Grey Sky Blues_An Inspector Thomas Sullivan Thriller

by K. C. Sivils

  The guards ushered all three winners into the elevator. The doors closed with a squishing sound, and the elevator began rushing upwards.

  “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you’re out?”

  “Get good and drunk,” the other con laughed.

  “Shut up,” Spillman snapped. “Something’s wrong here.”

  "You need to just chill dude. You got lucky today, that’s all.”

  The elevator reached its destination and stopped with a slight jerk followed by a hissing sound. The doors opened to the vacuum of the black wastes of Persephone.

  MACAULIFFE WATCHED the events in the arena with disdain. Lowbrow entertainment at best, were it not for the massive profits it generated for the Society and the expectation of him to fulfill his obligations as the Overseer for this quadrant of the galaxy, MacAuliffe would never attend an event of this nature.

  This would be the last time he had to sit through the pointless, gratuitous violence. A promotion was in order. He’d earned the right to become an Overlord. Once he assumed his new position, one of the first objectives on his list of changes was to eliminate Gravestone. Whoever recruited her had overlooked her obvious mental instability. She had no place in the Society.

  He flinched at the sound of the bell announcing the start of another round. At least Gravestone had managed to provide decent wine for the luxury suites.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I SLOWED MY PACE WHEN I reached the concourse. Common sense prevailed, and I holstered my guns. My great coat easily covered my weapons.

  I took my time walking the concourse, getting a feel for what was going on. It wasn’t until I heard the roar of the crowd that my sense of dread and urgency returned.

  Approaching the nearest gate, I entered the arena. The entrance was near the vaulted ceiling, a grey-black dome. Below me, a bowl descended into the ground, each level containing a ring of seats reaching all the way around the circular venue. Above the highest ring of seats was another level containing what could only be luxury suites. Across from me above the luxury suits was the broadcast booth where announcers would be describing the carnage below in a variety of languages.

  At the bottom of the venue in the center was the ring. The white surface marred with bloodstains. Sitting in a special section close to the ring was the three Kings of Graham. Standing behind them were two prison guards doubling apparently as bodyguards. Nice touch.

  I scanned the raucous crowd for Father Nathan using my cybernetic eye. Two aisles over I spotted someone who looked like the good Father. I zoomed in and refocused. It was the priest. Dressed in stylish clothes, the price of which would have fed his street kids in his parish for a week if not longer.

  His cryptic comments earlier made sense now.

  I returned to the concourse and quickly made my way over to the gate that would take me to my friend. Pausing to calm myself to avoid drawing attention, I made my way slowly down the steps hewn into the moon rock.

  “Hello, friend.”

  Father Nathan looked up casually and smiled. He stood and motioned to the empty seat next to him. I squeezed myself in, my knees in my face due to the seat back in front.

  He greeted me gruffly. “Took you long enough.”

  “I ran into a few problems.”

  “Well, we have problems aplenty here Sully.”

  I figured as much.

  “We have to stop this. It’s beyond barbaric.”

  My friend was having trouble keeping his pleasant demeanor.

  “It’s things like this Sully that make me doubt everything I hold to be true. That man can be redeemed.”

  I needed Father Nathan to hold it together.

  “Look, think. You’re always telling me man’s nature has been corrupt since the Fall. Left to our own devices, this is what we come up with.”

  He just shook his head.

  "I need you, Father. I can't do this by myself."

  His answer was a shrug. “We’ll get Sarah and leave. It’s the best we can do.”

  “No Father. We have to stop it. For good.”

  My friend looked at me with an intense, focused glare.

  “Why? Somebody somewhere will just do something even more evil than this.”

  “Is that what God tells you,” I snarled back under my breath.

  “To do nothing when confronted by evil? I’ve read enough of your Bible to know Jesus didn’t, wouldn’t take it standing down. Like when he took a whip and cleared out the crooks in the Temple!”

  Of the few stories from the good Father's Holy Book, I managed to remember the right one. It had touched a nerve.

  "You're right," he sighed. "You're exactly right. When confronted by the sin of all mankind Jesus didn't falter."

  Relief flooded over me. I needed my friend.

  “Besides,” I grinned, “we aren’t alone. Dmitry is here.” I pointed at the three Kings seated by the ring.

  “Your Russian friend.”

  Rest never comes for the weary. The ring announcer broke into his cheerful, upbeat banter announcing the next fight would be special.

  “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. A cage match! Identical twin sisters in a fight to the finish! Wagering is now open!”

  MARKESON WIPED HIS mouth again. The smell of his vomit had caused him to throw up a second time. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his silk handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  The next twenty-four hours would likely determine the course of the rest of his life. However short or long his life would be.

  Exiting the confines of the restroom he made his way back towards the passenger seating of the shuttle he’d commandeered. Two more military transports filled with every police officer he’d been able to muster flew behind.

  Josephson and his C.I. were busy working on the computers they’d brought with them. Next to them were stacks of tablets containing the warrants they were generating. It had cost him two percent of his take, but it would be worth it. It paid to have a judge in your pocket Markeson decided. The woman had given him a single electronic signature to use for every warrant they could generate.

  As usual, Sullivan had stumbled into a mess. This time, Markeson intended to profit. The shakes came back, and he sat down to conceal it. He was taking the biggest gamble of his life.

  MacAuliffe had offered him a way into the life of the elite, the powerful and wealthy. What Markeson had dreamed of since killing his father. That path had strings attached. He would still be an errand boy for somebody else. Somebody who would look down on him and never see him as an equal.

  MacAuliffe’s revelation of what the Society planned for Beta Prime had been the genesis for his rash actions. If what MacAuliffe had told him was true, the future of Beta Prime was bright, profitable. Whoever controlled it would be a powerful man. The Society would have to come to him. Treat him as an equal. Treat him with the respect he deserved.

  He steeled his nerves. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not after everything, the good and the bad, he’d done to reach this point. He had to be strong. Be the leader he would have to become to control the world that was about to become his.

  DMITRY SHIFTED IN HIS seat. He didn’t like what was happening. Women should not fight in the ring. It was wrong. The years the fights had been going on he’d always argued against the practice and won. But not tonight.

  A cage match. Dmitry grew more disgusted by the minute watching the workers finish fastening the segments of the temporary cage together. Bad business this. Nothing good would come of it.

  Making matters worse was the combatants. Sully’s pretty little assistant and her sister. If he’d had any kind of warning of what would happen Dmitry would have found a way to stop this foolishness.

  “Sir.”

  He looked at the guard trying to obtain his attention.

  “Da?”

  “You have a visitor who wishes to speak with you for just a moment.” The guard motioned behind Dmitry. H
e turned to look. Sullivan and the priest were standing in silence, their faces devoid of feeling.

  “Thank you,” Dmitry told the guard. “I must talk with my associates for a moment.”

  Dmitry didn’t give the guard a chance to object. He stood and motioned for Sully and Father Nathan to follow.

  “The food is excellent. Let’s grab a quick bite before the next fight starts. It has promise. Who doesn’t enjoy watching a good catfight, nyet?”

  The guard relaxed as Dmitry walked in the direction of the hospitality room for the patrons who held first row tickets.

  “Are you kidding me,” I told the Russian.

  "Calm, be calm. This is bad business. If I had known, do you think I would have let this happen?" Dmitry answered, maintaining his outward façade of tranquility. "We must determine how to deal with this."

  He was right. I had to put Sarah out of my mind. She was just another victim I was responsible for saving. Problem was, she wasn't another nameless victim to me.

  SARAH WALKED SLOWLY despite the best efforts of the four guards surrounding her to force a faster pace. One of them had the beginnings of a black eye for touching Sarah. If she had to fight, to die or kill her own sister, she would do it on her terms. She would be strong, calm and in control. Sully had taught Sarah it was okay to be scared. Everyone got scared. It was what you did when fear confronted you that mattered.

  Sarah knew Sully was coming. He would never abandon her. It was up to her to survive long enough for Sully to save her. For that to happen, Sarah had to be alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, as promised! It is our pleasure to offer a one-of-a-kind match to you at the end of this morning's fight card! The first, and probably the only of its kind ever, a match between identical sisters! Eager for a new novelty, the crowd leaped to its feet, applauding, if for no other reason out of curiosity.

  “In black, older by five minutes, the incomparable, the beautiful, deadly sister! Ellie!” Up-tempo music blared from the arena’s speakers as Ellie made her appearance. She’d donned a black cloak and gracefully twirled, allowing the cloak to billow behind her as she turned and faced each of the four sides of the ring. Bowing at each turn, Ellie smiled and blew kisses to the adoring crowd. Her time in the spotlight over, Ellie went to her corner and exaggerated a hateful glare at the entrance to the cage, waiting for Sarah to enter.

  “Now entering the ring, dressed as a lowly commoner,” the announcer shouted, lowering his voice, feigning disgust at Sarah’s attire, “Sarah the younger!” Ignoring the crowd, Sarah walked to her corner. Her face devoid of any expression, Sarah stood with her hands on her hips, watching Ellie.

  “Wagering will be closed in sixty seconds. Please place your bets now. Don’t let this golden opportunity slip through your fingers!” Sarah glanced at the members of the crowd, each busy with the tablet built into the back of the seat in front of them. Placing wagers on a variety of possible bets; which sister would win, what round and how would the victor finish her opponent.

  As the crowd hurled jibes and taunts Sarah's way, her seeming indifference to her fate angered the crowd. The crowd wanted to see passion or anger, fear even. Ellie sensed weakness from Sarah and began to walk in a circle in the ring, working the crowd.

  Ellie felt stronger, more powerful as she fed off the crowd’s energy. Any doubt she’d felt about the outcome of the fight vanished. On a whim, Ellie launched herself at the nearest wall of the cage. Climbing up several feet above the top rope of the ring, she leaned out over the floor of the ring. With one arm raised above her head, Ellie roared defiantly, bring the crowd to its feet.

  In the luxury suite above, Gravestone smiled and nudged Corona. “There’s one fighter who understands how to entertain. When she wins, we’ll spare her. Her other skills will make her more than worth the trouble to transport.”

  Corona didn’t answer. He simply stared down at the ring below. His stomach churned out acid in volumes his meds could no longer contain. “What have we done? Look at these people, Andrea. They’re applauding the fact two sisters are going to try to kill each other!”

  “Yes,” Gravestone laughed. “Isn’t it exciting! Think of the revenue this will generate for the Society! The opportunities it will create, the doors it will open. You just have to make it happen!”

  Seeming bored by the spectacle, MacAuliffe looked at the guilt-stricken warden. "These people are indeed nothing more than low-life with money. Separating them from their credits will enable the Society to build a proper social order, an order that eliminates the need for the better of society to ever interact with such sordid people. Until that time Warden Corona, it is a burden we must bear. If some lives of those less than us are sacrificed in the process, know that it was for the betterment of our kind.”

  Corona stared first at MacAuliffe, then Gravestone. Without speaking, he stood and left the luxury box.

  “My dear Andrea,” MacAuliffe said loudly enough to garner the blonde’s attention. “I believe your friend Warden Corona is losing faith.”

  “He lost it some time ago,” the blonde answered. “I will deal with him when this over. Dale can easily be replaced.”

  I LOOKED AROUND IN horror at the crowd. Ellie’s performance had won them over, drawn them to their feet.

  Of all the low moments of my life, this was the rock bottom. I was ashamed to be a member of the human race.

  Dmitry pulled at my elbow and motioned for me to lean over. He cupped his hands and brought them to his mouth, whispering in my ear. “If you intervene now, it will result in a riot. Many lives will be lost.”

  I pushed him away gently. He frowned at me but said nothing. I knew he was right, that he was trying to help.

  “It’s Sarah.”

  “He knows that,” Father Nathan yelled over the crowd noise.

  Dmitry nodded, shouting this time over the crowd. “Your young woman would be one of the ones injured. The crowd has turned on her.”

  “Then tell me what to do. Unless the two of you have a suggestion, I’m going to stop the fight. Anyone who gets in my way gets a lead projectile between the eyes.”

  Dmitry just sighed and shook his head.

  “Be patient. Sarah may turn the crowd to her. Then you can act.”

  “What if Ellie gets the upper hand? What if she’s going to kill Sarah?” My frustration was driving my rage to a nearly uncontrollable level.

  “If it comes to that, Sully, I’m with you. But Dmitry is right. We need to let this sickness play out. Wait for an opportunity.”

  "I won't let Ellie kill Sarah. I won't go through that again. I can't be responsible. Not after Maria. I won't!"

  A puzzled look appeared on Dmitry’s face on for him to shrug it off. My crazy ramblings meant nothing to him.

  "Use your head, my friend." Dmitry cupped his hands again to whisper. "I need a weapon. These two guards are clueless. My fellow Kings won't hesitate to run if the guards are dispensed with. Think things through."

  Dmitry was making sense, penetrating the fog of anger in my mind. Two guards meant two weapons, one weapon each for Dmitry and Father Nathan.

  “We may have to shoot our way out,” Dmitry asked. “Can you live with that?”

  I surveyed the mass of fallen humanity around me. What I saw filled me with disgust.

  “I’m okay with that.

  Father Nathan shook his head. “I’m not okay with that. Dmitry’s right. These people disgust me, but killing them is not justice.”

  I didn’t want to waste time arguing. So I agreed. I could always change my mind later. “Fine. We shoot our way out only if we have to. Shoot to wound, not to kill unless necessary.”

  I don't know if I was fooling anybody, but Dmitry bought it. "Good. Agreed." He nudged Father Nathan who leaned over and listened at length. My friend stood and moved closer to my side. Apparently, it was his turn to whisper to me.

  “I will deal with the guards. They won’t be a problem. Dmitry w
ill get the other two Kings to run and raise a ruckus. You get as close to the barrier by the ring as possible. When the time comes, get Sarah out.”

  It was as good a plan as any.

  “Dmitry says to meet us over by that tunnel,” Father Nathan added. "He'll get us up to the concourse and the shuttles."

  I didn’t respond. Didn’t see any reason to. There was nothing left to say.

  THE GRAVITATIONAL PULL of Persephone buffeted the shuttle and the two transports. Markeson closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He could feel his pulse racing. His carotid pulsed with each beat of his heart.

  "Calm down. You pull this off, and you are on your way."

  He stood and walked back to where Josephson and the C.I. Bill was still busy.

  “Got the warrants organized and ready to go?”

  Sullivan’s young protégé looked up at Markeson. The strain and stress of what they were about to face were evident in the young man's face.

  “Bout as well as we can be given the time.”

  Markeson nodded his approval. He pointed at Bill. “You, stay on the shuttle. No matter what, stay on the shuttle. Things could get pretty hostile for awhile.”

  “You won’t have to tell me twice, sir. I’m not into violence.”

  The bent detective grinned. One less person to stick their finger in his pie.

  Markeson pressed the comm to the cockpit. “What’s our ETA?”

  “Fifteen minutes sir. We have to fly to the dark side of the moon.”

  IT WAS TIME. THE RING announcer had run out of hyperbole and banter. Ellie had finished working the crowd. Sarah stood alone in her corner, one arm resting on each side of the square ring. She looked out into the audience, desperate to see one face she knew. Looking down to the floor level seating, she noticed three large, cushioned chairs set in a row. Two men sat in the seats, and two prison guards stood behind them. Off to the right stood the Earth Russian King, talking to a tall, muscular man who was leaning over to listen to the shorter Russian. Something seemed out of place about the man. He was well dressed, his suit expensive and well cut.