by John Bowers
Nick grinned. “I can’t get in to inspect the place without a warrant, but I don’t think they can keep me out if you need a bodyguard.”
Her eyebrows arched. “A bodyguard!”
“Of course. Hasn’t anyone threatened your life lately?”
She laughed and shook her head. “No!”
He twisted his face into a comic caricature of a villain and lowered his voice to a growl. “If you don’t hire me as your bodyguard, I’ll kill you!”
Misery laughed delightedly.
“Okay, now my life has been threatened! Will you please protect me from…yourself?”
“Of course I will. I will follow you all over Ceres.”
“When do you want to do this?”
“Whenever you have the time. I know you’re busy.”
She glanced at her watch. “I have about two and a half hours right now. Court resumes at one o’clock.” She glanced up. “You aren’t going to see much, you know. The interview rooms are near the visitor’s entrance. You’ll never get near a cellblock.”
He shrugged. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“They’ll take your gun.”
He snorted. “They’ll try.”
“No, I’m serious—they will.”
He considered that a moment, then spread his hands. “Whatever it takes.”
Farrington Industries - Ceres
Browning, the young guard at Farrington Industries, gazed warily at Nick when Misery Allen drove up to the gate and announced her intent to interview a client.
“What’s he doing here?” Browning pointed at Nick.
The pretty lawyer glanced at Nick as if surprised to see him sitting beside her.
“Oh, this is Marshal Walker. He’s here to protect me.”
Browning looked even less thrilled. “Protect you from what?”
“I had a death threat this morning. I asked Marshal Walker to accompany me just in case it came from someone at the lockup.”
Browning stood a moment in indecision.
“I have to make a call.”
Three minutes later Benny Silva was at the gate, looking like a thundercloud.
“What the fuck are you doing back here?” he asked Nick.
“The lady needs protection,” Nick said with a smile. “Someone threatened to kill her, and I can’t let that happen.”
“The call didn’t come from here!”
“Who said it was a call? It could have been a letter or a courier message. How did you know it was a call?”
Silva’s face darkened another shade. “You can’t come in here without a warrant.”
Nick pushed the door open and stepped out of the E-car. Now he was staring down at Silva from two inches of altitude.
“You said I need a warrant to inspect the place. Well, I’m not here to inspect, I’m here to protect. I don’t need a warrant for that.”
Silva seemed to swell. “I can’t let you in.”
“You can’t stop me. If you try, I’ll arrest you for obstruction.” Nick leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “And I’ll lock you up at one of your competitors’ facilities.”
Silva glared at him, blinked several times, and glanced over his shoulder.
“Goddammit!” he hissed, “you’re gonna get me fired!”
“Awww.” Nick looked sad. “I’d hate to do that. You might have to find honest work.”
Silva’s face fused beet red, his fists clenched and unclenched.
“Don’t even think about it,” Nick said. “If you try it, you won’t even be able to crawl away.”
Silva took a slow step back, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“I’ll have to accompany you.”
Nick shrugged. “Fine.”
“And I’ll need your weapon.”
Nick shook his head. “No, you won’t. Nobody needs my weapon except me.”
“It’s policy.”
“Fuck policy. You’re not even a real cop. You will not dictate terms to a Federation Marshal.”
Silva’s expression hardened again, his breathing seemed labored.
“Then I can’t let you in.”
Nick sighed and shook his head. “We’re going in circles here. Go back to the part where you said you would accompany me.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Browning!” Nick glanced at the young guard. “Open the goddamn gate before I decide to kill your supervisor here.”
“Don’t do it, Browning!” Silva shouted.
Browning’s eyes sprang wide as he stared from one man to the other.
Nick’s gaze focused on Silva, his eyes narrowed.
“Ten seconds, Browning! Before I put out both of his eyes.”
Browning faltered. Even Misery Allen looked suddenly scared.
“Nine!” Nick counted. “Eight! Seven!”
Browning spun to open the gate.
“Browning!”
Silva lunged at Nick. Nick’s left fist crashed into his temple and he staggered sideways. Silva turned and tried to renew his attack, but Nick hit him again. Silva stopped, shaking his head, looking dazed.
“You’re under arrest,” Nick told him, “for assaulting a Federation Marshal. Place your hands behind your back.” Nick reached for his E-cuffs.
Silva was not a large man, only medium height with a stocky build. His power was mostly in his attitude, so Nick was taken off guard when he roared like a bull and charged again, driving Nick straight into the side of the E-car. Nick’s back slammed into the metal vehicle with bruising force, and pain shot up his spine into his neck. All the air whooshed out of his lungs and for a second he thought he might pass out. The only thing that saved him was that Silva had used a solarball tackle, which put him too close to do further injury without taking a step back, and he was off balance. They were practically hugging, so Nick had time to grip his laser pistol before Silva stumbled back.
Silva swung his right fist into Nick’s jaw, but before he could draw back for a second blow Nick shot him through the foot. Silva howled and toppled sideways, giving Nick time to spring forward and cuff him.
Silva was still yelling in pain, though the laser wound wasn’t even bleeding. The shot had burned through the side of his foot, cauterizing as it went, and probably broken a bone or two, but that was all. It was debilitating, but hardly life threatening. Nick searched him for weapons but found only his company laser pistol. Spotting the key ring on Silva’s belt, he recognized the large round key that Silva had used to send the elevator to the top floor of the Farrington tower, and plucked it off the ring. Taking it was probably illegal, but Silva had attacked him, so he would worry about that later. He put the key in his pocket and hauled Silva to his feet.
“Do you still need to see that client?” he asked Misery.
“No, it can wait.”
“Let’s head over to System Springs.”
He shoved Silva into the back seat of the E-car.
Chapter 22
Government Annex - Ceres
Judge Monica Maynard was sitting at her desk finishing her lunch. As she ate she was studying briefs pertaining to the trial that was to start at one o’clock. It was another assault case, this one complicated by the fact that three combatants were accusing each other of starting it, with conflicting eyewitness testimony. It was all bullshit anyway, she thought, because most of the men on this rock were just wild animals with prehistoric mentalities; trying to keep the peace was futile. Justice would be much better served if Natural Selection just took its course and allowed the weaker ones to be eliminated, exponentially reducing the threat to society.
But…the law was the law, and she had her duty to perform. She took another bite of sandwich and flipped a page, still reading.
Her desk comm chimed.
“Yes?”
“Call for you, your Honor. Line Ten.”
Monica’s sandwich stuck in her throat. There was no “line Ten”—Ceres was too small for that much comm traffic; she only
had three active lines for normal chatter—but there was one other line, a dedicated number that only one person ever used. It was dubbed Line Ten.
“Thank you.”
Monica wiped her fingers on a napkin, then wiped her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she slipped on a headset and activated the call. This line had no video, and she was thankful for that.
“This is Monica.”
The voice on the other end was harsh, male, and as usual, angry.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
“I understand you’re fucking that new marshal.”
Monica’s blood ran cold; she had to swallow hard.
“How do you know about that?”
A cynical laugh filled her ears. “There isn’t anything about you that I don’t know, your Honor. You should know that by now.”
She closed her eyes, dread flowing into her bloodstream.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to get even closer to the young prick. Wrap that fur around his pole and lead him around by it.”
“Why? What’s he doing?”
“He’s making himself a liability. You know where that leads, so if you care anything about him, find out what he’s up to and make him stop, or send him off in another direction.”
Monica swallowed again, to control her nerves.
“I’m not sure I can do that. He’s young and ambitious—and smart. If I try to steer him he’ll see right through it.”
“He’s also horny, and he likes niggo women.”
Monica’s hands clenched into fists. “Goddamn you—”
“Fuck you, your Honor. Don’t forget who put you where you are! And don’t ever forget what life is like in lockup.” A grim chuckle followed that statement. “You have your orders. Make it happen.”
* * *
“You never did get into the lockup,” Misery said as she pulled into the courthouse parking lot. She and Nick exited the car and walked toward the building.
“Maybe I don’t need to,” he said. “At least not right now.”
“Then what did you accomplish?”
He shrugged. “I got myself a stellar headache, for one. And my back hurts.”
She smiled and slid a hand up his back, rubbing gently. “Poor baby.”
“Don’t get too mushy on me, counselor. I told you that kiss meant absolutely nothing.”
“A girl can dream, can’t she?”
He slid an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “Sorry, but I’m off the market.”
“For how long?”
“Until further notice. However…” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Tarpington invited me for a drink this evening. I’d like you to come with me.”
Her dark eyes searched his face. “As your attorney?” she asked, only half kidding.
“No. As my date.”
Her smile returned and her eyes sparkled. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
“Yeah. To a gay bar.”
Misery laughed and swatted at him. “You’re unbelievable, do you know that?”
He grinned. “So what do you say?”
“I say yes. You may need me to fend off some of David’s horny friends.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Just don’t let go of my hand.”
“And what happens after the drink?”
His eyes twinkled. “Oh, I was thinking we might do something a little more…hetero.”
She laughed again. “You should be so lucky.”
“Yeah, I should. That’s what they called me in the Star Marines—Lucky Nick.”
“Really?”
“No.”
They parted company in the parking lot and Nick returned to his office. He sat down and did the paperwork on Benny Silva’s arrest, then walked back to the courthouse to see Dave Tarpington. Tarpington wasn’t available, as court was in session, so Nick filed a copy of the paperwork with Howard, the old law clerk, then went upstairs and took a seat in the courtroom. His back was aching and his head still throbbed, so it felt good to just sit still for a little while. He had nothing immediately pending and could afford the time.
The trial was proceeding smoothly, with a witness on the stand giving testimony. Half a dozen spectators sat to one side, the first time Nick had seen anyone in the spectator seats, but he paid little attention. He didn’t know what the trial was about and didn’t care, but hoped for a recess so he could talk to Tarpington. Twice he caught Judge Maynard gazing in his direction but her expression never changed. He wondered absently if she would be upset when she found out he was taking Misery out on a date, but pushed it out of his mind. Monica had thrown herself at him, and though he found it pleasant, she in no way had any claim on him. Neither did Misery, which he had tried to make clear this morning.
Forty minutes later, testimony halted while the attorneys began arguing over a point of law. Nick sensed a recess in the making and left the courtroom before it was called, pacing about in the hallway and stretching to ease his aches. Barely two minutes later the front door opened and Tarpington came out.
“Got a minute?” Nick asked as he started for the stairs.
“Sure, but court reconvenes in ten. What’s up?”
Nick followed him down to his office and handed him a copy of the arrest report.
“I know I don’t dictate to you,” he said, “but I’d like this man charged with obstruction, interfering with an investigation, and assault on a Federation officer. Hit him as hard as you can.”
Tarpington scanned the arrest report, then looked up with clear blue eyes.
“The assault seems clear enough, but I can’t make the other charges stick. There’s nothing here to back them up. Maynard will throw them out.”
“They don’t have to stick. I just want to turn up the heat a little.”
Tarpington’s half grin showed a mixture of mystery and mischief. “What the hell are you up to, Nick? This is going to ignite a firestorm over there.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. They sit over there in that goddamn fortress like a cage of coiled snakes and I want to flush them out.”
Tarpington handed the report back to him. “You may not like it when they flush.”
Nick grinned and stuck the copy into his pocket.
“Oh, I think I will.” He got to his feet. “But they won’t.”
The Marshal’s office was empty when he returned. Milligan had gone somewhere and he had no idea where the other two went or what they did. He sat down at his desk and tried to organize his thoughts. Things had been happening swiftly for several days and he felt he ought to be doing something, but when he looked at the situation he realized he had probably done enough—locking up Benny Silva at the System Springs facility was likely to force the opposition’s hand. Tarpington was right—Farrington Industries would take some kind of action, and the smart thing for him to do now was give them a little time to take it.
He twisted his neck around to try and relieve the headache, and sat thinking back over what he knew. A ton of information had landed on him in the past couple of days and he sifted it in his mind, looking for things he might have overlooked. As he thought back, his thoughts drifted to Jessica Garner. Something she had said still gnawed at him, something he should follow up on, but for several minutes it eluded him. Then…
…they brought in another woman, younger and prettier than me. They needed my cell…
Nick jerked upright in his chair. Jesus Christ! He lunged for his terminal and began digging into the courthouse database. How had he let that get past him? Who was the other woman? What had she done? Where was she now?
Jessica Garner had been out of lockup for two years, she said, and he knew the approximate date of her release. He began searching arrest records for cases involving female defendants during that time, and came up with six. One had been acquitted, two had pled out, and three others were convicted. All had been charged with one form of assault or another, and as he quickly
read the information his jaw tightened with anger. Tarpington had been right again—most of these charges looked trumped up, men charging women with assault after having sexual advances refused. “Assault” in these cases seemed to be defined as “scratching a man in the face while fighting off an attempted rape”; the two who pled out had taken probation and a fine in exchange for freedom, but neither had done any serious physical harm to their “victims”. The other three had fought harder.
Nick saw three names. All had caused injuries that required medical treatment, and all had been sentenced to time in lockup. But which one had taken Jessica Garner’s cell?
…younger and prettier than me.
Nick checked the ages on all three women and settled on the youngest. Her name was Nikki Green, age twenty-two. His scalp prickled as he pulled up her file and gazed at the flat photo on his screen. Nikki Green was a black girl who looked like a fashion model. Slender, willowy, gorgeous. Even her mug shot, which showed her in a state of disarray, revealed her innate beauty. Long hair, lush lips—she had the whole package, the kind of face that would generate instant lust in most of the denizens who inhabited Ceres.
Nick read the file carefully, starting with her profile. Nikki Green was a recent college graduate with a degree in Humanitarian Studies, a liberal-minded young woman concerned about improving the lives of the downtrodden and underprivileged. She had come to Ceres to do research for a doctoral thesis, and had aspirations toward “making a difference”. She had been on Ceres less than three weeks when she was charged with biting the ear off a man who had “asked her for a date”. According to her own statement, the biting had only occurred after the man raped her. Three others had held her down and it was the first chance she had to defend herself. Other witnesses, however, declared that no rape had occurred, the sex was consensual, and she had simply “gone nuts” when it was all over.
Nick didn’t have access to the courtroom testimony, but the file was marked CONVICTED – CASE CLOSED. The preponderance of evidence must have gone against her—four men against one girl—and she had been judged guilty. Because of the grievous nature of the injury, she received the minimum sentence for a felony, one year and one day, to be served at Farrington lockup. On a hunch, Nick looked up the one-eared “victim” and discovered—no surprise—that he was a Farrington employee.
