by K. C. Sivils
Dmitry considered the news thoughtfully. “She was an augmented was she not?”
“Da, Dmitry. One of our best hackers.”
Long ago Evgeny had learned to wait patiently in silence while the king thought.
“It is a shame about this screw, Evans,” Dmitry said suddenly.
Puzzled, Evgeny ventured a cautious question. “But Dmitry, isn’t every screw who dies a good thing?”
“Evgeny, you disappoint me,” Dmitry responded, frowning at the younger man. "A dead screw means increased scrutiny, lockdowns, searches where the screws we own cannot give us advanced warning. Several of us will be placed in AdSeg or the hole even if the screws are without reason. They will do it simply to show who has the power."
“Da, Dmitry. I will not forget.”
“Besides, I liked Evans. He was honorable, even for a screw.”
“For a screw?”
“Da, Evgeny, even screws can have honor. Evans was incorruptible, and I respect that. He had principles, a sense of honor. Never did he use more force than necessary to maintain order and enforce the rules. He treated cons with respect. Minimal I will admit, but respect nonetheless. Prison full of liars and men without honor, screws and cons alike."
Dmitry lapsed into silence again, and Evgeny stood patiently, considering the words of his king.
“Spread the word amongst our people. We will cooperate in finding the killer of the screw. If one of ours is responsible, we will handle the execution ourselves. I will not tolerate an unsanctioned killing, especially of a screw. It is bad business and shows a lack of respect.”
“Da, Dmitry.”
“Keep me informed about Irina. I will make my decision when I have more information. That is all Evgeny. Do not disturb me again until it is time for our afternoon meeting.”
Relieved to be dismissed, Evgeny bowed and backed out of the hot, humid sauna, opening the entrance and slipping out quickly. He shut the door behind him, drawing in a deep breath of cool, dry air as he looked for the screw who’d escorted him from his cell.
“You know the drill, Evgeny. No exceptions,” the C.O. said firmly.
Evgeny turned and faced the wall, touching the top of his forehead against the wall and placing his hands behind his back. The C.O. cuffed him and asked, "Ready?" Evgeny nodded and bent over at the waist, his chest parallel to the floor. The C.O. ran his arm inside Evgeny's right forearm and with out using the force typical of a screw placing a con in the position of stress for transport, guided Evgeny down the corridor.
Reaching the elevator, the C.O. swiped his card, placed his right palm on the digital reader and allowed the retinal scanner to read his eyes.
“Who is it?” a bored, monotone voice asked. “C.O. Nicolson with prisoner Evgeny Andropov,” the C.O. answered. An electronic lock buzzed and the door to the elevator opened. Nicolson guided Evgeny into the elevator and waited for the door to shut. “Which facility,” the voiced asked.
“Minimum security,” Nicolson replied. A sudden surge of motion indicated the elevator was rising from the SuperMax facility below ground to the Minimum Security facility located on the surface. When the elevator stopped, Nicolson let go of Evgeny's arm.
“You can stand up now.”
“I really hate that,” Evegny snapped as he slowly straightened out, rising to his full height. “You know I’m just a messenger.”
“Rules are rules,” the bent screw replied. “If I didn’t put you in the stress position, I’d get in trouble, maybe even lose my job. Then how would you deliver messages to your king?”
“I don’t have to like it,” Evegny answered glumly.
"Don't get sent to prison then," Nicolson replied, shrugging to indicate his indifference.
DMITRY WIPED THE SWEAT from his body. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the grimy stainless steel mirror and examined the elaborate tattoo on his back. The artwork displayed a magnificent structure, a Russian Orthodox Church with three domes, one dome for each of his three prison sentences. There would not be a fourth dome.
One way or another, Dmitry would not return to prison a fourth time.
To avoid that fate, Dmitry had built a profitable kingdom that he would leave behind to a successor of his choice. He didn’t know if he could go straight on the outside, but lots of money would help. The cops would never take him alive a fourth time if things turned bad.
Slowly, he dressed himself. Disappointed the bad news had robbed him of the feeling of being clean and refreshed from his steam bath, Dmitry considered what steps he had to take immediately.
When dressed, he exited his sauna and found Nicolson waiting. The guard did not say a word as he cuffed Dmitry and waited for him to assume the stress position. Even a king like Dmitry had to submit. Long ago Dmitry had stopped resenting being treated thus. Prison was a dangerous place. Rules were necessary to protect screws and cons alike. He smiled at the thought as Nicolson respectfully guided him back to his cell. Screws were every bit as dangerous as the most hardened con.
Da, rules were necessary. Rules brought order and made it possible for the prison to function. For profit to be made while passing the endless days of one’s sentence.
Someone had broken the rules, and that was something Dmitry would not stand for.
“YOU’RE KIDDING ME.”
“I wish I wasn’t Sullivan,” Chief O’Brian replied evenly. “There’s been a second murder. The first victim was a Correctional Officer named Marcus Evans who was working his last shift before quitting to become a full-time student. The second was a con."
“Send someone else.”
Markeson grinned. “You’re my best Inspector. A fellow law enforcement officer was murdered. So we send our best, you know, the thin blue line and all.”
I thought better of telling what Markeson could do with his thin blue line.
“I’ve worked five straight weeks without a day off. So has my team. I’ve made plans.”
“Change them,” O’Brian ordered, his tone unmistakable. “You and your team will be on a shuttle to the Space Station in five hours. From there you and your team will take the prison shuttle to Graham Correctional on Persephone.
Something was up.
Prisons like Graham have their own investigative teams. They could handle a murder investigation, even a murder of a Correctional Officer. The fact Markeson was so happy about me being sent to investigate raised another red flag.
“What do you get out of it,” I demanded, glaring at Markeson, daring him not to answer me.
His smile vanished. “Just what are you implying Sullivan?”
"You tell me. You have other good Inspectors. Danielson is solid, so is Nguyen. Send one of them. And don't tell me I've been requested this time because I haven't."
“Look, I’m in charge of the Detectives. If I say you go, you go.”
Chief O’Brian leaned back in his chair and looked at me thoughtfully. “Markeson, leave us. Go take care of some paperwork or whatever it is you do this time of your shift.”
Markeson started to speak and then thought better of it. He shot me a look telling me this wasn't over, not by a long shot. As he left, I gave him a big grin, just to irritate him a bit more.
“Sullivan, this is serious,” O’Brian intoned.
"Of course it is. Two people are dead. One a C.O. and the other a convict under the supervision of the Alliance.”
“No, it’s how they were killed.”
“How so Chief?”
“Both victims were alone when they were murdered, alone, as in nobody else present. One in a double secure hallway and the other was shanked inside her cell in Administrative Segregation. No witnesses and nobody present on CCTV. And Sullivan, these weren’t suicides. Now round up your team and don’t be late to the space port.”
DMITRY LOOKED AT THE tray of food Evgeny set before him on the table in his spacious cell. It had taken a few favors and more credits to have three cells merged into one and have walls erected around his
cell except for the door.
“Medium well, as you like it,” Evgeny informed Dmitry.
“Sit. Eat quickly. We have much to do before lockdown tonight.”
Evgeny did as he was told and waited for his king to bless their meal. Another custom the younger con did not understand. Dmitry was old school and hard. Yet, religious customs mattered to him, as did issues such as honor and integrity. To Evgeny, all that mattered was survival and profiting each day that he was alive. Cons were liars, thieves, and murderers.
“You do not understand,” the older convict said as he carefully cut his steak into small pieces. “You think there is no honor among thieves, and for the most part you are right Evgeny.”
Alarmed by the older man’s tone, Evgeny stopped chewing the stew he had been shoveling into his mouth. “I said nothing Dmitry,” he said defensively.
"Nyet," Dmitry replied, suddenly pointing the razor sharp tip of his steak knife at Evgeny's eye, stopping millimeters from the cornea. "You thought it through, did you not?"
“Da, Dmitry.”
“Evgeny, am I going to have to replace you? I would be very disappointed should that happen,” the older man threatened. “Have you ever asked yourself why I am king?”
“You are the toughest, hardest con in the Russian family,” Evgeny stammered.
"Nyet," Dmitry replied, still holding the knife precariously close to Evgeny's cornea. "It is because my word carries weight. When I say this will happen, it does. When I say this deal will be honored, it is. It is because I have honor, Evgeny. My word is my bond, and that Evgeny, gives me power."
“That,” Dmitry added, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork, “and the fact I am the hardest, toughest con in the Russian family.” Before Evgeny could blink, Dmitry slashed the young con’s cheek open, from his eye socket all the way down to the jawline.
Dmitry tossed a cloth napkin to Evgeny to cover the wound on his face. “Now, go to the infirmary and get that stitched up before you get blood all over my cell. Make sure a screw comes to pick up my tray.”
Eager to flee before Dmitry harmed him again, Evgeny quickly stood and made to bolt from the cell only to be stopped by a Dmitry’s words.
“Oh, and one more thing, Evgeny. I am calling a meeting of the families tonight. Neutral territory. Make sure the screws representative is present as well as someone from the Lost.”
The sounds of Evgeny running to the elevator filled the otherwise empty cellblock where Dmitry made his home. He took his time eating his meal. It helped him think about the words to use at the meeting.
If things did not go in the manner he desired, there would be war.
CHAPTER THREE
MY DAY HAD STARTED out with promise. It didn't take long for it to go south.
I was going to give Sarah her badge and be done with it. Josephson was going to ostensibly visit his parents as an excuse to spend some quality alone time with a cute blonde. Father Nathan and I were going to visit some resort in the frozen wilderness he'd found and take advantage of being left alone to recover a bit mentally.
Not now.
Instead of a vacation, I had to take my team, of all places, to the prison on Persephone.
I would have left Sarah behind except one of the two murders took place in the women’s facility. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to exposing her to the sex starved male cons in the joint.
I gave my team the bad news right after morning roll call. Sarah was too happy about getting her badge to complain. Josephson just sighed and called his parents. I suspect the call to his lady friend would be made in private later.
Knowing Josephson had a fear of flying gave me a chuckle too. I needed it.
“Meet for an early lunch at Joe’s, and then we're leaving for the spaceport. Bring clothes for at least two days," I told them as we departed from the precinct. I reminded Josephson to bring our standard investigative kit. I watched my team leave, both going their separate ways.
I pulled my comm out and sent a link.
“Father. Sully. I’ve got some bad news.”
“HOW DO I LET SULLIVAN talk me into this,” Bones thought to himself. The old medical examiner moved about his office, carefully selecting items and packing them in the container on his desk.
“You let him talk you into it because you like excitement,” he said aloud. He also knew if Sully’s team had been called up to the prison it was for a reason. Sullivan was right not to trust the prison’s medical examiner.
The M.E’s at the prison were always fresh out of school and inexperienced. Not to mention prisons were not always the best place to conduct an autopsy. There are plenty of influences and distractions that could come into play for a resident M.E.
For that reason, Bones was only planning to stay long enough to do the autopsies, collect what evidence he needed, if there was any uncontaminated evidence remaining and beat it back to the safe confines of his office in Capital City, from the safety of which he would finish his report.
Spending the night at the prison was out of the question unless he couldn’t avoid it. There were limits to just how much excitement he could stand at his age.
HOME EARLY, MARKESON tossed his jacket on the real leather couch as his apartment’s A.I. closed and secured the door behind him.
“Jennifer, would you please start my shower for me?” Markeson ordered his new A.I, politely in the form of a question. “I plan to relax this weekend.”
"I take it that nuisance Sarah will be leaving you alone," Jennifer replied. Markeson paused, almost sure he heard a hint of irritation in his A.I's voice.
“Jennifer, you’ve never even met Sarah. Do I detect a hint of distaste in your voice?”
“Captain, this Sarah has been a source of stress for you of late. I don’t like that,” the A.I. answered.
Markeson laughed as he continued undressing. “Why Jennifer, I’m flattered you care.”
"Oh, Captain, of course, I care," the Jennifer replied in her most sultry voice.
Things were shaping up for a nice evening. Sullivan and his crew were gone, allowing Markeson to leave work early. He'd finally gotten Cassandra to see him again, and that held considerable promise for an enjoyable evening. Tomorrow he had several meetings lined up in regards to his various enterprises.
All in all, a good weekend.
Warm, humid air greeted Markeson as he entered his bathroom, warming his body. A glance at his mirror chilled him to the bone. Written on the steam-covered glass of the mirror was a message.
“We tried to warn you. Listen in the future.”
“Jennifer,” Markeson shouted, backing quickly out of his bathroom. “Who has been in my apartment?”
Jennifer answered in her sultry voice. “Captain, I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I cannot tell.”
“Answer me! I order you to answer me!”
The A.I. sighed. “I really can’t Captain. It’s a coding issue. Does this mean I have to have my core wiped again?”
Ignoring the A.I's self-absorbed response; Markeson forced himself to calm down. "Was it the same individual who left the last message like this?"
“Yes,” Jennifer responded happily. “That I am allowed to tell you.”
“Did this individual take or leave anything?”
“No, Captain.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“I cannot answer.”
"So this individual has control over you. Is that what you're telling me, Jennifer?"
Jennifer seemed to pause as it considered its reply before answering.
“Only in his ability to force me to allow him to enter and require I not say anything to you. My responses in regards to this individual are quite limited.”
“Limited. What more can you tell me?”
“Nothing I’m afraid Captain.”
"Am I in any imminent danger? Can you tell me that much?"
Jennifer cooed in response. “Unless the individual is present, I cannot detect any potential dan
ger, though the message is troubling. I can tell you this much,” the A.I. added hopefully, “there is nothing in my coding to prevent me from activating and engaging the defense systems when you are present.”
Noticing his body had tensed, Markeson let out a sigh and forced himself to relax. “Jennifer, can you prevent this individual from entering if I am at home?”
“No,” was the immediate response.
“If I had your core wiped and a new personality installed, would this change the currently unacceptable situation?”
“No,” Jennifer snapped, clearly irritated by the threat. “The individual can access and alter my coding. Any new personality you install, along with any upgrades would be vulnerable. I dare say an entirely different A.I. would suffer the same fate.”
Markeson frowned. This individual knew far too much about his life and various enterprises. That would have to change.
“Jennifer.”
“Yes, Captain?”
“The next time this individual returns, would you please be so kind as to deliver a message for me?”
“I would be happy to Captain.”
“Tell him I don’t like cryptic messages. I prefer to communicate directly and in as clear a fashion as possible. Tell my visitor we should meet.”
LIEUTENANT NORRIS SMILED at the receptionist in the waiting room outside Warden Corona’s office. He wished Maggie had been present earlier when he’d been forced to deliver the news about the death of C.O. Marcus Evans.
“Could you tell the Warden I need to speak to him for just a moment,” Norris asked politely.
Maggie smiled and buzzed the Warden. “Lieutenant Norris needs to speak to you for a moment.”
“Later,” Corona snapped through the comm.
A frown promptly made an appearance on the well-groomed, professional woman’s appearance. “Warden Corona, that attitude is precisely why a few gray hairs have made an appearance, albeit ever so briefly, in my hair,” she said firmly. “Now, it won’t hurt you to see Lieutenant Norris.”