Last Train To Nowhere

by K. C. Sivils

  ---

  I needed to think. Josephson’s driving still hadn’t improved, so I told him to find a dive for us to stop and think. No reason for me to be the only one thinking about things. The pup was getting a little better at his job. Another death on my conscience was not something I wanted or needed. Better for him to learn this way when I could goose him in the right direction than for him to do something stupid and get killed.

  We found a nice dive, parked the squad car and went inside. Nobody greeted us, so we sat ourselves. After a minute or so, a gruff looking waitress made her way over to take our orders. She looked worse for the wear, with her makeup caked on thick. Her teeth were yellow and stained. The lines around her eyes and the specks of gray in her hair told the story of the hard times she'd seen.

  I ordered a coke, and the pup ordered black coffee. He was learning. When first assigned as partners upon my arrival, he drank this stuff that was more chemical additives and foam than it was coffee. If you’re going to be a cop, you have to drink coffee like a cop. I told him he wouldn’t see me drinking any of that diet coke stuff. If I was going to drink something bad for me, it was going to have real sugar in it.

  "Think they're in a hurry to get whatever was on the train off planet?"

  “Without a doubt,” I answered. “The question is where is the shipment going?”

  “What do you think was in those container cars?”

  It was a good question, one that would impact a lot of factors.

  “We know whatever it is, it’s valuable. It’s also perishable, that means they have to get it off-world in a hurry."

  Josephson considered this for a moment. "Why not get it off-world quick regardless?"

  "If it weren't perishable, I'd just store it someplace nice and safe. Sit on the goods until the heat dies down. Take my time finding a buyer who will pay top credit for the merchandise."

  Josephson nodded in agreement.

  “So, my question to you Sergeant, where would you ship the merchandise if it was perishable and needed special storage facilities? Where could you ship it and let it sit until the heat was off and a buyer ready to pay?”

  My partner's eyes glazed a bit, which they were prone to do when he was deep in thought. His expression became focused as he stared at his cup of coffee.

  “One of the moons, Serenity or Persephone. They have mining operations and military bases but no atmosphere. Everything is in a controlled environment. From what I’ve heard, they have lots of storage facilities up there. You can store just about anything until you need it.”

  “Good thinking,” I told him. He was right. “So we need to focus on every flight from Beta Prime to the moons, starting with immediately after the train heist.”

  “Yes, sir,” he responded, looking up, his eyes returning to normal. “You want me to check all the shipping manifests?”

  “Yeah, but focus on craft owned by Devereaux’s company. I doubt we came anywhere close to cleaning out all the smugglers in that outfit. I’m going to talk to a few people, see if I can’t find out who might arrange transportation for a piece of the pie. If I can’t get a handle on that, I’m going to look into who might be willing to stick their neck out storing hot goods for a cut.”

  We sat in silence, finishing our drinks.

  It was going to be a long day. As we drove off, I worried about Sarah. Hiring her had been an exercise in babysitting. I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about her if I could see her. Now I had placed her in more danger than before.

  She was right about the dead clone. Whoever killed our dead SP probably knew he was a clone. Based on what I knew, more like what Sarah knew, bounty hunters were looking for any other clone on the planet. That meant they were looking for Sarah.

  She was mad at me. I’d figured out that much. If I had taken all her talk about being a clone serious in the first place, or at least acted like I did, Sarah would be sitting in the back of our squad car, looking out the window and thinking about whatever it is she thinks about. But she would be safe, as safe as she could be that is.

  Now Sarah was doing what she did when not on duty with me. She was wandering the streets.

  No matter what Sarah said, I had the blood of her sister Maria on my hands. If something happened to my mysterious girl, I don’t think my mind could handle the guilt of two dead sisters.

  Both of them dead because I didn’t do my job.

  Josephson took a turn too hard, and I bumped my head against the plexiglass window. I had a stress headache coming on, and his driving wasn't helping.

  ---

  “Where’s Markeson,” Chief O’Brian shouted from the entrance to the detective’s bullpen.

  “Haven’t seen ‘em all day, Chief,” called one of the detectives from the far back.

  O’Brian didn’t respond but rather turned and went back to his office. After the fiasco with Devereaux and the Internal Affairs hearing, O’Brian had started to wonder if his Chief of Detectives was corrupt. Not petty corruption common to most of the cops on Beta Prime.

  In league with the Big Boys.

  O’Brian returned to his office and sat down in his new chair to reflect. Reflect on the fact that he’d lost his way on his climb to the top of the police structure on Beta Prime. Cut too many corners. Made too many deals with politicians and their supporters.

  It wasn't so much that he'd taken money or material goods. It was the promotion here for looking the other way. The promise of a good word there, if a piece of evidence went missing.

  Now he was a divorced father of three. His ex-wife had sole custody of the kids, and she'd moved them to Delphi III. Half his income was spent on alimony and child support before it even hit his bank account. His kids hated him, thanks to his ex-wife poisoning them against him.

  He got the flat in the divorce, mainly because his ex-wife couldn't take it with her. Evenings were spent alone. With the divorce, he'd learned the hard way their friends were really his wife's friends.

  At first, O’Brian hated the man his ex-wife had the affair with. Hated how she threw in his face this Oscar of hers was all the things he wasn’t. How Oscar made her happy. In the end, she’d left O’Brian and taken everything that mattered to him.

  Of course, Oscar had never proposed, O'Brian thought bitterly. If they got married, he'd be off the hook for the alimony, and the loss of cash flow would cut into their lifestyle. Better to live in sin and have him pay for a big chunk of it than do the honorable thing by his Julia.

  All he had left now was his job.

  For the first time in a few years, O’Brian thought about doing his job. Doing it the way it should be done. At least he would have that.

  Maybe it was time to start keeping a closer eye on Markeson.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  He watched the nervous Xue enter the Argentina and look about as his eyes adjusted to the interior lighting. A second later, the taller, more confident Ranking stepped through the door. Without a word, the maître de led the two politicians to Markeson’s table, smiled his too perfect smile and departed in silence.

  The three men sat watching each other in silence as Jasmine appeared, replacing Markeson’s whiskey with a fresh one. Two glasses of red wine were set before the politicians. All three men watched Jasmine perform her job with appreciation. Not for the manner in which she did her job, but rather the figure she cut while doing the job.

  Like the maître de, she smiled her perfect smile, displaying the dazzling white teeth set perfectly in her mouth, and without a word, she disappeared.

  “I took the liberty of ordering for us,” Markeson announced, taking control of the meeting.

  Rankin frowned at the news. As Governor of Beta Prime, he was of the opinion it was he who should be in control. The fact Markeson was the real brains behind their operation never occurred to him. The Mayor was a worrier and happy to let Rankin and Markeson be in charge. So long as he got his cut, he was happy.

  "We have an unexpected opportunity, and we
need to act fast," Markeson informed the pair in a low voice.

  “What kind of an opportunity,” Rankin snapped back.

  “Somebody I’ve come in contact with has several freight containers of goods that need to be somewhere else fast. They would like to avoid any problems that might crop up with Security and Customs.”

  A moment of silence passed while the three sat and looked at each other, each man counting credits, both in expenses and profits for this possible venture. Risk was factored into the expense column in the process.

  “I will handle finding the lift vessel. Devereaux’s wife is running the shipping company now. It shouldn’t be a problem finding a tug to take the containers up as part of a load to the space station’s port. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Markeson informed the others.

  "Is this a one-time consultation fee we're talking about," Xue interjected in his nervous voice, his hands moving busily on the table. "Or will there be repeat business?"

  “I would imagine if we provide good service with this initial consultation, there is great potential for future contracts,” Markeson answered, smiling in an effort to relax the nervous little man.

  “Where do these goods need to be delivered,” Rankin inquired.

  "The customer believes they have warehouse space available on Serenity," Markeson explained. "Either way, they'll have to pass the containers through the docking station, so they'll need advice on how to clear Security and Customs here before the lift into orbit. Then they'll need advice on how the shuttle process to Serenity works.

  The Governor nodded, satisfied with Markeson’s explanation. "Simple enough arrangement. I can handle the consult for Customs, though there will be some expenses that need factoring into the consulting contract."

  “No problem. I explained we would do this first contract for a flat fee for consulting plus our expenses. The client seemed amenable to the idea.”

  “Security clearance won’t be a problem at either port of call,” the Mayor informed Markeson, more confident now that the Governor had agreed to the deal so quickly. “There will be expenses incurred. It is just the way things are.”

  “Good. I will let the client know,” Markeson answered, smiling at the sight of Jasmine returning with a large circular tray perfectly balanced above her shoulder on one hand. The men fell silent as the waitress gracefully distributed their food. She asked if they needed anything else and then slipped away, leaving them to their own devices.

  “I will let you know the specifics as soon as I have them. Regular fees and expenses for this job. This is a quick turnaround. If we show we can deliver on our end, we can raise our rates.”

  “That, my dear Captain,” the Governor spit out in his commanding tone, “is the one thing about this job I don’t like. It’s too quick. You just met this client, did you not?”

  “Be sensible,” Markeson growled in protest. “We’ve all taken a hit in our cash flow. For each of us that presents different problems. Without Devereaux, we have to handle things more directly until we can establish a new network.”

  Worried suddenly by the Governor's protest, Xue weighed in with his own concerns, "I agree with the Governor. This is very sudden.”

  “Look,” Markeson growled, irritated by the vacillation of the two politicians, “elections are in nine months. That means money to grease palms is going to be needed. You can’t possibly tell me neither of you couldn’t use a nice campaign contribution?”

  He looked at the two men squarely in the eyes, first the Governor and then the Mayor. "Let's not forget those nice little apartments where you keep certain friends, and the expense accounts those friends have."

  Rankin’s face indicated he’d made a decision. Markeson struggled to keep from smiling. Rankin’s greed was his weakness. Greed for money, power, women, whatever it was he wanted at the time. Xue was easy to manipulate. If Rankin went for the scheme, Xue always signed on.

  “You have a point. Just make sure this is all handled cleanly and the consulting fees find their way into the appropriate accounts.”

  Markeson raised his glass in a silent toast to his partners, relieved they’d agreed so easily.

  ---

  He watched the priest take the wallet and watch from the young boy and grab him by the arm. None too gently he dragged the boy across the street and approached an elderly man standing with his wife, looking through the window of a bakery.

  In less than a minute the stolen property was returned, the youth had apologized, and the priest once again helped the recalcitrant male cross the street. As they grew nearer, he could hear the two talking.

  “Father, I won’t have enough to pay off the Boss Man at the end of this week. Please, don’t make me give back any more of my take!"

  “Paulo, stealing is a sin! You don’t need to steal. I give you shelter and food. You should be in school during the day instead of roaming the streets stealing.”

  The boy pulled away from the priest and took several quick steps to put some space between the big man and himself.

  “Father, it’s not that simple. The Boss Man will beat me and the others if we do not bring him enough. We can’t quit. We don’t have a choice. Please,” the boy pleaded, “don’t be angry Father. We appreciate everything you are trying to do for us.”

  “You know, Paulo, this is new for me,” the priest replied. “It’s been a long time since anybody has been more scared of someone else than me.”

  Paulo lowered his head, more in frustration with his situation than anything else. If it were just him, he would do as the priest wanted and take his chances with the Boss Man. But now that Toby and Anna were gone, it had fallen on him to take care of the other kids. A burden Paulo would gladly give to Father Nathan if he knew how.

  "Go on Paulo. It will be dark soon, and it's going to be a cold one tonight. See to it as many of the kids make it to the church as possible."

  Relieved, Paulo vanished into the throngs of workers making their way to and from work during the evening shift change. The priest turned and headed the other way, crossing the street and walking toward Joe’s.

  Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out his comm and opened a link.

  “Boss, this guy is trouble. He’s trying to get the kids off the street. Get this, he wants them to go to school.”

  The man listened intently, nodding his head in agreement.

  “Will do Boss. Tomorrow night good enough?”

  Again he listened.

  “In front of the kids, Boss?”

  He smiled at the answer. “I’ll be happy to.”

  Closing the link, the man watched Father Nathan enter Joe’s. “Better enjoy your meal preacher man. Say your prayers too. You won’t be doin’ much of either after tomorrow night.”

  ---

  "Are you sure Private Johansson?"

  "Yes, Major. Three container flats. Each has a sealed container. The locomotive arrived an hour ago with three empty container flats. The containers were loaded on to the container flats and secured. As soon as the loading process was complete, the train departed."

  “No signals? No sign of crew?”

  “No, Major. The containers were sitting on the loading dock. The only other personnel I was able to identify was the crane operator and a civilian who ordered him to load the containers.”

  “A civilian?”

  “Yes, Major. Tall, dark headed man. Acted like a Sergeant the way he gave orders to our crane operator. Army guy though, you can always tell, you know how it is Major.”

  “Private, this is a classified matter. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Major. I have no desire to be transferred to the base on the South Pole. I will never speak of this matter again unless authorized by you, and you alone, Major.”

  Kilgore struggled to refrain from smiling at the young private’s eagerness to obey.

  “That is all Private Johansson. Dismissed.

  Kilgore waited for the Marine to shut the door behind him. Qui
ckly, he opened the middle drawer in his desk and removed his secure comm. He pressed the necessary contact and waited for the link to form.

  “Sullivan, Kilgore.”

  He listened to Sullivan for a moment before continuing.

  “Another of those mystery trains has left the base. Three containers just like the train we saw.”

  Sullivan answered.

  “I agree. Probably be part of tomorrow’s mixed train. I doubt they’ll do it the same way this time. Too many things they couldn’t control. Get back with me once you decide how you want to handle this.”

  Kilgore broke the link and put the comm in the inner pocket of his tunic. He hated waiting, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. Not until Sullivan contacted him.

  ---

  Somebody slipped into the seat next to me in my booth. I didn't look up from my tablet as I continued to scan for information on warehousing on Persephone and Serenity, Beta Prime's two moons. After a bit, a petite, slender hand moved into my field of vision.

  I guess Sarah was ready to talk.

  I looked up and glanced at her. A neutral expression occupied her face. Only her eyes conveyed any emotion, a combination of irritation and fearfulness.

  “Are you ready to go back to work?”

  “Are you ready to acknowledge I’m a clone and everything I told you was true?”

  This was getting us nowhere.

  “I’m willing to stipulate to the facts, whatever they may be.”

  “Don’t talk all legal to me,” Sarah chirped back. “Sarah’s a clone. Say it.”

  I sighed. Sarah wasn't going to let this go. I thought for a moment. I believed Sarah was a clone. I believed everything she’d told me. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

  The other part of me wanted to put Sarah across my knee and paddle her like the five-year old she was in so many ways.

  “Sarah’s a clone. Until the facts prove otherwise, I will stipulate to the fact Sarah is a clone.”