Kaufman had never wanted to bring the civilian staff in on the situation with Malory, but he no longer had a choice. While they made the ship their one safe and secure location, the hub of all their work, he had to be able to trust all aboard. None were allowed to leave without at least two officers to protect them. Kaufman understood the underhand tactics that could be used against him and his crew. He was only thankful that their families had relocated to Ganymede. Now he fully understood why Denton sent security teams to watch over them.
“The Senator sure knows how to cover his tracks,” said Morel.
“Damn right, I’m not made for this shit. Give me an address and a gun and I’ll get the job done,” said Wilson.
“When I hired you and Morrison, it was not on the strength of your detective skills. The two of you can head down to the stores and make sure all our equipment is in good order.”
“God damn, never thought I would look forward to a cleaning session so much,” replied Morrison.
Kaufman was as frustrated as the others. As a detective, he was used to spending days in front of a computer siphoning through scores of files and data, but never had so much been at stake. He looked over to Davis who sat with his head in one hand. He was as exhausted as they were.
“Give me an update, Davis.”
“Sir, we’ve leant a lot about Munoz, but nothing points us any closer to his identity or location.”
Kaufman stood up and stretched out his stiff legs.
“Let me take a look, be good to look at some fresh material.”
He walked over to the other end of the table to work apart from the Malory case as to not mix information.
“When I was a cop in this city, I often heard the name tossed about but it was almost a myth. Homicides would be casually attributed to him, but we always took it more as a joke.”
“A couple of decades ago it seems he was a little more hands on. There are even office addresses linked to him, but the cops dared not approach them,” said Chan.
“Why? For a man nobody has ever seen, he seems to have quite a reputation,” said Kaufman.
The rookie cop, Wells, sat down at the console and quickly flicked through city records.
“Sir, in the news stories back then, he was suspected of being responsible for the deaths of three city cops.”
“Why was it not investigated further?”
“Seems there was just too little evidence, Sir. Whoever this guy is, he doesn’t get his hands dirty. Even if we did know who he was, we could probably never tie him to those crimes.”
“A man with such power had to start somewhere. The cops that were murdered, what were the circumstances?”
“I’m looking now, Sir.”
Wells tapped a few buttons as he frantically tried to speed read the information.
“I’m just getting the three cops files... now!”
The rookie officer slid his hand across the display, shunting the three documents onto the wall display boards so they could all see them. Kaufman’s face went a ghostly white as he recognised the centre photograph and the name above it, SGT IVAN KAUFMAN. Barski immediately noticed the shock in his friend’s face and got up from the table to investigate. As he took a few paces nearer, he followed the Captain’s gaze to the board and immediately understood what it was.
“Can’t be, no way!” said Barski.
Denton turned at hearing the Lieutenant’s shocked expression and peered up at the screen. He saw the police file and his heart sank at the realisation of the pain they’d just brought to the Captain.
“Uh, Sir...” said Wells.
He stopped before asking the obvious, as did the others.
“It’s only suspected, Eric. It doesn’t prove anything,” said Max.
Kaufman looked down to the display and flicked through the documents. Munoz controlled the Cosaline trade in his father’s precinct at the time of his death. His father was killed in what was considered to be a car search gone wrong, but his killer was never found.
As a child, he had never thought of his father’s death as anything more than a tragic accident. Later in life, he had been told that it was most likely a routine stop check, a junkie or dealer who lashed out to save them from a prison sentence. As a police officer, he had never thought to investigate further. The death of his father was the most painful experience in his life. He barely remembered his mother as she had died when he was very young.
Denton could already sense the conflict he had brought to the table. He’d completely missed the link to Kaufman in the Munoz case, and it was an oversight that would only heighten the trouble on their plate. He took to his feet, knowing he had to take charge of the situation.
“This doesn’t change our position one bit. Money Munoz is a criminal that must be brought to justice and will be in due time. Wells, what does this new information tell us?”
“That the Captain’s father was probably one of the few incorruptible cops back in a day when such a thing would cost you your life.”
Kaufman shot a look at the rookie. He thought for a moment that the officer was merely trying to be kind. It was a sympathy he neither needed nor wanted in any of his team. He looked back at the board where the three officers’ files were displayed. What the rookie said was likely true. The Cosaline trade had fuelled an era of corruption which they still lived in. Kaufman had never considered the possibility that his father’s death had been calculated.
The Captain’s face was still pale and scornful. The loss of his father was every much the bitter memory that it had always been. However, he quickly accepted that in his position of authority he could not afford to show such weakness and selfishness. In his mind he vowed to bring Munoz to justice, whether he was responsible for his father’s death or not, but it was not the time nor place to make it public.
“The Commander is right, this doesn’t change our situation one bit. We have a responsibility to pursue both of these criminals and that is exactly what we shall do. Davis, continue with this, I must get on with our other work.”
He stood up and went back to the opposite end of the table. The crew felt for their Captain, but Denton was more nervous than ever. A conflict of interest was the last thing they needed in such dire days. Kaufman sat back down in the chair next to the Commander and regained his composure.
“We okay, Captain?”
Kaufman nodded, getting right back to the Malory files.
“Sir, I think I have something here,” said Chan.
Denton and Kaufman turned quickly to him, eager for any good news.
“Tiffany Harris, she worked the Senator’s election campaign.”
“Go on,” said Denton.
“Well, Sir. She was fired from the campaign the day before Malory’s victory. She was arrested on charges of theft at the workplace, as well as allegations of attempting to seduce the Senator.”
“And what is her connection to all this?” asked Kaufman.
“Sir, all charges were dropped on the day after the election, but none of it adds up. She was a respectable woman in her late thirties and with scores of positive references. The allegations against her do not seem to fit, and the fact that they were dropped even more so, considering their severity. It seemed the media lost interest in her.”
“Why would they? Sounds too good a story for the press to drop.”
“That’s why I looked into it. Mrs Harris lives in the Ruby Hills with her husband. He is a writer with no wage of note, and she works as a private secretary in a pharmaceutical firm. No way in hell can they afford the lifestyle they have, nor do they have any family wealth.”
“You think she’s still on his books?” asked Kaufman.
“For work or as a bribe, I’d say so.”
Denton loaded the files on his datapad and sat back as he read through the documentation. He nodded more and more as he continued.
“Alright, this is a good start. Where is she now?”
“Based on her work schedule, I’d sa
y she’s likely just got home.”
Kaufman looked to Denton. He knew that it was a solid lead, but by following it up they were now declaring war against one of the most powerful men in the city. Denton nodded. They didn’t need to say another word.
“Nothing changes here, for now we keep it to Barski’s team only. Keep working, gentlemen, we have a mountain to overcome.”
Feeling a new breath of life in his body, Kaufman jumped out of his seat and grabbed his pistol from the desk. Denton moved to follow them, but he turned and put out his hand to stop him.
“Sir, you are the head of our organisation. You will only draw attention to our investigation. We need you here to keep charge of everything.”
Denton nodded. Kaufman had never known their leader’s history, only known what he was like as a man. He noticed then that the Commander was capable of more than just leadership. He had clearly served in the police or military. That reassured him greatly. Back was the cool headed and confident leader that had recruited him, not so many months ago.
“Civi gear only, make sure we have full kit in the cars but nothing on view. Let’s move,” said Kaufman.
The rest watched as the five men quickly departed, wishing that they had some lead to pursue. Detective work could often be the most boring thing in the world, but every hour put in made the field work that bit easier. Kaufman was glad to have Denton aboard. He needed someone to head up the research and could not afford to lose Barski from his team to do so.
Within minutes, the five officers were departing the port in two cars. The vehicle skins were set to a satin black. They could not be seen as devious to the authorities of the city, but neither did they want to make their presence known to the civilian population. The port was busy as usual and the Intrepid had been moved to a loading bay on the west side, allowing their vehicles to come and go freely. The view of the city opened up before them, and the smog covering made them feel as if they were in the clouds. Only The Spire broke through the thick pollution. It was an intimidating feature when they now knew that the authorities posed as much a threat to them as the criminals they were hunting.
After they were free of the port, they dropped down to the highest highway. The higher altitudes were restricted to larger vehicles and emergency use only. They needed to blend in, so they fought the traffic queues like everyone else. Kaufman and Barski rode together. It was a habit they had not been able to break. Denton had warned them many a time to divide themselves between the cars as the crew’s leaders, but they didn’t listen.
“How does it feel to be home?” asked Max.
Eric peered around to look at the familiar sights. He’d always said he was proud of his city, like most of the cops in his precinct did. But he seldom felt it. The decay and poverty often made it an unpleasant experience to be there. He wondered if he only had this negative image of the sprawling capitol because he rarely dealt with anyone but the very dregs of society.
“Constant traffic, smog, crap accommodation, junkies and city traders, not a lot to miss. I thought I liked the liveliness here, Max, but I’d give anything for a relaxing week on Ganymede and the odd trip to Europa when I want to burn money.”
Barski chuckled. He had to admit that it was hard to find any redeeming features in their home city.
“Get us a few bars and some single women, and Ganymede could be the perfect home.”
Kaufman stared at Barski, unsure as to how serious his friend was being. He looked back to the highway as they slowly floated across the upper limits of the city. It was certainly true that the crew needed more entertainment and distractions. If they made it through the current caseload, Kaufman promised himself that he would put his efforts into such simple pleasures for their teams.
“How do you think Lin’s getting on?” asked Max.
Thinking back to their base, Kaufman had entirely forgotten about the new taskforce.
“God damn it, I wish we had that second crew, right now.”
Barski nodded, a little more manpower would be more than welcome.
“A few more months and they should be ready.”
“Yeah, but can we survive that long?”
* * *
The journey to the Ruby Hills took them little over an hour. With all that was on their plate and the frustrating city traffic, it had felt more like a day. The Hills was a famous wealthy area outside the city centre. All around them were densely packed neighbourhoods of tall towers, but not in the Hills. It was one of the few neighbourhoods left where people were rich enough to keep their astronomically expensive homes and not submit to the city’s vertical expansion plans.
As their two cars approached the perimeter of the neighbourhood, they were guided down to the height of the houses. A ten-metre altitude limit existed while cruising through the area. Larger craft were allowed to fly overhead, but only at higher altitudes and with strict noise pollution standards. Those wealthy and lucky enough to live in the Ruby Hills protected their decadent and lavish way of life with everything they had.
“We’re paid more than we could ever have dreamed of, and yet we still couldn’t get the cheapest of places here,” said Max.
“True, but would you want to live here under the strict community rules? Hated by the rest of the city?”
“Hell yeah, the poor hate these people because they want they’ve got.”
Eric smiled. It was his idea of hell. The relatively peaceful neighbourhood he remembered as a child was a pleasant one. It was quiet because it was out on the edge of the city and therefore naturally the way it should be. He looked around at the artificial culture this community immersed itself in, and he would rather have his old apartment back.
“We’re just a few houses away,” said Kaufman.
He pulled the car up outside the luxurious home. Kaufman estimated that it must have at least eight bedrooms. The gardens were perfectly landscaped. Even with all his salary, he would only hope to pay half the bills for such a place. He checked Mrs Harris’ file; she could not be earning any more than he was in her current job. She and her husband had any family wealth. So she must be getting handouts.
Kaufman opened the door slowly and stepped out, looking casually around in every direction. The relative quietness of the street, with just the odd luxury car passing by, was something entirely alien to him as a previous tenant of the city. He tapped his intercom.
“You three stay in the car.”
He could not risk drawing attention to them by going in heavy-handed. Two strangers in such a neighbourhood were suspicious enough. They turned to look at the house. An impeccably clean broad path led across their front garden to the broad wooden door of the luxurious home. The grass was so perfect it appeared artificial, but they both knew that such wealthy homeowners would not stoop to such a measure.
Kaufman peered up the street and watched two men trimming what already appeared to be perfectly well cut grass. They were riding hover trimmers. Their business vehicle was almost new and a far cry from the maintenance vehicles he was familiar with in the inner city.
“Whether she is connected like we think or not, this woman isn’t going to be keen to co-operate,” said Kaufman.
Barski nodded as they went up the path. They both noticed as they walked that they were breathing the freshest air either they could ever remember.
“That’s something I miss,” said Kaufman.
“Not that we ever had much of it, anyway,” replied Barski.
Kaufman nodded. The processed air of Ganymede was a distinct improvement over the often stifling, thick air of their former lives. They arrived at the broad doorway that was as wide as two people. Neither was familiar with seeing wooden doors as composite plastics had replaced wood for general use. Kaufman reached up and pressed the buzzer. He took a step back waiting for a response.
From inside the house they could hear a woman’s footsteps, the unique sound of high-heeled shoes echoing through the huge home. The door opened, but not by hand, it was po
wered and slowly swung inwards. Tiffany Harris stood there, recognisable from the photos they’d seen. She was in her late forties but with the body of a twenty year old. She wore a smart pencil skirt and deep red blouse, appearing to have recently returned from work.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
“Ma’am, we are with the Interplanetary Bureau of Investigation. Captain Kaufman, this is Lieutenant Barski.”
“Ah... yes, I have heard of you, seen you on the news.”
The woman looked confused, trying to understand why they were on her doorstep. She studied them inquisitively, as if she did not believe they were who they claimed to be.
“How can I help you?”
“We understand you were previously in the employment of Senator Malory. We have a few questions about your time on his staff.”
The confident woman’s face turned to a slight scorn. She gave only a hint of her fear away, but it was too much to hide from the keen eyed officers. She had a pained expression about her face, as if she wanted to be somewhere else.
“I am sorry, officers, but I cannot help you. You must know that I am bound to an oath of privacy following my employment with the Senator.”
She reached for the button that activated the door but quickly stopped as she noticed a vehicle pull up outside. She clearly recognised it. The two officers turned and slowly reached for their weapons in response to the woman’s reaction. A black Chevy truck came to an abrupt halt and two men in suits leapt out.
“Captain Kaufman?” one shouted.
“Shit...” Eric whispered.
They were clearly government agents and were certainly not there to assist them in any way.
“I am Kaufman, what can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Sir, SA Williams. Ms Harris is under our protection and contact with her by any agency must be put through official channels.”
Kaufman shot a quick glance at Barski. They both recognised the bullshit they were being fed. Secret Service agents held a lot of power, especially on Earth. Kaufman’s annoyance turned to a sudden stroke of fear as he realised that the Senator was onto them.
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