by Piers Platt
Beauceron shook his head. “There’s no time, Alexei. I need to get to the spaceport—”
“Sit down, Martin,” Rozhkov commanded, and Beauceron, taken aback, sat on the couch. Rozhkov sat on the coffee table across from him. He rubbed at his hands for a second, and then met Beauceron’s eyes.
“Martin, I’ve been betraying the police for a lot longer than you have. And I betrayed you, my friend. My son.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you know how that guildsman escaped?” Rozhkov waved his hand dismissively. “Not the one tonight, the first one, years ago.”
Beauceron sighed. “I left the door to the investigation room unlocked.”
“No, Martin. You locked it. And then I unlocked it after you left.”
Beauceron flinched, his eyes wide. “What? Alexei, why?”
“I had to, Martin. But I never imagined he would kill other officers, or that you would take the blame for it all. And what’s worse, I watched it destroy your career, and I still couldn’t confess, even then. Martin, I’m sorry. I regret it every single day.”
“Why in god’s name did you unlock it?” Beauceron asked, the anger rising in his voice.
“Do you remember when Katarina was sick, and we were trying to scrape together enough money for the hemobot treatments?”
“Of course,” Beauceron said.
Rozhkov continued: “And after the third round of treatments, the doctors said, ‘It’s a long shot, but if we could do just one more round of treatment, it might work.’ ”
“… so you took out that loan. I remember.”
“No, Martin – I had already remortgaged the house, my credit was shot. You were broke, we were all broke – there was nothing left. I left the hospital that day, and went to a bar. I wanted to get drunk, I didn’t know what else to do. And then a man came up to me, and I always remember it, he didn’t say anything, he just walked up and put a check on the bar. A check for half a million dollars.”
Beauceron put his head in hands. “Oh no, Alexei.”
“She was dying, Martin. My daughter. How could I turn it down?”
* * *
Rozhkov looked up from the bar, where the check lay, his name written clearly in ink. The stranger smiled at him. “You can leave this check, and walk away, and your daughter will die. Or you can pick it up, and use it, and try to save her.”
Rozhkov licked his lips. “Who are you?”
“That depends on what you decide to do with that check. If you decide to leave the check, I’m no one, and we never had this conversation. If you pick it up, then I’m a friend. And when friends need each other, they help each other.”
Rozhkov glanced at the check. “What … kind of help?”
“Information, mainly.”
“I can’t agree to that without knowing more.”
The man put his hand on the check. “That’s a shame. Please give my condolences to your wife.”
“Wait!” Alexei grabbed the man’s hand. “Will my family be in danger?”
“No more than they are now,” the man said.
“Just information, I don’t need to break any laws?”
“Just information,” the man agreed. “If someone in your department were to arrest a man for murder, and you suspected him to be a part of a broader criminal conspiracy, we would like to know that. If the Organized Crime Task Force were to develop a new lead about any major criminal organizations, we’d like to know that.”
Rozhkov swallowed. “What organizations?”
The man met his stare silently.
Rozhkov sighed. “And how long would I be giving you this information?”
“Forever,” the man said.
Rozhkov looked down at the check. “God help me.”
* * *
“I didn’t know it was the Guild,” Rozhkov said. “… but even if I had known, I might still have done it, for a chance to save her.”
“But the last treatment didn’t work,” Beauceron argued. “Katarina died. You could have stopped giving them information.”
“I tried – but then they threatened to kill Elisaveta. I tried, Martin. And then when you caught one of them, they made me help him escape.”
Beauceron sat back on the couch and shook his head in disbelief. “My god, all these years of blaming myself.”
“Martin, please – you have to know how sorry I am,” Rozhkov said, tears shining on his cheeks. “I’ve betrayed your trust, and ruined your career. Ruined your life. Please forgive me.”
Beauceron studied him in silence for a time. “No,” he said, finally. “You didn’t ruin my life, Alexei. Losing Katarina ruined my life.”
“I tried to save her, Martin. God, I tried.”
“I know.” Beauceron sighed. “I just wish … it’s too late now. But what else have you told them, Alexei?”
Rozhkov took a ragged breath, and a fresh tear rolled down his cheek. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Everything. I told them about the journalist, Mehta.”
“Oh, no ….” Beauceron shut his eyes, shaking his head.
Rozhkov nodded, and plowed on. “Yes. I killed him, Martin. And his wife, his son – they’re dead because of me. I pulled you off the investigation on that colony because you were too close to catching another one. And I told them about your recent investigation – they asked me if I knew of any rogue guildsmen, and I told them your friend was trying to find one. But I left you out of it.”
Beauceron sat forward on the couch. “When? When did you tell them, Alexei?”
“The day he visited the station.”
Beauceron stood up, and paced for a minute, lost in thought. “But they didn’t pick him up.”
“What do you mean?”
“They would have been following us, surveilling us. They would have figured out who he was, and who he was going after. But they didn’t capture him. They’re gambling that he will lead them to her as well.” He looked up at Rozhkov. “And he is.”
“He’s going to find the other one, the one that went rogue?”
“Yes. He’s headed to New Liberia, to try to break her out of that penal colony – that’s why I wanted to stop him.” Beauceron turned and strode into the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Alexei asked, following.
“I have to find him and stop him … and try to warn him,” Beauceron said, pulling a suitcase out of his closet. “I made him wear a tracker bracelet on his ankle, so I’d always know where he is. I might be able to catch up to him before it’s too late, and convince him to turn himself in for his own safety. Alexei, I know I’ve broken the law, and you should arrest me right now, but there’s still a chance I can salvage this. If I can find him, you’ll be able to mount a case against the Guild with his testimony.”
Rozhkov pulled out his phone and activated the screen.
“What are you doing?” Beauceron asked.
“Buying us tickets to New Liberia,” Rozhkov said.
“No, Alexei – stay out of this. If you get involved, they’ll arrest you for it, too. If the Guild doesn’t kill us first.”
“It’s no more than I deserve,” Rozhkov grunted. “And you’re going to need some help.”
Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from Rath's Reckoning, Book Three in The Janus Group series:
The automatic doors slid open, and Beauceron stepped into the parking lot of the spaceport rental center, squinting to protect his eyes from the swirling dust. He had never really considered Alberon a particularly humid planet, but New Liberia’s arid climate made him realize just how comfortable his home was. He found Rozhkov standing by their suitcases, and showed him the keys to their rental air car.
“Good,” Rozhkov told him, shutting down his holophone. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“They have what we need?”
Rozhkov nodded. They found the air car parked three rows away – Rozhkov loaded the suitcases in the trunk while Beauceron took the pilot’s seat. Be
auceron noticed the car’s hoverjet intakes were rusting, but when he ran the programmed pre-flight sequence, the vehicle started up readily. He turned on his datascroll and opened up the location tracking app, searching for the ankle cuff he had forced Rath to wear.
Let’s hope he still has it on, that rogue.
Beauceron had checked the app before they left Alberon – it had tracked Rath’s progress from Beauceron’s apartment to the spaceport, and then lost signal when Rath’s flight to New Liberia accelerated into faster-than-light travel.
But he probably took it off while he was on that flight.
Suddenly, a series of dots appeared on the map of New Liberia on the screen.
He forgot about it! No, surely not. He left it on intentionally, in case something went wrong. Good man.
According to the digital map, Rath had traveled south toward the penal colony, spent nearly a day in and around the closest settlement to the colony, and then made a detour out into a rural area for several hours. After that, his path went directly to the penal facility – and through it, Beauceron saw.
He left the complex almost immediately, and headed into the fallout zone.
Beauceron tapped on the Refresh button.
“Martin,” Rozhkov called from the rear of the car.
Beauceron stepped out of the car, and saw two men approaching. Rozhkov held a hand up in greeting as Beauceron joined him.
The two men stopped several feet away. “First time in the Territories?” one of them asked.
“Yes,” Rozhkov said. “It’s quite scenic here. We rarely get a chance to visit planets outside of Federacy space.”
Hearing the correct code phrase, the man relaxed and stepped forward, setting a small carrying case in the open trunk of the car. “Here you go, sir. Take a look and make sure it’s everything you need, and then I’ll need you to sign for those.”
“Of course,” Rozhkov told him. “Thanks for the assistance.”
“Not a problem,” the man said. “It’s not often we see colleagues out here in the Territories … nice to see a familiar face, as it were.”
Rozhkov clicked the case open and lifted an auto-pistol out of the molded lining. He checked the action, then repeated the process with a second pistol. “Excellent.”
Beauceron peered around the parking lot, checking to ensure that no one was observing them.
“You boys need help with whatever you’re getting into?” the other man asked, indicating the guns.
Beauceron shook his head. “Not right now, thank you. But we’ll let you know.”
Rozhkov finished signing a datascroll and passed it back to the men, then smiled. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
“Any time. Stay safe.” The undercover agents shook hands with them, then headed back to their own car.
Rozhkov held out one of the pistols, and Beauceron took it reluctantly.
“Would you prefer we bought some on the black market, Martin?” Rozhkov asked.
“No,” Beauceron sighed. “I just don’t like lying to other police officers, that’s all.”
“Come on,” Rozhkov grunted. “Time’s short.”
In the pilot’s seat, Beauceron set a course for the penal colony, and then picked up his datascroll again.
“He left the ankle cuff on,” he told Rozhkov.
“He did? Well, that’s a welcome surprise.” Rozhkov took a sip from a water bottle. “So where is he?”
Beauceron studied the map. “He entered the penal colony yesterday, and then moved into the fallout zone inside the city.”
Rozhkov leaned across, peering to see the screen.
“It looks like he went fairly deep into the city, then made his way straight back out overnight … it’s possible he found her – the one he’s looking for, the other assassin.”
“Don’t tell me they’re already catching a flight off-planet,” Rozhkov grumbled.
“No. His track from this morning follows this road away from the penal colony, and then deviates off-road, heading east for several miles. It ends here – that’s where he is now, the tracker is still live.” Beauceron tapped on the screen, and a satellite image overlaid the map.
“What’s there?” Rozhkov asked.
“Nothing.” Beauceron frowned. “Grassland. Open plain.”
“Well, let’s go find out what he’s up to.”
They landed on the grassy plain nearly two hours later. Beauceron climbed out of the air car, jogged a short ways, and then bent over. Rozhkov got out of the car and leaned his elbows on the roof, watching. “Well?” he asked.
Beauceron straightened, holding a bracelet aloft in one hand. “It’s his tracking cuff.”
“Shit,” Rozhkov observed. “He dumped it, then. Back to the spaceport? Try to spot them before they get off-planet?”
Beauceron shook his head slowly. “There are no tracks.”
“So?” Rozhkov asked. “They were in an air car, he took it off, and tossed it out the window.”
Beauceron traced a circle in the dirt. “There’s an impact crater here – it fell out of an air car, you’re right. But why would he leave it on so long, and then take it off at that exact moment?”
“Maybe he finally remembered it. Or she made him take it off.”
Beauceron scowled and walked back to the air car, taking out his datascroll. He set the small screen on the hood of the car, showing it to Rozhkov. “Look, they followed this road for several miles after they escaped from the colony. Then they went airborne at this point. Why do that if they were in an air car? Why not just take off right away?”
“You think they met someone in an air car?”
Beauceron met Rozhkov’s gaze. “I think someone met them. The Janus Group.”
Rozhkov glanced over his shoulder, scanning the grassy horizon. “That would be bad.”
“Very bad,” Beauceron agreed. He tapped on the screen, zooming out. With his finger, he followed the last line that Rath’s tracker had drawn on the screen, extending it out in the same direction. “If they changed direction after dropping the cuff, we won’t have much chance of finding them,” he observed. Then his finger stopped, and he zoomed in on the satellite image again, bending closer to the screen.
“What?” Rozhkov asked.
“There’s an abandoned cattle ranch along their route, about eight miles from here.” He looked up at Rozhkov. “A nice, isolated location to conduct some business in private.”
Rozhkov grinned. “When this is over, I am going to lock the police commissioner in my office until he agrees to give you your job back, Martin.”
Beauceron laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t even know for sure that they’re at the ranch. And if they are, they’re going to see us coming. We can’t exactly just walk up and knock on the door.”
Rozhkov loosened the pistol in his belt holster. “Do you have any other ideas?”
For a limited time, Rath's Reckoning is available for just $2.99:
piersplatt.com/rath3
Rath and Paisen completed all fifty kills in their contracts with the Janus Group. But when they uncovered the criminal organization’s darkest secret, the Janus Group unleashed an army of assassins to silence the rogue pair. With help from a former Interstellar Police detective, Rath and Paisen survive – barely. Their plan to attack the Janus Group head–on may be suicide, but in the end, they’ll tear the organization to the ground … or die trying.
Get your copy now and save $2!
Contest
To enter the free Kindle Fire HD Contest, go to this link:
piersplatt.com/rath2contest
Text copyright 2015 by Piers Platt
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Contest
