by John Bowers
“Yeah.”
“Well, he has a whole lot of friends and it seems this town is their headquarters. Right now they’re hunting me, and if they find me, I’ll be joining your brother in the Six Foot Under club.”
“Well…okay. But what—”
“I need you to do me a favor, if you don’t mind.”
“What can we do? Is it dangerous?”
“I don’t think so. I just need to borrow your car for a few hours. And I need a pocket phone.”
Childers and Grace exchanged glances, and Nick saw reluctance in their eyes.
“If anything happens to your car, I will replace it. I’ll buy you a brand new one.”
“What if they get you first? What then?”
Nick sighed. “Then the U.F. Marshal will replace it. If I can borrow your phone, I’ll file an electronic receipt for the car in my official mailbox. In the event of my death, that mailbox will be opened and the contents treated as a last will and testament. You have my word on it.”
Dennis Childers sighed in indecision. He still looked reluctant.
“It isn’t like you owe me anything,” Nick told him, “but I think I treated you fairly back at Centauri Springs. I could have given you a lot more grief than I did, and I think you know that.”
Childers pursed his lips and gazed at his girlfriend. She nodded minutely.
“Okay. But I was going to use that car to look for work today. We’re getting pretty short of cash.”
Nick pulled out his wallet again and unrolled two hundred terros of expense money. He handed it to Grace.
“That should feed you guys for a couple of days. With any luck I’ll have the car back to you by tonight.”
***
Cybele Prater inspected her face in the bathroom mirror. A minor abrasion on her forehead would be gone tomorrow, but her nose was tender and would take a little longer. A local doctor had fused it for her and told her to avoid touching it as much as possible. He gave her some pain medication. She didn’t trust the doctor, whose medical license had been lifted some years earlier for malpractice; her first choice for pain management lay in the THC buds of the cannabis plant, an ancient remedy that predated the Federation by thousands of years, and Goldie had plenty of cannabis on hand. Cybele threw the medication away.
The nose looked normal, but it still throbbed. Her eyes watered. She felt violated. She felt scared.
And she was really, deep-down angry.
As the sun rose above the rooftops of Binary Flats, Cybele stood on the balcony outside the second-floor room and breathed the chill morning air. Invigorating as it was, she took no pleasure in it. Walker was still at large, hadn’t been spotted since he killed Ivan Yakinof, a nice kid with a lot of ambition, at the au’tel. Even though Harold had sent men all over town, Walker hadn’t been spotted since, and now the streets were covered with people with whom he could blend in.
She turned back inside. Harold was bent over the table with a paper diagram of Binary Flats spread before him. He had marked X’s in several locations, denoting the location of BC searchers, and circles for likely hiding places; as each circle was checked and Walker wasn’t found, he X’ed them out. Cybele looked at the diagram and shook her head in wonder…all the likely hiding places had been checked, but Walker wasn’t there. How many more places could there be?
Unless he knew someone locally who would hide him, but most residents were skittish about outsiders and would rather turn him in than be bothered with him.
“How many of those wanted posters do you have?” Cybele asked Harold.
He glanced up. “We only have the one. I put it where Walker would see it. That’s how I got the drop on him.”
“Then maybe you should make about a thousand copies and post them on every corner of every street in Binary Flats. People will turn him in if there’s a reward.”
“A million russos? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Cybele pointed to her pink nose. “Does this look like I’m kidding? How bad do you want this guy?”
“I want him bad, but not for a million russos.”
“You offered Vanov a million.”
“No, the million on the poster was just to scare your dad. I offered Vanov—”
“Who cares! Make it a thousand! Jesus Christ, do something!”
“Okay, I’ll get some more posters made. But it will take a couple of hours, and longer than that to distribute them. Walker could be gone by then. In fact, I’m getting a bad feeling that he may already be gone.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? If he’s gone, we’ll never get him. We can’t even start over. He knows who we are and what our game is.” Reed looked at once hopeless and helpless, his dream of revenge fading away. He threw both hands in the air. “If he doesn’t turn up by the end of the day, about the only thing we can do is get off the planet.”
Cybele Gannon felt her heart thunder with rage. She shook her head.
“Fuck that! If he gets back to civilization, then I can never go home again. We have to get him.”
Harold stared at her for a heartbeat. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Cybele grabbed her purse and turned for the door.
“Stay close to your phone. I think I know how to flush Walker out.”
***
Virgil Bullard cruised through the streets of Binary Flats at ten feet, high enough to avoid the traffic congestion below but low enough to avoid too much notice. Nathan peered down on the bustling streets, temporarily shielded by Bullard’s tinted windows.
“Where did you say that diner was?” Bullard asked. “Goldie’s, or whatever?”
“The end of the next block.” Nathan glanced sideways. “What’re you planning to do?”
“I’m hungry. Nobody here knows me, so I’m going to see what’s going on inside that place.”
“What about me?”
“It’s your call. You can wait in the car and watch the outside, or come in with me.”
“We could easily get bottled up in there.”
“Yeah, but if they haven’t killed him yet, we need to find out where Nick is being held. Goldie’s is as good a place as any to start.”
“You could be wrong about that. Goldie is the governor here, so if she’s in tight with the Rukes, they could be using her place as a headquarters. She could be the ringleader.”
Bullard found the diner and put the car down in front of the door.
“She might be.” He popped the clamshell. “Only one way to find out.”
***
Even though the sun was up, it was still early and Goldie’s was busy. Nathan was jumpy as a hypercat as he followed Bullard into the diner, but even with his cowboy hat and gunbelt, no one so much as glanced at him. Bullard spied an empty table in the corner and led the way, both men sweeping the crowd with their eyes for threats.
They had been seated barely a minute, Nathan with his back to the window, when Goldie spotted them. A waitress was headed in their direction but Goldie intercepted her.
“I’ve got Table 6,” she said. “I’ll give you the tip if there is one.”
The waitress shrugged and diverted to another table. Goldie approached and stared at Nathan in disbelief.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded in a harsh whisper. “Are you completely insane?”
Nathan made eye contact with her, then nodded at Bullard.
“That’s what I told him. Maybe you can explain it to him.”
Goldie turned to Bullard with narrowed eyes. She spoke in a low tone.
“Are you a U.F. Marshal, too?”
“Temporarily. I’ll have the Spanish omelet and coffee. Give Green here whatever he wants. I’m buying.”
Goldie ignored his words. She turned back to Nathan.
“They’re still looking for your friend. If they find you here, they will torture you until they find out where he is.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. “You mean they don’t hav
e him? I heard he was captured.”
Goldie glanced around, but the morning babble was loud enough to cover the conversation.
“He broke out a little after midnight. They’re mad as hell and scouring the town trying to find him. You need to get out of here, right now.”
Bullard reached out and took her hand.
“Sorry, but we can’t do that. We need to find him before they do, but we need your help.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“Sure there is. It sounds to me like you’re sympathetic toward…our friend, so anything you can tell us will be a big help.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Goldie…if anything happens to him, and you knew something you didn’t tell us, then I think I can promise you the Federation will be all over this town like salt on a snail, and you probably don’t want that to happen.”
Goldie glared at him and pulled her hand free, breathing heavily.
“Spanish omelet and coffee,” she said. “Coming right up.” She turned to Nathan.
“I’ll have the same. With Tapatio.”
She wheeled and stalked away, leaving Nathan and Bullard with raised eyebrows.
“What’s she going to do?” Bullard asked.
“I think she’ll bring our breakfast, then invite us into her office. She may not give a shit about Nick or anybody else, but she probably doesn’t want salt on her snails.”
***
The hovercar Nick borrowed from Dennis Childers had seen better days. One of the lifters was warped and rattled insanely; the turbine was prone to overheating and trailed a streamer of black smoke when the temperature got too high. The car wobbled in mid-air and made too much noise…in short, it was a death trap; Nick figured he’d be doing Childers a favor if he crashed it.
But for now, it was all he had.
He slipped out of Binary Flats just at sunup, when traffic was at its peak. As he headed south to where he hoped to find the spaceport…or whatever passed for one…he spotted a roadblock on the street below him. Rukes were stopping every surface car that left town, but they didn’t have the tools or sophistication to do the same with hovercars. Nick sailed over them without trouble.
Keeping his speed down to a bare minimum, it took him five minutes to find the spaceport. It really was only a landing strip, and Nick arrowed toward it with heightened senses. If Harold Reed was smart, he would have positioned men there to prevent Nick’s escape. Not that escape was much of an option…the only thing he saw was a runway, three fuel tanks, and a large hangar with the door closed. No control tower, no passenger terminal, not even a warehouse. This was a bare-bones operation. The property covered perhaps two square miles, if he counted the runway, but didn’t even have a fence around it.
As a result, the facility was wide open to sabotage…except for one thing—its very nakedness meant Nick had no avenue of approach by which he wouldn’t be detected. And a car was parked near the hangar, so someone was there.
He cruised slowly past the strip and continued south another half mile. He set the car down beside a dirt road and took a moment to consider his next move.
First, he needed to call Suzanne. She had probably tried to call him and might be worried. He used Childers’ pocket phone.
“Nick!”
Suzanne’s eyes looked close to panic as she stared at him through her phone. She wiped her cheek with one hand and pulled the phone even closer.
“Goddess, Nick, I’ve been worried sick! Are you okay?”
He managed a grin. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s all the fuss about?”
“What happened to your eye? Looks like you’ve been beaten up. And your cheek is all black and blue.”
“Really? I thought that stuff had healed. I fell off a horse…”
“Oh, stop it, cowboy! Don’t you know that half the U.F. Marshals on Alpha 2 are out looking for you?”
“They are? I didn’t think I was that popular.”
“Is Nathan with you? Did he find you?”
Nick’s grin faded and he shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him for about thirty hours. Have you heard from him?”
“Yes, and he had quite a story to tell. But he was missing for nearly a day and Kristina was just about frantic with worry. Then he called and said some bad guys had caught you, and…”
Suzanne realized she was chattering and chewed her lip. Tears slid down her cheek.
“Just tell me everything is okay. I was looking up train schedules; we were about to come looking for you.”
“A train won’t do you any good. The mag-lev ends at Camarrell and from there you would need a hovercar or a charter aircraft. And there’s no airport here for you to land.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m at the…uh, airport.”
“I thought you said—”
“It’s not that kind of airport. It’s just a strip for space shuttles to land. A private plane could land here, but right now the wrong people are in charge of it.”
“Well, are you okay? You never answered my question.”
“I’m fine. I had breakfast and everything. I just need to make a couple of arrests and then I’ll be home. Probably by tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I do. I mean…”
“Too late! I recorded that, and you can’t take it back.”
“Uh, ha-ha-ha…okay, we can talk about that too.”
“Bring Nathan with you. Kristina will kill you if you don’t.”
As soon as Suzanne disconnected, he called Nathan’s pocket phone, but got no reply. That puzzled him, and he wished he’d asked her more about Nathan. At least Nathan had called in, which meant he was probably okay. He had avoided the Rukes and, if Camarrell had sent backup, was probably lying low until it arrived.
He was about to call Suzanne back and try to get a number for Nathan when something caught his eye. From the airport, barely visible from where he sat, a small jet aircraft was lifting off, streaking into the morning sky. He had no glasses with him and couldn’t zoom in, but just before he lost sight of it, he saw it bank north and continue to climb.
Whatever he had to do at the airport, that was one less obstacle he would have to face.
***
Bullard and Nathan stepped into Goldie’s office and she closed the door. The murmur of voices and the clatter of dishes could be heard from outside, but otherwise the room seemed secure. It was still just as cramped and cluttered as it had been on Nathan’s first visit. Bullard stood near the end of the desk but Nathan settled into a chair…his head was still hurting and he didn’t feel very steady.
Goldie stood near the door as if she might need to run, facing the two men like a cornered animal.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything you do,” Bullard told her. “Starting from the time Marshal Green left here the last time.”
Goldie looked at Nathan, but before she could say anything he interrupted.
“Before you do that, tell us what the hell is going on around here. Who is after Nick, and why?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“We have conflicting stories. What do the Rukranians want with Nick? And why do you even tolerate them in your town?”
Goldie crossed her arms and leaned against the door. She sighed.
“I told Walker, but I guess no one ever told you. Because we have no ties with the Federation or the Colonials, we get most of our supplies from off-world, nearly all of it from Beta Centauri—”
“Beta Centauri?”
“That’s what they call it. Centauri B to anyone with an education.”
“That’s the home world for the Rukranians.”
“Yes. We struck a deal with them years ago, even before the revolution. In exchange for permission to use this town as a base of operations, they provide us with goods and services that we can’t get anywhere else, and at a better price. That’s why they’re here.
“As a bonus, because th
ey’re such bad-asses, I use them to keep the peace.”
“You use Rukes for law enforcement?”
“Peace keepers. We don’t have much here in the way of laws, just some basic rules against murder, thievery, and reckless endangerment. The BCs…what you call Rukes…are scary enough that most people don’t cause trouble, and those who do never do it twice. To you that might sound strange, but it works for us and I see no reason to change.”
She sighed again.
“As for your friend, it isn’t the BCs who want him. They’re doing it for a Sirian named Harold Reed. He claims that—”
“Harold Reed?” Nathan sat forward, his headache forgotten. “Do you mean Harry Reed?”
Goldie shook her head. “His name is Harold, but he says he had an uncle named Harry, apparently some kind of politician back on Sirius. According to Harold, his uncle committed suicide and Harold blames Nick.” She gazed at him. “Does that make any sense to you?”
Nathan nodded, his heart pounding.
“I was born on Sirius and I remember Harry Reed. He was a member of the Texiana Parliament. He traded slaves on the side and Nick busted up his operation, or tried to. I hadn’t heard that he died.”
“Apparently he did, and this whole episode is aimed at revenge for his death.”
“So the Rukes are working for Harold Reed?”
“In this particular instance, yes. Reed is paying them to help him find Nick so he can take him back to Sirius for trial. Only, after last night, I think he’s given up on a trial and just wants Nick dead.”
Nathan exchanged glances with Bullard. His heart pounded faster than ever.
“Where is Harold Reed now?” Bullard asked.
Goldie stared at him for a long moment before she replied. Her own breathing seemed to become labored. Finally, without a word, she pointed at the ceiling.
Chapter 27
Binary Flats “Spaceport”, Binary Flats – Alpha Centauri 2
Nick approached the landing strip from the south. He kept the hovercar low, not more than six feet off the ground, but could do nothing about the noise—it smoked and clattered like a deranged popcorn machine. As he approached he saw no one, but that didn’t mean no one was around. He managed to put it down about fifty feet from the hangar, out of sight of the runway.
