Assassin on Centauri B (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 7)

by John Bowers

  Nick was the last passenger off the plane. As he stepped up to the Customs desk, he presented his starpass. The young woman behind the counter gazed at it for a moment, then gazed at his face, visually comparing him to his flat photo. Apparently satisfied, she allowed him the trace of a smile.

  “Kakova cel’ vašego vizita v Periskop-Harbor?”

  Nick dipped his head slightly.

  “Say, what?”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t speak Rukranian?”

  “No, I don’t. I came here from the Federation.”

  “I see. What is the purpose of your visit to Periscope Harbor?” She spoke with virtually no accent.

  “Visiting friends.”

  “And how long do you plan to stay?”

  “Just a few days. No longer than a week.”

  “Do you have any other luggage?”

  “No.” He hefted the space bag. “Just this.”

  “Can you open it for inspection, please?”

  Nick pulled the bag open and set it before her. She picked through it for a moment, lifting out items and replacing them when she was done.

  “Did you bring any weapons, foodstuffs, or illegal drugs?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you.” She pushed the bag toward him. “You can close it now.”

  Nick nodded and pulled the zipper on the bag. He was peripherally aware of two guards a few yards to his left, staring at him. Both wore uniforms with badges and both had gunbelts. He placed the space bag on the floor at his feet and waited to be cleared.

  He was totally unprepared for what happened next. The young Customs agent, who was prettier than he had expected any Rukranian woman to be, swiped his starpass under a laser scanner. Instantly, an alarm began to shrill and force fields sprang up on all four sides of him, completely isolating him from everyone else in the room. Startled, he raised his hands and took a step back, receiving a mild shock as he bumped the glittering force field. The two guards to his left sprang toward him, guns drawn.

  “Freeze!” one of them shouted. “Do not move! Keep your hands up and get down on your knees!”

  Nick felt adrenaline shoot through him. He had known this mission would be dangerous, but hadn’t expected trouble this quickly. With no choice in the matter, he obeyed instructions and dropped to his knees, hands still in the air. The female agent pressed a button and the force fields disappeared; both guards moved in and a third, whom he hadn’t seen, approached from behind him. Within seconds his hands were pulled behind him and E-cuffs attached. With two men keeping him covered, the third pulled him to his feet.

  “What’s going on?” Nick protested. “What the hell is this?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Russo,” the female agent said, “but your starpass has been flagged.”

  “What for?”

  “You’re on our watch list. Apparently the Federation has a warrant out for your arrest.”

  Nick scowled but didn’t reply. Somebody had screwed up somewhere. His cover was to pose as a fugitive, but only to the Rukranian underworld. Getting arrested at the airport hadn’t been part of the plan.

  At least…not part of his plan.

  One of the guards grabbed his space bag and the others marched him down the concourse toward the front of the terminal. The scattering of civilians still in the building stared at him as if he’d just bitten the head off a live chicken.

  Nick had absolutely no idea what to do now. His briefing had not included getting arrested. With three armed men flanking him, he made no further protest as they led him down an escalator, past baggage claim, and across the main lobby toward the street. One of the guards spoke into a collar implant but Nick couldn’t understand him. He suspected the man was calling police to claim the suspect.

  How the hell did he get out of this? Had someone added a wrinkle to the original plan that he didn’t know about? Were the police now privy to the operation…and if so, would they cooperate? Nick had been led to believe the police were too shot through with corruption to be trusted—had that changed?

  Or was he looking at a long incarceration?

  His thoughts churned as the little group stopped outside the terminal. The parking lot was only half filled with hover and surface cars, very little traffic flowing in and out. Periscope Harbor airport was not a busy hub.

  A cool breeze washed over him as he stood under the overhang in front of the building. The guards stood at half attention, guns holstered, confident that their prisoner could not escape while wearing E-cuffs. Five minutes drifted by.

  A hovercar soared in from the east and set down directly in front of them. Nick tensed slightly until he realized it was not an official car. He watched as a woman stepped out and walked to the rear of the vehicle, where she opened a hatch. Inside, Nick saw four or five travel bags, all bulging with contents. The woman hoisted one to the ground, took a deep breath, and wiped an arm across her brow. The guards watched her, disinterested. She glared at them, then said something in Rukranian. The man in charge replied but didn’t move. She spoke to him again in a sharper tone. He glanced at his companions, then stepped off the curb to help her.

  The guard grabbed a travel bag and lifted it out of the car, turning his back on the woman as he set it on the curb. Before he could turn back, the woman whipped out an automatic pistol and slammed it down on the guard’s head, dropping him to the starcrete. The other two guards were shocked and had no time to react as she aimed her pistol at first one, then the other, swinging it back and forth.

  “Vstat’ na koleni! Prjamo sejčas!”

  Nick had no clue what she was saying, but it had the same effect as “Get on your knees! Right now!”

  The guards, caught flat-footed, complied. The woman stepped up behind them and, with a shove of her foot, pushed each one face-down onto the hard surface. Nick half expected her to shoot them execution style, but all she did was take their weapons and collar implants. She stepped back from the curb and looked at Nick for the first time.

  “Get in car.”

  “What?”

  “Get in damn car! Right now, or I shoot you between eyes!”

  She unlocked his E-cuffs and opened the passenger door for him; he grabbed his space bag and jumped inside the car. She grabbed her bags off the sidewalk—now surprisingly light—and pitched them into her trunk; seconds later she was in the pilot’s seat beside him and the hovercar was lifting off. He didn’t see what happened to the guards—the hovercar swung around and headed toward the harbor, in the direction of the downtown skytowers. He felt a sickening surge in his stomach as the car gained altitude, then realized he was shaking.

  “What the hell just happened?” he demanded. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Call me Polina.”

  Nick stared at her in surprise, recognition slowly dawning. From the moment he first saw her he had thought she looked vaguely familiar, and now it made sense. Valentin had shown him her photo. She looked less stiff and imposing in person.

  “Polina Stepanova?”

  “Da. And you are Nick Russo.”

  “Nick W— Yeah, Nick Russo.” He rubbed his wrists. “What the hell was this all about?”

  Polina checked her view screens and began shedding altitude to merge into the light but steady stream of traffic moving between the mountain and the harbor. Nick felt his stomach lurch again as she began the downward glide.

  “Nobody brief you?” Her accent was light but distinct.

  “Sure they did, but this little stunt wasn’t included.”

  “Last minute change. Your mission is infiltrate Bratva, but that is more easy if they already know who you are.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  She smiled grimly. “This won’t make Net News, but word will be all over street before dark. Federation fugitive arrested at airport but made escape. When you show up looking for asylum, they will not blink eye.”

  Nick nodded his understanding. Not a bad move, actually.

  “What about the cops?”<
br />
  “What about them?”

  “Are they in on this?”

  “I am in on it, and I am only cop you need worry about.”

  “Surely those guys have reported my ‘escape’ by now.”

  “Not for few minutes yet. We will reach destination before they call in.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I paid them very well. They are airport guards, not police…easy to bribe.”

  He rubbed his wrists. “So what happens now?”

  “Now we get you hide away for few hours. Police will be looking for you, so isn’t safe for you until dark.”

  “Great. This mission wasn’t tough enough, so now I’m a fugitive?”

  Polina Stepanova shrugged. “You want infiltrate Bratva, you have to be credible.”

  Nick exhaled through puffed cheeks and stared out the window. The hovercar was approaching the elevated highway that bisected the city. A moment later they soared across it and she began descending toward the downtown, dense with tall buildings and busy streets.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I have apartment for you. Isn’t much, but place to sleep, and in building they will not likely check. You can use it as long as you are here, but if you succeed in penetrating Bratva, the brotherhood may put you up in different location. How you proceed after that is up to you.”

  “Do you have a gun for me?”

  “No. You could never have gotten gun through airport, so if you have one when you meet Bratva, it may raise suspicion. If Bratva buys your story, they will provide you with weapon.”

  “And if they don’t buy my story?”

  She glanced sidelong at him, then shrugged.

  “Then God help you.”

  *

  Nick sat silent as Polina merged into the hover traffic, firing braking thrust to reduce her speed. Shortly they were cruising between tall buildings on all sides; after several blocks, she banked left down another canyon-like street. Nick gazed up at the skytowers looming above him, impressed with the design and density of the downtown district. Commercial towers seemed to dominate streets running east and west, with residential towers packed into the north-south side streets. Gaudy signs in both Roman and Cyrillic script identified the shops and stores, though most of them Nick couldn’t read.

  A few blocks later, Polina swerved into a parking garage on the fifteenth floor of a nondescript residential tower; her tires made contact with the surface and she shut down her lifters, driving forward toward a parking space in the center of the building. She shut down the turbine and Nick caught his breath, aware for the first time that he’d been somewhat stressed. Polina released her harness and punched a button that activated the clamshell doors.

  “Grab your bag, Russo. We are here.”

  City sounds penetrated the garage as Nick stepped out, and a brisk wind whined around the corners of the building. Polina strode toward an elevator ten yards from the car and a moment later they found themselves on the twenty-fourth floor. Polina stepped out, glanced down the corridor, then motioned Nick to follow. She swiped a sonic keycard in front of an apartment door and led him inside.

  “This is it.”

  She dropped her keys onto a table near the door and gestured toward a couch against the wall. “Sit down. Rest. You probably had tiring trip.”

  She headed into a kitchenette where she opened a nitro cooler and stared into it.

  “Do you like beer? Vodka?”

  “Not today. Thanks anyway.”

  The apartment was small but clean, with the bare minimum of furniture. Nick walked down the short hall past a bathroom and peered into the bedroom, which was unremarkable in every way. A glance at the ceiling revealed a ventilation grate, smoke alarm, and light fixtures; he glanced into a closet and found it empty. The bathroom held a sink, toilet, shower, and linen closet. The soap dispenser was full, clean towels hung near the shower. Like an au’tel room.

  He walked back toward the kitchen. Polina was drinking a beer from a frosty glass container. She eyed him with curiosity.

  “Everything is okay?”

  “As far as I can tell. Looks like no one ever lived here before.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I just rented yesterday.”

  He frowned. “You mean, it isn’t a safe house?”

  “Nyet. We have those, but they are too dangerous. Anyone—any police officer—could show up any time, and that would not be in your best interest. In any case, those have to be logged into database where wrong people might find out who is using them.”

  “So you paid for this out of your own pocket?”

  She offered him a wry smile. “I will send bill to Federation.”

  He glanced around again, at the furniture, the ceiling.

  “Is satisfactory?” Polina asked.

  “Yeah. Sure, it’s great.”

  “There is food in nitro-cooler and several varieties of drink. If you need anything else—”

  “No, I’m good. I think I saw a couple of markets back down the street.”

  “Okay. Is anything else I can do for you?”

  “I thought you would have a briefing for me. You do understand my mission, don’t you?”

  “Da. You are here to find out who killed your ambassador.”

  “That’s right.”

  Polina set her beer container down and settled into a chair. Nick sat opposite her and rested his elbows on his knees.

  Polina sighed.

  “In my opinion, the Petreykin family are most likely suspects. They are cruel, ruthless people who stop at nothing to get what they want. They have our government by throat and have corrupted our law enforcement to the point that is impossible to get rid of them. They do not run entire planet, but they do own this city and this is where power is. No one else would dare bring down passenger plane without their approval, so has to be them.”

  “How do I make contact?”

  She tilted her head. “Who you want to contact?”

  “Whoever is in charge. The top dog, if possible.”

  “Top dog?”

  “The man in charge. I assume that’s Egor Petreykin?”

  “Da, but you will not get to him easily. To talk to him, you will first have to go through one of his sons, Orel or Stepan.”

  “And where will I find them?”

  “If you apply for work, to join Bratva, you will meet one of them. Maybe both. Anyone who gets hired will first be approved by them. Only then will you have opportunity to meet Egor, but will not be easy.”

  Nick grimaced.

  “And where do the brothers hang out?”

  “They own nightclub, Rodina. Is their headquarters.”

  “Rodina?”

  “Da. The name is tribute to old country back on Terra. It means ‘Motherland’.”

  “Where do I find it?”

  “I show you before I go. You can walk there from here.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  She gazed at him a moment, as if debating whether to continue. Finally she nodded.

  “I don’t know what bad people you face before, but these are very dangerous. Do not cross them. Do not take anything for granted. They kill you for only minor offense, and do it painfully. You understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Be careful. Do not appear weak. If they think you weak, they kill you and not blink eye. Better to be aggressive than weak. They respect aggressive.”

  “Okay.”

  “These people love gangster vids. They think it makes them cool, and they try to act part. You see gangster vids?”

  “I’ve seen my share.”

  “Good. Expect them to act like vid gangsters, only for real. If you survive first meeting, you may work with various people, mob soldiers. You will be expected to prove yourself. Any hesitation by you and they kill. Be ready to do what you must.”

  Nick frowned. “You mean, like beat someone up?”

  “Da. Or kill. Maybe innocent person. Do what you mu
st.”

  Nick’s frown deepened.

  “I don’t think so. I could face prosecution when I get home.”

  “Maybe, but if you refuse, you maybe not get home.”

  He stared at her a moment, then shrugged. It was just advice, not an order. He would make his own decisions when—or if—the time came.

  “What else?”

  “These people not friendly the way you expect. If you meet one who is too friendly, be careful. He will have other man with him. Second man will not talk, but when talk is done, second man will shoot you in head. Just be aware.”

  *

  Before Polina left, she showed Nick a paper map of Periscope Harbor with certain locations marked for his convenience, including his apartment, the Federation embassy, the police station, Government Annex, and the Rodina. She had also marked two or three markets and liquor outlets that he might like, unaware that since the manhunt on Tau Ceti 4, he had all but quit drinking. She gave him her private comm number, which he memorized.

  “I will try to contact you every day,” she said.

  “How will you do that?”

  She handed him the sonic key to his apartment, a plastic card.

  “I had this modified. Is sonic key, but also text receiver.”

  “Text receiver?”

  “Da. Pinch opposite corners at same time for three seconds.”

  With a frown of concentration, Nick did as she said. After three seconds, a small text window appeared in the center of the card, like a tiny computer screen. A message was waiting for him:

  WELCOME NICK RUSSO

  “Hm. Okay. How do I respond?”

  “Not with this. Is not radio, just receiver. I will use it if we need to meet, give instruction, then you follow instruction.”

  “Okay…” Nick looked skeptical. “Does it beep or something when a message arrives?”

  “Nyet. You must check now and then for message. Logo will turn green.”

  “What happens if they find it? I expect I’ll be searched.”

  “Carry in shoe. Should be safe in shoe.”

  “That won’t damage it? I weigh nearly two hundred pounds.”

  Polina shook her head. “Card is tough. If Bratva find it, is not the end of world. Now, time may come when we need third person to communicate. We must have password.”