The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission

by Raymond F. Klein

  “That whole,” Trent took his index finger and made a circle around his mouth, “tongue thing!”

  “I don’t know!” Genghis replied, “I guess all that running just made my tongue hang out.” He thought for a moment. “Kind of like Codas canines, but at least I can control mine!”

  Trent started to read the article. “'Mary Murphy was finished with her shopping in Old Town, where she purchased several items for her daughter's birthday this Sunday. While she was walking back to her car, Louis Maitland, a petty thief, who has been in trouble with the law since he was fifteen, approached Ms. Murphy from behind. Grabbing her purse and pushing the twenty-eight year-old woman to the ground, Maitland started running for Grant Park. A man, walking with his dog, obviously witnessed the crime. He then ordered his dog, a large Doberman Pinscher, to pursue Mr. Maitland.'”

  Genghis interrupted, “You didn’t order me to do crap!”

  “Yes,” Trent replied, looking up from the paper. “I know that and you know that. But they don’t. To them you were just another well trained canine!”

  “Just! . . . another!” Genghis said, half joking, “You cut me to the quick, Mr. Trent.”

  “You . . . you know what I mean. Anyway,” he went back to the article, “ah . . . let’s see,” Jeff looked through the article. “'The thirty-five-year-old Maitland entered Grant Park where he ran into several people enjoying the unseasonably cool weather. Mark Anderson and Susan Dalton were having a quiet picnic when Maitland ran by disrupting their meal, followed by the large dog. Other witnesses reported to the police that the dog leapt upon the back of Maitland, knocking him to the ground and holding him at bay until his owner arrived.”

  “There’s my favorite word!”

  Trent ignored his partner's sarcasm and continued, “The good Samaritan and his dog left the park without giving name or statement to the police.”

  “What do you think that police officer meant when he said strike three?” Genghis asked, thinking back.

  “I’m not sure. I guess, this Maitland fellow has struck women in the past and three or more times gets you a stiffer sentence.” Trent looked at Genghis. “But we’re going to have to be a little more careful and not get involved in local matters”

  “Well, what are we supposed to do?” Genghis asked. “Sit back and watch a crime being committed? We’re police officers after all. A little out of our jurisdiction, but still.”

  “Yes, I agree. We should help when necessary, but we’re going to have to keep a low profile when assisting.”

  After about thirty more minutes, the initial shock of being in the paper faded. Jeff and Genghis were finishing their coffee and breakfast as Genghis put a section of paper down and reached for the Metro section. He started flipping through, found something and quickly scanned the article. Then said, “Here’s something.”

  Trent asked what he found.

  “Listen to this. ‘Serial Arsonist Strikes Again. The fifth arson in three months consumed the Griffon building on 15th Ave. and 10th St. in the Compton Square district of Old Town. Local fire station twenty-one responded to the three alarm blaze just after two in the morning last Friday. After fighting the flames for over an hour and a half it was determined by fire officials that the building was not going to be saved. Firefighters let the sixty-year-old building burn itself out, which took over four hours. Yesterday, fire investigators announced that this fire was indeed set with the same unknown accelerant that was used in the previous four arson fires.'” Genghis looked at Trent. “Unknown accelerant.”

  “Yes,” Trent mused. “An unknown accelerant.” He thought for a moment. “Do you remember your survival training at the academy, during basic?”

  “Sure, how could I forget. A week in the woods in Laning with only a limited amount of supplies. Yeah, I learned a lot that week. Why?”

  “Do you remember how the instructors suggested how to make a quick fire, using a stun grenade?” He waited for Genghis’s response.

  “Yeah, with the right tool you could disarm the grenade, unscrew the detonation striker, and use a small amount of the Calbenite powder inside to start a fire. One grenade could last you a week or two.” Genghis realized what he just said and looked over to Trent.

  “Calbenite, as far as we know could be the unknown substance,” Trent said, looking back at the Doberman. “How many stun grenades were on 964?”

  Genghis thought for a second. “I’ll have to check the inventory, but I’d guess five to seven.”

  “I think that we should investigate this Griffon building on 15th Avenue and 10th Street and see whether or not we can find out what exactly this unknown accelerant is.” Trent then started the engine of the Thunderbird.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Genghis called up his computer and got directions, while Trent drove out of The Riverside Mall parking lot, turning left onto Eighth Street. This far north, Eighth was no longer a one way street. It was Saturday morning and the roads of Old Town were crowded with early morning shoppers. They continued, crossed over Seventh Avenue, then turned right on Fifth Avenue to make a quick stop at Dave’s Coffee Pot for some more coffee. Then, following Genghis’s directions, they continued west down Fifth. “Tenth Street is coming up next. Make a right.”

  Trent followed his partner's directions and turned onto 10th St.. The road ran along the west side of Grant Park. There was a touch football game going on, and a handful of people cheered as one of the players made an impressive catch.

  They drove into a section of Old Town that was in the process of renovations. A series of eight buildings in a three block area were in different stages of construction. There was no real traffic or pedestrians in this area, mostly construction workers and their vehicles. They drove three blocks and could see nestled in between other structures the remains of the Griffon building.

  Turning right onto 15th Ave. they parked parallel to the building that was at one time a textile mill. Vacant for more than thirty years, it was earmarked to be a restaurant with a nightclub on the second floor. All that remained now was the two story back wall, charred black. The only reason it still stood was because it was still connected to partial right and left walls. The front section, second story and the entire roof had collapsed into the building. Roof timbers and brick were charred and caked with soot. It was all pushed toward the side walls, this being done to allow the fire investigators to investigate the scene. Debris that still covered the floor had a small path cutting through the middle of it. It started where the front entrance once had been and forked off in different directions toward the back crumbling wall.

  Jeff and Genghis got out of their cruiser and proceeded toward the building. It sat directly on the corner of 10th and 15th. The building was roped off with black and yellow caution tape. There were signs posted warning others not to enter and that the site was condemned. They walked over the uneven ground. Bundles of 2 x 4's and plywood were still stacked to the left of the building, ready for a renovation that now would never happen. The sides of the plywood facing the building were warped and charred due to the intensity of the heat. Across the street, one block down, Jeff could see workers renovating a single story building. The sounds of hammering and skill saws drifted through the air. Other than that, no one else was around.

  Jeff, carrying the duffle bag, had to bend low to go under the tape. Genghis just trotted underneath and into the ruin. They walked toward the middle of the building. Trent put the bag down, unzipped it and reached inside. Genghis sniffed the ground then turned his head upward and sniffed the air. He could clearly smell the acidic remnants of burned material within the debris, remnants that Jeff Trent could not smell, but still hung in the air.

  Trent turned on the D30 detection unit and made adjustments to accommodate the search. He held the D30 straight out in front of him like a marksman taking aim at a target. Then slowly he started to turn his body in a 360 degree circle. Listening to the distinctive tone the detection unit emitted, he continued to scan t
he building. The pitch of the tone changed when he pointed it toward the far left corner of the building. He bent his elbow to get a better view of the small computer screen on the top of the D30, then said, “That’s where the fire originated.”

  They made their way through the premade path in the debris to the far left corner. “Yeah, it started here alright,” Genghis said. “Look at the burn pattern and how the concrete slab cracked under the high temperature of the accelerant.”

  “Yes,” Trent said. “Now let's find out what exactly this unknown accelerant is.” He made another adjustment on the D30 and pointed it down toward the scorch mark. It made three sharp beeps then went silent. Trent read the computer screen. “Calbenite!”

  That was all they needed.

  They both walked back to the center of the building. Trent picked up the duffle bag and placed the detection unit back into it. Neither one said anything as they exited the Griffon building and walked back to the cruiser.

  The workers one block down were on break. Two sat in the doorway talking and laughing with three others sitting on the tailgate of the truck. A couple of them glanced over and watched as the fire investigator and his scent dog climbed into a vintage car and drove away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was a little before eleven in the morning. As they drove South on Eighth Street they watched the shoppers go back and forth, in and out of little antique and consignment shops.

  “You know,” Genghis said, while rubbing his belly with his front paw, “I’m getting a little hungry. You want to go back to Dave’s or maybe that guy with the cart attached to his vehicle?”

  Trent slowed the Thunderbird and pulled into a parking spot. “Why not try this place?” He put the cruiser into park and turned off the engine. Trent had parked in front of a French restaurant. Le Pot Au Feu was in a building that took up almost the entire block and was shaped in an ‘L.’ The front double mahogany doors faced Eighth Street, while the outdoor seating with white wrought iron tables and chairs faced Third Avenue. The restaurant had just opened for the day and was not crowded, as business on a Saturday didn’t start hopping until around 1 pm.

  “Are you sure I’m allowed in there?” Genghis asked.

  “Well of course! Why wouldn’t you be?”

  Jeff and Genghis entered the establishment and stepped into a small foyer. It had elegant period wallpaper with rich mahogany crown molding and wainscoting. There were framed photographs dating back to the early 1900s, showing rows of workers sitting at long wooden tables. They walked forward and into the main dining area. The dining area had low lighting and was as elegant as the foyer. Smells from the kitchen permeated the room. There was a small maitre d’ station also of mahogany and elaborately carved.

  The host and hostess standing behind it looked up as Jeff and Genghis entered. All the servers were dressed similarly. They wore black sneakers, black trousers, and a white dress shirt with a tie of their choosing. The hostess said, “Hi, welcome to Le Pot Au Feu.” She glanced down at Genghis. “Ah, may we help you?”

  “Yes,” Trent happily said, while looking around with a big grin on his face. “We would like to dine in your fine establishment.”

  The hostess shared a glance with the host standing next to her, “I’m sorry sir, but dogs aren’t allowed in the dining area.”

  Just then Genghis sneezed loudly, which sounded a little like, “Told yah!”

  The hostess, a little puzzled, looked down at the dog.

  “What do you mean?” Trent asked. “He’s tame. Don’t be alarmed at his size, he’s very gentle.”

  “Well, yes,” she replied, “that might be, but we don’t allow dogs. Unless, of course he’s a service dog.” She paused looking at Genghis then back to Trent, “Is he?”

  “Is he, what?”

  “A service dog?”

  “Ah! . . . a service dog?”

  “Yes! . . . is he? . . . A service dog?”

  “Ah,” Jeff looked down at his partner, who was scowling back up at him. “Ah, no. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I’m sorry sir,” she politely said. “But you’re more than welcome to sit in our outdoor dining area.” She motioned to the large glass window overlooking the al fresco seating area. “We get a lot of people out there who like to bring their dogs.”

  Jeff grinned and said, “That'll be hip!”

  The host slightly rolled his eyes, picked up a leather bound menu, walked Jeff and Genghis to the glass door that was framed in mahogany, and led them outside. The floor of the patio area was a red brick, laid in a herringbone pattern. The outside walls of the building were covered in a lush ivy that was slowly creeping up toward the second story windows. The perimeter of the patio was surrounded with a red brick wall four feet in height, topped with elegant rod iron black fencing. There were several large ornate pots with sprawling plants with large green palms stretching out in all directions.

  The host seated Trent at one of the ten small bistro sets, then opened and handed him the menu saying, “Our special today is Poulet Marie Therese, chicken breast in a peppercorn and garlic sauce served with mixed vegetables. Jerry, your server, will be with you shortly. May I start you out with a beverage?”

  “Oh, yes. Do you have coffee?”

  “Yes, sir, we have regular, Café D’ Amour, and Café Au Lait.”

  “That last one sounded delightful.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll bring you a cup.”

  “Two please!”

  Trent watched as the host departed then looked down at the menu and started to scan the large selections of dishes. Genghis was standing and looking around. They were the only patrons seated in the outdoor dining area. The sky was blue and there was a nice breeze coming through, gently turning up the corners of the linen napkins. Genghis sat down on his haunches and felt the hard bricks beneath him.

  “I knew they would discriminate against canines,” he said, with great loathing. “Primitive society!”

  “Yes,” Trent said, looking up from the menu. “And what did she mean by service dog?”

  “Hell if I know. Probably some kind of canine enslavement or servitude.” He paused for a moment, getting a little angry. “You know, Codas canines . . .”

  “Hey! Look at this,” Trent inadvertently interrupted. “They have something called ‘Es-car-gots Pop-of.’ And look what the main ingredient is.”

  Genghis tilted his head so he could also read the ingredients. Then they shared a glance with each other and in unison, “Ewuuuu!”

  “Geez O' Cow! We got something like that back home, but we sure as hell don't eat 'em.”

  The host and hostess were standing at the maitre d’ station. They were both watching the new arrival through the glass window going over the menu. Jerry, their server, walked up to them with two cups of coffee and looked as well. They all could see Trent very clearly discussing the menu with Genghis. Jerry stared in disbelief. “Oh, come on! Is he talking to himself?”

  “No,” the host said. “I think he’s talking to his dog.”

  The patron at the table could be seen clearly, pointing toward the menu and turning and talking animatedly to his dog. But due to where the dog was sitting they could only see his body. His head was obscured by a large palm frond from one of the potted plants. They couldn’t see Genghis responding.

  Another server walked up to them with a stack of menus. She placed the menus on a small shelf within the maitre d’ station, then asked, “What are you guys looking at?”

  The hostess responded, “That guy at table thirty.”

  “Oh, my God! Is he talking to himself?”

  “No,” Jerry said with a sigh. “We think he’s talking to his dog.” Jerry just shook his head as he walked toward the glass door and said to himself, “Why do I always get the crazies?”

  Jerry approached table thirty and placed both cups of coffee in front of Trent. “Hi and welcome to Le Pot Au Feu. I’m Jerry, your server. Are you ready to order or would you like a few mor
e minutes to decide?”

  “No, no we’re ready,” Trent said. He looked down at the menu, pointed and said, “Sea Scal-lops au. . .”

  “Yes, sir,” Jerry interrupted, looking at where Trent was pointing. “Sea Scallops au Caviar. Very good sir, it’s prepared in a caviar sauce with au gratin potatoes and mixed vegetables.” He quickly wrote down the order in a black leather bound notebook he retrieved from his back pocket. “Would there be anything else sir?”

  “No thank you,” Trent motioned with his hand toward Genghis. “We’ll share.”

  “Well, you know, sir.” Jerry said while closing his notebook, “we get a lot of customers who bring their dogs out here. If you would like, I can bring him something.” Genghis’s ears perked up and he looked at Trent.

  “That would be swell.”

  “It’s just a little ground beef cooked well done and cooled down so it’s not too hot for him.” Jerry reached over and rubbed Genghis’s head, “Would you like that boy?”

  Genghis closed his eyes and just let Jerry rub his head. He then took their order and walked into the restaurant. As Jerry passed the maitre d’ station the host and hostess were now joined by three other servers. One of them asked, “How does the cashew like his coffee?” Jerry just ignored the comment and walked by.

  Genghis looked at Trent, “That guy's hands smelled funny!”

  “Okay, let's look at what we have,” Trent said, while taking a drink of his coffee. He then slid the other cup toward Genghis. “Five arson fires. One of which, we’re positive was set with a small amount of Calbenite. We’ll assume, according to the local news-papers that the others were set with Calbenite as well.”

  “So, we know for a fact,” Genghis said, as he took a sip of his coffee, “that Colus Valda is in the area going back to his old pyrotechnic ways. We’re very lucky so far he’s targeting older buildings and hasn’t killed anybody yet.”

  “Yes, and you know as well as I do that that will change. His urge will get stronger to burn buildings with more combustibles within. And that usually means buildings that are inhabited.”