by John Bowers
They had traveled more than sixty miles since leaving Hardwood. As they rounded a curve in the road, Nick spotted a railroad crossing up ahead. A spur from the railroad on his left split off the main line and crossed the road at an angle.
Mijo pointed.
“That’s it. El castillo.”
Nick slowed. As he neared the rail crossing he saw a narrow side road angle off the highway to parallel the rail spur, and beyond that…
His eyes widened in amazement and he slowed further still. The overhang of trees screened part of the view, but a few hundred yards down the side road the ground rose sharply. The building on the high ground almost took his breath away.
“Holy shit!” he breathed.
“Big, ain’t it?” Mijo grinned at his reaction.
“Yeah, it’s a little bit bigger than the house I live in.”
Nick had graduated from the U.F. Marshal Academy in London, on Terra. During his two years there he had done a little touring of the English countryside, had seen a number of medieval castles, and also the massive estates, cathedrals, and government buildings around the island. What he was looking at now rivaled some of those in size and grandeur. He shook his head in wonder as, at reduced speed, he continued on past it toward Lago.
“Hey!” Mijo looked surprised. “Aren’t you gonna stop?”
“No. I’m taking you home first.”
“But I wanna go with you!”
“No way, kid. This could get dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid!”
“You should be. There will probably be shooting.”
Nick picked up speed and continued on down the road. After passing the castle, the forest fell away and the road ran along the shore of a broad lake that stretched two or three miles. Moments later, he entered the town of Lago.
“Okay, kid, where does your abuela live?”
Mijo shrugged, the picture of nonchalance.
“You can let me out anywhere. I can walk from here.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, sure. And thanks for bringing me back. Mi abuela gets mad if I’m gone for more than two or three days.”
“I can drive you all the way. It’s no trouble.”
“You don’t need to. She isn’t home right now anyway.”
“How do you know?”
“She works.”
“Yeah? Where does she work? I can take you there.”
“She cleans houses for people. She could be anywhere. You can let me out here.”
Nick pulled the taxi to the curb and stopped. The kid wasn’t being straight with him, but he didn’t feel inclined to pin him down.
“You are going to go home, aren’t you? You’re not gonna take off again?”
“Sure, I’ll go home.” Mijo pushed the door open and jumped out. “Thanks, Nick. See you around, huh?”
Nick nodded and watched with some concern as the kid hitched up his pants and strode off down the street, looking around as if he owned the entire town. He waited until the boy had crossed the next street, then turned the taxi around and went looking for the sheriff’s office.
Chapter 28
Lago District – Tau Ceti 4
The sheriff’s office in Lago looked a lot more modern than the one in Hardwood. In fact, it looked brand new. Instead of brick and stone, it was constructed of glass and steel, and looked very much like Federation architecture. As Nick walked up to the front entrance with Victoria’s rifle resting on his shoulder, he wondered why this building should look so modern when the rest of the town—the rest of the planet, from what he’d seen—seemed mired in an earlier century.
The interior also looked modern, the furniture more functional than decorative. He could smell paint and plaster, and the noticeable but less tangible scents of drywall and carpet. Overhead light panels covered the entire room, making the wide workspace behind the front desk as bright as noon. He stopped at the desk and stared at a middle-aged woman sitting at a computer. She glanced at him and stood abruptly.
At first he thought she might freak out—she stared at his rifle, then his twin .44 Magnums. The alarm in her eyes faded slightly when she saw the badge on his shirt.
“Can I help you?” She almost gulped when she said it.
“I was hoping to talk to the sheriff,” he said easily.
“The sheriff?”
“Yes. This is the sheriff’s office, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course it is.” She realized she was off balance and had the grace to turn red. “I’m sorry, I just—you… We don’t get too many visitors who are armed to the teeth. You took me by surprise.”
“I completely understand. Is the sheriff in?”
“Yes. Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Your name?”
“Nick Walker.”
“Just a moment.”
She punched a button on a desk phone and spoke in low tones. Nick couldn’t quite catch her words, but suspected the sheriff wouldn’t waste any time coming out to see him.
“Sheriff Buono will be with you in a moment.” She gave him the ghost of a smile and, with a last glance at his weapons, returned to her computer.
Barely thirty seconds later, a door opened at the rear of the work area and a man strode toward him, winding his way between the desks. Both men made and maintained eye contact until the sheriff stepped through the wing gate into the reception area. He stopped six feet away and stared, giving Nick the once-over with unsmiling eyes.
Buono was about Nick’s height, stocky, fiftyish, and also wore a western-style hat. His appearance was intimidating; his eyes peered narrowly from a weathered face and he wore a Wyatt Earp mustache that made him look more formidable than Nick ever could.
“You’re Nick Walker?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Been halfway expecting you.”
“Yeah?”
“Got a call from the Chief of Police in Orosi. He told me you might show up.”
“Really.” Nick hadn’t met the Orosi chief, but didn’t say so.
“Also got a call from Sheriff Thomas over in Hardwood. He told me the same thing.”
Nick merely nodded. The call from Orosi surprised him, but the one from Hardwood did not.
“I’m Marco Buono.” The sheriff didn’t offer to shake hands. “Let’s step outside, get some fresh air.”
Nick nodded and stepped aside, but Buono gestured for him to go first. Nick walked out the front door and Buono followed.
“Nice office you have there,” Nick said. “Looks brand new.”
“It is. Moved in last month.”
They walked down the layered steps to the street and halted on the sidewalk. Buono faced Nick and nailed him with his narrow gaze.
“What’s a U.F. Marshal doing on Tau Ceti 4?”
“Same thing marshals have done for centuries. Tracking a fugitive.”
“A fugitive.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You do realize, I suppose, that this isn’t the Federation. You have no authority here.”
“I do. That’s why I looked you up. I never cared for people tramping all over my jurisdiction without at least a courtesy call, and I figured you wouldn’t either.”
“You figured right. What’s this fellow done?”
“Pretty much everything you can imagine. Murder, intimidation, and terrorism for starters.”
“And what makes you think he’s in my district?”
“I tracked him here.”
“Tracked him how? Footprints? Bread crumbs?”
“Eyewitness testimony.”
“So you haven’t seen him yourself?”
“No. But he’s here.”
“You’re certain of that.”
“I’ve seen his house.”
“You’ve seen a house. How do you know it’s his?”
“It fits his style. Big, isolated, easy to defend. He could hold off a military siege if he had to.”
“All by his lones
ome? He’d need a lot of men if he was going to do something like that.”
“He has all the men he needs. Women, too.”
“What’s his name?”
“Saracen. Kenneth Saracen.”
Buono frowned. His eyes narrowed even more.
“That don’t ring a bell. Don’t think I’ve heard that name.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m pretty sure he’s using an alias.”
“Any idea what the alias is?”
“Tinker-Smith.”
Buono’s eyes widened in shock.
“Jesus Harrison Christ, you’ve got to be kidding! Ken Tinker-Smith is your fugitive?”
“Yes, sir.”
Buono was silent a moment as a range of emotions flickered across his features, starting with surprise, then disbelief, and finally a stir of anger.
“I think you’re out of your mind. I’ve met Ken Tinker-Smith. I’ve had dinner in his home. He’s the most unthreatening person I’ve ever met, and the most generous. The man is worth millions—”
“Billions.”
“Well, there you go. Why would a man with that kind of money turn to crime? It makes no sense.”
“Actually, it does, when you know the back story.”
“Well, I don’t need to know the back story. I’ve dealt with all kinds of criminals, and Ken doesn’t fit the pattern. Do you know how much money he’s poured into this town?” He pointed at the building they had just exited. “You were talking about my new office—that was a donation from Ken Tinker-Smith. We also have a new city hall under construction, a couple of schools, and we just dedicated a new hospital with state of the art equipment. All paid for by Ken Tinker-Smith. Why would a terrorist do something like that?”
Nick smiled patiently.
“Everyone needs a home. Saracen needs a place where he isn’t being hunted, and his money can buy a lot of goodwill. That way, when someone like me shows up, he has lots of allies.”
Buono glared hard at Nick and chewed his lip in thought.
“Before you move a muscle in my district, I need to be convinced.”
“What do you want to know?”
“First off, what will you do with him if you find him?”
“I have a mandate to take him back to Alpha Centauri for trial. That’s assuming he doesn’t resist.”
“And if he does resist?”
“I’ll stop him however I have to.”
“You mean kill him.”
“If it comes to that.”
“You harm a hair on his head, and you’ll have a lynch mob on your heels faster than you can run.”
Nick lowered his head and scuffed the sidewalk with his boot. He looked the sheriff in the eye again.
“Here’s the hard truth, Sheriff—I came to see you as a professional courtesy, but I want Ken Saracen and I’m going to get him. With or without your help.”
“If you don’t give me a solid reason why I should believe you, it will be without my help. In fact, I might just lock your Federation ass up if you get too frisky.”
“You want a solid reason? I can give you three thousand solid reasons. Saracen is responsible for that many murders on Terra, Mars, and Alpha Centauri. In our neck of the galaxy, murder has no statute of limitations, and those people deserve justice.”
“Killing Ken won’t bring them back.”
“No, but it will prevent him from killing anyone else.”
“I just can’t believe we’re talking about the same man.”
“Trust me, we are. Over half his victims were women and children. One of them was my fiancée.”
“Why would he kill your fiancée?”
“To get at me. I was closing in on his terror ring and he had to stop me. As you can see, he failed, and I didn’t get him either, but the U.F. Marshals made things so hot for him that he fled and came here.”
“When was this?”
“A little over two years ago. And he’s been here what, eighteen months? Two years?”
“Something like that. If we’re talking about the same person.”
Nick reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flat photo. He handed it to Sheriff Buono.
“Do you recognize him?”
Buono stared at the photo for what seemed like forever. His face began to pink and his jaw clenched. Finally he handed the photo back.
“It looks like the same man, but a picture isn’t proof of what you’re alleging.”
Nick slipped the photo back in his pocket, then crossed his arms.
“You said Sheriff Thomas called you.”
“Yep.”
“What did he have to say? Did he tell you he’s had four murders in the past two days?”
“Yep.”
“That doesn’t seem unusual to you?”
“It sure as hell does, but how does that tie to Tinker-Smith?”
“I arrived on the planet two days ago. The murders happened after I got here. I have reason to believe Saracen—Tinker-Smith, if you prefer—sent a hitter to take me out.”
“You think he knows you’re here?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any proof?”
“I’m working on that. I do know the girl who killed those people yesterday was from Lago.”
“You have a name?”
“Only a first name. Ginny.”
“Ginny…? Ginny Stapleton?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t have an ID.”
“Eighteen, brunette, skinny, crazy hair?”
“Yep, that description fits the girl I arrested.”
“You’re sure she was the killer?”
“She was carrying a knife that matched the wounds we found in the victims; she was left-handed, and so was the killer. When I arrested her, she made a lunge at me with her knife, and I think a DNA test will prove that it was the weapon used in yesterday’s murders.” Nick paused. “You do have DNA labs here, don’t you?”
Buono only nodded, his mind elsewhere.
“I can’t believe it! I’ve known Ginny since she was a little girl. But what makes you think Tinker-Smith sent her?”
“When we arrested her, she never made it to the jail. Somebody ambushed her and Deputy Stanfield and killed them both.”
Buono’s face paled. “Ginny is dead?”
“Yes. Thomas didn’t tell you that?”
“He only said he had four murders and that one was his deputy. He didn’t tell me who the others were.”
“When Saracen sends girls out to do his dirty work, he always sends them in pairs. We only found one girl, so there was probably another one nearby acting as her backup. My best guess is that the second girl killed Ginny to keep her quiet.”
“That makes sense, but it still isn’t proof. It’s circumstantial at best.”
“Some of the greatest criminal cases in history have been decided on circumstantial evidence. What I have is enough to move forward. In the Federation, it would be enough for a search warrant. In this case, it should be enough for you to give me a green light.”
“A green light for what?”
“To continue my investigation.”
Buono shook his head, still struggling with the idea.
“I just can’t see Ken Tinker-Smith as a killer. He hasn’t made a single shady move since he came here.”
“That you know of.”
“That’s what I’m saying, not that I know of. Hell, I told you some of the things he’s done for this community. The schools, the library, the hospital, my office…he even sponsors a youth league at the high school.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “A youth league?”
“Right, the YWL.”
“What is YWL?”
“The Youth Worker’s League. It’s open to boys and girls equally, and teaches them the value of hard work and honest labor. They have rallies and campfires and they carry out public works projects, all of it on a volunteer basis.”
Nick felt his neck hairs curl.
“Sarac
en runs this himself?”
“Not personally, no. He has five or six young men who act as counselors, but he always shows up to inspire the kids and give them lectures.”
“Have you attended any of these lectures?”
“Just the first one. He asked me to speak at the inaugural meeting of the League.”
“So you don’t personally know what he’s teaching them?”
“I can’t recite the lectures, if that’s what you mean. But like I told you, YWL emphasizes the value of hard work—”
“And honest labor. Got it.”
“You seem kind of cynical about that. What’s wrong with it?”
“Maybe nothing, but coming from Saracen, it’s the height of hypocrisy. Now, you said the police chief from Orosi called you about me. What did he have to say?”
“Said I should cooperate with you. Apparently you made quite an impression on him.”
“Well, that’s quite a feat. I’ve never met the man.”
“No?” Buono looked surprised. “He sure was singing your praises.”
“What else did he say?”
“Do you know a man named Bert Carter?”
“Yeah. I mean, I met him yesterday.”
“He’s dead.”
“What!”
Buono nodded. “Apparently he was killed by one of his employees, fellow name of Charlie Gaspar. That name ring any bells?”
“Yeah. He’s one of Saracen’s men. He hung out with another pair of losers named Sam Wannamaker and Frederic Gough.”
“Chief Blankenship mentioned them, too. Gaspar is dead, the others are in jail.”
“What charge?”
“I’m not sure, but I guess they were there when Carter was murdered.”
Nick stared down the street a moment, trying to make sense of it. He felt a sense of relief that the three stooges who had attacked him in Orosi were no longer in play—they were Saracen’s men, but he would no longer have to deal with them.
“Was there anything else?”
“Yeah. Blankenship offered manpower if you need it.”
“Manpower for what? I don’t even know the man, so how does he know I need manpower?”
“He didn’t say, but he did seem to think you’d be operating in my district. He said you would fill me in on the details.”
