal.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A STEADY BEEPING WAS the only sound audible in the Graham medical unit. Bored, the nurse practitioner on duty sat reading from a tablet. Lying on two of the unit's beds were the severely injured guards, still unconscious following the surgeries that had saved their lives.
Lying on the desk was the clinic comm. It vibrated once, then a second time before the staff member sat down the tablet and picked up the comm. Disgusted with the message, the nurse practitioner dropped the comm into her pocket, set the tablet on the desk and picked up an emergency medical kit. Just as quickly as the comm had buzzed, she was gone.
Soft clicks, so quiet as to be almost inaudible, came from the two medical devices controlling the flow of medicine and painkillers into the arms of the two guards. As the clicking continued, the steady beep, beep of the heart monitors began to increase.
In just over a minute, the sounds from the monitors transitioned from the irritating, constant beep, beep to a single, flat pitch.
Murder by remote control.
“JENNIFER, DON’T ARGUE with me.”
“Captain,” the A.I. complained in her most sultry tone. “Why do I have to tell the Governor and the Mayor you are canceling today’s meeting? They are so mean to me when I deliver message
s like that.”
Amused by Jennifer’s efforts to avoid the unpleasant task, Markeson laughed out loud.
“It’s not funny, Captain,” Jennifer pouted.
“Don’t call them directly then,” he suggested.
"You're right," Jennifer blurted out. "Their A.I.'s are not kind to me, always acting like they're a better model when I communicate with them. I will let them deliver the bad news."
“Now you’re using that expensive processor! When you’re done, make a reservation for one at Marko’s. I’ll be home early tonight.”
“Eating by yourself?”
“Yes, I’m eating by myself,” Markeson teased, enjoying the flirtation with his A.I. "I have a lot to work on tonight. In fact, I'll need your help, Jennifer."
“Well, in that case, let me get busy,” the A.I. purred. “I’m looking forward to our evening alone.”
Markeson shook his head and sighed as he broke the link. “Machines are going to run the universe the way things are going.”
He’d put if off as long as he could. The detective stood and left his office, walking into the detective’s bullpen. He spotted Josephson working at his desk with a scruffy male sitting next to him, his coat torn and frayed. Must be one of their C.I.’s he thought as he walked over to Josephson.
“Sullivan left for Persephone yet?”
Josephson looked up at his supervisor. “Yes, sir.”
“Send a message to him for me.”
Josephson pulled out his comm, his finger poised to type in the text.
“Tell him to look for strangers, lots of strangers. Starliners too.”
Puzzled by such a cryptic message, Josephson frowned. “That’s the message?”
“Yeah. Send it.”
Josephson and Bill watched as the smartly dressed, perfectly groomed detective turned without another word and retreated into his office.
“That’s strange,” Bill said softly.
“Start checking the schedules for starliner arrivals. Private vessels as well.”
Josephson typed in Markeson’s cryptic message and hit send.
“DMITRY?”
“Da,” the king answered, looking up from a financial report.
“The two screws died in the infirmary half an hour ago.”
The Russian sat down his table and ran his hand through his hair. He looked up at Evgeny with sadness in his eyes.
“This is bad business.”
“Da, Dmitry.”
“Make sure it is quick. He is not to suffer. Is that clear?”
“Da.”
“When it is done, make sure the wardens know we have fulfilled our obligation. They can see to the disposal of the remains.”
“I will see to it personally Dmitry.”
Before the underboss could leave, Dmitry spoke a final time.
“Evgeny, tell the wardens this is bad business. That our augmented did not do this on his own, this much we have learned. Tell them to give him a dignified burial.”
“I will do so.”
Evgeny nodded respectfully to his king and left to carry out the sentence.
Dmitry stared at the tablet again. “Bad business this is. Nothing good will come of this.”
THE INCESSANT VIBRATING finally got my attention. I retrieved the device Josephson had given me from my pocket and read the message. I sent a link and waited.
The pup’s voice poured from the device.
“Inspector?”
“Are you sure that’s what Markeson said?”
“Exact words, sir.”
I nodded, looking around as I thought.
“Check all the arrivals and departures, scheduled and unscheduled.”
“Bill’s already on it. Two starliners are arriving today that aren’t on the regularly scheduled runs. Both are smaller luxury liners, ones that don’t carry immigrants or workers. The St. Gabriel is arriving today as well, but it's the regular run for that vessel. Three or four private yachts have arrived and are standing off from the space station."
“Keep me informed.”
I broke the link.
“Let’s go. We need to get up to the space station on the next shuttle.”
FOOTSTEPS ECHOED DOWN the long corridor in the Administrative Unit, causing the two nervous guards to glance at each other. Warden Corona hurried around the corner, walking briskly. He passed the two guards, who were now standing attention, nodding as he passed.
Rounding the corner, Corona stopped and listened. Confident he was out of earshot, he pulled out his comm and sent a link.
“Gravestone.”
“They’re dead,” Corona snapped.
“Who is dead?”
“The two guards who were assaulted by a Russian augmented.”
“I thought they were stable,” Gravestone answered in concern.
“The nurse practitioner on duty got a bogus call. When she was back, they were dead. Cardiac arrest.”
Gravestone did not respond.
“Did you hear me?”
"I heard you, Dale. Let me think."
“We have a crazed killer on the loose. Maybe Dmitry is right. We need to push back the event.”
"Listen to me, Dale. That is not going to happen. Do you understand? That is not going to happen. Now do what it takes to make sure nothing happens to anybody else. When this is over, we can revisit the schedule. But nothing changes. Have I made myself clear?"
Stunned, Corona stared at the now silent comm. He swallowed fearfully. “She’s lost her mind. She has absolutely lost her mind.”
Warily, Corona resumed walking, making his way towards his office. "Something has got to change," he muttered to himself. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bottle of pink colored liquid and took a long drink from it. Grimacing at the chalky taste, he replaced the bottle and made his way towards his office.
Poor Dale. So much stress. That nasty Gravestone has to go.
I DON’T LIKE CROWDS. They bring back the unpleasant memory about how I lost my right eye. Crowds can be dangerous. Too many targets concentrated into a small area.
The good thing about crowds is they bring perps together.
Father Nathan was sitting at the far end of the concourse where we would catch our shuttle to Persephone, hiding behind a tablet and observing everyone who passed him.
Sarah had vanished into the teeming throngs to listen and watch. She'd make use of her uncanny six senses to learn as much as she could about the unusual number of travelers disembarking.
I stood in the middle of the main junction of the concourses. Given my size and appearance, trying to hide in plain sight is not possible. Most perps fit right into a crowd. Anonymity is their friend. One look at me though and many of them panic long enough for me to spot them.
My efforts so far had only served to drive a team of pickpockets into one of the overpriced greasy spoon chains so common in spaceports. They sat glaring at me from the refuge of their table.
Given the level of frustration and the hateful looks I was getting from the pickpockets, the pickings had to be good, high-end travelers who were not conscious of the need to protect their valuables.
It wasn’t the tourist season on Beta Prime where off worlders from two nearby uncomfortably warm planets came to take advantage of our endless supply of cold weather.
A nudge got my attention. Sarah stood close behind me, peering cautiously from behind me with one eye. Crowds don't bother her. She can vanish in plain sight in any crowd and move about freely never being seen.
“What’s wrong?”
“Too many doctors.”
I didn’t ask how she knew. She just did.
“Why is that upsetting you?”
Sarah shrugged and moved a little closer to me.
“Do you think they are here because of clones?”
This time Sarah looked up at me and shrugged again. “I just don’t like it. I don’t know why. Too many people who look past everyone, not just me. They don’t see anybody.”
I didn’t understand what my assistant was telling me. I did know she was anxious and it wasn’t from being confined. I had let Sarah roam freely for over two hours.
“Let’s go find Father Nathan. It’s about time to go.”
Sarah fell in step with me, following directly behind. People tend to get out of my way, and I don't blame them. Not many people want to be in the path of somebody as big and ugly as me, especially when I try to look menacing.
The good Father spotted us and stood up, gathering his and Sarah's luggage. I grabbed mine, and we headed to the gate to board our shuttle.
“They’re running an extra shuttle to Persephone. Running shuttles to some new resort I hadn’t heard of on Serenity,” he informed me in a muted voice. “Lots of people with money. Not vacationers who’ve saved up. People who have real money.”
“That’s my take on things,” I told him. I whispered to him Sarah’s comments.
“I get the same vibe,” he told me. “I can tell you with certainty, some of these people would step over a dying man and not give it a second thought. Not my crowd.”
Not mine either.
THE LOTTERY WOULD TAKE place after the evening meal. Considerable money would be wagered on who would be selected from the pool of names. It would be the first large stream of revenue that would pour into the event set to begin in just over twenty-four standard hours.
Greed and lust for power within the prison had driven Dmitry to help make the event what it was. Now he wished he was a lowly con and not a king. Too many people were dead. Not innocent people as there were few enough of those in prison. But still, it was bad business.
He was confident the victors, who now had to win two fights to earn their freedom, were unceremoniously murdered. How else could the secret of the fight ring be kept quiet?
It bothered Dmitry. The combatants, many of whom weren’t violent and skilled in the art of killing like other, more violent criminals incarcerated at Graham had come to a bad end. All because they believed they could gain their freedom. It bothered Dmitry because all too often he was the one who had made the promise. Had sold them a false hope so profit could be made.
