"Oh?"
"If we had even a child's toy microscope we could narrow it down to one for certain." She shuffled the papers around. "As it is, matching the motives against the hard alibis, I've eliminated most of the suspects. One of the ballistics matches pointed to a shark named Mik Karrell and from what all of the persons who know him told me, the guy sleeps like the dead." She shuffled her papers again and continued.
"There was a time window between when Mik went to sleep and Nance was shot and when a female friend of his, Vona Smithers, joined him. His weapon, if it was borrowed, had been returned by the time she climbed beneath his sheet. During that time, there were no more than seven prime suspects within—"
I wiggled my finger at her. "Come here." She bent over and I whispered into her ear. "It was Jak Edge."
She stood up and stared down at me saucer-eyed until she finally asked, "I just got this information. How did you figure that?"
I pushed myself to my feet and looked around for a place to take a tiny nap before the RC meeting. Seeing a comfortable pile of grass in the shadows, I looked back at Marantha.
"Well?" she demanded.
"Nothin' but top flight police work." I held a finger to my lips and said, "Keep it to yourself for the time being." I turned and began heading toward my nap spot. "Once the RCs are ready, get me up."
I hated to spoil her surprise, but I was exhausted. Besides, we still didn't know who shot me. She could work on that.
││││
││││
││││
▫
Justice v. The Thirteen Plus One
▫
As Alsvid drove the Spider from the night sky, the light and humidity teased the grass wasps and other bugs into motion. I had Cap, Stays, Dom, Deadeye, and Marietta with me while the rest of the RCs had gone on ahead. Just as the sunlight touched the top of the grass, we entered the large clearing and met with Paxati and his people. The RCs lined the south perimeter of the clearing. My headache was thumping.
The bug-filled sticky air reminded me of summers in Greenville. I could hear Marietta quietly singing her current variation on "Kentucky Babe," which ran: Little fuckin' skeeters buzzin' round' my baby's head; Gonna get a cannon and kill them skeeters dead ... and so on. Stays and Cap kept their weapons ready, their eyes watching the grass.
Dom, despite his towering bulk, looked crushed. In his eyes he had failed his friend Nkuma; he had failed as an RC. "Dom, don't grind it," I told him. "This morning we're going to clean up all the old business."
"Bakong. He goes free?"
All I could do for the moment was shrug. The grass and the bugs made me feel closed in and as I rubbed on the grass juice and dirt I devoted a clandestine smile of irony at how much I preferred the openness, the terrible cleanliness, of the desert. Of course certain things had happened in the grass. They were the things that made the horror of the Forever Sand rest in my memory as the good old times. They were the things I couldn't afford to think about if I wanted to be able to do anything other than rage. Once we had finished spreading the bug juice and had a layer of guck between us and the grass wasps, it was time to get on with a little justice and a lot of finger dirtying.
In the center of the clearing stood Ton Bakong, the cleared killer of Nkuma. He was a slender, tall man with smooth dark features and graceful movements. The disputed rifle was nowhere in evidence.
To Bakong's right stood Lomon Paxati. He was the President of the Kvasiri, as they were then calling their gang. On Bakong's left was Lewis Grahl, cockroach of Mihviht. Next to Grahl was Jason Pendril, cockroach of the Crotch. Behind them, watched by four of Paxati's armed guards, were the thirteen errant jurors looking altogether peeved at this kink in their life plans.
Behind them at the edge of the clearing were the Kvasiri spectators. There were only about thirty or so. This case wasn't of much interest to the Kvasiri. Maybe it was because they had already judged Ton Bakong and didn't take seriously the Razai's Second Bad Call Rule. I couldn't be certain.
Behind me were over four hundred Razai. There were some safety considerations. Nance cautioned me once about splattering the spectators while scooping the poop. This time, however, I wasn't concerned about staining anyone's sheet with the odd drop of blush. I just wanted to make certain that curiosity or enthusiasm didn't wind up scooping the wrong poop.
Last night's RC meeting had been a snorter. First we tried Deke Kegel and Anna Tane. We even gave them both juries. Both guilty of murder, rape, and kidnapping. Then we took on the Bakong hash. Once the investigation into the Nkuma v. Bakong matter was concluded, I put it to them what needed to be done. There were shocked looks, threats to quit, angry speculations concerning my parents' marital status. In the end there wasn't anything left to do but take out the garbage. That was our job. Not just my job. Our job.
In the clearing the next morning, however, things were illuminated by a special light. When a case is infested with cockroaches, there has to be talk.
"What we would like to do," began the President, "is to reach an accommodation of some sort."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A compromise."
"Between what and what?"
Cockroach Grahl pushed himself forward. "It's simple, Nicos. We've seen the evidence and we agree that Bakong shouldn't get off Scot-free. However, at the most, the crime in question is unpremeditated murder. It's just that the Razai's blanket rule of death as a penalty for any kind of taking of a life, whatever the motives or circumstances, is excessive. More than that, executing an entire jury for making an erroneous decision is absurd to the point of barbarism."
I sighed, glanced at Stays, received a shrug in return, and looked back at Pendril and Grahl. Cockroaches, I thought. I hated them worse than mosquitoes. "So what do you suggest?"
"A new trial for Ton Bakong, of course," began President Paxati.
Then came what the meeting was all about. Cockroach Grahl completed, "With laws, rights, protections, and penalties that are a bit more traditional than the ones you've been using. We can grade our punishments better than the Razai because we don't have your No Prisoners Rule." He held out his hand to indicate the guards on the old jury. "That's why we could bring these men and women to submit to justice. However," he cautioned, "we cannot allow you to execute Ton Bakong's friends for an understandable attempt to take advantage of your curious jury selection system to help their friend."
It was amazing to look at Grahl and Pendril. The cockroaches were almost salivating. I had no doubt that they had every intention of putting on a full blown, down home, juicer trial, complete with black rag. I nodded toward Pendril. "You haven't said anything. What's your interest in this?"
"I have been appointed the first judge of the Kvasiri. If there is to be a new trial, I will preside."
I nodded as my eyebrows became permanently arched in utter amazement. I had no doubt that we'd probably blow a day or two with some kind of preliminary hearing, then maybe a week or so selecting a jury. Big time issues and arguments concerning rights, crime, motive, shades of responsibility, and jurisdiction hung pregnantly over the clearing. Pendril was almost having an orgasm.
Maybe wallowing in pettifogging detail is how some people get off. Maybe it's a security thing. Maybe it's how they structure time. After all, I'd done some silly things behind the crowbars to kill the clock. Of course, my thing was trying to see how short I could make the time seem. Cockroaches charge by the hour.
I almost hated to disappoint the money threads. Working their mouths, filling the air with wind, trying to see how profitably confused they could make everything, was fulfillment to a cockroach. After all, they were trying their best to do the right thing—a defense, incidentally, that hadn't been worth a gerbil fart since we hit Tartaros.
"There won't be any new trial," I said.
Pendril frowned, looked at Paxati and Grahl, and then back at me. "We don't understand."
I spoke very slowly. "There - won't - be -
any - new - trial."
"What about Bakong and the death of the RC?" asked Grahl.
"We don't have any argument with Ton Bakong concerning the death of Nkuma. A duly selected jury found a guilty man innocent, which meant that they exchanged their lives for his. Bakong's off the hook for Nkuma's death. The other matters that needed to be settled were taken care of before we got here. Now all we have to do is lay the payback on the old jury."
Understandably the old jury moved from being peeved to panic. One of them shouted that he was Kvasiri, not Razai, so there wasn't anything we could do to him. A couple of them made daring references to my heritage, while the lone juror with a working lobe tried edging away from the herd to make tracks for more lead-free parts. The Kvasiri guard behind him pushed him back in the pack. They were holding prisoners, which was against The Law of the Razai, and if they were still Razai, or if they had asked us for help, we would've had to do something about it. But they were now Kvasiri and didn't want any help from the Razai. And that's just the way that play goes down.
From my updated copy of the law I read the provisions of the Second Bad Call Rule. "Rule 25. Jurors who find a guilty perp innocent will suffer the maximum penalty under consideration." I reached beneath my sheet and stuffed the papers in my coat pocket. "The case of Nkuma v. Bakong was a murder trial, so the max is death."
There were noises at the edges of the clearing to the left and right of me. With almost four hundred RCs, they made some noise getting into position. The RCs in front went into prone positions, the ones behind sat, behind them they kneeled, and the ones in back stood. It was time to dirty those fingers. I wanted every damned one of them covered in blood before the next minute was over. If the Razai Cops lasted long enough to have colors, red ought to be one of them.
There were a bunch of screams, and the loudest was Lewis Grahl shouting, "You can't do this!"
I moved a few steps back, turned, and said to Paxati, "Maybe you ought to have your guards clear out. Obstructing justice draws the max, and in this case getting in the way of a bullet aimed at the maxbait is obstructing justice." By the time I had finished my sentence, the guards had strolled. What was even funnier was that Ton Bakong had strolled, too. His buddies huddled for mutual protection in the center of the clearing.
Dom raised his rifle and as Grahl and Pendril screamed "No!" I aimed my borrowed piece. I fired the first shot, then there were four hundred rifles shooting all at once. It took only a couple of seconds. When it was over, the jury was burger.
I slung my rifle as Dom replaced his clip and looked at me. I pointed at the bodies. "Go on. It was your trial.
Paxati, Grahl, and Pendril stood there with their mouths hanging open as Dom went over and sent a final shot though the head of each errant juror. He even got a leg jerk out of one of them.
Prophet's ghost watched the proceedings with amusement. It pointed out that I had just closed my last route of escape through the law for his murder. I could've let Bakong go and scolded the jury, thereby giving me a way to load my own jury after I'd finished with Kegel and Anna Tane. As I pointed out to Prophet's ghost, I had no desire to escape, especially through the law.
It would've made a joke out of the one good thing I'd ever done in my life, and it would've made comedians out of all of those who had died for the law. I didn't only mean the RCs and the Razai who had died on the dunes against the Hand and Kegel. The guilty had died for the law, too, and I had to keep faith with the dead. The law is the law, and the payback for murder is the max. Nkuma's jury had let his ghost down, and now that jury was on infinity hold explaining why it had voted the way it had to Nkuma's ghost. The next jury would take a cool ment before putting out a bogus verdict.
The final shot rang out and Dom stood up and faced me, his weapon hanging by one hand at his side. "Nkuma was sleeping with a chop bit who's back with the Welcome Wagon. All this go to her?"
"If she wants it," I answered, shaking my head. When I said the jury was burger, I meant the jury was burger. "There doesn't seem to be a whole lot left." From behind us our riding critters were led into the clearing. A shark moved out from the critters and ran to Cap. It was Comini's number two, Shava Ido.
Two of the RCs began stripping the bodies as Ton Bakong walked over and stood in front of Dom, his face contorted in rage. "My friends! Look what you've done to my friends! They only wanted to help me, and look at what you've done! If there is a God in this universe, you and the RCs'll be struck dead!"
Dom nodded and said, "It happens to everybody sooner or later." He raised his piece and said, "For you, sooner." He pulled the trigger and blew off the face of Ton Bakong.
Suddenly everyone was looking at Dom with shocked expressions on their faces, including me. He lowered his weapon and began hoofing it out of the clearing. As he passed Grahl he stopped, looked at him and said, "Rule 32. You get the max for perjury." He pointed the muzzle of his weapon back toward Bakong's faceless form. "During the trial when he said it was self defense, he lied. It's a good thing he didn't have a cockroach or I'd have to do him, too." Dom resumed his walk back to the column. I couldn't fault his argument. I just wished I'd thought of it.
Pendril looked like he'd just swallowed five pounds of raw liver. As the critters were brought to a halt next to us I shook my head and, as the others mounted, I said to him, "Cockroach, when are you going to start thinking like a people?"
"It's criminal," he muttered quietly. "It's monstrous what you've done, Nicos. Monstrous. This isn't law. This isn't justice. It's a sausage machine."
"You know, Pendril," Stays said from the back of his lugh, "The way the Razai does things depends on every juror knowing that his life depends on how he decides."
"It's insane. It's childish! It would be laughable except for the men and women who've been murdered in the name of your law."
"Maybe," I answered as I climbed up on the back of my critter. Once I was there I looked down at the cockroach. "I bet we don't run into another crooked jury anytime soon.
Pendril just stood there looking silly and we didn't owe him anything. I turned to Stays. "We've taken out the garbage. Send the RCs back to their units and let's get back to election central and see what the vote is."
Cap leaned to one side and handed Stays a piece of paper. Stays glanced at it and passed it on to me. "Here. Shava brought the returns." I looked at the paper and recognized Ila Toussant's handwriting. The votes had been totaled. As near as anyone could figure, better than ninety eight percent of the Razai had voted. The vote had gone eleven to one in favor of the new laws.
I looked up at Cap. "Okay. Let's go nail Kegel and his bit."
Cap lifted the braids on his critter and pulled back one corner of his mouth into a wry grin. "Did you mean let's go negotiate for the release of the hostages?"
"Yeah, right," I answered. "That's just what I meant." The night before, Cap had made Habran Indimi his number three, which meant I had a loose end to tie up myself. I turned to the four hundred RCs and shouted, "We're going to end this hostage thing one way or the other. Until Stays, Marietta, and me get back, Fodder's in charge of the RCs."
Fodder's face went into instant frown. "Do you think that's wise?"
"I said it, didn't I?"
I watched the former priest thumb through several arguments, and I could almost tell when he finally realized that he'd grown up a lot. He could handle it, he knew he could handle it, and he knew I knew he could handle it. Fodder looked away and answered, "Yes, you did."
I looked at the assembled RCs and moistened my lips as I tried to figure out some other way to say it. Although it made me feel like the slimiest hypocrite that ever disgraced a star, I couldn't improve on that first thing that had popped into my mind.
"Keep the law."
We rode out of the clearing, picked up the five thousand rifle strike force, and headed south with Jak Edge leading the point at a trollop. I also brought Head Start and the other survivors from the popcorn posse. They were whacks, but
Kegel and Tane owed them a piece, too.
││││
││││
││││
▫
Special Qualifications
▫
After only a few minutes of riding, a kid with dark hair and pale skin pulled a critter up beside me. I was talking to Stays at the time, and the kid waited until I was finished. When we were done I faced the kid. He looked familiar and it took a minute to place him. He was the Mihvihtian attitude case who had made the charges against Tani Aduelo what seemed like a million years ago.
"Yeah?"
"Put me in the RCs," he said, just like that.
"Why?"
"Why not?"
He still had one of those wiseass looks on his face, except this time it wasn't a smirk. "What's your name again?"
"Ratt Katz. That's Ratt with two tees."
"What the hell kind of name is that?"
"My old man had a sense of humor, just like the asshole who gave you your face."
Lovely. It was amazing how that little bastard could get under my skin. With all the troubles I had right then, all I could think of was sticking my foot in the Ratt's face. I thought about that for a second and made up my mind as Stays asked the Ratt, "How old're you?"
"I know the law, man. There ain't nothin' in it that says an RC has to be an old fart like you two."
I watched as, in an instant, Stays went from white to bright red. I said to him, "I'm only twenty seven."
"If you say so."
I repeated Stays's question. "How old are you?" I held up my hand. "Don't stick your lip in my face, punk, or I'll rip it off."
"If you think you've got the energy, grampaw. I'm fifteen. What about it?"
Ratt's hair was short, but there were a couple of tiny lumps that shouldn't've been there if he was a he. "Are you a girl?"
For once Ratt's face went red. "None of your fuckin' business, you greaseball, frito fagito, chili pepper, spic ass, mother—"
INFINITY HOLD3 Page 58
