Dial D for Deadman: A Space Team Universe Novel (Dan Deadman Space Detective Book 1)

by Barry J. Hutchison

  Following a bit more questioning, and a lot more crying – her, not him - he’d eventually found out enough to be going on with, and she’d agreed to his fee without so much as batting an eyelid. When a client did this, it usually meant they had more money than they knew what to do with, or they had no money whatsoever, and even less intention of settling the bill when it arrived.

  The condition of the school would have made him think Solina fell into that latter category, had she not given him part-payment up front. Eight-hundred credits were now sitting in his account, although most of it would have to go on a new window. If he was lucky, he’d have enough left over for a desk.

  So the family had money. That suggested a bog-standard kidnapping-for-profit situation, but no ransom demand had been forthcoming. Besides, if the kid was going to a school like this, they were unlikely to have ransom-levels of wealth just lying around.

  “So?”

  An empty pack of something called Noogleblurp Bits hit Dan in the face as he turned. The wind held it there for a moment, affording him a close-up view of a grinning fair-haired cartoon boy who seemed to be excreting a fireworks display from his presumably charred and ruined rectum, then it fluttered off across the yard to join its brothers and sisters swirling around on the ground.

  “So what?” he asked.

  Ollie seemed momentarily confused by the question, but pressed on. “Where is she?”

  “How should I know?” Dan asked.

  “You’ve been looking at the ground for quite a long time,” Ollie pointed out. “I thought you’d have figured it all out by now. That’s what detectives do, right? They figure things out.”

  He hadn’t wanted to bring her, but he hadn’t been sure what else to do. He couldn’t leave her in the office in case the Tribunal came back. He couldn’t just kick her out onto the streets, because Nedran would never let him hear the end of it.

  He’d thought about letting Artur babysit her, but was concerned he’d come back to find a blaster, an axe and a large pile of ash on the floor of the office. Again, Nedran would never let him hear the end of it.

  And so, he’d taken the only option he had left. He’d brought her with him. It had taken just minutes for him to wish he’d left her with Artur. Or with anyone else, for that matter.

  “I’m not exactly a detective,” he said, squatting to examine the ground more closely. It was soft and slightly muddy, which was useful, but had been criss-crossed by several hundred child-sized footprints, which was not. “I used to be with the Tribunal.”

  “Like that woman with the… monster thing?” Ollie asked. “Oh.” She took a few seconds to process this, which involved completely readjusting her world view. “She didn’t seem very nice.”

  “No one in the Tribunal is nice,” Dan said. “They exist to make sure we do what they tell us to do.”

  “You seem nice,” said Ollie.

  Dan snorted. “Then you’re a terrible judge of character.”

  Ollie said nothing. Dan went back to looking at the ground.

  “But you quit?” Ollie said. “The white dress people?”

  “The Tribunal,” Dan corrected. “Again, not exactly.”

  He bent lower, trying to look beyond the footprints at whatever else might be there. According to Solina, this was where her daughter had been taken. Best as Dan could tell through all the crying, at least.

  “What, then?” Ollie asked.

  Dan blinked, and looked up, irritated. “What?”

  “If you didn’t quit, what happened?”

  “Oh,” said Dan. He went back to looking at the ground. “I died.”

  There was a pattern between some of the footprints. A regularly repeating imprint in the mud. Tire tracks. Motorbike, he thought. Probably two.

  “You died? As in… you died? How?”

  “Murdered, mostly,” Dan said.

  “Murdered?” Ollie gasped.

  Dan nodded. “Mostly.”

  “Oh,” said Ollie. She processed this for a while. “That’s a shame.”

  Dan shrugged. “You get over it.”

  There was something else in the tracks, too. The school yard was really nothing more than a patch of waste ground with a building surrounding it on three sides. Most of the soil was a dark brown, pitted with tiny pebbles and bits of weed, but there was a reddish-orange clump smooshed into one of the tire tracks that looked out of place. He rubbed a finger over it, then studied it up close.

  He wasn’t sure what he hoped that would tell him, exactly. Up close, it looked like reddish-orange dirt, which is exactly what it had looked like while still slightly further away.

  “What’s that?” asked Ollie, leaning over him. “A clue?”

  Dan flicked the dirt from his finger as he stood up, then thrust his hands into his pockets. Times like this, he’d give his right nut to be a real detective. If he still had nuts.

  A real detective could look at those tire tracks and tell exactly what the driver had for breakfast.

  A real detective could taste those mud flecks and know there was only one place in the city they could have come from.

  But all he saw were tire tracks. And his taste buds? Well, they weren’t what they used to be.

  “Never been all that great with clues,” he admitted. Turning on his heels, he set off back in the direction of the now-busted gate.

  “So, what? You’re giving up already?” Ollie called to him.

  “I took the case. I plan earning the rest of the pay check,” Dan replied.

  “Oh, right. Well… good,” said Ollie. She put her hands on her hips and looked from Dan to the mud and back again. “How?”

  Dan stopped, just for a moment, and half-turned. “Trust me,” he said. “I got my methods.”

  * * *

  Ollie sat in the passenger seat of the Exodus, under strict instructions not to move. It had been almost two full minutes since Dan had ventured inside the seedy-looking bar across the road, though. He couldn’t have expected her to wait this long, surely? That would seem unlikely.

  She decided to get out of the car. Or, more accurately, she got out of the car without realizing she was doing it, but then decided it was probably for the best that she had.

  The street Dan had parked on wasn’t dark, exactly, just sort of miserable-looking. There was still daylight, but it felt grudged, and just a little resentful at having to show up somewhere as run-down as this.

  Someone called to her as she scampered across the road. She wasn’t entirely sure what the voice was proposing, but it was very detailed, and for reasons she wasn’t aware of, made her blush. She decided it probably wasn’t something she should be getting involved in.

  She replied with a, “No, thank you,” then stopped in the middle of the street to let a couple of ancient mag-levs cough their way past. She smiled at the drivers, but neither one returned it. She felt a little disappointed by that, but decided not to let it get her down. They were probably just in a rush.

  Ollie had just reached the sidewalk, and was heading for the bar’s front door when the window exploded, and a shape tumbled out into the street. It was a large and squat shape, with a dome-shaped head and an insect-like jaw that opened and closed on a number of fleshy hinges. It had somewhere between six and ten eyes, but the way they were so closely bunched together and all blinked at different times made it difficult to count them with any more accuracy than that.

  The creature slid a few feet across the sidewalk on its shell-like back, before tumbling off the curb and onto the road. A horn blared as a mag-lev hummed past over him, drizzling a thin trail of copper-colored oil across his face.

  There was a crunch as a pair of boots jumped through the broken window and onto the carpet of glass.

  “I swear, man, I don’t know what you want. I don’t know nothin’!” the bug-like figure protested. He had hauled himself back onto the sidewalk, and raised himself up onto his knees. He remained there, the elongated fingers of all four hands clasped together
as if in prayer, his eyes blinking in sequence, one after the other.

  Dan pushed back his hat, giving the guy a clearer view of his face. The reaction was instantaneous. The panicked look became one of full-blown terror. The pleading increased in both volume and enthusiasm. The guy’s whole body spasmed in revulsion and fear, and it was a minor miracle he didn’t shizz his pants. The reaction was everything Dan had hoped for, and more.

  And to think, he’d almost taken the mask.

  There was just one thing spoiling the moment.

  “I told you to wait in the car.”

  “Who, me?” said Ollie, looking around in case he was talking to someone else.

  “Yes. You.”

  “You were gone a long time. I was worried about you,” said Ollie. “And also bored. Mostly bored. There isn’t much to do in your car.”

  Dan clenched his jaw, but said nothing. What was the point?

  “Who’s this person? Is he a friend of yours?” Ollie asked. She gave the guy a friendly smile. “Hello. I, too, recently came through a window. Well, technically, it was the wall, but, still.” She punched him playfully on the arm. “Twinsies.”

  Bug-face’s pleading faltered, just for a moment, while he shot Ollie a sideways glance, but then he went back to begging for his life.

  “Please, don’t kill me. I don’t know nothin’.”

  “I’m looking for a kid, Terry,” said Dan. “A little girl. Eight years old. Heard you might know something.”

  A shape moved in the gloom behind Dan. Another of the bug people suddenly loomed over Dan’s shoulder. One of its four spindly arms swung down. There was a flash of a metal blade, then the sound of flesh tearing as the knife was buried in Dan’s chest.

  “Got ‘im, Terry!” the newcomer cheered, still clutching the knife handle.

  “Yes! Not so big and bad now, are you?” Terry sneered, jumping to his webbed feet.

  Dan flicked his eyes down to the knife, then up to the creature reaching over his shoulder from behind. The second bug-thing’s smile gradually fell from its face.

  “Uh, he ain’t fallin’ down,” it said, before Dan’s fist crunched into its wide, flat nose, making it even more so. As the thing stumbled back, Dan drove an elbow into its throat. It went down gargling and wheezing.

  “I think you might have hurt that person,” said Ollie, drawing Dan’s attention to the rasping figure on the ground. “Did you mean to hurt that person?”

  “I did,” Dan confirmed.

  “Oh,” said Ollie. “Why?”

  Dan pointed to the knife in his chest.

  “Oh. Oh, right. OK, gotcha,” said Ollie. “Fair enough, then, I guess. Carry on.”

  “Thanks,” said Dan. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Terry looked from his friend to Dan and back again, then immediately dropped back to his knees. He resumed his pleading with renewed vigor.

  “Now, then,” said Dan, cracking the knuckles of his mismatched hands. “Where were we?”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Dan slumped heavily into the driver’s seat of the Exodus, and slammed the door behind him. A number of sharp implements protruded from his torso at various angles. As well as the bug-thing’s knife, these included a pair of scissors, a wooden stake, two shock arrows, and a high-heeled shoe.

  Eight bars. A dozen scumbags. And for what? No one had known anything. He was no closer to finding the girl than he had been back when her mom had first walked into the office.

  “Well?” asked Ollie. She was sitting in the passenger seat. Or, more accurately, she was tied to the passenger seat by her seat belt, which was where she was going to stay until she learned to follow simple instructions. “How did it go?”

  Dan shook his head, then slammed his hands onto the steering wheel with such force the engine burped briefly into life.

  It was fully dark now, and the light flooding out from a broken bar window cast Dan into silhouette. He stared at his hands as he flexed his fingers in and out. In and out. In and out.

  “Are you OK?” Ollie asked. “Are you having some kind of psychotic episode?”

  “What?” Dan snapped. “No. I’m thinking.”

  “Oh,” said Ollie.

  Some time passed. Ollie flexed her own fingers a few times, to see what all the fuss was about. She wasn’t keen.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  Dan shot her a sideways look. “What do you…? About the girl. About the missing girl.”

  “Right. Right.”

  Some more time passed.

  “You’ve got things sticking out of you.”

  Dan nodded. “I know.”

  Yet more time passed.

  “Still thinking about the same thing?” Ollie asked.

  “Please stop talking.”

  No one had known anything. That much had been clear. If they had, they’d have spilled their guts, he was sure of it.

  Which meant he’d hit a dead end. He could try to find how many old-style motorcycles were registered in the city, but that meant calling in some favors that had already been called in too many times before. Besides, it would take a day or two to get the information, and by then, it would most likely be too late.

  Like he’d explained to Solina, while it was possible her daughter was still alive, he’d seen enough abduction cases to know it was only a matter of time before she turned up dead.

  He’d intended it as a sort of motivational call to action, but she had just collapsed into another flood of tears, further slowing down his questioning.

  Women.

  “So,” began Ollie, who had managed to last almost a full thirty seconds without saying anything. “What now?”

  “The last resort,” said Dan. He sighed and – after a number of aborted attempts – fired up the engine. “There’s only one place left to go.”

  “Where?”

  Dan glanced in his mirror, then pulled away from the curb. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the wheel as the lights of passing cars played across his face.

  “Paradise.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nona lay on the table, her arms and legs held down by heavy straps, her dirty skin lined with tear tracks and snot trails.

  The spotlight suspended directly above her felt like thumbs pressing down on her eyes, forcing her to look away. The man with the wrong face paced around the table, just beyond where the light ended and the darkness began.

  He whistled tunelessly through his teeth as he rolled a small metal trolley around from the foot of the table. The wheels squeaked – eerk, eerk, eerk – then fell silent when the trolley stopped directly in Nona’s line of sight. It was mostly shrouded in darkness, but she could see something sitting on top of it. A bag, she thought.

  She wanted to speak. To scream. To do something, anything, to let the world know she was there. But the rag in her mouth made even breathing difficult. Calling for help was out of the question.

  With a clarity borne of absolute terror, Nona knew no one was coming for her.

  No one was ever coming.

  In the shadows, a hand reached into the bag. Something long and sharp was withdrawn, then set down on the trolley with a clunk.

  Nona thought of her mommy. Nona had once overheard her calling herself ugly in the mirror, and had never understood why. She was beautiful, and her face, when Nona screwed her eyes shut and saw it there in the darkness, looked finer than ever.

  She thought of her daddy. Of her sister. Of the baby brother she’d never get to meet.

  Something else came out of the bag. She heard it clack down onto the trolley.

  “Now, then, princess,” said the man with the wrong face. Nona didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. Not again.

  She heard him lean closer, and felt the hot moisture of his breath on her face. The stink of it made her gag behind the rag, and would have made her eyes water, were her tears not all used up.

  The man with the wrong face’s vo
ice was a muffled whisper that crawled deep into her ears. “What do you say? Third time lucky?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Paradise’s compound was located in the most affluent area of Down Here. Hell, Paradise’s compound was the most affluent area of Down Here.

  It stood behind a set of tall gates, guarded by a couple of mean-looking Gomos. With their leathery hide, sledgehammer fists and venomous bite, Gomos were in high demand in the security sector, galaxy-wide. They didn’t come cheap, and were usually reserved for up-close bodyguard duties. Having one on gate duty was unusual. Having two was unheard of.

  But then, Paradise never was one for convention.

  “Nice place,” said Ollie, peering out through the windshield at the palatial building beyond the fence. “Is this were your friend lives?”

  Dan checked his gun’s battery pack, nodded once, then slammed it back into the grip. “She isn’t my friend,” he said.

  “Want me to come?” Ollie offered.

  “No. No, I do not,” said Dan. He tugged on the seatbelt to make sure it was still keeping her trapped, rummaged in the glove box for a parking token, then reached for the door handle.

  He hesitated then. This wasn’t like the bars, where he knew he’d be coming back out again. He had no idea what was going to happen in there. Paradise didn’t like visitors, especially those who turned up unannounced.

  He unfastened Ollie’s belt, and it whipped across her as it withdrew. Now free, she stretched her arms and jiggled her legs. She also opened and closed her mouth a few times, even though she’d been perfectly able to move that any time she liked – and had been doing, on a near constant basis throughout the entire journey.

  “If I don’t come back, go see Nedran. He’ll help you out.”

  Ollie’s gaze went from Dan to the compound. “You’re thinking of moving in?”

  Dan frowned. “What?”

  “You’re moving in there?” said Ollie. “I mean, I guess I don’t blame you, it looks very nice. I just thought—”