by K. C. Sivils
Thinking back to his first hitch, when he’d risen quickly through the ranks to assume the position now held by Evegny in a different prison, Dmitry recalled the words of the old Russian king he had served.
“If you keep it inside, it will break you Dmitry. It doesn’t matter if it is grief, guilt or anger. It will break you. Remember that always.”
He hadn’t known what the old king had meant. Anger drove Dmitry as a young con, fueled his violence and desire to rise in the ranks. Grief drove his need for revenge, to punish those who harmed a friend or attacked his gang.
Now Dmitry was the old king. He had seen too much, felt too much. He had not heeded the words of his mentor.
It was time to speak before it broke his soul. The cost of doing so no longer mattered to him.
He would have to take his place at the table for the lottery soon. Weary from so many concerns and guilt, Dmitry lay down to rest. His eyes closed and soon he was dream of the grey blue skies of his home world.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
OUR SHUTTLE FLIGHT was full. We weren't on the prison shuttle itself but the one that served the moon's non-prison related population. There was a small resort for the foolhardy who wanted to vacation on the moon with no atmosphere along with some mines and related manufacturing.
Most of the passengers did not look like the hardened, gritty type of individual who eked out a living as a miner.
I felt the vibration of the comm Josephson had given me. The message was simple. Unusual amounts of bank activity, particularly hard credit withdrawals below the legally required reporting amount.
That spelled one thing. Gambling.
I thought back to my strange conversation with Ellie. She claimed her talent was numbers, finding patterns where others couldn’t. She’d mentioned picking stocks was not a gamble with her.
I wondered if the same was true for setting odds for sporting events. Knowing the outcome before the event without having to fix the event would lead to untold profits for whoever controlled Ellie. Even better, it would be an honest event in the sense the fix was not in. There would be no way to prove otherwise. Ellie had simply correctly predicted the actual outcome.
Bookies in the know could adjust the odds or take the occasional loss to make sure there was nothing suspicious. A small operating cost compared to a typical gambling operation.
If a gambling operation was being mounted, it explained Ellie’s confinement in an off the books black site. It also explained the unusual number of well-heeled travelers and the flow of money.
I whispered my suspicions to Father Nathan.
He shook his head in disgust. “You forgot pay-per-view rights and live event ticket sales.”
“This kind of money explains a pair of seemingly random killings. If Evans got wind of something and Chekov was skimming or sharing information, it would be wise to eliminate the problems. I just don’t know what could draw this kind of attention.”
“I do,” Father Nathan replied, unable to hide his feelings of disgust, Father Nathan shook his head before leaning over to whisper in my ear. “Illegal fights. To the death.”
STANDING BEFORE THE cameras, Gravestone looked stunning. Wearing a form-fitting gown that left nothing to the imagination, the blonde smiled and worked the crowd as she made her way to the front of the small, underground facility.
Making their way to the one hundred comfortable, cushioned seats, the high rollers who had paid handsomely to attend the lottery sensed the event was about to begin. Those off world who were willing to pay for the privilege were listening to a pre-recorded broadcast describing the inmates who had entered the lottery. Wagering over who would be selected as well as the pairings had started hours before.
Corona entered quietly through a side door and made his way quickly to Gravestone. He whispered in her ear causing the stunning hostess to turn her back briefly to her audience.
“I don’t care what you have to do. Make her do her job.”
"Just what do you want me to do? Beat her senseless? Yeah, that will work. Cause enough brain damage so she can't do her job. Torture her, and she'll just spit out odds to make it stop."
Gravestone struggled to control her fury with her inept lover.
“Can the augmented handle the task?”
“Not to the degree of accuracy she can. We’ll have to pay the kings for their use.”
“Then tell her this. Either she does her job, or she goes into the ring. Except, she won’t have the option of gaining her freedom should she win.”
Corona’s face turned white with fear and surprise.
“She would get killed. Then what do we do?”
"She's worthless to us unless she does her job. We'll have to get rid of her. This way, she either does her job, or the fights handle the problem of disposal for us. Now go. I have to manage the lottery."
Slipping her beautiful smile back on her face with ease frightened Corona more than the instructions she'd given him. He simply nodded and left to do as ordered.
Facing the audience of wealthy, powerful men and their young, beautiful escorts, Gravestone warmed again to her task as master of ceremony.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming. I promise you this season’s event will be the best yet!”
LIEUTENANT NORRIS MADE his way along the cellblock in the men's maximum-security level of the prison. Tension filled the air. The usually talkative cons were strangely silent. He stopped at the guard station and observed the monitors for a bit.
“Something’s up,” he told the two guards on duty. “Keep sharp.”
He left, passing through the double lock exit to reach the elevator. Norris moved as quickly as possible past guards moving prisoners and other personnel going about their duty.
Entering the outer office to Warden’s, he noticed Maggie was not present. He shrugged and used the comm on Maggie’s desk to let the Warden know he was in the outer office.
“Who is it?”
“Lieutenant Norris, sir. Do you have a moment?”
In answer, the door to Corona’s office opened slightly.
The assistant warden entered to find his superior sitting at his desk, apparently going through electronic paperwork.
Norris stood patiently, waiting for the warden to look up. After a moment passed, Corona looked up, his expression blank, utterly devoid of any emotion.
“Lieutenant what can I do for you?”
“Sir, there’s something going on.”
Corona leaned back in his chair, his expression not changing.
“Okay. Elaborate please.”
“I just came from the max sir. There is a strange vibe down there. Same in the super max. The inmates aren’t acting like they normally do.”
Corona nodded as he considered the man’s words.
“What do you think is going to happen?”
"That's it, sir. I don't know. We've never had a riot. Sally makes sure they are all in areas where we can contain them. I can't explain it. I just have this feeling something is going on, and the inmates are all in on it."
The warden’s expression still didn’t change. Lieutenant Norris waited patiently while his supervisor thought through what he’d just told him.
"Sounds unsettling. If it were anyone else telling me this, I wouldn't pay it any attention Lieutenant"
Norris nodded in silence and waited for instructions.
“Go back to max. Just hang out for a bit. See if you can pick up anything. Check the visit lists, that sort of thing. Report back to me at the end of the shift.”
Relieved the warden had taken him seriously, Norris left as silently as he had arrived. Corona sat in silence as the door closed behind the Lieutenant
Dale, this is a real problem.
“I know Sally.” Corona stared at the speaker on his desk. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally admitted.
“Would you like for me to handle this?”
Corona looked at the speaker. He kn
ew this was the line in the sand. The choice he made now would dictate the rest of his life. He thought of his family, and the years he had invested in working in the prison system. He thought of Andrea and the passion she brought to his life. He thought of the money and what it would buy.
“Sally, can you make this go away?”
NORRIS HURRIED FROM the elevator to the first of the two locks he had to pass through to enter the maximum-security level of the prison. He leaned over and let the recently replaced retinal scanner read his eyes. The lock clicked open, and the door eased to the side allowing the officer to pass through.
He heard it shut behind him as he walked quickly to the other end of the security airlock. Norris felt a gentle breeze flow through his hair as he approached the second door.
“That’s odd.”
Norris stopped and looked around. He began to feel a strange sensation, as the breeze seemed to pick up in intensity, the fresh air of the lock rushing past him. On the first gasp for breath Norris realized what was happening to him. He lost consciousness as he stumbled for the second door, his hands clutching at the invisible force around his neck, strangling him.
Dots began to appear before his eyes as Norris sense of balance left him. Reaching for the cover to the retinal scanner he fell, striking his temple on the sharp metal edge. Twisting on impact with the scanner, Norris collapsed to the floor, slamming the back of his head on the cold, plastisteel floor. Blackness filled his world as he lost consciousness.
Two minutes later he was dead, his lips blue from asphyxiation.
“AND THAT, LADIES AND gentlemen, concludes the lottery for this event!” Gravestone looked radiant in her gown, confident and vibrant.
“Finally,” she paused to let quiet settle over the small crowd, “I want to let you in on a surprise!”
She faked a huge, happy smile full of benevolence for the audience. The female members, dressed in gowns as stunning as Gravestones, made a collective intake of breath in anticipation.
“We will have a special event on the fight card! Two lucky individuals will be pitted against one another in a first of its kind cage match!”
Applause spread through the audience, growing in its intensity as several of the high roller male guests began to whistle their approval.
“The identity of the two contestants will not be revealed until time for the bout! Wagering for this special event opens in ten minutes!”
Gravestone watched as the members of the audience stood quickly and made their way back to the waiting augmenteds to place their initial wagers on the surprise event. Augmenteds dressed in standard casino finery, silently took the bets, recorded the necessary information, smiled and nodded to indicate the bet had been placed and all data secure. In minutes the venue was empty as the guests made their way to the ground shuttle that would take them to the small luxury resort twenty kilometers away and hidden from sight in a box canyon.
Ellie would serve as one of the combatants, regardless of whether or not she calculated the odds for the matchups or not. It was time for Gravestone to begin cleaning up the operation here on Persephone. There were far too many loose ends for her liking and that of her superiors.
“IF I DON’T GIVE YOU the odds I have to fight? That’s what you’re telling me?”
"No, I believe you have misunderstood what I said, my dear Ellie. If you don't give us the odds as we asked, you will have to fight without any advantages. Advantages like stim or hidden braces in your clothing you can use to increase the impact of your blows. Either way, you will fight.”
Ellie glared at the blonde warden in defiance, her arms folded across her chest as she lazed on her bunk, leaning against the back of her cell.
“I’ve been in fights before. So what. It’s not like I have anything pressing coming up to occupy my time. So I spend some time in the infirmary.”
The blonde woman leaned forward, placing both hands on the bars of Ellie's cell. Gravestone spoke slowly and clearly, her voice quiet and words filled with menace. "The fight will be to the death."
It gave the assistant warden pleasure to watch as fear filled Ellie's handsome countenance and twisted it into a visage that was ugly to view.
“So, will you do as you are told or not?”
Ellie met Gravestone’s hate filled gaze with one equally filled with loathing.
"I have one request, and I'll be more than happy to calculate the odds for you. I'll even be glad to fight your little fight as well."
Gravestone smiled a twisted smile that spoke of untold evil and the pleasure the woman derived from being in control and wielding her power over helpless victims.
“You are hardly in a position to make requests.”
Ellie tilted her head and matched Gravestone’s wicked smile with one of her own.
"I think you would want to hear what I have in mind. It will make you lots of money, and it will go over great with the gamblers."
Gravestone considered Ellie’s words carefully, not trusting the math savant. “I promise nothing, but you have piqued my interest. State your request.”
“I want to fight my sister, Sarah.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STAKEOUTS WERE NEVER Markeson’s thing. It helped to be able to sit in his warm, luxury Hovertron as he waited for the mark to leave. A light dusting of snow settled on the hood over the power unit only to melt quickly and run down the gently sloped covering to run down the sides and just as rapidly freeze into ice.
Nor did it help MacAuliffe was eating lunch at one of Capital City’s best restaurants. An establishment Markeson ate at infrequently and only when he entertained a particularly desirable female companion.
MacAliffe had been inside for nearly an hour, long enough to have eaten and conducted business. Markeson decided if the man did not emerge in the next fifteen minutes, he would force the issue by wandering in on some pretext.
The door opened, emitting a blast of warm air into the cold as MacAliffe ventured out into the elements, ignoring the friendly bow of the doorman. Without a single glance at his whereabouts, MacAuliffe turned to his right and made his way down the street towards the north, towards the luxury housing district of Capital City.
“Bout time,” Markeson mumbled. To his horror, MacAuliffe appeared to have decided to enjoy a brisk walk in the cold of the city. The detective shut of the power plant, fastened up his greatcoat, ran his hands through his perfectly groomed hair and slipped on a fashionable hat, of which he had several in the vehicle.
Leaving the warm environs of his Hovertron, Markeson quickly looked around, taking in as much as he could about the location and people present, particularly the omnipresent CCTV cameras. Without crossing the street, he matched MacAuliffe’s brisk pace, window-shopping as he walked while keeping an eye on the oblivious MacAuliffe.
Later, if necessary, he would erase the video evidence of trailing his strange acquaintance. For now, Markeson only focused on where he traveled and what MacAuliffe did. Occasionally he crossed the street and followed directly behind MacAuliffe. At other times he walked ahead on the opposite side of the road, using the reflection of the storefront windows to watch his mark.
Growing colder by the second and tired of walking and having to avoid the well to do shoppers on the streets, Markeson found himself wishing he’d made arrangements with Sullivan to be able to use that little minx of his, Sarah, to do his foot surveillance for him. Having learned first hand just how invisible she could be, Markeson was well aware of the value of her skills.
After half an hour in the cold, MacAuliffe turned into a high-end tobacco shop, Aficionado. An establishment Markeson himself frequented. It sold, among other legal products, the finest quality off-world cigars money could buy. The establishment also featured a smoking room where adult beverages were served, and its well-heeled customers could enjoy a relaxing cigar and whiskey in peace.
Unfortunately for the proprietor, Markeson was well aware of the more profitable but less legal products sold at t
he establishment. In return for his silence, and ample warning before any raid, Markeson enjoyed a monthly allowance of cigars as well as access to the owners listening devices. Another source of income the man preferred his clients not know about. It was a friendly arrangement, one that was mutually beneficial and Markeson was content to leave things as they were.
Pausing to check for traffic, Markeson strode quickly across the hoverway, checking for MacAuliffe through the storefront window before entering. Quietly, he stepped in, soaking up the warm air for a moment. Catching the eye of the owner, he motioned to talk to him and moved to one of the display cases, examining the items for sale.
“Can I interest you in anything in particular,” the owner asked respectfully.
“Working at the moment Paul.”
“I see. Anyone in particular?”
“The gentleman who just came in.”
“He’s become a regular. Prefers Old Earth Havana’s when I am able to obtain them. Takes it in the lounge along with a whiskey sour.”
“Does he do business here?”
"I've never seen him entertain an associate, but he does make frequent calls. I presume you'll need access to my office?"
Markeson looked up and grinned. “That would be nice, oh, and I’ll take one of those Havana’s myself.”
To Paul’s surprise, Markeson handed the man his credit card to pay for the cigar.
“As per our arrangement, that is not necessary Detective Markeson.”
“Paul, let’s just say if I hear what I want to, I will be happy to buy an entire box of Havana’s from you in the future. Cash.”
Paul smiled, his eyes glinting with greed as he wondered about the possibilities of what Markeson was up to. “Well, sir, let it be far from me to turn down your money.”