by John Bowers
“System Springs lockup.”
Long silence.
“Never send a niggo to do a man’s job.”
“Fuck you!”
“Oh, no, you’re the one who’s fucked. This is not a good thing for Charley, not a good thing at all.”
“Leave Charley out of it! There was nothing I could do to prevent it. It was nobody’s fault.”
“Oh, I think it’s clearly your fault. You should have wrapped that fur a little tighter.”
“Listen, instead of throwing accusations back and forth, maybe we should be talking about how to fix this.”
“Don’t worry, I’m on top of it. You’ll be out by tomorrow. Then we’re going to sit down and have a long talk.”
“About what?”
“Your future. We’re going to renegotiate your contract.”
Government Annex - Ceres
Nick had said he was going to his hotel to lie down, but that was a lie—he had things to do and didn’t want Milligan hanging over his shoulder while he did them.
He arrived at the Medical Examiner’s office just as she was preparing for an autopsy. Shirley Chin was wearing a gown and gloves but hadn’t donned her mask. She scowled when she saw him.
“I can’t talk to you right now, Marshal. I have a post mortem waiting.”
She turned to leave but he blocked her path.
“I won’t keep you,” he said, “but I need two minutes of your time. In private.”
She led him into her office and closed the door, pulling off her gloves.
“I have nothing to report yet. The body just arrived.”
He looked blank for a second, then it hit him.
“Oh!”
“I understand she was a friend of yours?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Then you probably want to know the cause of death. I can’t tell you that unless you let me do my job.” Shirley Chin sounded angry.
Nick, off balance, merely nodded. Then he cleared his throat.
“Actually, I didn’t come here about that. I just wanted to let you know that Stanley Cramer is in custody. So is Judge Maynard.”
“What!” Shirley Chin looked shocked.
“Before the weekend is over I’m going to have the whole Farrington superstructure at my feet. So you can stop being afraid and start cooperating with me.”
Her lips parted and she sank into her chair, staring at him.
“You can tell me the truth about those cases I spoke to you about,” he continued. “You and I both know the cause of death was falsified in most of them. I can only assume you were working under duress, that either you or someone close to you has been threatened. The sooner you come clean with me, the sooner I can eliminate that threat.”
She clasped her hands together and stared at them, her jaws clenched, for nearly a minute.
“Jessica Garner didn’t really bite Donald Hooley on the neck, did she?”
Her eyes flicked to his face, but she didn’t reply.
“There was no record of Hooley being treated at this facility. You didn’t even examine him, did you?”
“I don’t examine live patients,” she said calmly. “I only deal with the dead.”
“Then why were you called to testify?”
She stared into his eyes for a long time, then stared at her hands again.
“Doctor Chin?”
“I think you know why,” she said quietly.
“I think I do, too. But I need to be certain. I need you to tell me.”
She shook her head slowly. “I can’t tell you anything. I’m not even supposed to talk to you.”
“Who told you not to talk to me?”
Her lips pursed, her cheek twitched, but she didn’t answer. Nick tried another tack.
“You do know who Stanley Cramer is, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s behind bars at this very moment. I can keep him there until tomorrow, but if I don’t come up with some solid evidence by then, I’ll have to release him.”
“You won’t find anything.”
“I won’t find anything if someone doesn’t start talking!”
She met his eyes again. “Judge Maynard is locked up, too?”
“That’s right. I believe she’s working for Cramer. With a judge on the payroll, Farrington Industries has a blank check.”
“So…if you find evidence against them, who will you give it to?”
“David Tarpington will file indictments with the Martian Judiciary. They’ll have to send someone out to hear the evidence, or we’ll have to take the prisoners to them. Either way, it won’t be Judge Maynard’s courtroom.”
She sat like a statue for another minute, trembling slightly. Finally she stirred and pushed her chair back.
“I really must get on with that autopsy. Come back tonight, and I’ll give you a report.”
His eyes widened slightly in hope.
“A report about…?”
“Whatever I have to report. I need time to think.”
Farrington Industries - Ceres
David Tarpington was less than thrilled when he drove up to the guard shack at Farrington Industries. He loved being the big fish in a small pond, but his pond of choice was a courtroom, not a cellblock. His normal self-assurance came from the fact that he was very good at what he did and always knew when he was on firm ground; today none of that was true, and he wasn’t even sure it was safe. He didn’t really think he would be in danger, but given the variables involved, any mistakes he made might cause harm to someone else.
The guard at the gate passed him through without question—his face was well known—and he parked near the entrance to the lockup and strode in the front door with his briefcase. The guard in the office opened the briefcase and inspected it, then nodded curtly. Tarpington signed in with his thumbprint and was passed through the electronic gate. At the next stop he came face to face with the day supervisor; since it was a Saturday, the weekend shift was working, and a pleasant surprise awaited him.
“Hey-hey! Counselor!” The man grinning at him was Tim Spencer, a frequent patron at the Blue Nebula. “Haven’t seen you since last night.”
Spencer offered his hand and Tarpington took it with a grin.
“What brings you out on the weekend?”
“You know how it is, Tim. The cause of justice knows no holiday.”
Spencer guffawed. “Yeah, right! Who do you need to see?”
“Lubov Kalashnikova. I think she was brought in Thursday night.”
“Yeah, she was, and she hasn’t stopped bitching since. Please tell me you’re gonna offer her a deal, so I can cut her loose.”
Tarpington smiled and winked. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Spencer grabbed a fistful of E-keys and came out the door, leading the way down a long corridor flanked with holding cells. He chatted nonstop and Tarpington replied in monosyllables, his heart pounding as his head swiveled in case he might see anything that would help Nick. Presently they arrived at an interview room and Spencer held the door.
“Take a seat inside and I’ll fetch the prisoner.”
Tarpington took a seat at the table and opened his briefcase. He wouldn’t learn anything here, but at least he was inside. He would go through the motions with the prisoner and hope for inspiration.
“Don’t believe a word this bitch says,” Spencer grinned as he shoved a woman through the door. “She’s likely to tell you anything.”
Lubov Kalashnikova was a Rukranian woman of indeterminate age; she was probably around forty, but looked sixty. She was a stout woman with Slavic features, not ugly but badly weathered. Her bleached hair was short and spiky, sticking out in every direction; her face had the leathery look of hard living, and her eyes were mere slits that gazed back at Tarpington like blue crystals. Her lip was curled in a permanent sneer, but her single most prominent feature seemed to be her attitude.
“Wot the fuck you want!” she demanded. Her accent was over
powering.
Tarpington smiled. “I was looking over your arrest report,” he said, studying a document in his hand. “I thought you might answer a few questions for me.”
“Fuck you. I got nothing to say.”
He shrugged. “Well, you might want to reconsider; according to another witness—”
“Fuck you.”
Tarpington stared at her a moment, his grin still in place.
“As I was saying, the woman who is accusing you might be—”
“Fuck you. I got nothing to say.”
He let the smile die and stared at her a moment.
“Are you pleading guilty, then? If you are, you’ll probably get—”
“Fuck you. The bitch deserved it. I don’t mind lockup. I been here before.”
“You enjoy being locked up?”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind it. I don’t gotta work, I get fed, I get to fuck.”
Tarpington’s eyes widened a fraction. “Who do you get to fuck?”
Lubov’s heavy lips curled into a grin. “Anybody I want! Maybe I fuck you before you go, eh?” She cackled madly, and Tarpington fought back an involuntary gulp.
“Uh, well, I’m certainly tempted, but I don’t think they’ll allow it.”
“The fuck you talking about? Sure they allow it! They allow it alla time.”
Tarpington’s heart beat a little faster.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“I don’t hear nothing! I do it. Every time I come here, I fuck whoever I want.”
“Who do you fuck?”
“I tol’ you—anybody I want!”
“Really?” He barely remembered to smile encouragement at her. “Where does this take place?”
“Inna men’s lockup. Poor horny bastards, they get no pussy, they take anything.”
Tarpington stared at her in amazement, hardly daring to believe her.
“What about the guards? You fuck them, too?”
“Yeah, sure. Not so many women on Ceres, da? Alla men are horny.” Her eyes crinkled and almost disappeared as she smiled. To his amazement, she had perfect white teeth. “Maybe you horny too, eh?”
His tongue slid over his lips. “Uh, yeah, most of the time. But…I already got laid last night.” Thank god, he didn’t add.
“Fuck las’ night. Las’ night is las’ night—today is today.” She beamed at him.
Tarpington closed the briefcase and pushed it to one side. His heart hammered as he rested elbows on the table, leaning in confidentially—he might have just found that inspiration he’d been hoping for. He had picked her name because it was familiar; he’d prosecuted her at least a dozen times, always for minor assault, always with the same result—she refused every plea agreement and served her time, usually ninety days in lockup. This had been going on for years.
“How many times have you been in here?” he asked, just to confirm his memory.
“Plenty. Ten times, twenty times…who’s counting?”
“How come you never take the plea agreement?”
Lubov shrugged. “I get horny, I start a fight. I get locked up, I get to fuck. I take plea, I got to work.” She shrugged again.
“Do other women in here fuck the guards, too?” He tried to look titillated.
“Yeah, sure. Some of ‘em.”
“Which ones?”
“I dunno names. The pretty ones.”
He opened his briefcase again and pulled out a flat photo.
“What about this one?”
Lubov peered at the photo a second and nodded.
“I see her before.”
“Do you remember when?”
“No. Maybe two year, maybe three.”
“And you saw her fucking the guards?”
“Naw, she not fucking them, they fucking her.”
Tarpington’s mouth turned dry. He swallowed to moisten it.
“How many men?”
“I dunno. Different every time. Two this time, four next time, ten after that. Day after day. Night after night. She cry, she scream, nobody care. I say, ‘Hey, wot about me?’, but they not listen. They like the pretty one.”
“Did she see you?”
“Naw, I don’t think so. She cry, she scream, she pass out. They shock her awake and start again.”
Tarpington sat there a moment, rigid, his blood surging with adrenaline. Everything Jessica Garner had told Nick was true! This woman had seen it.
“So wot about you, now?” Lubov grinned, trying to get him back on track. “You wanna do it?”
He blinked and forced a smile.
“Maybe not today, Lubov, but it’s been fun talking with you. Have you seen other women like that one? Pretty ones like that one?”
“Yeah, always one or two around. Guards like to play.”
“Are there any here now?”
She looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “I not see, but I hear.”
“You heard what?”
“Crying. Screaming.”
“When?”
“Las’ night. This morning.”
“Do you know where?”
“Other end of lockup. Maybe far cell, maybe cross corridor. Not sure.”
Tarpington put the photos away and locked his briefcase. He stood.
“Okay, Lubov. I think we’re done here. Hope everything works out for you.”
“You come to my cell now, da?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time today.” He winked. “Maybe I can come back.”
He moved to the door and rang the bell. A moment later Spencer came in to escort the prisoner back to her cell. Tarpington waited in the hallway.
“Mind if I tag along?”
Spencer looked surprised, then a little apprehensive.
“No need. You’re done with her, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Tarpington felt his heart beat a little faster. “But I can’t leave until you let me out, and I’m not in a hurry.”
Spencer had Lubov Kalashnikova by the arm and was escorting her down the corridor; now he stopped.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, David. It’s against the rules.”
Tarpington grinned his most engaging. “What’s the harm? I’m not armed.” He held both arms away from his body as proof. “I’m not going to break anybody out. Hell, I’m the prosecutor—it’s my job to put people in.”
Spencer wavered. Tarpington read him perfectly.
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Yeah?” Spencer’s eyes glittered slightly.
Tarpington slid a hand behind his head and kissed him firmly, sliding his tongue deep, then released him and sucked briefly at his ear.
“I promise,” he murmured.
Lubov cackled. “Ah, you not come to my cell now. You like him better, da?”
Tarpington winked at her. Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes filled with lust. Before he could arrive at a decision Tarpington strode on ahead, leaving Spencer to bring his prisoner and catch up.
“I swear to god, David! You’re gonna get me fired!”
“It’ll be worth it!”
Chapter 28
The Open Airlock - Ceres
Nick returned to the Open Airlock in search of Turd Murdoch, but he wasn’t there. Apparently the bar’s patrons had taken Nick at his word and barred Turd from drinking there anymore. He realized he had no idea where to find the man, especially on a Saturday. He ordered a beer from the bartender and stood there a moment drinking it.
The beer had little effect on him; he was operating in that narrow space between Life and Limbo—his mind was working at full speed, but he was feeling nothing at all. That changed a moment later as he gazed at the patrons, inspecting them one by one as his view shifted around the room. At a table in the far corner, the dimmest part of the room, three men were drinking together, talking…laughing. Nick saw two of them clearly, but the other’s face was hidden in the gloom. He seemed to be keeping his head down, as if to avoid being notice
d.
Nick felt his skin tingle…something about that man!
He set his beer on the bar and began winding his way through the crowd. The patrons parted to let him pass, but he was hardly aware of them. He came to a halt by the corner table, three feet away, and stood there, glaring down at the three drinkers. Two of them looked up with surprised expressions, innocent expressions. The third man sat facing him, gazing at the tabletop, idly running his finger through the water that sweated from his beer bottle, his face obscured by long hair hanging over it.
“Fred Ferguson,” Nick said slowly. “Stand up.”
The room fell silent. The two men flanking Ferguson shifted their gaze to him, more surprised than ever, and one of them pushed his chair back. The third man didn’t move, didn’t look up, but began to tremble ever so slightly.
“You heard me, Ferguson! Goddammit, stand up!”
Finally, the youth whose hair was too long in front lifted his face, pale as a ghost. Tears glimmered on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Marshal!” he said weakly. “I never would have hurt her. It was meant for you!”
Both his drinking buddies were now on their feet, shock in their eyes. They looked from Nick to Ferguson and back. Nick drew his laser pistol and pointed it at Ferguson’s face.
“I’m not telling you again, Ferguson. Stand up. You’re under arrest for the murder of Misery Allen.”
Centerville - Ceres
“What are we doing here?” Fred Ferguson glanced around fearfully as Nick pulled the E-car behind a stone wall in the Centerville public park. Nick stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, then hauled Ferguson out and slammed him against the wall. From where they stood they were largely hidden from view in any direction. Only the top floor of Nick’s hotel was visible above the wall, and in the other direction only the naked rock of the habitat wall. None of the people in the park could see them.
“I have several options here,” Nick said slowly, checking Ferguson’s E-cuffs to make sure they were secure. “I can take you to lockup, where you can get a lawyer and plead Not Guilty to murder, then take your chances with a jury. Or, I can beat the shit out of you and make you wish you were lying on a slab next to Misery Allen. Or…I can just shoot you in your fucking head.”
