by Simon Haynes
Hal glanced at Spearman. ‘We just have a little profit-sharing arrangement to sort out.’
Chapter 34
The flight to Dismolle went quickly, and Hal took the opportunity to demonstrate the AutoChef to Walsh. It still served the same horrible meals, but could now apologise for their shortcomings in two dozen languages. The kitchen had been made over as well, and there were neat little covers on the gas rings and colour-coordinated splashbacks.
On the other hand, Hal’s cabin was a disaster. Meddlesome workers had put everything away, and it took him a good part of the trip to toss it all around and mix the resulting mess up properly. After all, how else could he lay his hands on a clean sock at ten minutes notice?
While Hal was busy turning his cabin into a bomb site, Clunk did his rounds of the ship and Walsh used a screen in the flight deck to type up her report. Once she’d covered everything she read through it a second time, correcting a couple of typos and clarifying a few points. It made good reading, especially with one crook tied up in the hold and another about to be arrested, and Walsh smiled as she pictured the reaction at Peace Force HQ. Maybe she was unknown to them, but cracking an important case would surely lead to a commendation … perhaps even early graduation?
Walsh’s smile slipped as she thought of Barney, the heroic BNE-II robot from the Forzen office. He’d saved her life, and although she’d lauded the robot in her report she felt a bravery medal of some kind would be fitting. Did the Peace Force have such a thing? Walsh resolved to ask Bernie at the first opportunity, and if they didn’t have bravery awards for robots she’d insist they damn well invent one.
Suddenly the console pinged, and a message appeared on screen. It was from Mr Bigan of the Forzen Residents Association, thanking them for solving the mystery of Margaret Cooper’s disappearance, and also for recovering their fundraising money. Walsh deleted the final paragraph, which contained an enquiry about the whereabouts of a certain loan vehicle, and attached the rest of the message to her report. If that didn’t earn her a few brownie points with the Peace Force, nothing would.
* * *
Hal tried calling the Tiger as soon as they landed on Dismolle, but there was no reply. He went outside and saw Spearman’s ship sitting on a nearby landing pad, sealed up. ‘Keep an eye on the Tiger,’ he told Clunk. ‘Don’t let Spearman leave until I’ve spoken to him.’
He went with Walsh to collect a subdued Newman from the cargo hold, and insisted on accompanying them to the terminal. It seemed like weeks since they’d first ambled across the field together, and Hal smiled to himself at the memory. Then he wondered whether there was any chance of coffee and cake.
They entered the terminal, attracting curious stares as they crossed the concourse. Walsh strode along in her faded old uniform, her chin up as she led the two men. Newman slouched along with his head down, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze, while Hal walked easily alongside him, keeping a firm grip on Newman’s arm.
The cruiser was parked out the front, and Walsh held the door while Hal bundled Newman into the back. Hal overruled her objections and got in alongside, and Newman spent the entire trip pressed up against his door, keeping well out of Hal’s reach.
The car drew up at the station, and Walsh helped Newman out of the back. Hal went to follow, but she stopped him. ‘You can’t come in. It’s off limits.’
Hal nodded at Newman. ‘What about him?’
‘He’s not coming out again.’
‘I’ll just wait here,’ said Hal promptly.
* * *
As Walsh led Newman from the car, she saw him look up at the forbidding exterior of the Peace Force office before glancing up and down the street. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she growled.
‘I was just loosening my neck.’
‘You run, and I’ll loosen your teeth.’
‘Your boyfriend already did.’
‘He’s not my —’ Walsh stopped. Don’t let the prisoner bait you. Rule nineteen, section three. She took a firm grip on Newman’s arm and led him inside. ‘Bernie! Where are you?’
Slow, thudding footsteps heralded Bernie’s approach, and Walsh’s doubts about the legitimacy of the Dismolle office melted away as she saw the familiar craggy face. How could she possibly have believed Bernie was anything but genuine? Alongside her, Newman cowered visibly as the powerful robot strode towards them.
‘Trainee Walsh, you’re back! And you have company.’ Bernie looked Newman up and down. ‘Jonathan Newman of Forzen, I believe. Would you like a coffee?’
Walsh grinned at the expression on Newman’s face. Bernie was more likely to hug the guy than beat him up, but either could be fatal. ‘Bernie, he’s a prisoner, not a guest.’
‘He is?’
‘Come to think of it, a hot drink would be ideal. Make it a strong one.’
‘That’s good of you,’ said Newman. ‘I could murder a coffee.’
‘Or vice versa,’ muttered Walsh. ‘Save the expense of a trial, too.’
‘A trial?’ Bernie looked alarmed. ‘And why is Mr Newman a prisoner?’
‘He’s responsible for the deaths of Margaret Cooper and Rod Herringen of Forzen, he’s caused untold property damage, he’s kidnapped a civilian and a Peace Force operative and, to cap it off, he’s embezzled a large sum of money from the Panther Mining Company.’ Walsh took out a data chip. ‘My full report is on here.’
‘Oh my,’ said Bernie. She felt for a chair and sat down heavily, straining the legs to breaking point. ‘Trainee Walsh, what have you done?’
‘Me? He’s the crook!’
‘Arresting people? Reports?’ Bernie took a deep breath. ‘You know, you’re not a full officer yet, and as such you don’t have the authority to —’
‘Don’t give me that. You know my graduation is just an exam question away.’
‘I - I —’
‘It is, isn’t it?’
Bernie started to shake, and Walsh looked on in horror as the big robot struggled to speak. ‘I - I —’
‘Bernie?’
‘Ch-charge,’ said Bernie, fumbling with her chest compartment. She got it open, and Walsh took the plug and ran to the nearest socket.
‘There, how’s that?’
‘S-switch on.’
Walsh checked. ‘It is on, Bernie!’
For a few moments nothing happened, and then Bernie got up, every movement an effort. ‘I’m sorry, Trainee Walsh,’ she said slowly. ‘My charging circuits aren’t what they used to be. I was on duty for lengthy stretches while you were out of the office, and I find myself needing a charge more and more frequently.’
Walsh frowned. Bernie had never been far from a power point, so how much extra charging could she take? ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘G-give me your report. I’d like to check it over.’
Walsh gave it to her. ‘Will you be all right for a bit?’
‘Why? Where are you going?’
Walsh gestured at Newman. ‘I have to arrest his accomplice, but I’ll be back as soon as possible.’
Slowly, Bernie nodded. ‘That is your duty.’
‘Keep him safe for me, and don’t worry about his coffee.’
Bernie studied Newman, then took him by the wrist. ‘Follow me, prisoner.’
‘What about my rights?’ demanded Newman. ‘Hey, don’t leave me!’
But Walsh had gone.
* * *
Hal sat in the back of the Peace Force cruiser, trying hard not to look like a captured criminal. All he needed was for some over-zealous photographer to snap him through the windows, and his face would be all over the news before Walsh could say, ‘He’s not my -‘
Hal looked away from the Peace Force station, staring through the windscreen and focusing further and further along the road until he had the horizon in his sights. Slowly, he raised his gaze until he was looking at the deep blue sky, and there he stopped. Life was simple up there, just him and Clunk and the Navcom. No emotions in space. Well, maybe a bit of anger and f
rustration from time to time, but not the painful heart-wrenching stuff.
The driver’s door opened and Walsh got in. She smiled at Hal in the mirror, and he saw the strain around her eyes. She’d been through far more than he had, and she wasn’t complaining. She couldn’t just run away into space, either. She had to stick around and deal with things.
‘You look serious,’ said Walsh lightly.
‘Just thinking.’
‘Ready to catch another crook?’
‘Lead the way, pardner,’ said Hal.
The engine started and the car pulled away from the kerb. Before long they were zipping through a commercial zone, all offices and government departments, and then they pulled into a small car park.
‘Leave the talking to me,’ said Walsh. ‘And if she says anything personal, ignore it. Don’t let her under your skin.’
Hal nodded, and they got out of the car together. The office door was open, and Walsh stopped just outside. ‘Hello?’
There was no reply, so they entered. The hallway had a garish lime-and-maroon paint scheme, with grotesque bronze mobiles hanging from the walls and a rug that looked like it had been woven from excess nasal hair.
‘Miranda?’ called Walsh.
‘Maybe she’s gone.’ Hal eyed the rug in distaste. ‘Unless that thing ate her.’
Walsh’s hand dropped to her hip, and she swore as her fingers closed on thin air. Stealthily, she moved along the hall to the office, and Hal followed closely, ready to spring to her defence.
They entered the office proper, and the first thing Hal saw was a pair of legs sticking out from behind the desk. He nudged Walsh to point them out, and saw her swallow nervously. She held up her fist and counted one-two-three on her fingers, and on three they both dived behind the desk. Immediately, Hal could see they weren’t in any danger. The figure on the floor was lying face down, bound at the wrists and ankles, and they didn’t need to turn him over to find out who it was: the mane of straw-coloured hair was a dead giveaway. ‘Kent Spearman!’
‘Help me turn him over,’ said Walsh.
Hal grabbed the desk and tossed it aside, and then he and Walsh crouched alongside Spearman, rolling him gently onto his back. Despite their rivalry, Hal was dreading the worst, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the other pilot’s chest rising and falling.
‘Knocked out, but alive,’ said Walsh.
‘Thick skull,’ remarked Hal. By the time he’d untied the ropes Spearman was coming round, and when they sat him up he groaned and blinked, his eyes unfocussed. Before Walsh could stop him Hal grabbed a glass of water and threw it in his face.
‘Ow!’ said Spearman, as the glass clonked off his forehead.
‘Hell, sorry.’ Hal looked apologetic. ‘Slippery fingers.’
Still dazed, Spearman looked around. ‘Where the hell am I?’
‘Never mind that,’ said Walsh. ‘Where’s Morgan?’
Spearman put a hand to his forehead. ‘She was getting the money to pay me. She went to the drawer, and then —’
Walsh sniffed the air. ‘Knockout spray?’
‘Or killer perfume,’ said Hal.
Spearman struggled to his feet, wobbling slightly. ‘Well, I’ll be off then. I’ve got a ship to run.’
‘You sit down for a bit,’ said Walsh. ‘That stuff will wear off in a minute or two.’
‘No, really. I —’
‘SIT!’
He obeyed, and Hal almost did the same. ‘I guess Morgan was tipped off before I got here,’ said Spearman. ‘She must have heard about that Newman guy and done a bunk.’
‘Probably had eyes at the spaceport,’ said Walsh. ‘She won’t get far, though. I’ll warn the passenger lines so she can’t book a ticket. Especially under a false name.’
‘I doubt she’ll leave right away,’ said Spearman. ‘If I were her I’d lie low for a bit, wait for the fuss to die down.’
‘He’s probably right,’ said Hal. ‘He knows the criminal mind inside out.’
‘We’d better get back to the office and put out the alert,’ said Walsh. ‘Will you be all right here?’
Spearman nodded. ‘Just fine, thanks.’
Suddenly Hal grabbed Walsh’s arm. ‘Did you put Newman under guard?’
‘Bernie’s looking after him. Killing him with kindness, most like.’ She frowned. ‘Wait a minute. You don’t think Miranda will try and rescue him?’
‘No, but what if she decides to shut him up … permanently? Without Newman -‘
‘I won’t have a case against her!’
They stared at each other, then ran from the office, leaving Spearman clutching his head.
* * *
Walsh had driven quickly on the way to the party, but that was nothing to the terrifying white-knuckle ride she subjected Hal to now. The cruiser’s engine howled, lights flashed and sirens screamed as they belted through the traffic.
They stopped outside the Peace Force station, and Hal was still struggling to get out by the time Walsh was halfway to the door. On the way her suspicions had firmed into certainty, and now she was dreading what she’d find. To get at Newman, Morgan would have to go through Bernie, and while the robot would usually be more than a match, she clearly wasn’t her usual self.
Walsh’s first instinct was to charge in and confront Morgan, but the endless training sessions kicked in before she could do anything rash. Instead, she unlatched the door and eased it open with her foot. ‘Hello? Bernie?’
The only reply was a faint cry, and at the sound Walsh dived through the doorway and executed a half-roll, springing up with her back to the wall. So much for stealth training, she thought. Then she heard Hal following, and motioned him against the wall.
‘Trainee Walsh, is that you?’ whispered Bernie. Her voice was weak, almost inaudible, and Walsh strained to hear it. ‘I’m afraid I’m done for.’
‘Tell me where she is, Bernie. I’ll kill her.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Morgan, of course.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Bernie slowly. ‘I’ve never met Miss Morgan. It’s just that my batteries won’t hold a charge any more.’
Walsh stepped away from the wall and hurried into the office. She was dimly aware of Hal following her, but then she saw Bernie slumped against the wall, the big robot unharmed but immobile. ‘Oh Bernie,’ she said, dropping into a crouch. ‘How can I help?’
‘You can’t. Not now.’
‘I can get the charge cable for you.’
Bernie raised her hand, and Walsh saw the cable was already plugged in.
‘What about new batteries? I can order them from head office. Just give me access to the computer.’
Bernie looked up, a ghastly expression on her face. ‘I did what I thought best, you know. Best for the people of this planet, and for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
Slowly, Bernie closed her eyes. Walsh took the robot’s massive hand in hers. ‘Bernie, talk to me.’
The robot opened her eyes, but kept her gaze on the floor. ‘I can’t give you access, because there aren’t any computers. I used all the parts to keep myself going.’
‘But head office! They —’
‘I never contacted them, Harriet. I didn’t dare.’
Walsh felt cold. ‘The office closed down, didn’t it? Here on Dismolle, I mean.’
‘The Peace Force is a vital part of the community, and we gave them a sense of security.’ Bernie gripped her hand. ‘The people needed us, don’t you see? We couldn’t allow them to close us down!’
‘But you were paying me wages! Surely those came from head office?’
‘Unemployment benefits. I signed you up, kept a percentage for expenses, gave you the rest.’ Bernie looked up at her, pleading. ‘I did a good job, didn’t I? Kept Dismolle safe?’
‘You did, Bernie. You looked after all the humans.’
‘Thank you, Harriet.’ Bernie’s head dropped. ‘T-there’s something else.
A b-box of records in the armoury. They’re y-yours.’
‘Thanks, Bernie.’
‘I’m s-sorry about your gradu… a-about your gr —’
Bernie’s grip relaxed, and Walsh held the cold metal fingers for a moment before gently laying the hand on the robot’s broad chest. Then she stood up. She hadn’t believed Barney on Forzen, but now she had the truth she’d been dreading. She wasn’t Trainee Walsh of the Dismolle Peace Force, and she wasn’t about to graduate from anything. Her investigation meant nothing, Morgan had escaped and Newman would vanish before she could get anyone official - say, a real Peace Force officer - to visit Dismolle and mop up.
Walsh lowered her head, blinking back tears. Why her? What had she done to deserve this?
Then she felt Hal’s arm around her shoulders, and she stood there with her head on his chest, drawing on his strength.
‘Hello? Is anyone out there?’
Walsh recognised Newman’s voice. ‘What is it?’
‘Your metal pal chained me to the kitchen sink,’ said Newman plaintively. ‘Do you think you could undo me?’
Walsh laughed, then wiped her eyes. Good old Bernie. Nobody escaped a BNE-II mobile crime-fighting unit.
Chapter 35
Hal locked Newman in the basement, then made Walsh a coffee. Since Bernie’s revelation she’d seemed to shrink inside herself, and he was getting worried. From what he’d seen, the Peace Force had become the most important thing in her life, and without it she was in danger of falling.
He took the drinks into the office, where he found Walsh sitting on a chair, staring into space. ‘Here, this’ll do the trick.’
She took the mug. ‘Did you use the whole jar?’
‘Eh? No.’
‘Bernie used to. She cost me a fortune.’ Walsh looked down at her uniform. ‘This might as well be fancy dress. Probably is.’
‘Don’t be hard on yourself. You did everything right. It just wasn’t quite legit, that’s all.’
‘How could she do this to me?’
‘It was real to her,’ said Hal. ‘Running a busy office, training up a new officer … it’s what she was made for.’
‘It was all lies,’ said Walsh dully.
