Serial Killer
Judge, Jury, & Executioner™ Book Three
Craig Martelle
Michael Anderle
Connect With The Authors
Craig Martelle Social
Website & Newsletter:
http://www.craigmartelle.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCraigMartelle/
Michael Anderle Social
Website: http://kurtherianbooks.com/
Email List: http://kurtherianbooks.com/email-list/
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/TheKurtherianGambitBooks/
Serial Killer (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2018 Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, September 2018
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2018 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author Notes - Craig Martelle
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Books by Craig Martelle
Books By Michael Anderle
Serial Killer Team
Thanks to our Beta Readers
Micky Cocker
James Caplan
Kelly O’Donnell
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Mary Morris
John Ashmore
James Caplan
Peter Manis
Daniel Weigert
Keith Verret
Kelly O’Donnell
Paul Westman
Kelly Bowerman
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Lynne Stiegler
We can’t write without those who support us
On the home front, we thank you for being there for us
We wouldn’t be able to do this for a living if it weren’t for our readers
We thank you for reading our books
Chapter One
The diplomat bowed to the welcoming committee. Her delegation stood at a respectful distance. “Thank you for your invitation to Collum,” she said pleasantly.
The male, a representative from the Chancellor’s office, smiled broadly. “We could not be more pleased with the arrival of the females from Zaxxon.”
Her pleasant demeanor evaporated. “There are no males on my planet,” she replied coldly. “We are what we are. No need to caveat our existence.”
“My apologies, Ambassador.” The man bowed deeply to show his sincerity.
The Zaxxon jerked unnaturally before glancing at the hole in her chest. She looked up, confusion and surprise wrestling to dominate her expression, and started to topple. No one moved until she hit the ground, already dead.
No one had heard a shot or realized the ambassador had been murdered until after the killer had escaped.
“Training for a couple weeks before we accept new missions,” Grainger told the Magistrates. Jael, Chi, Buster, and Rivka nodded intermittently as he looked from face to face.
“Two things. They’re called ‘cases,’ and give me time to get my crew into the Pod-doc for an upgrade or two,” Rivka stated, raising one eyebrow in Grainger’s direction.
He threw his hands up. “What?”
“Maybe a case where we’re not fighting a war?” Rivka asked. “I’m a lawyer first. Your galaxy-jarring missions call for a heavier hand.” She held hers out to show they were small and delicate. Cheese Blintz and Bustamove put their hands next to hers, showing that theirs were bigger.
“Nope.” He crossed his arms and leaned back, a smug look on his face.
“I only deal with royalty,” Chi stated, smiling.
“I don’t do guns,” Jael offered.
Buster didn’t say anything until all eyes turned toward him. “Fine. Now that Philko ascended to being an AI, I find myself strangely intrigued by cybercrime.”
“White Collar Crime, a new weekly series starring Bustamove,” Grainger said in his best announcer’s voice.
“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You’ll never see another cybercrime,” Rivka told him, mimicking Grainger. “What case do you want? That’s nice. NO! You get something completely different.” She looked pointedly at the Magistrate at the head of the table.
Grainger shrugged. “As long as we keep winning, we’re not changing the playbook. Ain’t no I in Team. What do you say we order some pizzas, throw the iron around, and then hop on my ship for a quick ride to Opheramin?”
“I’m sorry, I must have drifted off from the mind-numbing drone of your voice.” Jael leaned forward and locked eyes with Grainger. “I thought you said we were leaving the station?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
“Why?” Chi asked.
“Because maybe you don’t get to know what we’re doing for training. This is important, and once it’s over, you’ll see why. Did no one hear the part about pizza?”
“I like a good pizza. Are you buying?” Buster asked.
“Red is going to want to go,” Rivka stated flatly, “especially if there’s pizza.”
“Pizza first, then go.”
“So we’re taking pizza with us in our space suits?” Jael asked.
Grainger stood, grabbed his datapad and strolled away, nose high in the air. He refused to engage further at this juvenile level, or rather at the legal intern level where everything was questioned.
He smiled as the others followed him out.
After the workout that didn’t include sparring because Grainger didn’t have enough time to send someone to the Pod-doc, they cleaned up and reconvened at one of the many airlocks. Grainger had pre-staged a number of spacesuits.
Red and Lindy were waiting. “How did you find out?” Grainger wondered, confusion holding him hostage.
“What kind of bodyguard would I be if I didn’t know where my charge was?” Red crossed his arms and looked down at the Magistrate.
“And I’m with him. She’s our responsibility. If she leaves the station, so do we.” Lindy mirrored Red’s pose.
“There won’t be an
y danger,” Grainger stated weakly before conceding. “Suit up. You won’t need any of your gear.”
Red removed one strap and then the other to set his unusually long backpack on the deck. “I always need my gear,” he remarked, opening the top to reveal two railguns, a shotgun, grenades, and an assortment of items illegal outside of the military. Lindy smiled and wiggled her eyebrows. He secured it again and loosened the straps so it would fit around a bulky environmental suit.
“Suit up! We got places to go and people to see.” Grainger pumped one fist, the military signal for hurry up.
Rivka gripped her bodyguards’ arms and mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Hang on,” Chi declared. He opened his datapad. “Lexi, if you would be so kind, please have twenty large pizzas with a variety of toppings delivered flash-frozen to the airlock on Level Four. Tell All Guns Blazing to charge them to Grainger’s account.”
“I’ll need Grainger’s verbal confirmation. Certain Magistrates have been charging a great deal to his account without his authorization. Those charges have been removed from the appropriate people’s future pay.”
“Go ahead, Lexi,” Grainger said, his gaze fixed on something inside his suit.
“This is how you wanted us to find out that you docked our pay?”
“You spent the money, you pay the piper,” Grainger retorted, looking from one scowling face to the next until he got to Red and Lindy. They both shrugged.
“I charge things to her account,” Red admitted, pointing at Rivka with his thumb.
“Do we want to argue about money? Are we so motivated by credits that common decency and self-discipline disappears? I’m embarrassed!” Grainger shook his finger at the Magistrates.
“I have to agree with my learned colleague,” Buster added. “What are we if our words can’t be believed?”
“Are you being audited or something?” Jael asked as Grainger stood sharply in the spotlight of the Magistrates’ withering stares.
“Hang on!” Grainger held up his hands to create a physical barrier. “Yes. I’m being audited, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Magistrates have to be aboveboard on everything. How can we mete out Justice if we are above the law? Keep your noses clean, and point well taken. I promised pizzas, and you know what? I’m prepared to eat my body weight in pies and beer. I like beer with my pie.”
Rivka opened her mouth to deliver a witty retort and decided against it. He was still her boss, in an odd way, and she respected that. “I’m not going to be last,” Rivka said instead. She hurried to finish dressing. AGB’s efficiency meant that the pizzas were delivered minutes after the last person was ready.
“Red, can you take these?” Grainger asked.
Vered shook his head. “Sorry, Magistrate, but I’m on the clock. I have to have my hands free in case something needs killing. And so does she, before you ask.” Lindy nodded.
Chi faced Buster, and they started pounding on each other’s shoulders. They hooted and cheered before reaching for the stack of pies. The delivery bot turned without a sound and flew away.
“What the hell was that about?” Jael asked.
“Sometimes, even though you know something is right, you still have to psych yourself up to do it,” Bustamove told her.
“I don’t have anything to say to that. Status check?” Grainger called.
The other six people in the airlock called green. “I’m green, too. Cycling the airlock.” He punched the button and the air was sucked into a storage tank, replaced by the near vacuum of space. The outer hatch popped and slowly opened. Grainger led the way into space, activating the pneumatic jets on his boots to propel him head-first.
The others followed. Chi and Buster somersaulted and rolled, all the while maintaining a firm grip on the pizzas.
Grainger headed toward the upper section of the space station. The loose group followed. Lindy and Red flanked Rivka. Each carried one of the rail guns, with the trigger guard released so their gloved fingers fit inside to pull the trigger. The Magistrate couldn’t tell if the others were uncomfortable with the armed escort, but Rivka felt more at ease.
Whether for status or peace of mind, she had to admit that she liked having bodyguards.
When Grainger reached an odd projection on Federation Border Station 7, he signaled for the group to gather around.
He activated the comm system for the suits. “What do you think we have here?”
Rivka expected some sort of trick, but turned to examine the outcropping. The metal was a different color from that of the main station, and the welds weren’t standard.
Buster and Chi moved as close as they could, but the pizzas hindered a close-up inspection. Jael took the lead in classifying the projection. “Added on after initial construction. It’s not labeled for use and safety as it should be. What does it do?”
Rivka finished her circumnavigation of the small attachment before consulting with Red. When she finished she slid across the surface, activating her magnetic boots to stop her so she could stand on it.
The others turned their eyes to her. “You have something, Zombie?”
“It’s a deactivated bomb with the explosives removed, I expect.”
“What the hell are you playing at?” Chi exclaimed, backpedaling away from the projection. Buster was more deliberate in his departure, activating his jets to propel him past his fellow Magistrate.
“Since we have to be all things, it’s about seeing what may be right in front of us, but with different eyes. When there’s a crime, we collect the evidence. Many times we can stop future crime by prosecuting those responsible for past illegal activities. The more times someone gets away with their crimes, the bolder they become.
“Although a bomb on the outside of a station may be a military issue, this one came to us when it was determined that it was a commercial construct developed by an individual to further his empire. That individual has been judged and his empire dismantled.” Grainger simulated buffing his fingernails.
“What’s this have to do with us?” Rivka asked.
“Forensics is our friend. We have all sides to deal with: the personal, their intent, and then the physical evidence to cement the case. It was amazing how much this thing told us after we asked the scientists who examined it what traces the creators might have left behind. Type of weld, including weld material, fingerprints because they built it in a place with an atmosphere and then transported it here. Air pockets trapped between welds showed us what the creators breathed. It gave us enough to find the planet, then the transport vessel, and finally, the entity who ordered it.”
“Why would he go to such trouble?” Rivka wondered.
“One of the oldest rackets in the business. Protection. With the growth of Station 7, he wanted to establish a protection scheme; get paid to not rob them. He was trying to show them what he was capable of.”
“Terrorism is a capital crime.” Jael smiled. She hated terrorists.
“Yes. The individual saw the errors of his ways before his life’s spark was extinguished.” Grainger pointed to a ship holding position not far away. A Federation frigate.
“How do you rate the bigger ship?” Rivka asked.
Grainger pushed off the station before the jets came to life. “Rich parents left me money.”
“Wait a minute!” Bustamove interrupted. “I never heard about a bomb outside the station.”
“Of course not,” Grainger replied. “It also reinforces what we do. Sometimes it’s best to be high-profile, and then there are times where it is better to fly under the radar. When we board my ship, we’ll review a case that needs to be handled delicately.”
The Magistrates followed Grainger across the short open space. Red and Lindy took positions outside the entire group instead of staying at Rivka’s elbows. When their duties expanded, they had to expand, too. Red was less than comfortable knowing that someone had been able to attach a bomb to the outside of the station he called home.
“How was the bomb di
scovered?” Red asked.
“Maintenance bots. They scour the surface multiple times daily. They noticed the installation as it was happening, and Lexi jammed the activation signal while technicians disarmed the bomb and removed the explosives. It was a threat for a very small window of time. Have no fear that the right people were on top of it from the start. They involved me later because it was outside of any other legal jurisdiction and the military didn’t want to heavy-hand it. Magistrates keep the peace. I think we’ll see our role in this area expanding away from cool palace murders to interplanetary concerns.”
“You’re harshing my buzz,” Buster replied. “I like a good cozy mystery.”
“Who doesn’t? I’ll still work my mojo to get us those cases when they appear in the daily feed.”
“Bullshit!” Rivka declared, quickly realizing that she’d spoken out loud. A couple helmets turned toward her, making the owners veer off-course. They struggled to straighten themselves out. “I’m okay with you getting us those cases, but declaring that you have mojo is beyond the pale.”
Snickers and snorts greeted Rivka’s hasty recovery.
Chapter Two
Serial Killer: A Space Opera Adventure Legal Thriller (Judge, Jury, & Executioner Book 3) Page 1
