by John Bowers
They stopped fifty feet away, clearly visible now. One of them wore a business suit, the other five were dressed in a variety of uniforms. Police officers, from several agencies. The five lawmen all wore gunbelts with sidearms hanging from them. The business suit was probably armed too, but his weapon was concealed.
Then Nick recognized him.
“That’s far enough!” Nick said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the stress that tightened his throat. “Stop where you are and state your business.”
“I think you know why we’re here, Marshal,” Nicholas Peloni said. He stood a few feet in front of the other five, a little smile playing across his obnoxious face. He was clearly enjoying himself.
“I think I do,” Nick told him, “but I was hoping I was wrong. I was hoping there might be some adults in the Texiana State Police who had the authority to corral the delinquents. Looks like I was wrong.”
Peloni’s grin disappeared and his expression darkened.
“The women, Marshal. Give us the women and we’ll go away. We’ll even overlook the murders you committed.”
Nick shook his head.
“You know better than that, Nicholas. I told you before and I’ll tell you one more time—you have no jurisdiction here. This is Federation territory, and your very presence here like this constitutes an act of war. I advise you to turn around and go back to Texiana, and take all your men with you.”
“Can’t do that, Marshal.” Peloni held up his right hand, slowly; it contained a small electronic device, similar to a holovid controller. “One last chance, Marshal. Give us the women.”
Nick stood waiting, hardly daring to breathe. He made no reply. Peloni waited fifteen seconds, the wind whipping sand around him, and then his grin returned.
“You had your chance, Marshal.”
He pushed a button on the device. For just a moment he maintained eye contact, then his eyes widened in surprise and he looked at the gadget in his hand. He pushed the button again, and a third time.
“I disabled the bomb, Nicholas,” Nick said. “But now I have something for you.”
Nick flung his left hand forward in a hard, underhand toss. Something flat and round arced toward Peloni’s face, and the little man threw up both hands to catch it. The five men on either side of him tensed and two went for their guns, but the Ru-Hawk .44 was already in Nick’s right hand. The stun grenade detonated two feet in front of Peloni’s face, and he hit the ground with a scream. A laser shot smoked past Nick’s right ear even as he ducked and opened fire. The .44 roared and bucked, and one of the Texiana cops was lifted off the ground as the heavy slug punched through him. Nick fired again and killed a second man, but return fire bounced off his vest and he hit the ground, rolling to his right as three more bolts chipped the tarplast around him.
He rolled to a stop with both hands filled, and pumped four more shots, both laser and lead, at the three men still standing. At the same moment, Dennis Green’s rifle cracked from the alley; caught in a crossfire, the three KK men crumpled and fell, leaving only Peloni on his knees, both hands over his eyes.
Still screaming.
Chapter 29
“Justice has nothing to do with the law. Quite often, the two are mutually exclusive.”
—Professor Milligan, U.F. Academy
Nick checked the five men who’d been shot and found one still breathing, but at the rate blood was pulsing out of him he had only moments left. Nick collected his weapon and turned to Peloni, who now lay on his side, hyperventilating like a woman in labor. Nick rolled him onto his back and pulled his hands away from his face. The stun grenade had left burns, but had missed his eyes—Peloni had ducked just in time.
“Stop whining like a little girl, Nicholas,” Nick said. “You’re not blind.”
Peloni’s teeth were gritted and his whole body was shaking.
“I can’t see anything!” he chattered. “You fucking bastard! You’re a dead man, do you hear me? You’re fucking dead!”
Nick rolled him face down and E-cuffed his hands behind him. Then he grabbed a leg and dragged him out of the road, propping him against the fuel pumps. He released the cuffs and pulled his arms around a stanchion, then re-cuffed him, securing him to the pumps.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Nicholas,” he said quietly. “You’re sitting next to a fuel depot, so if your friends decide to blow it up, you’re going to burn.”
“Fuck you!”
“Now tell me, how many men came with you and what’s the plan?”
“I ain’t telling you shit!” Peloni snarled. “You’re a fucking dead man!”
“Yeah, I got that part.” Nick slapped him soundly across the burn marks on his cheek, drawing a scream of pain. “One more time, Nicholas…what’s the plan?”
Panting hard, Peloni told him.
“The plan is to kill you and get the women back. What the hell did you think the plan was?”
Nick chuckled and shook his head.
“That’s exactly what I thought it was. You guys have no imagination.”
“Fuck you!”
Nick stood up and peered through the flying sand, but could see nothing. He crawled inside the car and checked the radar, but most of the signatures had disappeared. One blip still waited down the road in front of him, sitting still. It was bigger than the rest, so was probably a vehicle of some kind. It had stopped when all the other returns faded, and hadn’t moved since.
“Roy, are you there?”
“I should ask you that,” Blake replied. “I heard a lot of shooting.”
“Yeah, about that—five bad guys are down, but I think there must be a couple of dozen between you and me. You seen anything?”
“Nothing yet. Where do you want me?”
“Stay out of sight, but try to cover as much of the street as you can. I’ll be moving around, but I don’t know yet where I’m going to be. Dennis Green is with me, so be sure who you’re shooting at if you have to open up.”
“Will do. Be careful, son.”
Nick disconnected and stared at the radar a moment longer. The single radar return was still sitting there, stationary. Nick was fully aware that other men were moving through town, probably setting up positions in an effort to ambush him, but they couldn’t kill him if they couldn’t find him. And he had a hunch about that car sitting out there in the dust.
He waved Dennis Green over.
“I’m going to try something,” he said, “but it may damage your car. I think I can safely promise that the Federation will reimburse you.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Green told him. “Cars are the least of my concern right now.”
“Okay, thanks. Can you keep an eye on our prisoner there? I didn’t check him for implants, so if he tries to communicate with anybody, kick him in the face.”
“With pleasure.”
Green faded back toward the alley, parking himself a few feet from Nicholas Peloni. Nick reloaded his .44, then began programming the car’s auto-pilot. Two minutes later he was ready. He aimed the car at the radar return and activated the auto-pilot; the car began to move, traveling at two miles per hour. Nick stepped out of the car, closed the clamshell, and fell in behind, walking slowly, bent over to avoid being seen above the car’s roof. As he walked, the garage and fuel pumps faded into the sand; in less than a minute Kline Corners disappeared completely.
The mystery vehicle was farther away than he’d thought. He walked almost four hundred yards before he saw it, just a dim shape in the dust. Keeping close behind Green’s car, Nick peered around the side long enough to make it out, and saw someone jump out of the pilot’s seat. Whoever was over there had spotted Green’s car, and as Nick dropped to one knee, he heard a powerful laser open fire.
Laser bolts glanced off the windscreen of Green’s car, shooting skyward as the smooth Solarglas deflected them. The laser shots stopped, and Nick saw the solitary figure lift another weapon. This time the shots were much louder and the windscreen shattere
d as heavy bullets punched through it. But Green’s vehicle didn’t stop—it rolled smoothly into the front of the other vehicle with a grinding of metal and flying sparks. Crouching ten yards away, Nick heard swearing, and a second man popped out of the target vehicle.
“There’s no one inside!” he heard the first man shout. “What the fuck!”
Nick pressed a button on the object in his hand. He stood up and threw.
The two men didn’t see the stun grenade coming. It bounced off the windscreen of their car—an expensive limo—and erupted with a flash and a roar. Both men wheeled in agony, one of them clapping hands over his ears. The second was more intuitive, and spun to face the attack he belatedly realized was coming. He spotted Nick and raised his weapon, but Nick’s .44 was already on target. Nick only had to fire once.
As the gunman hit the ground, Nick raced down the pilot’s side of Green’s car and tackled the second man, driving him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. He drove his fist into the man’s face and left him unconscious, then smashed the rear passenger window with his .44. The glass cascaded to the ground and Nick found himself face to face with a mousy little man with gray hair and pig-like eyes. Nick shoved the .44 against his cheek.
“Open the door!” he ordered, and a second later the clamshell popped open. Nick was forced to step back until it opened, but was instantly back inside, and dragged the little man out; he rolled him face down on the ground and cuffed him with his last set of E-cuffs. Next he dragged him to a sitting position and slammed him into a sitting position with his back against the car. The little man looked stunned, but didn’t utter a word.
Nick took a moment to check the rest of the limo, but found no one else inside. He returned to his prisoner and stood over him.
“Call your men off,” he said. “Do it right now.”
The ugly little man peered up at him through wire-rimmed lenses and smiled tightly, a trickle of blood bubbling out of his cheek.
“I can’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Yes you can. You gave the order, you can rescind it.”
The prisoner smiled a moment longer, then ducked his head and wiped his bleeding cheek on the shoulder of his expensive woolen suit. He looked up at Nick again.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he said. “You are in way over your head.”
Nick knelt on one knee and shoved the gun against his face again.
“I think you must have me confused with someone else,” he said. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but you’re my prisoner, not the other way around. Right now I make the rules, because you’re on my turf.”
“It won’t be your turf for much longer, Marshal. In a couple of weeks Lucius Clay will be elected President of Missibama, and as soon as that happens he’s going to form the Sirian Confederacy. This entire region will be annexed into Texiana, and you’ll be out of a job.”
Nick stared at him for a moment, calculating.
“Everything you say may be true,” he said finally. “But if you don’t call off your men, you won’t get the chance to enjoy it. Because I’ll be forced to kill you.”
“You wouldn’t dare! The Federation doesn’t work that way.”
“Every government has its rogue agents,” Nick said. “Sometimes you have to step over the rules to get the job done. In any case, we’re all alone out here in this dust storm. No witnesses. I’ll just say you tried to escape.”
The smile disappeared, the pig eyes narrowed. The forehead wrinkled and sweat from the temples mixed with the blood on the cheek, turning it pink and watery.
“You can’t do that! You’re a United Federation Marshal!”
Nick pulled back the hammer with his thumb, the unmistakable cricket sound loud even against the wind.
“Last chance,” he said.
The little man slammed the back of his head against the car in sudden rage. His face contorted in fear and fury.
“Goddammit, don’t you know who I am?”
Nick smiled. “Of course I know who you are. You’re Member of Parliament Harry Reed.”
“Killing me won’t do you any good!” Member of Parliament Harry Reed said. “You’ll still have to face my men, and they won’t take it kindly when they find out that you killed me.”
Nick shrugged. “I’m a marked man already. Nick Peloni just told me that part of today’s operational plan included killing me. So I have nothing to lose by killing you first.”
Reed blinked rapidly, his anger competing with his fear.
“Why did you ever get involved in this?” he demanded. “What the hell do you care what happens to a few dozen serf women who aren’t even Federation citizens? None of this was ever your concern.”
Nick released the hammer on his .44, but kept the gun aimed at his prisoner.
“Two things make it my concern,” he said. “The first is that some of the women you were selling are Federation citizens, taken from this area. The second is that you killed a U.F. Marshal who got to nosing around your operation.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“But you ordered him killed. That’s conspiracy.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Do you deny that the KK killed Ron Gates?”
“I don’t know anything about Ron Gates!”
“Yes you do. Just hours before he was murdered,” Nick lied, “Gates filed a report with U.F. Marshal headquarters on Terra, stating that he had been threatened by members of the KK to halt his investigation of missing girls. Your name was mentioned as a possible conspirator in the disappearances.”
Reed’s eyes widened slightly and his tongue stole across his lips.
“I had nothing to do with the Gates killing. If it was done by the KK, I knew nothing about it.”
“I find that hard to believe, Mr. Reed. I don’t think the KK takes a shit in or around Texiana without your blessing.”
Reed fell silent again, staring into the stinging grit.
“What is it you want? Are you planning to arrest me?”
“I don’t think there’s any point in that. If what you say is true, the Federation will be pulling out before too long, and I doubt they’ll want to open diplomatic relations with your new government under a cloud caused by your prosecution. What I want from you is three things: first, I want you to pull your men out of Kline Corners and keep them out until it becomes part of the new confederacy. Second, I want you to stop selling slaves in Federation territory until you can do so without violating Federation law. And finally, I want you to sign a confession that the KK killed Ron Gates.”
Reed laughed, incredulous. “Why would I do that? You just said—”
“So I can close my case. The diplomats will bury it for reasons we’ve already discussed, but in the meantime—”
Too late, Nick sensed movement at the front of the car. He spun to meet the threat, but the man he had left unconscious on the ground had the drop on him. The laser pistol flashed and Nick’s .44 went spinning into the sand. Nick reached for his own laser with his left hand, but before he could clear leather the other man was on him. His boot lashed out, caught Nick in the jaw, and everything went black.
* * *
The front door of the Vega opened slowly and two heavily armed men stepped inside, crouched low, rifles ready. Both wore police uniforms—one was a Texiana State Trooper, the other a New Dallas City Patrolman. They proceeded cautiously through the dining room, one on either side, swinging their weapons continually to counter any possible threat. When it became clear the dining room was empty, they relaxed slightly, both facing the door into the kitchen.
“Nobody here,” the city patrolman said. “Maybe in the kitchen.”
“More likely upstairs,” the state trooper replied.
“They may have cleared out. Looks like the whole damn town is deserted. I think they knew we were coming.”
“Not a chance. They’re just keeping their heads down because of the weather.”
/>
“What the hell are we doing here, anyway? That marshal isn’t gonna hide in here.”
The city cop approached the kitchen door, his rifle high. The state trooper moved into the open to cover him, facing the door squarely. When he was set, the city cop kicked the door open and dived through, upsetting a stack of cooking pots that crashed noisily to the floor and bounced around like golf balls. No one was there, and the state trooper stepped into the kitchen to join his partner.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Peloni thinks he might fall back here if the guys outside don’t get him. And even if he doesn’t—” He grinned and pointed to the ceiling. “—Peloni said there’s a girl here, a teenager. Young, blond, very juicy. Says she’s worth half a million on the market, easy.”
“Fuck me! I ain’t never seen any girl worth that much, no matter how hot she is!”
The state trooper grinned conspiratorially.
“Peloni said she’s a Vegan.”
The city cop’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re shittin’ me!”
“No, Peloni swears it’s true. The bitch who runs this place is from Vega. The girl is her daughter.”
“And Peloni wants to sell her?” The city cop unconsciously rubbed his crotch.
“Yeah…eventually. I think the Brotherhood might have a bachelor party first.”
Both men laughed. The city cop spotted the doorway into the basement.
“What’s that door there?”
“Probably a food locker. Better check it out.”
“What about the stairs? I don’t want to get cornered in here.”
“I’ll watch the stairs.”
The state trooper walked the twenty feet to the stairway leading to the top floor apartment, glanced up the empty steps, and looked back. The two cops made eye contact; the state cop nodded, and the city cop reached for the switch to the basement door.