“So this case that we are officially working. We should check it out and get our people on it,” said Barski.
“Thinking like a Lieutenant already?”
“Hey, it’s not like I want to do the work, but neither do I want to get shot down in flames by the Senate when they realise what we are doing.”
Kaufman nodded. He leaned forward to his console to bring up the case files Denton had sent. He put his hand on the file and tapped one of the display buttons twice and then slid his hand forward to pass a digital duplicate across the desk display to Barski. They both sat silently as each of them surveyed the key elements of the case.
“Cosaline? Something new for us,” said Barski.
“We’ve been working for so many months on bringing a halt to the heists and the gangs involved that we have lost sight of the many more elements of crime in the System.”
Barski agreed but was still a little uncertain.
“Even with this new team, we can’t be expected to solve the universe’s problems,” he said.
“No, but that is not our purpose. We are a strike force that targets the most serious crimes, and those that are crossing colony borders.”
“But Cosaline? I know it’s illegal and all, but hardly the root of all evil, surely?”
“On the surface, no. I am inclined to agree with you. Cosaline is no worse than many vices, but it’s not the drug that we must fight, but those behind it. The dealers are making immense profits from it while using highly illegal and immoral practices. Not least, it is allowing small time crooks to gain power in many colonies.”
“Are we really taking this case or is it just a cover?”
Kaufman looked back down at the files. He picked up his Baracoo cigarette and marvelled at the absurdity of pursuing one drug as he legally inhaled another. He blew out the fine wisp of smoke and looked back to Barski.
“This is a real case and whatever Denton has in mind for us, we have nothing to go on yet. We will put all effort into this until we know different. Even once we have established the cause for Denton’s secrecy, we will likely need to pursue this in order to not arouse suspicion.”
“I’ll call all teams in for a brief and to get to work on it as soon as we have lifted off.”
* * *
Kaufman sat on the viewing deck as the Intrepid embarked. He watched the vast shipping lanes between the mining and industrial works of Ganymede on an almost seamless journey to Europa. The beautiful lights of the famously wealthy moon radiated for all to see, lit up like a beacon.
The crew of the Intrepid had not stepped foot on Earth since their organisation had begun. Kaufman could see and feel their excitement growing. However, he knew that it would not be the homecoming they had been hoping for. Denton had something in mind for them that would likely be more dangerous than anything they had ever partaken in. Not only that, but they had another case on their platter which would need as much attention.
The pursuit of the illegal drug Cosaline had always sat uneasily with Kaufman. His father had died during the early days of its prohibition when he was caught up in a stop search gone horribly wrong. The fact that the drug itself had never proven to be anything especially evil meant that the entire situation left a foul taste in Eric’s mouth.
His father’s case was long forgotten and unsolved. The result of those harrowing and cavalier days when Cosaline was a new problem, long surpassed by what many considered far worse. He knew that there would be no peace to be found in such a case.
The one thing he had always hated about his job was that such downtime allowed them all to dwell on such miserable matters. There was only so much research and preparation that could be done aboard the ship. Card games had become common practice to break up the time, though never for money. With the lavish salaries of the crew, they gambled in goods. They were usually unusual or desirable items they had collected from the previous colonies.
The silence of the room was broken as the crew poured in to assemble at the briefing table. Kaufman shook his head to re-gain his composure. Despite any misgivings he had about their case, he could not give any indication to the crew. The journey was a long one back to Earth, and at least if he put his mind to work it would go a little quicker. He turned to see Barski enter with the last of the teams. Being five men down was not good, especially when he knew the importance of their mission.
“Lieutenant, you can take lead here.”
Barski nodded. Kaufman knew that his old partner had put a lot more time and effort into looked through the case files than he had. He was also keen to see Max rise to his new status and it was important the crew were aware of it. Barski tapped a few screens and brought up some of the key elements on a display screen behind him.
“The files we have are a mix up of notes and case documents from seven separate forces and a number of other colony agencies. The man we are looking for goes by the name of Money Munoz.”
“Isn’t he just a myth?” asked Davis.
“Almost. He’s real alright and has been active for decades since the ban came into effect. As far as we can tell, Munoz started as a small time street thug. Nobody really knows where he came from. He rose to power in the early days of Cosaline with a highly successful black market business. Rumour has it that he had many city officials in his pocket and anybody who crossed him ended up dead.”
“Aren’t we chasing a ghost here? He could well be dead for all we know, or just a cover for a broader group of individuals?” asked Morrison.
“Well, that is why we are being brought in. Locals have never been able to get a hold on him in any of the cities he operates. They have effectively given up on ever making headway in the case. Considering he is active across multiple colonies, and nobody is certain of his location, it now falls to us.”
“Sounds like we landed in the shit,” said Thompson.
Kaufman stood up and stepped forward.
“This case has been sitting dormant for years because this Munoz character has no known fixed abode. He makes extensive use of bribes and delegates many duties to others. His manner of operating means that he cannot easily be pursued by any one police force.”
“So we are looking for a man that could be anywhere in the Solar System, has officials in his pocket, and we only have photos which are almost thirty years old.”
“Yes, Thompson, but we also know his business, or one element of it. We follow the Cosaline, and the money associated with it, and see where we get to.”
“Out on the smaller colonies we have been able to muscle in, can’t imagine any force on Earth being happy about our presence,” said Davis.
“Indeed, but that is something we are familiar with. We have everything that is known about this Money Munoz. Put some time into it, but do not burn yourselves out. Take regular breaks, and make sure you get plenty of rest and sleep.”
“You expecting something major when we arrive on Earth, Sir?” asked Singh.
“Possibly. Denton has asked us to pursue this, and we know that Munoz has friends in high places and could try to threaten us directly. When we arrive in the city, I want everyone in covert armour and with your wits about you.”
* * *
By the time they were making their approach to Earth two days later, the crew were raring to go. Kaufman was eager to meet with Denton and get an understanding of what was worrying him so greatly. Giving them the Money Munoz problem meant it must be something truly horrific. It was large enough to hide anything they might need to do on the QT. However, he was also aware that results would be expected in the long unsolved case.
As the crew eagerly watched the approach to the planet, which most of them would still call home, a transmission from Denton which Kaufman had been waiting for came through. Eric nodded to Singh who had notified him of this and he went to his cabin. He was very keen for the info that he had now been waiting two days to hear.
“Kaufman?”
The Commander appeared on the projected screen.
“Yes, Sir, we are on approach now. We’ll be setting down at the port in forty-five minutes.”
“Good. I have an informant with me who could prove very valuable. However, he will only co-operate if he stays in my personal custody until he can be escorted off-world in your care. We will both be at the port with an escort to greet you on your arrival.”
“Do you think that is wise, Sir?”
“At this point, Captain, one place is as safe as another. You will understand more once I have briefed you in person. This may be your home city Kaufman, but do not expect to find too many friends. Some officials have been pushed into the gutter by our taskforce. The criminal elements want nothing more than to see you dead and our organisation going up in flames. Have your wits about you and remain armed at all times!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’ll be all, I shall see you shortly, Denton out.”
The transmission cut out but Kaufman stared at the blank space. Denton painted a bleak picture in the few words he’d spoken. In wearing a badge, he had always been used to a hostile approach by many in the city, but never had he risen to the point of his name being so hated. Denton made it sound as if there were a bounty on his head.
* * *
It was the middle of the morning when the Intrepid made its final approach to the starport of Los Brezos. The sprawling city blocks were ugly and industrial in their design, but the city silhouette was oddly beautiful. The sun was up, piercing through the smog of the pollution. Nothing had changed since their departure, only themselves. Kaufman realised that his attachment to the city had dwindled at a remarkable rate.
The former detective had always assumed that in his heart he had strong ties to the city and had stayed there for a reason. Now he could see he had stayed there all those years just because it was where he had started. His job and the colleagues within it were all that kept him in Los Brezos. He had followed in his father footsteps, and he’d never desired anything but to have a successful career in the LBPD. He wondered now what his father would think of his ascension to the new organisation. Gone was the tradition of city cop, replaced by a space agency.
Watching the space traffic with fascination, Kaufman marvelled at the dock as the Intrepid touched down. Seconds later, the platform they had landed on began to lower and slide, delivering their vessel to one of the lower docking platforms. They quickly came to a smooth stop and huge doors opened, revealing the arrival bay. Hundreds of people poured through the vast hallway.
Five people stood waiting for them. Commander Denton, three of the IBI security staff and an unrecognisable man. Kaufman assumed this was the informant. Even from the viewpoint of the bridge, he could see the slight bulkiness of Denton’s smart suit. He was wearing armour and a weapon. In their short but successful work together, he had never seen the Commander wear any form of armour, content in the knowledge that he was safe. Always sharply dressed in the finest suits, Denton prided himself on his professional image.
Kaufman picked up the coat from the back of the chair where he was standing. Long tired of the practical but unfashionable IBI jackets, he pulled on his old frock coat and brimmed hat that he’d knocked the dust off only moments before.
“Morrison, your team are to stay aboard. The rest of you are with me.”
He turned and made his way to the elevator. Reaching the ramp to the arrivals bay he could see that Denton wasn’t especially pleased to see them. He looked perplexed and worried. The unknown man stood very close to the Commander.
“Captain! Follow us, we have cars waiting!” Denton shouted.
A continuous drone emitted from the hordes of people coming and going behind their position. Kaufman continued right up to the group as Denton turned. He was clearly in a rush.
“Glad you could make it in good time, Captain. We have much to discuss. This is Herbert Tremblay, and he will be assisting with our investigation.”
Kaufman nodded, though didn’t extend his hand in friendship. Tremblay looked uneasy in the Captain’s presence. He had the look of a white collar criminal who had been caught red handed. Of average build and in his fifties, the man was balding, though he wore an expensive suit. He could already tell that the man was not a common criminal nor presented any physical threat to them.
Denton was into a full stride as they arrived, so they continued onwards with the Commander at the front and Kaufman beside him. The inquisitive Captain looked back at the man with a puzzled expression.
“What is the nature of your assistance, Mr Tremblay?” he asked.
“Mr Tremblay will be assisting us in our current investigation, the particulars of which I will divulge to you when we get somewhere more private,” Denton interrupted.
Kaufman should have known to not ask such questions in such a public space. They had only gone about fifty paces when Tremblay stumbled slightly and fell down. Kaufman and Denton turned to look at the cause of the ruckus. Their faces turned to stone as they saw their informant slump lifelessly to the ground with an utterly blank expression to his face.
“Man down!” Kaufman shouted.
As he reached for his handgun, he looked down at the dead man’s suit and could see a broad hole in the left of his chest.
“We’ve got a shooter! Spread out, find him!”
Kaufman shot a glimpse up to the Commander who was staring down at the body.
“Sir! Get down!”
As Denton knelt down by the Captain, a bullet skimmed the shoulder of his armour sending him tumbling to the ground. Kaufman immediately leapt to his side. He grabbed him by the collar of his fine suit, hauling him across the ground to a position behind a large structural column. He patted his hand over the point at which the bullet had struck.
“Have you been hit anywhere else, Sir?”
He looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. The Commander ran his hands up and down his suit but Kaufman could see that the only thing he was suffering from was shock. He looked around to see that his people had already pushed forward to track down the shooter. Denton’s three security guards were still kneeling around cover.
“The three of you stay here, protect Denton!”
He leapt from his position with his pistol held ready. Up ahead, he could see Barski trying to fight his way through the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimmer of movement at a service hatch. Kaufman stopped instantly when he’d spotted the shooter’s position. He tapped his intercom.
“All units, shooter is in a service tunnel on the northern wall. Davis, alert security and have them close off all access routes, including port service lines!”
He leapt into a run once more, but the movement through the hatch had stopped. The shooter was already on the move. He ducked and dived through civilians. The few who could see his weapon began to panic. He stopped every few seconds, desperately trying to predict the direction of the service tunnels he was running underneath. For security reasons the tunnels only had a few access points, but he was unfamiliar with their positions.
He looked up and could see that the access tunnel led off into a smaller corridor, so he sprinted off with his weapon high to alert people as he continued forward. He quickly arrived in an empty corridor leading into a landing bay. It was in between arrivals, a fact that a well planned assassin would have known and made use of. Kaufman stopped as he had lost track of the tunnels. He listening intently and heard a rustling sound ahead.
Kaufman raised his pistol and charged around the corner. He had lost his team and should proceed with caution, but any delay could result in the shooter escaping. Darting around a bend towards the sound he’d heard, he realised that he had been too hasty. A telescopic baton crashed into his chest with immense force. The strike caused him to lose his footing and tumble to the ground. His pistol slid well out of reach.
His vest saved him from internal injury, but the wind had been knocked out of him. Before he could get a second gasp of air, his attacker was upon him. The man looked hardened
and professional. He had done this before. The baton was forced against Kaufman’s throat and he could feel his energy draining. His instincts caused him to try and fight the baton, but common sense soon told him it was folly.
As he slipped his hand under his jacket, he reached for his knife. It was something he carried from years of advice by old hands. But in the position he was being held he had little energy, so he struggled to hit the blade release button and slammed it into his assailant’s flank. The man cried out in pain and released his pressure on the baton. He used this brief opportunity to strike the man’s jaw with every last ounce of strength he had.
The assassin tumbled over to one side, reeling in pain where the flick knife had embedded all the way up to the hilt into his side. Kaufman rolled over, but his windpipe felt almost closed and he could hardly breathe. As he tried to get to his feet, he stumbled back down onto one knee and saw his wounded attacker pick up the pistol he’d carried for so many years.
“Wait...” said Kaufman.
The word came out as little more that a croaky splutter. This man was a professional assassin, so he had no quibbles about his work. The man lifted the pistol to fire with no hesitation. Kaufman had nothing left in his body, no reserve of energy and could not even get to his feet. He lowered his head, knowing it was his end.
Five shots rang out in quick succession. Kaufman shot a glance up as the man collapsed into a bloody and twisted mess on the floor. He looked around to see Kaminski rushing to his side. In that moment, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, an angel coming to his aid.
Starforce Ganymede II Page 6