Judge, Jury, & Executioner Boxed Set

by Craig Martelle

  “What made you change your mind?” Rivka asked.

  “My superiors registered my complaint with the Federation, earning themselves a call directly from Lance Reynolds. I wanted to express my heartfelt apology for not fully supporting your efforts to save me from my failure to resolve this case.” The supra held his hands before him as if praying.

  “You were told to apologize or be fired?”

  “Something like that.”

  “If they ask, I’ll tell them that your words brought tears to my eyes.”

  “Might be a little much,” Harpeth replied, but nodded and smirked.

  “I doubt they’ll question my veracity.” Rivka slapped him on the shoulder. Red watched, casually cradling Blazer. Rivka held out her hand. He slapped something into her palm. She held up his flashlight and thrust it at him.

  “Mine.” He swapped the neutron pulse weapon. The Magistrate happily shoved Reaper into her pocket. “Is this the infamous server farm?”

  Ankh was in his own world, oblivious to what was going on around him. He wouldn’t be answering any questions. But there was someone else who knew.

  “We need you to tell us what you know,” Rivka said to the woman. “Start with your name.”

  The woman didn’t look belligerent, only terrified. Her jaw worked, but she couldn’t form words.

  “Jay, put that thing away and help her calm down.”

  She looked for a place to stash the blade, but couldn’t find one. She finally gave it to Lindy for safekeeping. The bodyguard took it and returned to the landing on the stairs where she could watch for intruders. While there, she relieved the body of its sheath, clipping it onto her ballistic vest and stuffing the long blade into it.

  Lindy relaxed and settled in, making sure that no one surprised the team as Harpeth had done when she had become too interested in the room below and not the security of those in her charge. She understood why Red was so hard on himself. A moment’s loss of concentration could be the difference between life and death. Her lip curled at the thought.

  Red had told her there was much to learn and that it required a different mindset, shutting out everything the Magistrate was doing except how an enemy might take advantage. Much to learn indeed, but she had Mabel for comfort, and her big man to teach her.

  “Bring the van out front,” the supra said into his communication device.

  Lindy led the way up the stairs, with Jay and Ankh behind, then Rivka, Harpeth cuffed to the prisoner, and Red.

  It had been twenty minutes since they’d breached the server room. It took Ankh less than ten minutes to learn its secrets and give them two leads. The caretaker was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She hadn’t spoken, which led the supra to commit to keeping at her until she told them who’d hired her.

  “I don’t understand the reason for the security. People wearing dark cloaks and carrying knives. What was that all about?”

  “Gaining the tactical edge,” Red offered. “With only one way in or out, they would die in place without getting the drop on any intruders. It was their one-time use plan. Don’t forget that they had the high-res night vision goggles.”

  “But why? I can’t believe the computers were important enough that five people were hired to protect them.”

  “They were,” Ankh offered without further explanation.

  Supra Harpeth stepped over the bodies. “When can we get our people in here?”

  “As soon as we walk out the door, Supra,” Rivka said, “but keep this place locked down. We may need to return. No matter what, I don’t want any outsiders in here messing with the equipment.”

  Ankh waved a dismissive hand. “There are tracking programs on all of it. The only way to remove them is to completely wipe the servers and start over. We’re fine no matter what they do.”

  “You are amazing, Ankh. Thank you for joining the crew, and before you ask, the answer is yes. You can keep the goggles.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask that,” Ankh deadpanned.

  Rivka turned back to Harpeth. “You’ll probably need armed guards here, too. I suspect our perp won’t appreciate our intrusion into his or her affairs. It also means we move fast. We follow every breadcrumb as soon as we find it, while the trail is hot. And you need to keep her in custody until we’ve found who we’re looking for.”

  “Is that how you roll? Hit the ground running and only speed up from there?”

  “I’d like to say that I adjudicate cases at a measured pace, but that would be misleading. The pace is frenetic. Criminals don’t need to enjoy freedom one second longer than necessary. It pains me that they breathe the same air as good people.”

  “Our legal system doesn’t enjoy the same level of passion that you have, but we don’t have to carry the burdens of an entire galaxy.”

  Rivka was frowning when they reached the small entry area.

  Harpeth motioned for his people to get to work. “Four bodies on the stairs and an equipment room with a busted door. Secure the room and recover the bodies. Keep the room under armed guard until I cancel the order.”

  The stiga—the investigator—saluted and waved two petros, uniformed patrol officers, to him to take a post at the top of the stairs. Four more petros and two specialists headed down to clean up the mess.

  “It must be nice to just walk away from something like that. I’ll be quagmired in the paperwork for weeks.”

  Rivka stopped him. “Killing people is never nice. Chasing people who kill people isn’t nice. You know what’s nice? Sitting around doing the paperwork, and bitching about the people who do the hard work. If you keep whining, I’ll send you packing. Is that clear?”

  Supra Harpeth was all too aware of his attitude. He grimaced and slowly shook his head. “You’re right. I don’t deserve the honor of working with the first Magistrate to visit our planet.”

  “Shut up and get in the van,” Rivka told him. Red was first into the open and waited to the side while the others hurried from the building and into the waiting vehicle.

  Lindy closed the door behind her.

  “Where to, Ankh?”

  “The Collum Daily building,” the Crenellian replied.

  “The news outlet?” Harpeth asked.

  “The news outlet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “The police can’t raid the news,” Harpeth said.

  “The police won’t be,” Rivka replied before leaning over the seat to look at the back of the Crenellian’s head. “What are we looking for, Ankh?”

  “We are looking for a switch.”

  Red shrugged. Harpeth didn’t know. Jay and Lindy had no idea. Lindy was admiring the sheath and the long knife.

  “You’ll have to clue in us lesser mortals, Ankh. I don’t know what you mean by a switch. Is that another computer?”

  Ankh was wedged between Red and the window. He wasn’t able to face Rivka, so he talked to the back of the driver’s seat. “A switch is a switch. It takes a signal from the outside and routes in one of multiple directions. I believe there is one that is manually activated. Someone at the news station is sending decoded signals to third parties.”

  “Decoded? That’s what the equipment in the basement did.” Rivka rubbed her chin as she tried to form the web in her mind of where the signals were being routed and rerouted.

  “Yes. Our original signal was diverted through those servers, where it was decrypted and retransmitted directly to the Collum Daily’s offices. Most of the information stays there. Supra, have you ever wondered why the news outlet seemed to have the latest on everything? They are stealing classified information. And, by narrowing who publishes the scoops, we need to talk with Nat Ferider. She is the recipient of the information.”

  The supra’s mouth fell open, and he gawked. “That’s not possible. She’s a respected journalist and treats people decently, even in articles that expose tough information. She wouldn’t be a criminal.”

  “We don’t have to judge until we get more information.
I’ll talk to her myself and get to the bottom of it in short order. What did you say, Ankh? There’s a manual switch?”

  “Yes.” The Crenellian didn’t waste any words.

  With Supra Harpeth leading the way, the group headed for the senior editor’s office.

  “Hang on a second.” Rivka removed her datapad and pulled up a picture of the person she was there to find. She showed it to Lindy. “Why don’t you stay here? If she shows up, could you hang onto her for us?”

  “Bodyguard,” Red warned.

  “She’s been promoted,” Rivka replied. “She’s now a direct action intervention and security services specialist.”

  “You’re making that up,” Red said, shaking his head.

  “Damn straight.” Rivka turned back to Lindy. “Don’t let her get past you. We don’t have time to waste looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found. We already have at least one of those. I don’t want any more.”

  “Will do. I’ll be outside.” Lindy tipped her chin to Red, and he smiled back.

  “I suppose you’re going to make an impassioned plea to unload the mech,” Rivka said as Red watched Lindy walk away. Jay punched him in the arm.

  “What was that for?”

  “You were staring at her butt.”

  “And?” Red scanned the surrounding area. Nothing had changed in the ten seconds since he’d last evaluated it for threats. He smiled, the image of Lindy still in his mind. “We need to move. Standing around always makes me nervous.”

  “Stand now, run later! That’s our mantra,” Rivka suggested, ushering Harpeth to the front.

  “I don’t understand, but that’s okay. You off-worlders have your own ways, which we welcome even if we don’t understand them.”

  The entire first floor of the Collum Daily building was a cubicle farm. As the sole source for news on the planet, they sported a large staff that was perpetually busy. Based on the government’s guidance, the Daily had restricted their speculative articles about the murders so they didn’t create a panic. The information was already being circulated in the diplomatic channels. There was less anxiety within the populace than the Collum Gate leadership expected to see.

  It was common to hear, “They’re just aliens.”

  Rivka was aware that the locals were trending toward supporting the killer. It didn’t change her job, but it did affect how she looked at the locals. Even Harpeth had tried to distance himself from the investigation, which had been alarmingly lean on evidence and facts.

  The Magistrate was starting to wonder if it was a worldwide conspiracy. Her expression told everyone that her thoughts were troubled.

  They walked up a wide and ornate staircase to the level where the senior editor’s office was located. He chose not to be on the top floor so he could be in the middle of the action and stay in touch with the reporters.

  There was no cordon they had to pass, no security, only a couple of junior editors who filtered the volume before it reached the boss.

  “We’re here to see the senior editor,” Harpeth told the person closest to the door. The woman didn’t even look up as she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. She stopped and looked up when Red towered over her desk.

  “What are you?” she blurted, pushing her chair away from the man mountain.

  “Personal security for the Magistrate,” Red replied without looking at her. “What are you?”

  He didn’t have to snark back, but the locals were putting him in a foul mood.

  “I’m an editor with the Collum Daily. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

  “The fact that I’m standing here suggests I have. Are all the Daily’s employees arrogant assholes like you?”

  She harrumphed her outrage. Rivka made eye contact with Red before turning toward the senior editor’s door. She tried not to laugh at her bodyguard’s retort, but her patience was wearing thin, too. They’d been on the planet for mere hours and had already been attacked.

  Twice. She was wearing her jacket without a shirt, which was liberating but less than professional. Lindy was wearing her bloodstained clothes, which was less than optimal.

  Harpeth knocked twice and opened the door. Inside was a harried-looking man sitting in the middle of a holo-projector. Screens twisted and danced around him as he viewed videos, read headlines, and looked through random paragraphs of Collum script.

  “We’ll come back later if you’re busy,” Supra Harpeth offered.

  “We’ll talk now,” Rivka corrected. “Ankh, can you shut that off, please?”

  The Crenellian strolled to the console, reached through the holographic image, and tapped a button. The holoscreens receded into the console.

  “Excuse me!” the man declared loudly, looking angrily at the supra.

  Rivka smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Magistrate Rivka from the Federation here to investigate the ambassadors’ murders.” She left it open to see if the senior editor would give something away. She thrust her hand closer, and he finally took it.

  His disdain for the Federation jumped to the front of his mind. When he looked at Ankh, he recalled a short piece related to the attempt on the Crenellian’s life—an article written by the journalist they were looking for.

  Now was the perfect time. She held his hand as she asked her first question. “What do you know about Nat Ferider and her relationship with the serial killer?”

  Doubt filled his mind. He never questioned his journalists and their sources, but hers had been unparalleled in its accuracy and the speed with which she’d produced the stories. He believed Ferider was in on it. Despair! His soul cried out in anguish. He pulled his hand free and collapsed into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

  “I don’t know anything about that. She’s a good journalist. One of our best,” he finally said.

  “We need to talk to her,” Rivka stated flatly.

  “Up one level, corner office,” he mumbled through his fingers.

  Rivka pointed at the door. When they went outside, they found the junior editor on her personal communication device. Red pulled it from her hand, clicked it off, and dropped it in the trash can before continuing toward the stairs.

  “Gossip is such an ugly thing,” Jay told her. Jay swished her platinum blue hair in an arc past the woman’s face as they walked away.

  What kind of thugs have we become? Rivka asked over their internal comm system. Red, don’t do that kind of shit.

  It won’t happen again, Magistrate. She pissed me off, but that’s no excuse. She was no threat to you, so I shouldn’t have given her a millisecond of my time.

  Thanks, Red. That’s good focus. I don’t know what it is, but something’s not right here. These people are putting me on edge, too.

  It’s the diplomatic influence, Ankh suggested.

  I don’t understand, Rivka replied.

  I know this one! Jay exclaimed. In diplomatic circles, there is much said that isn’t true. Perception is the only reality, so they maintain false fronts. The serial killer—is that what we’re calling him now?—has destroyed the facade. Without that, the real world becomes an ugly place.

  Is that what you saw from your parents? Rivka asked. They reached the steps and started to climb.

  All the time and way too much. They were two very different people, depending on which side of the door they were standing on.

  We need to find this person and put them out of our misery so we can get off this planet.

  I’m wondering when the island paradise mission will come, Red remarked.

  The third floor was busier than the first two. A person brushed by and rushed down the stairs, then a second person. A third one had her face buried in a folder, mumbling as she walked by. Rivka turned after she’d gone by to watch her.

  “Nat?” she called. The woman threw the folder as she leapt down the next three steps and started to run. Jay froze, putting a protective arm around Ankh. Rivka shrugged and started walking back down the stairs. Red took the flight of stairs
in two jumps, getting into a position where he could see the fleeing suspect. The supra followed.

  Our suspect is running down the stairs and headed toward you, Red passed to Lindy over their internal comm channel. He slowed to a walk as he watched the woman race between the cubicles. Just before she reached the door, Lindy stepped through. She hit Nat Ferider in the chest with an arm bar. The journalist’s feet came out from under her as she upended, spun in the air, and slammed face-first into the floor.

  Lindy picked the gasping woman up with one hand and started dragging her toward the stairs.

  Rivka waved them to where she waited on the landing. Red dominated the top of the stairs, holding his railgun across his chest. He was in full combat gear, including his combat helmet.

  All of the employees saw the exchange. It was hard to miss the Daily’s number one journalist running from a bunch of newcomers, only to be intercepted and body-slammed. Recording devices peeked above cubicle walls to capture the video.

  “Ankh, I don’t want any of that video or an article about this to hit the street for twenty-four hours. If you would be so kind...” Rivka requested.

  The Crenellian’s eyes unfocused as he communed with his AI. His night-vision goggles were prominently displayed on his forehead. He didn’t care what he looked like.

  And neither did Rivka, when she thought about it. He did his job well.

  I’ve put a scrubbing program in place to lock out the videos. One was already uploaded but has been quarantined. We’ve discovered thirty-one recordings on the floor below. Erasmus has locked them within their devices, and further recording will not be possible within this building for the next twenty-four hours. Does this mean that the investigation will be complete by then?

  “It will have to be. The perp has to know we’re on his or her tail. Will they be brazen and hide in plain sight? We’ll see what we can learn when we find this switch and ask a few questions of our dashing new friend,” Rivka replied.

  Lindy shoved the woman up the stairs to land at Red’s feet. “Get up and come with us.”