by K. C. Sivils
Maggie broke the connection and shook her head. “I’m sorry Lieutenant Sometimes Dad gets cranky. Go on in.”
The Lieutenant smiled, knowing full well it was safe to do so. Warden Corona may very well run the prison, but the widower’s daughter ran the office.
Norris waited until the door behind him shut before speaking.
“Dmitry has called a meeting of the Council of Kings.”
Corona just stared back at Norris, anxiety written on the aging features of his face.
“Are we going to have a war to squash or is Dmitry going to maintain the peace?”
“I’m not sure. Word is Dmitry liked C.O. Evans and is furious over the death of Irina Chekov. She was one of his augmented humans. Nicolson says if one of the Russians is responsible Dmitry will handle it internally and we just need to clean up the body and bury it. If it’s one of the other families, if they don’t come clean and hand over the perp, then yeah, there’s going to be a war.”
"I need to retire. The sooner, the better," Corona announced. “My promotion out of this place is going to take too long.”
"Yes, sir. On the bright side though, Dmitry has ordered full cooperation with the investigation. If it's not one of his, he wants to know who's responsible. Peace is good for business and makes his life a lot easier."
Corona nodded and looked at his chronometer. “Let’s call it a day. Get word to Nicolson the investigative team will be here at the end of the shift. I’ll personally introduce the Inspector to Dmitry myself.”
I ENTERED JOE’S AND headed for my regular booth. Sarah was sitting with Alice, showing the older woman her new badge. A long faced Josephson had pulled a chair over and was reading from a tablet. My team was present except for Bones who would meet us at the spaceport.
“Alice, lunch is on me,” I announced.
Sarah glanced at me for a second before dropping her badge, allowing the lanyard to hang around her neck, in the process suspending the badge on her chest.
“It’s not a toy,” I admonished. “In fact, if you go around wearing that like a piece of jewelry you’re worthless as an undercover. Don’t identify yourself as law enforcement except when appropriate or required by law.”
The child in Sarah emerged, and she stuck her tongue out.
“What did I say about the badge when I gave it to you?”
Just as quickly Sarah looked down at her lap. “I have to be responsible and act like a cop.”
“Honey, Sully’s not being mean. You have a job now. You’re not just working for the Inspector. You have to follow regulations,” Alice said gently.
“But I want people to see my badge,” Sarah whispered.
“We’ve talked about this,” Alice admonished. “You want people to treat you like a real adult. If that’s what you want, you have to act like one, not just look like one.”
Sarah nodded, and the badge disappeared. Taking its place was a small, palm sized tablet for reading books. Sarah thumbed the screen and turned it for me to see. She was reading the introductory book for all new law officers on Beta Prime. Unable to resist, Sarah made a face and then scrunched down in the booth to read.
I mouthed thank you to Alice who smiled and left to get our food.
“Here’s the ground rules.”
The pup and Sarah both looked up and took notice.
"This is a prison where we're going. This is not a regular case. Understand?"
They nodded in unison.
“Keep your eyes open. Stay away from the cons and keep an eye on the C.O.s.”
“What’s a C.O?” Sarah asked.
I managed to bite my tongue in time, reminding myself she was six years old and not the current late 20’s she appeared to be.
“Correctional Officer. Also called a screw by the cons. They can range from good to worse than the cons. Understand?”
Sarah nodded, her expression changing to its usual blank slate. A sense of relief filled me. She would be serious now. On the job like she needed to be.
“This can be an extraordinarily dangerous place,” I warned. “These people live by different sets of rules. One set established by the prison and the other by the cons. Understand?”
The pair nodded in unison.
“We’re not concerned with just one killer or group of killers. This place is full of killers, sadistic, cruel and crafty beyond belief. It’s also full of just about every variety of criminal and they’re all dangerous in their own way.”
I paused to make sure the two were listening, letting my warning sink in.
“Don’t set anything down unless we’re working a crime scene. It’ll vanish before you can blink. The cons will steal anything and look you in the eye and lie about it.”
Again they nodded in unison.
“Ask questions if you feel the slightest bit unsafe. I’d rather be annoyed than have something happen.”
I got an eye roll from Sarah. She got a dirty look in response, causing her to look out the window.
“The fact we’ve been assigned tells me these two murders are both serious and the situation is dangerous. Understand?”
A worried look replaced Josephson's morose expression.
“Why is that?”
“Graham has its own team of capable investigators. They’re competent. For us to be called in is the tip off this is an unusual case.”
Alice arrived carrying our lunches. She set my usual comfort Earth food in front of me, a cheeseburger, fries, and Coke. Sarah got a salad and Josephson a bowl of stew of some sort. Alice sat a fourth setting next to Sarah and placed a steaming plate of spaghetti and meat sauce down.
“Father Nathan will be here in just a minute,” she informed me and left.
“Let me guess,” I muttered softly, “This is on my tab too.”
"Of course it is," the good Father said pleasantly, as he slipped into the booth. "You ruined my vacation. Buying me lunch is the price you pay."
As usual, the priest began praying over our meal without asking for anyone’s permission. I’d long ago given up dissuading him of the practice. He’d quit apologizing about the same time.
Sarah bowed her head respectfully as did Josephson. I didn't say anything. Father Nathan had invested a lot of time in helping Sarah, and if his religion rubbed off on her, it was a price I was willing to pay.
“Going to Graham I understand,” he said as he wrapped pasta around his fork.
“Not so loud, Father.”
"Yeah, right, don't know who's listening," he responded. "By the way, since you canceled on me, I have to visit the prison myself."
“Why?” I groused.
"Since we're not going on our trip, I have to swap with the Prison Chaplain this weekend. For some reason, he wants to spend a little time dirtside."I shrugged, inwardly pleased. Father Nathan was my best friend on Beta Prime, but he could be a bit much at times, if he was inconvenienced, so much the better. Besides, I had a hunch I’d need another person I could trust.
CHAPTER FOUR
WARDEN CORONA PLAYED with the remains of his meal, waiting for Lieutenant Norris to report. He noticed the C.O. emerge from the serving line in the large cafeteria that served the prison’s employees and their families. Norris made a beeline towards the Warden, only smiling in recognition of greetings from other people eating, not stopping to talk, as was the Lieutenant's custom.
Reaching the table where Corona waited, Norris pulled out a chair before setting his tray down. Corona waited for Norris to seat himself before talking.
“What did you learn?”
“An Inspector named Thomas Sullivan has been assigned. He could be trouble.”
Corona frowned and thought for a moment.
“How so?”
“He’s a straight arrow in a way. Has a reputation for bending the rules if necessary to get to the truth. Word also has it he's incorruptible."
“I see,” the Warden muttered in response.
“Bodies have a way of accumulating when this
Sullivan is on a case.”
“Shoot first ask questions later sort of cop?”
“I suppose,” Norris answered. “From what I hear, it’s more he doesn’t care what he uncovers and exposes once he gets the scent. No discretion. Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes.”
“Great. A crusader.”
The pair sat in silence as Norris ate his meal.
“This might not be bad,” Corona mumbled.
“How so? Even though we run a reasonably clean prison, there’s stuff going on. People are going to get hurt,” Norris complained.
"This Sullivan would be suspicious if nothing was going on. Think about it. We have four levels of security here. Minimum up to SuperMax. We have male and female populations. What’s more, we don’t have all the funding we need.”
“But Dale, how do we justify the stuff the council does? I mean, how do we explain away Dmitry and his luxuries?”
"We don't," Corona answered evenly, trying to calm the nervous Norris. "We point out the trade off of letting Dmitry have a few luxuries, which are clear violations of policy, in return for the fact he keeps the peace. Peace means our C.O.s go home to their families after their shift. Peace means the cons are safe. If that means Dmitry gets some perks, we can live with it. If this Sullivan bends the rules for results like you say, he'll understand the set-up."
“Yeah, but I don’t think this guy will understand the profits made at this prison.”
"Lt, this is a tough place to run. We have an excellent history for all eight facilities. Graham houses more violent felons than any other Alliance facility. We also have the lowest levels of inmate violence against C.O.'s and other inmates.”
“Dale, c’mon. This guy and his team were sent here because a C.O. got fried in a secure hallway and a con got shanked in AdSeg. That logic won’t wash.”
"Sure it will," the Warden answered, raising his voice slightly. "Look, the fact we don't have a lot of deaths works in our favor. It's a well-run prison with limited violence despite the size of our population and the budgetary issues we have.”
Norris had lost his appetite, worrying about the arrival of Sullivan and his team. He tossed his napkin on the tray and pushed it back away from him.
“If you say so.”
“I say so,” the Warden answered. “Introduce this Sullivan to me. I’ll finesse this.”
The Warden stared at Norris with a hard gaze. The younger man looked away to avoid his superior’s anger.
"We have a lot at stake. There's nothing we can do to stop this Sullivan from showing up. So we make it work for us. It's not like we're criminals, Norris!"
Corona watched as the Lieutenant stood up and gathered his tray.
“I suppose it’s all in how you look at it, Warden.”
I WAS TIRED OF LISTENING to Josephson mumble about us drawing the short end of the stick and catching the case. To help the pup with his attitude, I ordered him to carry everything. He was less than happy, but he got the message, buttoned up and went to get our gear. It’s not like he was the only one with plans that didn’t work out.
Sarah had cleared customs first and vanished into the throngs of people in the spaceport. She'd been cooped up for a long time and needed to wander about. When it was time to catch the shuttle to Persephone, she'd be there.
Bones had taken off to find the facilities, leaving me alone with the good Father. The two of us sat in silence, giving me a chance to scope out the waiting area. I had picked a bench near the gate we'd use to catch our shuttle to Persephone and began watching the throngs of people.
Nothing special to see, just tired, hungry travelers who wanted to catch their spaceliner or shuttle. Hungry travelers queued up at the overpriced, greasy spoons to get something to eat. Exhausted mothers tried to calm their crying children. Businessmen stared at their comms, sending and receiving messages or talking to customers. Crews from the many freighters docked made their way to and fro as they did their shopping at the overpriced retail shops or got something to eat. Spaceport workers went about their jobs, oblivious to their surroundings and the noise of humanity.
The hustle and bustle and its accompanying noise were normal enough. It was the smell that caught my attention. The rank odor of unwashed bodies of the passengers from steerage filled the air, mixing with the smells of cooking food from the small eateries combined with the smells of machinery all mixed into in the stale, recycled air of the spaceport made for a foul stink. Not overwhelming but unpleasant and omnipresent.
It was an unusual throng of people to watch. Most were just passing through. Some worked regular jobs. Of one thing I was certain, there was criminal activity going on of some sort.
“Sully, this is not going to be easy is it?”
“I don’t know Father,” I answered, snapping out of my reverie. “Solving the murders may be the easiest part of this trip. It’s the other stuff that’s got me worried.”
Father Nathan nodded in agreement.
“This is where Ralph did his time,” he said.
I nodded in response. “Ralph have anything to say that will help us?”
“Tough place. Even the MinSec is tough. The warden supposedly runs a decent prison, but there are limits to how much control the officials have.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“Who keeps the peace?”
“Ralph says a Russian, goes by the name Dmitry.”
“How many gangs?”
“Ralph said four. The Russians run the most profitable rackets. The Earth Africans are next and fight with the Aryan Brotherhood. The other cons don't belong to a gang per se. Ralph says they're called "the Lost," and get this. An assistant warden sits on the Council of Kings."
I sighed and shook my head. I didn’t need this.
“When we get back, I’m going on vacation. We all are,” I told Father Nathan. “Then, I’m going to spend all my time finding a way to prove Markeson’s bent.”
My frustration elicited a chuckle from the good Father.
“Think you’re being set up?”
“I think Markeson had to send a team up here. This is serious, and he knows it. He also wouldn't be upset if I got shanked and bled out."
DMITRY SAT AT THE END of the long table. Evgeny stood behind him, and to the right, his facial wound red, swollen and held closed by surgical staples. The meeting place, converted from a large storage room, was occupied by a long table filled the center of the chamber, old steel folding chairs even distributed around its circumference.
Opposite from Dmitry's seat at the far end of the room was the only entrance, outside of which were four C.O.s stationed as security for the meeting. Dim lighting reflected off the institutional grey paint that adorned the walls, peeling in a few places to reveal the concrete beneath the paint.
The Russian watched Jamaal Thomas file in and take his seat at the table. Taking his place behind the leader of the GBs, short for Galactic Bloods, was a tough Dmitry knew only as X-T. The arms of both men were covered in prison tats, revealed due to the rolled up sleeves of their standard orange prison coveralls. Jamaal wore his hair braided in cornrows and X-T wore his in long dreadlocks.
A tall, slender Earth African woman entered and took her place behind Jamaal. Like her male counterparts, the sleeves of her orange coveralls were rolled up, revealing the elaborate floral designs tattooed on her arms. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Dmitry frowned at her arrival. He did not approve of unannounced arrivals.
Even more so when they were female.
Jamaal slumped down in his chair, frowning with his arms folded across his chest. The leader didn’t say anything, letting his body language and general negative attitude do his talking for him.
He watched the facial expressions of the GBs present change from scowls to open hatred. Dmitry sighed inwardly. It was not good business, or strategy for that matter, to let emotions go unchecked when important decisions had to be made.
The change in demeanor of the GBs indicated the l
eaders of the Aryan Brotherhood had arrived.
First to enter the room was Alfred Fegelein, known as Alfeg. He stood nearly two meters tall, his muscular arms covered with tattoos, ranging from a Nazi armband on his right arm to a portrait of Adolf Hitler on his left forearm. Tattooed on the right side of his neck were the stylized double lighting bolts, the runic symbols of the ancient SS organization. His blonde hair was cropped close to his skull on the sides of his head and allowed to grow long on top.
Alfeg stopped and glanced about the room with his glowing blue eyes, his expression grim and unchanging. The blonde giant stepped aside and motioned behind him, indicating it was safe to enter.
A man of medium size entered and quickly took his seat at the table. Alfeg took his place behind the man and came to attention. Dmitry watched as Jamaal stared across the table. A smile slowly spread across the face of the man. His black hair fell across his forehead, covering a nasty reddish scar that ran from left to right just beneath his hairline. The red of the scar contrasted brightly with the pale flesh of the man's greyish face.
"Nice to see you, Jamaal," the grey man said sarcastically.
“Drop dead, Josef.”
Alfeg took a quick step forward in response only to be halted just as quickly by Josef’s raised hand.
“Now, now, no need for anyone to be testy. I’m sure Dmitry would not approve.” Josef turned to face the Russian king. He smiled and bowed slightly, defusing the situation. Alfeg held his chair for him, seating Josef before taking his place behind the leader of the Brotherhood.
A commotion outside the room brought everyone's attention to the final individual who would attend the meeting. Dressed in drab prison khaki, a woman entered the room gracefully, a smile filled with intent and meaning lit the room. Despite her clothing's dull color, the uniform fit perfectly, accentuating the woman's figure exquisitely. Long blonde hair, clean and shiny, and worn up in a tight bun, gave the woman an aura of authority without lessening her appeal. Porcelain skin and refined features combined with perfect application of makeup produced the desired effect. Namely, the men in the room were momentarily speechless.