Burnside's Killer: Extended Version (The Hunter Legacy Book 6)

by Timothy Ellis

  "I don't believe this woman is a serial killer," she said, matter-of-factly.

  "You think so, do you?" I said with deep sarcasm. "I guess that makes sense since you analysed the data for all of five minutes. I've only spent two years gathering it. I suppose you have another reason why she feels the need to cut off and abscond with their corndogs? Please enlighten me."

  My voice sounded petulant to my own ears, but I was tired, hungry, and frustrated. And what was really pissing me off, was the fact the captain was starting to make sense.

  "The commonality you missed in the victims isn't easy to spot, if you're not in a certain mindset," Jane said, ignoring my meltdown. "It's not a matter of poor detective work, it's a matter of being in the wrong line of work altogether."

  I scowled at her.

  "Now what are you talking about?"

  "Detective, I'm a trader captain, which means I deal with an element you likely don't see very often, namely pirates, bounty hunters, and other less-than-savory people."

  "So what's your point?"

  Even as I asked the question, I was starting to see the answer.

  "I don't believe your killer is an actual serial killer," she said. "Though she almost certainly wants everyone to believe she is."

  I glared at her for several moments, chewing over what she'd said.

  "You're saying that she kills for another reason," I said. "And takes the trophies so that investigators won't guess the real motive."

  Her blue eyes danced, as her lips widened in a smile which sent a little shiver down my belly.

  "I think you're seeing the big picture now," she said. "And you understand what the victims had in common."

  I suddenly did see it, and it was enough to shake me to my core. How did I miss it for so long? I was so focused on tracking my freak serial killer, I couldn't see anything else around me. I was guilty of the same crime I'd accused Spinelli and Ed of earlier, not asking the right questions.

  "I think I'm getting it," I said tentatively. "But I want to hear it from you, just so I'm sure we're on the same page."

  "I don't think your victims were killed for sport, or for revenge, or for any other psychological reason."

  She grinned.

  "I think they all had bounties on their heads, and they were murdered for one reason alone, money."

  Nineteen

  "I can't believe I didn't see it," I scolded myself, as Captain Jane and I strode through the station corridors.

  We walked into an elevator, and Jane spoke the number of the floor where we were headed. She'd thanked the general, and told him she wouldn't be needing any more Sci-Fi sector help. I suppose I should have been thankful she happened to be at the Orbital on a routine cargo run headed for Cobol when I arrived, but right then I was too focused on the task at hand.

  "Sometimes solutions hide in plain sight," she said. "People just can't see the forest for the trees. I imagine your frustration with the cases drove you to start thinking in a certain way, and once you gathered momentum in that direction, you kept going."

  "I suppose," I said. "It's just that I pride myself on being good at my job. Then you come along, with no experience at all, and you see something I don't. How did you read all that so quickly, anyway? Are you some kind of savant? Genetic enhancement?"

  She grinned.

  "Something like that."

  "Where are we going? I need to get back to my ship, and head out as soon as possible."

  "About that. I have something a little different in mind."

  And there it was. I knew there had to be a catch to all this. She'd ask me to turn over the investigation, to hand over catching my killer to her, or to Hunter's security, or something along that line. Well, if she thought that was going to happen, she didn't know dick about Dick Burnside.

  "Listen Captain," I said. "I appreciate your help on this, but really…"

  "What if I told you I could get you to Hunter's Redoubt before the killer got there?" she asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.

  My eyes narrowed.

  "What? How is that even possible?"

  "I captain a small freighter for Jon, with cutting-edge tech. My ship and her sisters are the fastest vessels around. We could stay here another two hours, and still be there before your killer."

  This shouldn't have been news to me, as even then, it seemed all the advances were being made by private companies, and I should have known Hunter, with his vast resources, would have access to faster ships than the ESPD. I loved my Calypso, hell, it had been my home for the better part of two years, but I knew it didn't have a hope in hell of catching a vessel which relied on speed to earn its keep.

  The lift reached its floor, and the doors opened. Jane led me down a corridor to an office, and motioned for me to sit as we entered.

  "All right," I said. "You've got me intrigued, and I'll welcome your help. But let's get one thing straight before we go any further. I'm not handing over any authority on this case."

  She sat across the desk from me, and flashed that patented smile.

  "I'm afraid you won't have a choice, Detective."

  "Excuse me?"

  "The Midnight System now belongs to Jon Hunter, deeded to him by the Sci-Fi sector for saving it from Midgard. Once we enter there, you'll be in his jurisdiction, and your role will be as an observer and advisor only. The admiral is eminently fair and just, and while he uses Australian Sector law as his guideline, make no mistake, at Hunter's Redoubt, Jonathon Hunter is the law."

  My stomach dropped. Again, I should have realized it sooner, especially after my experience on Apricot with John Slice. But circumstances had conspired to dull my wits over the last twenty-four hours. And since I had no legal authority over what happened from that point on, I figured I'd better learn how to be diplomatic real quick.

  "Understood," I said, nodding as if it didn't feel like a kick to the nuts to admit defeat. "I assume you have a plan for when we arrive, then?"

  "An outline, yes," she said. "I'll need your help to finalize the details, of course."

  "Of course."

  "There are a few things we should discuss first. One of the reasons I determined you weren't chasing a serial killer, was the very fact she's chosen Jon Hunter as a target."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The admiral is almost ridiculously well-protected. Hunter's Redoubt is an incomparable battle station, plus Jon is constantly flanked by bodyguards. Even if he weren't, he's lethal in his own right. Serial killers are, historically, meticulous and methodical, but not skilled to the level where they could overcome such difficult obstacles."

  I couldn't argue with her.

  "So you're planning to use station security to catch her on entry? We don't have any ID on her. She could literally be anyone. For all we know, she's even disguised herself as a man."

  "Not exactly." She called up a hollo of schematics for Hunter's Redoubt. "Hundreds of people arrive at the station on a regular basis, and some of them are what you would consider dangerous. It's the nature of the beast, since the station is the first and last stop on the way to Australian systems. Now it’s the first system of a new sub-sector, and the traffic going through there is going to increase dramatically now the war is over. If we stopped and investigated every single person who came on board, no one would ever set foot on the station. Without an iron-clad ID, we have no choice but to let her in."

  "I assume you can screen for weapons?"

  She nodded.

  "Security doesn't necessarily confiscate weapons, but they're tagged and monitored throughout the carrier's stay. There are usually a hundred or more weapons on the station at any given time, and security is aware of where they are at any given moment at all times."

  "So you find the woman carrying the knife, and tag her when she enters?"

  "Exactly."

  I leaned back in my chair, and laced my fingers behind my head. Now I knew time actually wasn't of the essence, my brain was starting to work a little better.
/>
  "I have my doubts about that," I said. "This chick has killed twelve men so far, and we've only found physical evidence at the last murder scene, and that was because she was surprised, and forced to leave quickly."

  Jane cocked an eyebrow again.

  "Chick?"

  "Sorry," I grinned, feeling blood rush into my cheeks. "I watch a lot of old flat-screen detective movies. It's old Earth slang."

  "I'm aware," she said evenly. "I just didn't think anyone still used such derogatory language in this day and age."

  I cleared my throat.

  "Anyway, this woman is meticulous at planning and executing her kills. There's never a trace of a weapon, and usually no blood, fibers, or anything else left at the scene. Or penises, for that matter. She's as clean as they come, which means she's far from stupid. She would know she couldn't get away with smuggling a knife onto Hunter's station."

  "Very true," Jane nodded. "But now we've changed the assumption from serial killer to hired assassin, we open up some other possibilities. If I were in her position, I'd enter the station unarmed, and try to procure the murder weapon while on board. Perhaps from an accomplice."

  "Is that possible? I mean, we can assume if she's smart enough not to bring a blade on board, she's smart enough to know security is monitoring any weapons which are already on board."

  "Hmm. The system isn't completely foolproof, of course, but it's virtually impossible a weapon, even a knife, could change hands without security knowing."

  I scratched my cheeks, feeling the stubble starting to form there. It had been a few days since I shaved, and I hair up fast.

  "So we've got an unarmed killer, entering a heavily fortified battle station, where she'd have to have a masterful plan to get her hands on her murder weapon of choice." I shook my head. "It doesn't add up."

  "It's possible she has a means of concealing the weapon which can fool our security system, but that would be extremely unlikely. Any type of cloaking device would be ridiculously expensive." She paused. "Then again, the bounties on Jon's head are literally astronomical. Any technology which could be used in his assassination would be a smart investment. And I can think of at least one."

  Her expression never changed as she said the words, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she and her cohorts led, that they talked about death and murder with such detachment. I thought I'd seen some crazy shit in my years on the force, and in the military before that, but I was beginning to suspect these folks were on a whole different level.

  "It would make sense to assume she'll be armed as she comes on board," I said. "If we're wrong, we've just been overly cautious. If we're right, we're forearmed, and have a better chance of catching our killer, and making sure Hunter lives to continue saving the galaxy."

  Jane grinned.

  "No need to worry about that, Detective."

  Her attitude was starting to bug me.

  "You keep saying that," I said, trying to keep my voice under control. "I get you people are skilled, and your security is top of the line, but you can't guarantee his safety. The unexpected has a way of showing up, and pulling the rug out from under you. History is littered with the corpses of people who couldn't be killed."

  She looked at me silently for a second before nodding.

  "You're right," she said. "I shouldn't be overconfident."

  I wanted to believe she was seeing the light, but there was something about the way she said it that made me feel like a kid whose mother had just agreed with her toddler that the moon was made of green cheese.

  But I managed to push it aside. Diplomacy, and all that shit.

  "So we're still without a plan," I said. "Are we agreed that we don't take a stop-and-search approach, and just let her board the station?"

  "Definitely. The last thing the admiral wants is to give Hunter's Redoubt a reputation as anything other than welcoming."

  "So we assume she's armed. And then what? Have security shadow every female that boards? We don't even know whether she's going straight to the station. Maybe she'll lay low for a while."

  Jane glazed over with PC detachment for a moment.

  "There," she said. "I've just notified the media that Jon Hunter will be on Hunter's Redoubt in three days, for a much-needed post-war celebration."

  "Why did you do that?"

  "To lure our killer, just in case she's not already on the way. If she knows the most eligible target in the galaxy is going to be at the station at a certain time, she'd have to be insane not to take advantage of it, and get there as soon as possible."

  I gave her a half-grin.

  "Let's not forget how she kills her victims. I wouldn't rule out she is insane."

  She didn't laugh. Instead, she called up hollos of a half-dozen of the killer's crime scenes.

  "I highly doubt that," she said. "If anything, we're dealing with a sociopath who's utterly lacking in empathy. But insanity implies a cognitive impairment of some sort. Our killer is not only not insane, I wouldn't be surprised if she was quite analytical and intelligent."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "She's left evidence at only one of a dozen crime scenes, and she manages to kill her victims with no sign of struggle." She fixed her brilliant blue eyes on mine. "But the most obvious sign of her intelligence is she convinced one of the best detectives in the galaxy she was a serial killer instead of a bounty hunter."

  I grinned. Apparently I wasn't the only one learning my way through the whole diplomacy thing.

  "I appreciate that," I said. "Helps me deal with the fact I've been played for a chump for two years."

  "Don't underestimate your abilities," she said. "I read your entire history with ESPD while I was going over this particular killer's files. You have an exceptional record. In fact, I found it odd you'd been assigned to such, strange cases."

  "That's a long story," I sighed. "And we've got a killer to catch. I don't think we're going to accomplish much more here. I vote we light out for Midnight System."

  Jane flicked off the hollos, and rose from her seat.

  "Agreed," she said. "Soonest begun, soonest done."

  Her confidence was beginning to grow on me. At that moment, I could almost believe she was capable of everything she apparently believed she was. When we started this whole escapade, I was worried I was going to have to spend the entire mission watching her back. Now I wondered if maybe that situation was going to be reversed.

  "All right, then," I said. "If I remember right, you said something about a faster ship?"

  Jane's lips widened in a grin.

  "I did indeed."

  Twenty

  Captain Jane's ship didn't look like any I'd ever seen, though I admit I wasn't exactly up to date on cargo freighters. It was sleek to the point of being Spartan, with smooth lines which set it apart from the rest of the ships around it. It was all business, and seemed out of place being piloted by someone who was as physically attractive as Jane.

  "Interesting ride," I said as I stepped out of the lift towards the dock. "Where's the entrance?"

  Jane held up a hand to stop me.

  "You're not coming with me. I'll tow your Calypso. We might need a second ship at some point."

  I frowned.

  "All right. But won't towing me slow you down?"

  "Not appreciably. My ship has limited life support, so you'll be much more comfortable on board your own."

  She said it so matter-of-factly, I couldn't argue. But the detective part of me was instantly curious.

  "So you never have passengers?" I asked.

  "Very rarely, and when I do, they're not the type to mind a lack of creature comforts."

  Now I was really intrigued.

  "Confess," I said. "You just don't want me on board because the interior is a mess. Food containers and empty booze bottles everywhere."

  There was a microsecond's hesitation before she smiled, and it made me wonder again what it was about her movements that were making my brain it
ch.

  "The opposite, actually," she said. "Almost the entire cabin is full of tech, and what isn't is used for more delicate cargo which needs to be supervised directly."

  The cop part of me wondered if she was talking about smuggling. Not that there was anything I could do about that, even if I'd wanted to. My jurisdiction was a long way from where I was.

  "The only two seats in the ship are in the cockpit," she said. I must have looked confused, because she quickly added, "My work is all-consuming, Detective."

  I shrugged.

  "It's your life. But at this point, I think we can dispense with the titles. I'm Dick, although my mother called me Richard."

  "Dick, then," she smiled. "And I'm Jane."

  "I'm sure we'll have fun," I snickered.

  She tilted her head. "I'm sorry?"

  "You know, 'Fun with Dick and Jane'."

  Her eyes glazed over for an instant as she consulted her PC. Then she nodded.

  "An old reading primer for schoolchildren, circa mid-20th century. I get it."

  "Okay," I sighed. "I'll try to keep my jokes more current from now on."

  "I'm afraid I'm not the quickest one with humor," she confessed. "Sometimes it takes me a little analysis in order to get it. But I'm learning."

  Jane boarded her ship and I boarded mine, and we rendezvoused a few hundred kilometers from the Orbital. She dropped a grav sled to the top front of Calypso with the practiced ease of a veteran freighter captain, and it made me wonder about her age yet again.

  She opened a channel once we were connected.

  "Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be," I said, slouching a bit in my seat.

  I was thoroughly exhausted by that point, not to mention starving.

  "You should rest on the way," she said. "Be fresh for when we arrive."

  "What about you?" I asked.

  "Don't worry about me. Get in touch if you need anything on the way." She paused a moment. "Or if you just feel like talking."

  "Roger that. See you in Midnight."

  I closed the channel, and settled in a bit more. You still got it, Burnside, I joked to myself. As if an attractive, adventurous young woman like Captain Jane would be interested in a rumpled old flatfoot like me.