The bullets recovered from Ivan’s body confirmed a small calibre fully automatic weapon shot him. Not unlike the submachine guns they used now in some volatile situations. Kaufman stopped at the point where it read that his father had been wearing his body armour. He hadn’t noticed that Barski was looking over his shoulder.
“Eric, you can look over that case until we die of exhaustion, but it will not tell us anything new.”
His friend kindly whispered, not wanting the others to hear him. He ignored him as he stared at the information he had just read and finally turned to Max.
“A fully automatic small calibre weapon that would go right through a cop’s armour?”
“Yeah, the Personal Defence Weapons that were trialled back then. Only law enforcement and military could get them legally.”
“And yet a street thug had one?”
“There’s plenty of black market trading around. It wouldn’t be easy unless you had the right money and contacts. I am only thankful we have the MILAL suits. They are about the only thing that will stop them.”
Kaufman looked back again at the description of how his father pulled over the vehicle. It read like a random stop search based on an exterior light failure, no reason for Ivan to feel that his life was in danger.
“A random stop search by a cop, who was investigating a major crime lord, results in the officer’s death by an expensive and difficult to obtain weapon. Doesn’t it sound more than a little suspect to you?”
“Yeah, but drug runners frequently did runs through the city with such hardware. He just stopped the wrong car at the wrong time.”
He looked at the file yet again, squinting as the information he took in turned cogs in his head. Max thought he was looking for answers that were simply not there, but Eric was insistent.
“Max, you have already said that gun would have been major trouble and money to acquire. That’s the attention to detail that a perfectionist makes or at the very least, someone who has put some major thought into what they are doing.”
“You know what some of those dealers are like, Eric. Bucket loads of cash and they’d throw it down on anything.”
“But look at the file. The vehicle had multiple lights out, yet it showed no sign of crash damage.”
“What are you getting at?”
Eric had hoped that Max would have caught on by now, but clearly he was going to have to explain it.
“Someone rich and careful enough to carry a weapon like that would not risk being stopped for such a petty reason. One light out could be a mistake, that is not unheard of, but multiples? Do you not think that someone who thinks hard about protecting his assets and life, would be certain not to attract attention to themselves?”
Max’s face tightened as he looked back at the files. He turned back to his friend, finally seeing what he had.
“You believe it was deliberate, the faulty lights?”
He nodded.
“What better way to get a cop to come to you than to bait him with multiple vehicle violations? All evidence suggests that my father found the vehicle, but what if it was planned?”
“There certainly was speculation back then that his death was linked to Munoz and the others. It’s not much to go on, though.”
Kaufman was both pleased and bitter to have discovered that his father’s murder was pre-meditated. He knew that the chances of ever proving it would be slim, but it didn’t matter. They had been giving the task of taking Munoz down, and in doing so he would get the little satisfaction that could come from it all.
“Maybe when we have found out who the hell Munoz is, we can get somewhere with your father’s case, but I am not sure it helps us right now.”
He knew Max was right. He’d made the progress he needed and it was time to get back to the hunt for their target. He stood up and paced around the room. The officers watched their Captain. He stopped by the board where the most important facts were displayed.
“What do we really know about Munoz?”
The crew looked unsure as to what he was expecting of them, so he pointed to the board.
“Almost everything in the file is about crimes that various authorities attribute to Munoz. There’s almost nothing about the man himself. It seems that when any police force cannot find an answer to a major case, they put Munoz’s name to it and use it as a way to pass off responsibility.”
“Sir, seems to me that Munoz has some friends in high places,” said Davis.
“Exactly! We know roughly what kind of man Munoz was when he was younger, but a man like that doesn’t get to where he is now without some major assistance. He went from small time goon to crime boss who keeps his hands clean and identity a closely guarded secret.”
“You think he’s linked to people of power?” asked Chan.
“There’s a good chance of it, yes. Munoz remains a ghost to the authorities, yet he seems to know their every move.”
“With the corruption in many of the cities, I can believe he has many in his pocket. But what about us? He can have no idea of our intentions,” said Campbell.
“No, and that will scare him. He is one of the most powerful men alive and he will do anything to protect his way of life.”
The intercom light rang. Kaufman stepped forward and opened the channel.
“Sir, I have Commander Denton for you.”
“Put him through, Singh.”
A video projection arose at the centre of the table to display Denton.
“Sir, you are on with three of our teams here.”
“Captain, I must be brief. We have just had a call on the tip line which may present a major opportunity. The informant claims to have close ties to Munoz and others working with him. They are willing to come in, but fear for their protection. Based on recent events, Captain, I would suggest you continue immediately to the source, but with the utmost caution!”
Kaufman knew what the Commander spoke of. He was referring to the suspicious death of Tiffany Harris and her husband. He thought there may even be some connection with that case, but stopped short of saying so.
“I am uploading the co-ordinates for you as we speak. The contact is in a small staging town on the Moon. I suggest you have your pilot plot a course immediately.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Captain, I honestly cannot tell you what to expect here, but it may well be the breakthrough that we need. You have access to the same files as I do, so you must realise quite how weak our leads are right now.”
Kaufman nodded. Their organisation’s free rein across the colonies could not help them in their investigation anymore than any police force.
“The reason for the lack of progress on the Munoz case is not due to his skipping of borders, but it is his lack of presence anywhere. We need anything we can get, Captain. Good luck, Denton out.”
The crew were already excited. Any break from their exhausting and fruitless investigative work was a welcome change. Kaufman tapped the intercom for a direct line to the bridge.
“Singh, plot us on a course for the Moon immediately. You will find the exact co-ordinates in the latest ship’s entry from Commander Denton.”
“On it, Sir.”
Kaufman looked back to the teams; they were all eager to get into action. He checked his datapad for the information Denton had uploaded.
“We’re heading for the town of Coba. It’s used as a staging town for mining. It therefore has a small population and a constantly varying workforce.”
“What the hell is our informant doing there?” asked Morel.
“It’s the kind of place I’d hide if someone like Munoz was on my ass,” said Morrison.
“Why would anyone turn on Munoz? It’s a death sentence,” said Wilson.
Kaufman shook his head. He was as doubtful of the situation as the former soldier was.
“You know as much as I do. If this contact’s life is already in danger they may feel we are their last hope. We are dealing with a resourceful and intelligent criminal who
likely has no quibbles about killing cops. We go in full armour and ready for anything, you got me?”
“Sir, full combat gear in a civilian area without a legitimate reason?” asked Laine.
“I appreciate it’s not ideal, but I will not put any of us in unnecessary danger. Kit up and be ready. Barski, Davis, Morrison with me. That’ll be all.”
The Captain took a brisk walk out onto the bridge and directly into his cabin with the three men in tow. The door shut behind them but no one took the opportunity to sit down.
“Sir, you think there is a viable threat?” asked Davis.
“I do. We are dealing with a very dangerous criminal, nothing like the sort of opportunistic gangs we have faced these last few months. Here is a map of the zone we are heading for.”
He tapped a few buttons on the console and a map of the area displayed across the table.
“You are not sharing this with the rest of the crew?” asked Davis.
“It pains me to have to say it, but no. After what happened with Travers, we cannot be too careful. It is of course important that we trust those we work with, but it is safer for everyone if they only know what they need to.”
“That’s a pretty fucking cynical outlook, Sir,” said Davis.
“True, but these are the times we live in.”
He looked down at the map and the briefing sheet Denton had uploaded to his private console. He point to a building within a stockyard.
“We’ll meet our contact here. Their call sign is Freefall.”
“Any idea who they are, Sir?” asked Morrison.
“None, but Denton clearly does. We approach this with caution but at this stage it is not a hostile situation. We approach in column but spaced apart. Keep an eye out for anything out of place.”
“How close can we get the ship?” asked Barski.
“The area has a five hundred metre high artificial dome which maintains their environment, so technically we ride right in and land next to our objective. Our problem is that no craft over five thousand kilos is allowed into the district without prior permission, and we will not be able to obtain this.”
He looked across the plans. Coba was the size of a small town and yet had a population of just a few thousand. He pointed to a large open zone by a line of storage warehouses.
“We’ll put down here as it’s the closest loading bay to our target. It’s just four hundred metres away, so we’ll go on foot from there.”
“What are we expecting to find here?” asked Davis.
“According to Denton, we will find only our contact. He is hiding in a former operating office he used in a previous occupation.”
“Did the Commander speak with him personally?”
“No idea, Barski. I only have what is on the data that Denton sent me. By all accounts, it isn’t much at all. If this contact really does have useful information on Munoz, then it’s a dangerous situation for everyone. Any more questions?”
Barski and the two Sergeants shook their heads. None of them were especially comfortable with the plan, but they had little choice in the matter. Kaufman turned and walked out to the bridge, which was empty, except for Singh at the helm.
“What’s our ETA?”
“Two hours, Sir.”
“Excellent, please notify Lieutenant Sosa and Sergeant Lin of our intentions. We should be able to rendezvous with them once the mission is over.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He turned to Barski.
“Make sure our equipment is on the top line with full air tanks, ammunition and grenades. Let’s be ready for anything.”
Ninety minutes later they all sat around the briefing table in their full armour. They casually poured over the data they had already spent many fruitless hours trying to make sense of. None of them had ever faced a case where so little progress was being made. They could only pray that their contact, Freefall, would be able to help them.
The low gravity of the Moon allowed them an exceptionally easy descent. Like most colonies they landed on, they expected to find little hospitality. To the Moon dwellers, the IBI was just another Earth created and controlled force which would do little to assist them.
Coba was every bit as desolate and ugly as the maps had suggested. There were endless warehouses and stacks of shipping crates that were only broken up by access roads and freight bays. Most of the colony was protected by a series of atmospheric domes. They had become common practice on the moons of the System. The almost clear domes allowed oxygen and gravity to be easily controlled, while most minor space debris was kept out. Ports into the domes neatly coordinated access to and from the various sectors.
Traffic flowed in and out of the town at a fair rate, but the manpower involved was minimal. Almost all the loading and transfer of goods were managed by a series of robotic aids; this allowed a single driver to load and unload the ships with ease.
The Intrepid put down at the loading area as planned, but no one was there to greet them. They could see from the bridge that the work continued around them. To the workers they were just another ship. The town was a dreary and lacklustre place where the populace had settled into the boring life they’d made for themselves.
“Let’s move!”
They stepped out of the ship onto the grey slab concrete ground. Kaufman already disliked the place. It was if they were strangers walking into a quiet dusty old town in the American west, just as they’d seen in the old classic movies. He knew that nothing ever good came of upsetting the peace in such places.
“What a dump,” said Barski.
“Hell of a place to work,” said Davis.
“Well, at least they’ve got a job,” said Kaminski.
“She’s right, I bet they live better than some of the folks in the cities back home,” said Kaufman.
They continued on towards the location mapped out in their devices. It was a slow pace, but they kept their rifles at the front at all times. Morrison was right. It was indeed a sensible place to hide if your life was in danger. They reached the waypoint before long and could see the building they sort across a parking lot. Numerous loading and docking vehicles lined the way. They continued on through to the doors of a building, which read CJ & Co. Freighters.
“This is the place. Morrison’s team take up positions at the doorway, everyone else inside,” said Kaufman.
It struck him as odd that such a large haulage firm was so quiet; their vehicles sat idle. The doors were open but there was no sign of life. Kaufman gave hand signals for them to approach with caution. He peered in through the doors and waved for them to go forward.
The two teams went through into the hallway of the huge building. They walked past offices that were empty but they did show signs of recent activity. There were still coffee mugs on several of the desks and coats were hung on the racks. They continued on into the huge warehouse. It was lined with very high shelving units that were stacked with crates.
“I don’t like this at all, Captain,” whispered Wilson.
“Freefall! This is the IBI, make yourself known!” shouted Kaufman.
The words echoed around the vast building but went unanswered.
“Freefall, this is Captain Eric Kaufman of the IBI. We’ve come to take you in!”
He heard something whistle past his head and turned to find the cause of it. Laine collapsed beside him and a wisp of smoke rose from a hole in his chest. Before he could say a word, a hail of gunfire opened up. Bullets landed all around and two bounced off Kaufman’s armour before he could leap to cover.
“Man down!” shouted Barski.
Kaufman hit the loudhailer button on the forearm of his suit.
“This is Captain Kaufman of the IBI, ceasefire!” he shouted.
His words echoed loudly around the warehouse and none were in doubt that their attackers had heard it, but the gunfire did not alleviate. He looked over to Laine who was gasping for air with bullets ricocheting off the ground around him.
“Return fire!
” Kaufman shouted.
The guns around him opened up as he called down the intercom to Morrison.
“Sergeant, we are under fire and have a man down. I want you to remain in position and guard our rear!”
“Yes, Sir!”
He was glad to have left a military man in charge at the door. Any other of the crew would have been too overcome by the news of one of theirs down to hold position. Kaufman peered over a large crate he had been hiding behind. The gunfire was almost constant as a hail of automatic fire landed close to them.
“We need to get out of here!” shouted Barski.
He was right. They were at the opening to the warehouse where they could be looked down upon from most of the building. The gunfire was getting closer and so their attackers must be approaching.
“Morrison, we are falling back to your position!” shouted Kaufman.
He looked back to his officers who were trying to return fire.
“Let’s move!”
Wilson and Morel ran up to Laine. They each grabbed one of his shoulders and quickly hauled him across the ground. Morel’s right arm was struck and he winced in pain as his rifle fell from his hands and hung from its sling. He did his best to ignore the pain and continued to heave Laine with his left arm.
They all rushed through the opening of the warehouse back towards the offices. The gunfire continued at their backs. Kaufman and Barski were the last out and turned as they reached the cover of the corridor to take a final few shots. They could make our half a dozen figures closing in on their position. A number of others were laying down fire.
The two officers each fired a burst before rushing back to follow the others. They broke out of the door and into the daylight of the parking lot. Morrison lay in a defensive position with the muzzle of his rifle protruding into the corridor.
“This is an ambush, Sergeant. They have military training and weapons!”
“What are your orders, Captain?” he shouted back.
“We need to get back to the ship!” shouted Barski.
“No, we won’t make it with Laine in that state! We don’t run from these bastards! Take up positions here!” Kaufman ordered.
He looked around at the vast open parking lot. The vehicles provided plenty of cover and there were no windows or balconies on the buildings from where they could be fired on. They rushed into the cover of the docking vehicles while Morrison’s team continued to cover the door.
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