by K. C. Sivils
GREY SKY BLUES
AN INSPECTOR THOMAS SULLIVAN THRILLER
K.C. Sivils
Copyright © 2017 by K.C. Sivils
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
K.C. Sivils/www.kcsivils.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
www.gobookcoverdesign.com
Book Layout © 2015 BookDesignTemplates.com
Grey Sky Blues/K.C. Sivils.—1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-5485675-0-7
ISBN 1548567507
All too often we only ask the question “can we?” We never stop to ask, and answer, the question “should we?”
- K.C. Sivils
The author can only tell a story. It takes the efforts of many people for a book to appear in print. This is most certainly the case with Grey Sky Blues. My wife, Lisa, has the patience of a saint. I also want to thank Dona Green, my mother-in-law for her encouragement along with Ann Smith, Cheryl “Chessy” Deariso , and Gaby Michaelis for their efforts as Beta Readers. I take full responsibility for any errors.
CONTENTS
Reading Grey Sky Blues – The eBook Edition
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Reading Grey Sky Blues – The eBook Edition
FIRST, LET ME THANK you for picking up a copy of Grey Sky Blues, the third in the Inspector Thomas Sullivan Crime Thriller series. I truly appreciate you support and genuinely hope you enjoy the story.
For many readers, simply reading the story is enough. For other readers, the desire to know a bit more makes the story more enjoyable. If you happen to be one of those readers, please take the time to visit my author website: kcivils.com. Throughout the story you will occasionally see words with hyperlinks. Opening the link will take you to a short story or the back history of the item linked, providing you, the reader, with more background, i.e, Beta Prime.
If you are a fan of crime noir, science fiction and thrillers, there are book reviews and posts on my blog about these genres. You can also subscribe to my free readers group, The Inspector’s Report, to keep up with the latest trouble, I mean, happenings in Inspector Sullivan’s universe.
CHAPTER ONE
“JUST TWENTY-FOUR MORE hours,” Evans thought. “Then I’m out of this place.” A broad smile appeared as he pictured the shuttle that would return him to the surface of Beta Prime and the comforts of Capital City.
For three years he had worked hard and saved money, doing a job he was good at but hated. Evans had consoled himself with the fact he’d been able to take a year of basic college courses for free. Capital City University operated an extension campus for convicts and employees at Graham Correctional. His stint as a prison guard would bankroll his three remaining years of college.
Evans smiled at the thought. Three years and he'd be off the frozen planet of his birth. With an education in hand and debt free, his future in three years looked promising.
Evans stepped through the steel security door and stopped, waiting for the door to shut. The boom of the slab of steel slamming shut echoed throughout the empty corridor. He waited until a loud click confirmed the lock had engaged. He turned and made his way down the hallway to the next secure door. Shadows darkened the grim passageway, causing Evans to look up at the lighting. He noted nearly half of the lights were not working, causing the dimly light passage to be darker than normal.
Pausing at the halfway point between the two security doors, Evans looked behind him. He'd felt a chill run down his spine as if someone was watching him.
"Don't be an idiot Evans," the C.O. muttered to himself, brushing off the creepy feeling. He stopped again after a few steps, the feeling persisting. This time Evans turned around in a full circle. "I can't get out of this place soon enough," he said aloud.
Reaching the next security door, Evans leaned over slightly and focused his gaze on the digital eye scanner. A red beam of light shined briefly, scanning his retina as he placed his right palm on the hand scanner.
Instantly his body convulsed once as his eyes rolled back into his head, breaking the connection of the retinal scan. Evan’s body slumped forward against the door before slowly sliding down to the floor. His lifeless form that of a rag doll tossed aside by a forgetful child.
Evans never had a chance to make a mental note to report the failed lighting.
I WAS LOOKING FORWARD to the weekend. Sarah had been a nuisance of late, whining about wanting a badge of her own. I figured she’d roam Capital City for a couple of days and stay out of my hair. Josephson had been dropping hints about needing to visit his folks.
I had a good laugh at that one.
He’d left his tablet lying open on his desk. The cute blonde from his hometown who’d been messaging him had more to do with his desire to see his parents than any familial obligations.
It had been five weeks since I’d had a weekend off. Five.
The good Father and I were going to take a hovercraft down to one of the resort towns south of Capital City and relax. He'd arranged for an itinerant priest to handle his services, and I'd made him promise, no deep theological discussions. The trip was to be a much-needed vacation for both of us.
Of course, I should know better than to look forward to anything.
The look of joy on Markeson's face when he told me the Chief wanted me assured me I wouldn't be taking my much-needed break.
CHEKOV WATCHED AS THE guard locked the inner door to her cell in AdSeg. She didn’t relax until the outer steel door slammed shut and the electronic lock sounded. Sitting down on her bed, Irina allowed her mind to wander for just a moment. She’d be reunited soon with her little girl.
Her HUD dropped down in her right eye. The command to reach under her bunk appeared. To Chekov’s surprise, her right hand felt under the edge of the bed as if it had a mind of its own. Touching a sharp edge, Chekov tried to pull her arm back but couldn’t. Her fingers grasped the object and pulled it out where she could see it plainly with her left eye.
A sharpened shank, a common enough weapon in any prison.
Alarm raced through her mind and computer interface. Chekov was losing control. A pulse signal rode a wave through her processor that interf
aced directly with her brain causing Chekov to stand and turn her back to the cell door.
"No, I won't do it," Chekov screamed as her right hand grasped the weapon tightly. The sensation of being choked by invisible hands cut off her breathing as the muscles in her throat choked off the airway with powerful contractions. Moving in jerky motions, Chekov tried to turn to press the call button in her cell.
Overcoming muscles rigid from spasms, the Russian was able to take a step towards the call button. Her right arm flared out from her side at an angle. In her HUD Chekov watched in horror as a display overlay appeared, calculating the precise angle of the shank’s blade. With unimaginable force, Chekov rammed the shank directly into her right kidney at the exact point where the main artery to the kidney attached. She twisted the homemade knife to the left, the blade severed the artery. A final command twisted the shank's blade down and then up, causing massive damage to the organ itself.
Her hand shaking violently, Chekov returned the shank to the precise angle at which it had pierced her body as the first wave of agonizing pain radiated outwards from her back and around to her abdomen. Before she could let go of the shank, the HUD in her mind’s eye blanked out, sending a signal to all of her augmentations to power down. Irina Chekov blacked out, collapsing on her bed, never to regain consciousness.
GIVING WARDEN CORONA’S bad news was a task no Correctional Officer enjoyed. Twice in one day was risking your life.
Lieutenant Norris paused before pressing the comm button to the right of the entrance to Warden Corona’s lair. Gathering himself, the veteran C.O. pressed the button and waited.
“What?” growled the irritated Warden through the intercom.
“Sir, I have more news,” Norris replied.
“If it’s bad, go away.”
Norris paused a heartbeat and then answered in a firm, no nonsense voice.
“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
"You ought to be scared to do that," came the angry response, followed by a buzz and clicking sound as the door slid open.
Norris stepped in and waited for the door to slide back shut behind him. Seated before him behind a modern, plastisteel desk was the silver headed man who ran Graham Correctional. Tall, handsome and distinguished looking, Corona looked anything but at the moment.
Hanging from the back of the Warden's chair was his suit coat, his neck adornment was loose, and his hair mussed. Corona's usually even complexion was splotchy, patches of angry red spread unevenly on his face. Beneath his eyes were dark rings that told of a fatigue no man, or woman, wanted to bear.
Norris knew every inch of the Warden's office, but it didn't stop him from glancing around to avoid delivering his message. The veteran Correctional Officer looked at the wall of old fashioned bookcases behind his boss, filled the brim with old-fashioned print books, stacks of tablets and other items necessary for the job. The wall to the Lieutenant's left was the standard Wall of Fame stuff, photos of the Warden with politicians, famous criminals who'd done time in Graham, that sort of thing.
The wall to the right was bare except for the obligatory portraits of the Interplanetary Alliance’s President, Secretary of Prisons and Criminal Rehabilitation and the Governor of Beta Prime, Governor Rankin.
The Lieutenant had known the Warden since the Graham had opened, just over twenty years ago. It took a lot for the calm, composed jailor to look this disheveled. Norris knew the message he had to deliver would add to the angst and bitter anger the Warden already felt.
“Well, out with it, Lieutenant”
“There’s been another killing Warden.”
“Please tell me it’s not another C.O.”
“No, sir.”
“An inmate then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is it this time?”
“Inmate Irina Chekov.”
Norris watched the Warden sit up stiffly in surprise and lean back in his chair.
"How? We keep her in AdSeg! Specifically to prevent this from happening!"
Knowing his answer would add to his friend’s stress, Norris paused to consider his words carefully.
“Dale, she was shanked in her cell.”
Corona stood up quickly and moved from behind the soulless desk to pace along the right side of the room, his hands behind his back, brow furrowed deep in thought. He stopped suddenly and directed his piercing gaze at the Lieutenant
“Cell door locked?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the C.O.’s on duty?”
"Sir, they didn't hear or see a thing. We've already checked the video, and nobody has entered the cell except Chekov after her hour in the yard. She was patted down for contraband and was fine when she entered the cell."
Lieutenant Norris watched the Warden resume his pacing.
“This is not good,” the Warden muttered.
“No, sir. The death of an inmate is never a good thing, well, usually,” Lieutenant Norris added softly.
“Chekov was our best chance to find out who murdered Evans,” the Warden stated, pausing to look at his Lieutenant
Lieutenant Norris stood in silence. He had nothing further to tell his friend and boss.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. There’s a team coming from Capital City to investigate this mess. Have you preserved the crime scene?”
“A team, sir?”
“Yes, a team Lieutenant After the incident a year ago, my superiors have established a protocol requiring outside investigators be brought in if a Correctional Officer is killed. “
“Sir, isn’t that a bit much? We can handle both investigations with our own staff,” Norris answered, his voice betraying the irritation he feLieutenant
“Look, I don’t like it either. But this once, I’m not going to fight it. Evans was a good kid. We were lucky to have him for as long as we did. If this team finds the killer and can prove it, then we’re going to go judge shopping to make sure Graham Correctional Institute has one less prisoner.”
Wanting to escape the discomfort of the situation and desiring to avoid further conflict, Lieutenant Norris nodded in agreement.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes. This team won’t arrive until sometime tomorrow. They’re coming up from Capital City. I know your duty shift is about to end, but I’ll approve the overtime. Find out who’s been assigned and everything you can about them. I want to know who we’re going to be dealing with and how much fallout to expect.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Norris turned and in one motion stepped toward the door while pressing the exit button. Years of practice allowed him to time the maneuver, so the door opened just he was about to run into it, making for a smooth exit.
Watching the door close behind Lieutenant Norris, the Warden returned to his desk and sat down, cradling his head with both hands in the process. After a moment he slowly opened the bottom left-hand drawer and reached inside. Feeling about on the underside of the drawer above the open one, he found the device he was searching for.
Setting it on his desk, Corona stared at the comm device for several minutes before finally picking it up and sending a link.
Static from a solar flare caused enough static to garble the speaker’s voice on the encrypted link. “Yes, Warden?”
“We have some serious problems.”
CHAPTER TWO
DMITRY GRIMACED AT the stinging sensation as the synthetic birch switch struck the skin on his back. He leaned back and took a deep breath, drawing the warm, humid air into his lungs as he laid the birch switch next to his right side. In the distance he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, invading his privacy.
Whatever news the messenger brought, it had to be serious for any of his underlings to interrupt his time in the steam bath. Dmitry had spent nearly two years and more credits than he wanted to think about in bribes and black market pricing to obtain the materials needed to construct his private steam room. Even th
en, he could only visit it twice a week for one hour at a time.
Informed there were limits, even for him, in prison, Dmitry could accept those limits or forfeit the credits he'd paid.
"This better be important Evgeny," Dmitry warned as the younger man approached. Slender and nervous by nature, the short messenger slowed, rubbing his acne scarred face to relieve his nerves. It was never an easy task to deliver bad news to the King.
Evgeny stopped, brushed his light brown hair from his eyes, and cautiously examined his master, noting the clarity with which Dmitry's traditional Earth Russian prison tattoos appeared in the humid air of the sauna. Each shoulder bore a star with eight points drawn in the shape of a compass rose, declaring Dmitry would bow to no man. A stunning portrait of the Madonna with a small child covered the outside of the leader's right arm, demonstrating for all to see Dmitry had been a thief and a criminal since childhood.
“There have been two murders this morning,” Evgeny said carefully.
He watched as Dmitry’s demeanor changed.
“I did not order any hits,” Dmitry stated. “Were any of our people targeted?”
Looking down quickly at his feet, Evgeny shifted his weight uneasily before answering. Sweat began to form on his forehead, not from the steam of the sauna but the stress of being the bearer of bad news.
“A screw named Marcus Evans,” Evgeny volunteered.
“And?”
“A woman, Irina Chekov.”
“Irina,” Dmitry sighed aloud, leaning back against the wood wall of the sauna. He lifted the coarse, white cotton towel draped across his shoulders and wiped sweat from his face.
“Was Irina not in AdSeg, Evgeny?”
"Da. The screws are troubled. Irina was found dead with a shank in her back. The killer punctured her right kidney, and she bled out. The cell was locked, and our source says the CCTV shows nobody entered or left the cell after Irina returned from an exercise pen."