by John Bowers
“Is that what we’re doing? A picnic?”
“Sure. I told you I brought some grub.”
The stream that meandered through the canyon was wider here, but shallow. They dismounted under a thin stand of willows, let the horses’ reins drop so they could drink from the stream and graze on the grass along the water’s edge, and settled down in the shade. Part of the canyon’s west rim was visible from where they sat, but aside from the trickling stream and the chirping birds, the quiet was broken only by the breeze in the treetops.
Cybele pulled her saddlebag off the back of her horse and spread it on the ground, pulling out a thin blanket and half a dozen sandwiches. She spread the blanket in the shade and divided the sandwiches between them, then set out a flask of water and another of fruit juice.
“What’s this?” Nick asked. “No single-malt?”
“No. If you haven’t been in the saddle for ten years, you probably need to keep a clear head.”
“I need to keep a clear head anyway.” Nick settled down and crossed his legs, reaching for a sandwich. “Did Luisa put these together?”
“No, I did. This isn’t Mexican food, it’s pure Alpha Centauri fare.”
Nick bit into a sandwich and chewed for a moment; it was a chicken sandwich, or at least chicken-flavored. He didn’t recognize the spread, but it was faintly spicy and tingled his palate.
“You’re a pretty good sandwich chef.”
“I’m more than that. I’m just a damn good cook.”
“That’s half the battle.”
“Half of what battle?”
“To catch a husband.”
“Who says I want to catch a husband?”
“I didn’t say that. It never entered my mind.”
Cybele bit into her sandwich and sat eating for a moment, watching him.
“So you think the boy is a kidnap victim?”
“Could be.”
“That isn’t his real father?”
“I don’t know for sure, but he probably is.”
“So why do you think child abduction?”
Nick took a drink of juice and wiped his mouth.
“Did you notice the hesitation when I asked about the boy’s mother? Obviously the kid wasn’t in the joint with his old man, but now the dad is out and moving south with the kid. The mother ‘didn’t want to come’. How many mothers would voluntarily let her kid leave with a husband or ex-husband who just got out of the can?”
Cybele frowned in thought. “Not very many. But I suppose it’s possible.”
“Granted, it’s possible; there are plenty of unfit mothers around, but the odds are against it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve already requested prison records on Tom Childers, if that’s his real name—”
“And if it isn’t? What if he lied to you and it’s Bob Smith?”
“Then I’ll look for prison releases over the past month and see who matches his description. If I don’t get a hit, I’ll go back further.”
“Maybe he escaped?”
“I doubt it. Prison escapes are reported to the U.F. Marshal as soon as they happen. I would already know about it.”
“Could these people be involved in the threat against my dad?”
“Also a possibility. I’m not ruling anything out.”
“Maybe they’re hiding in the canyon waiting for an opportunity to kill him.”
“Maybe. But I’m not convinced the threat against your father is real.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why not?”
“Did you see the wanted poster?”
She nodded.
“There was no agency on it, no comm number, no v-mail address—if anyone did kill or capture your dad, who would they contact to claim the reward?”
Cybele’s eyes widened even more.
“My god! You’re right!”
Nick took another bite of sandwich.
“What does that mean, Nick?”
“Could mean a couple of things—it could be a prank, or it could be an act of intimidation just to scare him…”
“Or?”
“Or it could mean someone really wants him dead, but they’re just playing with him first. What it doesn’t mean, is that there’s really a price on his head.”
“Jesus! This is getting scary.”
Nick nodded. “Let me ask you something,” he said around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Go ahead.”
“Up to now I’ve been concentrating on the fact that your dad is a senator, but he has business interests, too, doesn’t he?”
“Sure. The horse ranch…”
“I stopped in to see Chief Sheehan before I got to the estate, and he told me your dad owns a bank.”
“Yes, that’s right. A small one.”
“How small?”
“There’s only one branch, in Centauri Springs. Dad established it primarily to support the local community. People keep their savings there and the bank offers loans for business and real estate development.”
“Are you aware of any problems connected with the bank? Any disgruntled depositors or maybe someone who thought the bank treated them unfairly?”
“No…but I probably wouldn’t know about something like that. I never took much interest in the bank and Dad never talks business at home anyway.”
“So you wouldn’t be aware of any takeover attempts? Hostile or otherwise?”
“No, I wouldn’t. You’d have to ask him.”
“Are the deposits insured?”
“You mean in case of robbery?”
Nick nodded. “Or financial collapse.”
“I think so. The colonial government insures depositors up to a certain value…a quarter million terros, I think.”
He nodded again. That was pretty standard.
“When did he establish the bank?”
“I don’t know. I was pretty young.” She eyed him curiously. “Why is that important?”
“Probably isn’t. It just gives me a better picture.”
He sat eating in silence, his thoughts far away. Cybele waited, but he didn’t speak again.
“Are we done talking business?” she asked.
“Yeah, for now. What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about your fiancée.”
Nick’s eyes popped up to meet hers. “Suzanne? Why do you want to know about her?”
“She’s from Vega. I’ve never met anyone from Vega. Are the rumors true?”
“About Vegan women? Absolutely.”
“Is that why you fell in love with her?”
He laughed. “What, you think I’m shallow?”
“Most men are.”
“That shouldn’t concern you. You may not be Vegan, but you’re reasonably pretty.”
Her mouth dropped open and she laughed.
“Reasonably pretty! I’m insulted.”
“Well, maybe I understated it a bit. I should have said you’re reasonably hot.”
“That’s not much better…but thanks.” Her eyes sparkled. “But we were talking about Suzanne…”
“No, you were talking about Suzanne.”
“Right, and you said you were shallow.”
“I didn’t say that, you asked me if I was.”
“And I never meant to imply that you were. I just asked if you fell in love with Suzanne because she was beautiful.”
“Which would make me incredibly shallow.”
“So are you? Shallow?”
“Is this a subversive effort to get the interview I declined to give you?”
She tilted her head. “Call it background information.”
“I didn’t fall in love with Suzanne right away. The truth is, when we first met I wasn’t sure I even liked her very much.”
“Why not?”
“She was intense, almost hostile. She was the hottest thing I had ever seen, but I wasn’t looking for love and neither was she.”
“So what changed?”
“Circumstances. Events.”
“The gunfight at Kline Corners?”
“Among other things. It was a lot more complicated than that.”
“Complicated how?”
He shook his head. “Too long and detailed to get into.”
“Fair enough, but…what happened that made you fall in love?”
“Nothing happened. It just developed over time.”
“You were only on Sirius about a year, but she followed you to Alpha 2, so you must have been in love before you left.”
Nick laid his sandwich down and took a deep breath. The girl was relentless.
“We developed a physical relationship. No strings, nothing binding. But the political turmoil on Sirius didn’t look promising—”
“You’re talking about the Confederacy?”
“Yes. When Lucius Clay was elected president of Missibama, he united the Sirian states into the Confederacy, and white supremacy became the law. Sirius 1 was no longer a safe place for a woman to live—any woman—and especially women who weren’t Confederate citizens. As a Vegan national, Suzanne was in real danger, and I urged her to get off the planet.”
“Were you already in love then?”
He stared down the canyon with a frown.
“I think so. It’s hard to say. I definitely had feelings for her…”
“When did you know for sure?”
“When she got shot. When I saw her lying in the dirt with blood running out of her back…I was never more scared in my life. That’s when I knew.”
Cybele’s eyes glistened as she gazed at him.
“That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
He looked surprised. “It is?”
“Of course it is. Almost like Romeo and Juliette, except that nobody died.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say nobody died—the kid that shot her died.”
“But you didn’t kill him.”
“You know the story?”
“The official version. Not the details.”
“Well…I wanted to kill him. I probably wouldn’t have, but I would have enjoyed beating him into a vegetable.”
“I’d love to meet her.”
“Who, Suzanne? I think that’s a great idea. It would be great for her business.”
“I told you, I don’t write advertising copy.”
“I’m not talking about advertising copy, I’m talking about a feature story. I don’t know how many Vegan women live on Alpha 2, but you won’t find one more fascinating than Suzanne.”
Cybele’s grin turned impish.
“Maybe I will…after I finish writing about you.”
“Why don’t you forget about me and just concentrate on her? I’m sure she would be happy to answer all your questions.”
“Okay, how about this—I’ll do a feature on her first if you promise to give me an interview afterward.”
He picked up his sandwich again and shook his head.
“You are relentless, you know that?”
“Do we have a deal?”
He took a bite and chewed for a moment.
“Let me think about it.”
“Would she be upset? That you and I are having a picnic together?”
“No. Suzanne is supremely confident, not an insecure bone in her body.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe I will—”
Nick froze and quickly put a finger to his lips. His head swiveled from left to right.
“What is it?” Cybele asked.
“You hear that?”
“Do I hear what?”
“The birds just went quiet.”
“What does that mean?”
Nick glanced at the horses a few yards away. The grey stood motionless, staring off to the northeast, his ears pointed forward; the bay was staring the other way, toward the south. Nick got slowly to his feet and drew his laser pistol.
“What’s going on?” Cybele’s whisper was breathless with tension. “Nick?”
He took two steps toward the stream where he could get a better look down the canyon. Cybele screamed as a bullet ripped into the ground at his feet.
“Put it down, Marshal!” a harsh voice commanded. “We’ve got you surrounded!”
Chapter 9
Nick stood absolutely still. The voice had come from behind him, and he recognized it immediately. He dropped the laser pistol into the grass and held his hands out away from his body, his nerves singing with tension. Cybele Gannon still sat on the blanket, her face rigid with fear, but she didn’t panic. Nick met her eyes and shook his head minutely.
“Now the other one. The gun in your left holster…drop it.”
Nick reached across with his right hand and lifted the .44 out of its holster, letting it fall into the grass beside the laser. He took a deep breath.
“What happens now, Childers? You going to shoot me in the back?”
“Not going to shoot you at all if you do what you’re told. Just stand there a minute; and tell the young lady to stay put.”
“Already did that. Where’s Andy? I hope you didn’t bring him down here on a training mission. He’s a little young for this sort of thing, don’t you think?”
“Don’t you worry about Andy. He’s my responsibility, not yours.”
Childers’ voice had an edge to it; and it was coming closer. Nick saw Cybele’s eyes widen as Childers came into her view. Her tongue traced across her lips.
Nick heard footsteps on gravel and realized Childers was only a few feet behind him. He lifted his chin and waited; the second man, Childers’ brother, stepped out of the trees in front of him, holding an automatic in his left hand. He was younger than Childers, maybe in his early thirties. His eyes were wide with tension.
“You look nervous, Dennis. Did Tom talk you into this? Not comfortable holding a gun on a Federation Marshal?”
He saw the impact in the man’s eyes. Dennis Childers swallowed down his stress and glanced at his brother.
“Just keep quiet, Marshal,” Tom Childers said. “Don’t need you flappin’ your gums right now. Drop your gunbelt.”
“What for? I already dropped my guns.”
“Just do it. Don’t try to be a goddamn hero.”
Nick unbuckled the belt with his left hand and let it fall.
“You got any other weapons?” Childers was right behind him now; Dennis was closing in from the front.
“Just my razor-sharp wit,” Nick said.
“Very funny, Marshal.”
“Well, I only mention it because you asked. It can be pretty lethal in the right circumstances.”
“You’re a laugh a minute, you know that?” Childers pressed a gun against the center of his spine. “Don’t move.”
“What’s this about, Childers? You after our picnic lunch? I think we have a chicken sandwich left, but you’ll have to fight me for it.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying, the young lady is a hell of a cook.”
Childers knelt to retrieve the gunbelt. Dennis now stood in front of Nick, his automatic trembling slightly. Nick heard Childers remove his E-cuffs from the belt, then he tossed the belt away.
“Hands behind your back.”
Nick didn’t move. He glared at Dennis Childers until Dennis looked away, then started to turn around. Tom Childers shoved his gun against the side of Nick’s head.
“I told you to stand still, goddammit! Now put your hands behind your back.”
Nick twisted his head far enough to make eye contact. If Dennis Childers was scared, Tom was not—his eyes burned with cold determination.
“If you want to cuff me, I won’t resist,” Nick said. “But not until you let the lady go.”
“Why would we do that? Because you said so?”
“If you have business with me, we can talk about it, but not until she’s on her way home.”
“Fuck you!” Childers laughed, shaking his head in irony. “Man, you must have a death wish! How did you stay
alive this long?”
“Because of my winning personality?”
“Just shut the fuck up, all right? We got the guns, all you got is a shit mouth. Dennis, put the cuffs on this asshole.”
Childers tossed the E-cuffs to his brother. For a split second his attention was distracted; Nick spun toward him, batted Childers’ gun aside with his right wrist, and drove his left fist straight into his nose. Childers’ gun fired but the shot went into the dirt; he fell backward into the stream, but Nick had already spun the other way to deal with his brother. Dennis was taken completely by surprise—he’d taken his eyes off Nick long enough to catch the E-cuffs and didn’t see the fist coming. Nick stripped the automatic from his hand as he fell and spun back to face Tom Childers, who now lay on his back in the shallow stream; blood streamed from his nose…but he still had his gun.
As Cybele Gannon screamed again, Nick and Childers fired at the same time, but Nick was no longer where Childers thought he was; he dropped to one knee as he fired and Childers’ shot went high. Nick’s round punched through his right shoulder and exploded out the back, leaving a hole the size of an apple. Childers screamed in agony and convulsed in the mud, clawing at his shoulder with his left hand as Nick stepped on his gun hand to pin it. Nick reached down and pulled the pistol free, then took a step back and checked both brothers to make sure they were no longer a threat.
Cybele Gannon got to her feet, both hands over her mouth.
“My god! Oh, my god!”
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer. She was still staring at Tom Childers, who lay pumping blood into the stream. She looked up at Nick as if he were a stranger.
“Are you okay!” he repeated.
“Yes. I—yeah, I think so.”
Nick turned and rolled Dennis onto his stomach, cuffed him, and then returned to the man he had shot. He dragged him out of the water onto the grass and knelt beside him. Gasping with pain, Childers glared at him with hate-filled eyes.
“You motherfucker!” he grunted.
Nick bared his teeth. “You think so? I just broke a cardinal rule of law enforcement.”
“Yeah? What—what was that?”
“I didn’t kill you. Standard doctrine is always shoot to kill, but in your case I didn’t. Want to know why?”
“Because you’re…a lousy shot?”
“No. Because I don’t want your little boy to grow up hating the law. Andy just saved your fucking life.”
