Last Train To Nowhere

by K. C. Sivils

  “I showed you my umbilical scar,” she protested.

  "Plastic surgery could explain that easily. Just like the plastic surgery, you claim was done to give you a regular belly button."

  "I'm leaving. Don't expect me to be back for awhile," Sarah announced spitefully, standing up to leave.

  “Sit down,” I ordered in my best Space Marine sergeant’s voice. The booming sound echoed in the confines of my apartment, startling Sarah. Her mouth open, she sat down quickly, using her right hand to brush the hair behind her ear.

  "We're not done," I said harshly. Too harshly, I realized as Sarah suddenly looked like the five-year-old child she, in some ways, really was. I made myself count to ten. Then I counted to ten a second time.

  “That was harsh,” I said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep my temper in check. “I apologize.”

  I had to count to ten a third time. Women and I have a long history, and it's not a good one. I've been manipulated too many times and done too many stupid things because of a woman. The waterworks in her eyes were on the verge of starting, and it angered me.

  Of all the weapons in the arsenal women possess, crying is the one I can’t stand the most. It just leaves a man defenseless.

  "I also believe you when you say there a hunter, or hunters, are looking for you. They certainly think you're a clone."

  Sarah wiped her eyes dry and made a pass at her runny nose with one of my dishtowels that I’d left on the table.

  “I need to know more, Sarah. If that SP was murdered because he really is a clone, or the killer thought he was a clone, I need to know what you know. Tell me why you’re so valuable? Why is Ellie so valuable?”

  My words gave her pause, making Sarah look down at the table, in the process letting her long hair cover her face from my view again.

  “Maria was simple. Not retarded or anything like that, just simple. She was happy. I learned to read and do math, stuff like that. They didn’t send us to a real school, didn’t try to educate us. Maria wanted to learn, to be able to teach herself book learning, but I couldn’t teach her to read. Neither could Ellie.”

  I thought for a moment about what Sarah had just shared with me. “You taught yourself to read?”

  She nodded sadly. "Ellie was smart. Book smart but not street-smart like me. Maria was simple. She was happy so long as they weren't doing stuff to us or yelling at her because she couldn’t play the games they wanted.”

  “What kind of games?”

  “Puzzles. Find the fastest way through a maze, putting stuff together, looking at pictures and seeing which ones were different or similar.”

  “Once they realized Maria was simple, they started doing mean things to her.”

  “Can you explain,” I asked. “Mean things is a pretty broad range of activities.”

  “They made her do things,” Sarah screamed, startling me this time. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving black streaks through the dirt on her face.

  “I got it,” I said calmly. “You don’t have to explain.”

  It took Sarah a few minutes to calm herself, and I remained silent to let her do so.

  “Ellie and I are different, but we’re not simple. We all look exactly the same, but we’re different. Ellie is quiet but not like me. She’ll talk to people. Maria, she liked people, liked talking to them.”

  “Just like regular sisters,” I said gently.

  “I think they want Ellie for organs. To put them in other people who are sick. Me? The military wants me. I heal fast. I can stand heat or cold other people can't. I can go without food for extended periods of time."

  Sarah looked at me carefully. I got the feeling she was deciding if she could reveal one of her deep secrets.

  “I can hide in a crowd, there one second, gone the next.”

  I didn't say anything. I was pretty sure Sarah could do just that. It wasn't like it had been easy for me to find her. More like dumb luck intervened.

  “Do you believe me,” she asked, voice quivering.

  “Yeah, I do. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do it.” I smiled at Sarah, hoping to reassure her. “I mean if what you say is true, I can’t really see you vanish. You just sort of disappear.”

  She thought about it for a moment and then decided to continue.

  "I've told you my senses are much better than the average person."

  “Yes, and I believe you.” I did. She could hear things nobody else could, of that I was certain.

  “I have a sixth sense. I can tell things. Like when a hunter is on my trail.”

  I nodded in agreement. I'd seen her fear first hand, and Sarah'd been justified to feel that way in the past.

  Tears ran down her face again, this time Sarah let them. She seemed to be less burdened somehow as if telling me just one or two of her secrets had lifted a weight from her. Or maybe it was because I believed some of what she had told me, even if I couldn't bring myself yet to believe she was actually a clone.

  "It's not fair," she said to me. "I'm a woman. I can have babies. I like being around people I can trust." She paused to give me the evil eye for a moment. "People like Ellie, maybe Miss Alice and Ralph."

  After a few seconds, Sarah continued. "I like men. I've never had a real family, but I know what one is. I like being able to do what I want, but I’d like to not be in fear all the time. Not have to be ready to run at a second’s notice.”

  “Nobody should have to live like that,” I said softly.

  “Ellie shouldn’t have to be cut up for organs. They belong to her! Not some sick person with money or power. I shouldn’t be a test subject for some military experiment. Did you know the ban on clones says if any clones ARE created, we’re property! We have no rights as individuals!”

  Angry now, she stood and began to pace. “I can’t be a citizen. I’m just an object. Stupid military. I might volunteer if I could be a person with rights. A citizen. I should be able to make my own choices. I don’t belong to anyone but myself!”

  My heart went out to my mystery girl. It was no wonder she didn’t trust anyone.

  “I have to find Ellie,” she stated calmly. When she turned and grabbed her backpack, I wasn’t surprised. I got up and shut the sliding door behind her. She’d be back when she was ready.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  There was no doubt the chef could cook. Markeson made a note of it. If he ever had to return to Brownstown in the future, this was where he'd eat, but only, if he had to make another trip.

  His hostess still had not answered his questions. She liked to play games far too much for the detective, bent as he was. Still, she was easy on the eyes, and Markeson enjoyed a redhead as much as he did a blonde or a brunette.

  “Colonel, I have to be getting back. I’ll trouble you to have my consulting fee deposited into my account. I’m sure you have the details.”

  He stood to go and looked about for the hard looking man who’d brought him.

  “You are just no fun,” the redhead complained. “Very well, business it is. Please, sit back down.”

  Despite his better judgment, the lure of easy money was too much. Markeson sat down.

  “I cannot tell you at this moment the what. I can tell you I’m going to come into possession of some very valuable property.”

  Markeson looked at the woman with renewed interest. She was leaning forward, her chin resting on one hand as she smiled at Markeson. A smile only a woman bent on sinning with a man could smile. He ignored it.

  “You need a way to move this property off planet.”

  “See, wasn’t that easy,” the redhead laughed, clapping her hands once in merriment.

  "No, it isn't that easy. If it was, you wouldn't need me. I take it you would like to not have any issues with customs, on this planet or the next."

  “That goes without saying.”

  “You’d like to avoid problems en route. No questions asked by those hired to make the delivery for you.”

  “Again, that goes without saying.
”

  “It won’t be cheap. The bigger the package that needs delivering, the more it will cost.”

  “I would assume that would be the case.”

  “How big is the package?”

  “Does it matter right now?”

  “Of course it matters,” Markeson sighed, growing weary of the game playing. "Any particular conditions, does the package need to be kept at a specific temperature, does it need oxygen, food, water, anything like that?"

  Reaching into her jacket, the Colonel pulled out a small information chip and slid it across the table. Markeson reached for it. The woman slipped her hand over his and grasped it firmly.

  “All the specs you require are there.”

  Frowning, he withdrew his hand, taking the chip with it.

  “I’ll be in touch with an estimate.”

  “Oh, about that,” again the woman reached into her jacket, this time withdrawing a comm. “Encrypted. It can only call my comm.”

  Markeson pocketed the device.

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving now.”

  “Actually, there are two things. First, this Inspector Sullivan, he makes me nervous. Take him off the case.”

  Markeson laughed, irritating his hostess. "That's the last thing you want. If I pulled him off the case, it'd make him so suspicious he'd take leave to devote all of his time and attention to it. Trust me; it's best to let him do his job and eliminate evidence that could be problematic before he gets wind of it."

  The redhead pushed her luscious lips together in a pout, making it obvious the advice was not what she wanted to hear.

  “What was the last thing you wanted,” Markeson asked, standing up and adjusting his clothes, brushing off an imaginary speck from his suit coat before running his hands through his perfectly groomed hair.

  “Captain, you are always in such a hurry,” the Colonel complained. Standing up, she moved closer to the bent detective and draped her arms around his shoulders. “We could go to my quarters. You have plenty of time before your flight.”

  Markeson smiled his most charming smile as he gently removed both of the offending hands from his shoulders.

  “Mixing business and pleasure is never a wise idea. I’ll be in touch.”

  Before he could turn to leave, the Colonel stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers of left hand.

  “Your loss.” She smiled her wicked smile again, just to let the idea take hold in his imagination. “But there’s always the future.”

  Markeson didn’t say a word. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. He just turned and left, slipping the chip into his pocket as he made good his escape by heading for the entrance.

  Moving from the shadows nearby, the tall, hard man moved silently next to his employer and waited.

  “He is a very cool customer,” the Colonel said dryly. “I believe we have selected well.”

  “Indeed,” the hard man agreed. “It takes a strong man to resist the lady’s charms.”

  ---

  I walked to Joe's. It was early evening, and I needed to eat. Not wanted to eat, but rather needed to. Sarah wasn't going to be back. Not tonight. What worried me was she might not come back at all.

  I gave a nod to Giganto and Baldy, the two bouncers who worked the night shift when Joe’s family dinner morphed into Joe's Tavern, bar really. The two toughs gave me a respectful nod as they went about their business, in this case checking a trio of tough looking young men for weapons.

  After I'd become a regular, I learned nobody had ever gotten the best of Giganto and Baldy until I came along. I had a feeling this trio of toughs wasn't going to join my exclusive club.

  Sitting down in my regular booth, I looked outside at the dreary street, watching the workers coming and going during the evening shift change. Sarah was not going to make an appearance, and I knew it.

  Alice came by and smiled, knowing I had troubles on my mind. She didn't say much, just asked if I wanted my regular dinner. I nodded, and she left to turn in my order. Joe caught my eye and nodded from behind his bar.

  Josephson should have reported in by now. The kid could frustrate me at times. He was reliable for the most part, but occasionally had mental lapses that boggled my mind. Of course, he was traveling by train and Kilgore had told me his ticket was for a mixed train, mostly freight with a couple of passenger coaches coupled on the rear.

  I pulled out my comm and looked at it. Dead battery. Alice was returning with my soft drink and noticed the scowl on my face as I shook the stupid comm.

  “Dead battery Sully?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here, let me take it and get it charged real quick for you.”

  Alice didn’t wait for an answer.

  Before I could complain, Ralph, her cab driver husband, slipped into the seat across from me.

  “Rough day I hear.”

  “You could say that,” I mumbled.

  Ralph looked around for a moment like he was worried.

  "Ralph," I sighed, "Are you in trouble? Does Alice know?"

  “No,” he moaned, shaking his head before glancing around again.

  “Then what is it?”

  "It, it's the Father."

  “Father Nathan?” I was a bit concerned now. Ralph had done a stretch and didn’t scare easily.

  "Yeah, you know Alice, and I have been helpin' the Father with the street kids.”

  I nodded.

  “He’s not makin’ any headway with findin’ out who their boss is.”

  Just what I needed. I'd promised my friend I would handle that little task when I got out of the hospital. By the time my hands had healed, and I'd been released, he'd not brought it up again, and I got busy.

  Solving murder cases has a way of distracting me.

  Still it was no excuse. I had made a promise to one of my few friends on Beta Prime. The good Father had warned me too. Told me if I didn’t take care of it, he would.

  “You think he’s looking for the Boss Man himself.”

  "He has to be Inspector. Father Nathan is never around anymore. I mean he's at the church when the kids show up at night. He's there when we get 'em up to feed ‘em. But last few days he hasn't come by to eat. Alice is worried, and so is Joe. If something happens to the Father, the kids will just go back to what they were doin'."

  I understood what my friend the priest was trying to do. He was fighting an uphill battle with these kids. Most of them, despite his efforts, would probably wind up in prison. Still, I knew the man felt compelled to make an effort.

  We’d had more than one disagreement about the subject.

  He’d just smile in a way that irritated me to no end and mumble something about redemption, forgiveness and that it was possible to change. Then, just before he’d leave me sitting there simmering, Father Nathan would invite me to services next Sunday, smile and leave.

  One thing was certain. Father Nathan was slowly making a difference in his parish. Not that the average person would notice. But those who were really down on their luck noticed and I suppose those are the people that count when it comes to these things.

  “You want me to look for Father Nathan?”

  Ralph looked around again.

  "No. Father Nathan can take care of himself. That's what worries me."

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “Father Nathan, well, it’s not my place to tell you. But if you don’t find that Boss Man, something bad is goin’ to happen.”

  I nodded. It made sense. I’d long suspected my friend the good father had a past. Ralph was wise to what the Father was capable of, and I should have been too.

  “I’ll look into it.”

  Ralph nodded and looked up as his wife Alice returned, giving him a knowing look as she sat down my food and then fished my comm out of her pocket.

  “All charged up, Inspector. Come on, Ralph. Let the Inspector eat his meal.”

  I picked up my comm and turned it back on. Waiting for me was a message from much earlier. Jos
ephson had spotted Markeson in the terminal after Sarah, and I had departed on our morning flight back to Capital City. A man my partner described as being ex-military had greeted Markeson, and the pair had left together. It could be a coincidence, but he knew what I thought about coincidences.

  My fingers moved quickly as I sent the young pup a message.

  ---

  Watching the tall man dressed in black approaching, the shorter of the two muggers grinned and nudged the bigger thug.

  “Do you see what I see,” he whispered.

  “I’m not sure I believe my own eyes,” the bigger more muscular thug chuckled. “I’d heard they existed. Even saw a picture of one, but I never thought I would ever see one for real.”

  “C’mon,” the shorter thug said. “Easy pickings.”

  Strutting toward Father Nathan, the pair crossed the street without looking, making a direct line toward the priest. Noticing the pair, Father Nathan sighed. Two young predators who had not the sense to realize they were in danger.

  "What can I do for you," the priest chirped, taking his hands out of his pockets.

  “You can give us your money, that fancy cross looking thing you’re wearing and anything else you have,” the shorter thug growled, doing his best to intimidate the big man dressed in black.

  The smile vanished from Father Nathan’s face.

  “No,” he said with a polite firmness.

  "I don't think you understood what my partner here told you," the larger thug said, stepping up closer, puffing his chest out. The wind blew, blowing the tails of the two thugs black great coats back.

  “I understood him just fine. The problem is, you and your friend didn’t understand me.”

  The two thugs looked at each other in surprise. Long ago in their lives, the word no had ceased to have meaning. A nod from the smaller thug was all it took. The pair lunged at the priest.

  Expecting to be attacked, Father Nathan stepped quickly out of the way of the smaller thug, leaving his foot behind, tripping the kid. Stepping inside the haymaker, the bigger thug threw at his head; the priest moved close to deliver a brutal uppercut, slamming the punk's mouth shut and turning his lights out with one blow.