The Blunt End of Oblivion (The Blunt End Series, Book 2)

by L. J. Simpson

  St.Clair shook his head in exasperation. It was so difficult to find good help these days.

  CHAPTER 7: Arms for the Poor

  Praeton was a gargantuan, blue star sitting exactly half way between Earth and Atlas. On an almost direct line between the two planets, it would have made the perfect stopping off point had the system not been so inhospitable.

  An enormous gas giant known simply as P-1 occupied the Goldilocks zone, the orbital area that might – in more favourable circumstances – have been just the right distance from the sun to allow the existence of an earth like world with liquid water. As it was, P-1 hurtled around its parent star at a fantastic speed, orbiting in just a few weeks, perhaps a record for a body of its size.

  Other than that, Praeton had very little else to offer; there was no P-2, P-3 or P-anything else.

  Scientists had theorised that P-1 had begun its life on the outer edges of the orbital plane and had slowly migrated in-system, swallowing up virtually everything else along the way, including the remnants of any rocky planet that might perhaps have supported life one day. All that were left were a few barren rocks and a smattering of icy bodies which littered the outer system.

  The only other notable thing about the Praeton system was that its host star was far too large for its own good. It burned with a ferocity and luminosity that outrivaled every other star in the sector. Still only a few million years old, it was using up its nuclear fuel at a phenomenally extravagant rate. So fast that scientists confidently expected it to exhaust the remainder within the next million years or so. And after that, Praeton would collapse upon itself and go bang – with the biggest, brightest and baddest bang of them all – a supernova.

  Already severely disadvantaged, the final nail in the system’s coffin was Praeton’s unpleasant habit of spitting out huge packets of solar radiation at regular intervals; enormous coronal ejections that sent solar storms blasting out across the system. Lethal to anything that lay in their path, the storms precluded any permanent, manned structures and discouraged the casual visitor – which is exactly why Military Intelligence had located a Black Ops storage facility on the edge of the system. Few knew of its existence, and those that did know tended not to hang around to long. Military vessels were all shielded against solar radiation, but with a star the size of Praeton, you never could tell.

  The Reaper opened up a tear in the fabric of space-time rocketed into normal space three light days from Praeton. Even at that distance, the star appeared as a huge, incandescent ball of pure energy.

  “Anything on the sensors?” said Jacks.

  “Not a whisper,” said Fletcher.

  “Distance to target?”

  “Five hundred thousand Ks.”

  “Take us in,” said Jacks.

  Thirty minutes later the Reaper closed on an unremarkable, inky black asteroid. Just a few hundred kilometres across, the asteroid cruised serenely along at the very edge of the system.

  Sitting at the helm, Fletcher matched the asteroid’s speed and heading and then edged along the surface until the Reaper was confronted by a pair of huge, steel hangar doors set in the rock face. Fletcher tapped away at his console for a few minutes, eventually frowning and turning to Jacks.

  “They’ve changed the access codes,” he said.

  “Is there any way to override the system?”

  “No. We could simply blast our way through, but it would most likely render the hangar unusable.”

  “Any suggestions, sergeant?”

  “Just one, sir. We might not have the access codes, but I know the frequency on which the codes have to be transmitted. We just need to fix a sensor pack adjacent to the doors and wait for the supply ship to turn up. And if the logistics guys keep to form, that should be in about twenty four hours.”

  “Capital,” said Jacks. “Cpl. Tully, get suited up. You’re going for an EVA.”

  * * *

  Atlas Central

  “Alice Villiers?”

  “Who wants to know?” said the woman, peering around the edge of the door, a hefty security bar preventing it from opening further. The words spoke of suspicion more than insolence, and from the little that could be seen of her face, she had every right to be cautious.

  There were dark bruises beneath both eyes and her upper lip bore a small row of stitches. They had been expertly done but they would almost certainly leave a scar. It was a shame, thought Burns as he held up his ID. She had undoubtedly been a very good looking woman. All being well, she would be again.

  “My name is Burns. I’m a police officer. If it’s not too much trouble we’d like to have a word with you.”

  “You’d better come in,” said Alice after a pause. She unfastened the security bar and allowed Burns and Mullins inside, leading them through the hallway and into the lounge area beyond. A row of packing cases lined the hallway and the lounge itself was bereft of furniture save a small table and a couple of chairs.

  “Moving?” inquired Burns.

  “Yes. I’m just finishing up the packing.”

  “Would it have anything to do with what happened to your face?”

  “Maybe. Is that why you’re here?”

  “Not really, though if you want to talk about it...”

  Alice shook her head.

  “We’re looking into the death of Jimmy Franks, Miss Villiers. We heard that you might be able to help us.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The floor manager at the Cascades Club. Dan Buckler. He told us that Jimmy Franks was his friend and that you might have some relevant information.”

  A sadness immediately descended on her face. “Jimmy Franks... What do you want to know?”

  “Anything you can tell us. How well did you know him?”

  “Not that well, not really. He was friends with Dan – I know they went back a long way. Apart from Dan, I don’t think he had many friends, you know. He often came to the Cascades and I’d sometimes have a chat with him. Dan said he had a crush on me. I’d pretty much figured that out already, though Jimmy never said anything, of course. He was a sweet sort of guy but kind of awkward with people. I guess he was just shy. Apart from that, I don’t know... he never drank too much, always left a tip and he wasn’t a bad loser like some. Never really gambled too heavily – except for that one time.”

  “We already know about that, Miss Villiers.”

  “You do?”

  “He was drugged. That’s how he got so heavily in debt.”

  “Drugged? But why?”

  “To cut a long story short, he was coerced into breaking the law. After that he was just a pawn in a very dangerous game – a disposable asset, if you will. He was always going to be caught – it was just a matter of time. We believe that when the people using him discovered he was under investigation, they had him killed. We have a good idea who carried out the murder, but for the present we just don’t have enough evidence to convict.”

  “Chumly,” said Alice flatly. “Chumly killed him.”

  Burns and Mullins raised their eyebrows in unison.

  “He told me. He came here a few nights after Jimmy died. He was drunk, as usual, He was mad, too. Mad at everyone as far as I could tell. Mad at the guys he worked with, mad at the police and if I remember right, he was mad at you too, Mr. Burns.”

  “Did he often come here…? If you’ll permit me to ask,” said Burns.

  “Chumly and I had a thing going a while back. Yes, I know… I know the kind of circles he moves around in. But… he could be so very charming – almost gallant, if you can believe it. He certainly knows how to show a girl a good time. His marriage is just a sham – he hardly ever spends any time at home and I though that… well, maybe I could change his ways. Stupid, really. Although he still came around occasionally we’d pretty much broken up a while back. I just got fed up of the other women. I’d warned him about it and he’d rant and rave, but he never actually hit me. I never saw his violent side at all. At least, not until…”
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  “He did that to you.” It was a statement rather than a question. “You could press charges, you know.”

  Alice shook her head.

  “So what happened that night?”

  “As I said, he was in a foul mood. He said it was all because of Jimmy Franks.”

  “At the time, Mr. Franks was, shall we say, helping us with our enquiries,” said Mullins.

  “We didn’t think he’d be in any immediate danger,” said Burns. “I regret to say that we were wrong. He was killed within hours of us interviewing him. What exactly did Chumly say?”

  “Something like Jimmy got whacked because he was a snitch. He’d gone squealing to the cops and he’d had it coming. Then Chumly said he’d do it again tomorrow.”

  “I’m tempted to ask you if you’d be prepared to testify–”

  “I would,” said Alice straight away.

  “You should know that Dan Buckler refused to go on record with what he knows, and we understand why. He’d be putting himself and his family in very real danger.”

  “I don’t have any family here on Atlas – or anywhere else for that matter, and I’m not staying here anyway. I’d made up my mind about that before Chumly did this to me. In a few days I’ll be leaving the system and I wasn’t planning on coming back.” She scribbled something on a slip of paper and passed it to Burns. “If you need to, you can get in touch with me here.”

  “We appreciate it, Miss Villiers,” said Burns.

  “You say that Chumly was often drunk?” asked Mullins.

  “He liked his liquor,” said Alice.

  “Did he ever talk about other goings on? Things about his work?”

  “All the time. Chumly tends to talk a lot when he’s drunk.”

  “You see, Miss Villiers, while our top priority is to bring Jimmy Frank’s killer to book, we are also anxious to get to the people who set all this in motion. Chumly is – as far as we can tell – near the bottom of the ladder. We’d be doing the world a favour by getting him off the streets but we want the people at the top. Is there anything that Chumly might have let slip about his day to day activities?”

  “I know that the Deputy Mayor Hanning is mixed up with the Delph. When Mayor Burgess retires from office next year, the Delph will be funding Hanning’s election campaign.”

  “That’s certainly something we can look into,” said Burns. “Anyone else on the payroll that you know of?”

  “A few of the cops at Atlas Central.”

  “That doesn’t really come as any surprise. Don’t suppose you have any names?”

  “No, but I don’t think it’s anyone high up. Chumly said that Hobbs was bemoaning the fact. Mind you, I heard that Hobbs knew you’d be picking Chumly up almost before it happened.”

  How many people knew about that? wondered Burns.

  “What do you know about Jack Hobbs?” asked Mullins.

  “He’s one cold fish. Technically, he’s the head of security at the Cascades, but Dan Buckler does most of the legwork. I don’t think anyone likes him very much. Chumly certainly doesn’t. He thought Hobbs might be skimming off some of the profits from the Delph’s businesses. I know Hobbs does all the bookwork and from what I can gather, takes care of the legal stuff and handles the day to day operations, whatever they may be.”

  “Do you know how many people are involved in that side of the business?”

  “There are about eighty people working at the Cascades, most of them legitimate employees. Only a few are in the pay of the Delph. Chumly’s one, obviously. He works mostly with Sam – I don’t know if that’s his first or last name. Sam’s the senior. He’s a bit of a joker, but not one to cross – he’s got a nasty temper. Chumly says he suffers from gout and the piles. Maybe that explains the temper. There are a few others that Chumly mentioned from time to time, Bren, Lenny... but I don’t think they ever spent much time at the Cascades.”

  “Lenny?” said Burns. “Young guy, tall, slim?”

  “That’s right,” said Alice. “With an attitude and a chip on his shoulder.”

  “Sounds about right,” said Mullins.

  “What can you tell us about St.Clair?” asked Burns.

  “Very little, other than he has a penthouse apartment above the Cascades and a plush office that he uses for entertaining.”

  “We’ve seen it,” said Burns. “Can’t say he was very entertaining, but still.”

  “St.Clair rarely comes into the casino itself. The only thing I can tell you is that he is one of the few people that Chumly is afraid of – or at least, very wary of. I think they all are.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Just rumours. They say he’s had any number of men killed. Mostly his enemies, but he demands absolute loyalty from those around him. Chumly said he’s been known to have his own men killed when it suits his purpose, and he’s not above pulling the trigger himself, either.” She thought for a moment and then gave her shoulders a brief shrug. “I don’t think there’s very much else I can tell you.”

  “Well, thank you, Miss Villiers. You’ve been a great help. If you think of anything else... or if you change your mind about pressing charges, here’s my card. Give me a call.”

  Alice nodded but refused the card. “I’d rather not have it on me, to be honest. But I promise I’ll call if I think of anything.”

  Burns and Mullins said their goodbyes and made their way back onto the street, leaving by a rear entrance just on the off chance that someone was watching the building.

  “Seems a genuine enough girl,” said Burns.

  “Guess so,” said Mullins. “Pity she didn’t have anything more on Chumly. Having said that, we’ve got him at the scene of the crime and now we have a witness who heard him admit to doing it.”

  “The only problem is, Mullins, she said that Chumly was drunk when he admitted to killing Jimmy Franks. It would be sure come out in court and any half decent lawyer would rip the argument to shreds.”

  “And the Delph have the best.”

  “Too true. Until we have some physical evidence to go with it, all we can do is file it away for future use. Either way, the visit wasn’t a complete waste of time. We can have someone take a close look at the deputy mayor’s activities for a start. And what do you make of Hobbs being on the make?”

  “That’s a strange one,” said Mullins. “You might expect that from someone lower down the pecking order, but not from someone like Hobbs. What’s he got to gain? If it’s true, I’d say he’s playing a very dangerous game, especially if St.Clair is as ruthless as they say.”

  “No argument there.” Burns paused as his data pad began to buzz. He read through the message on the screen and his face broke into a broad smile. “Well, well, well… would you believe it? Sergeant Mullins, do you happen to know who the patron saint of detectives is?”

  “St. Colombo, I believe, sir. Why do you ask?”

  “Because whoever it is, the man is smiling on us today.”

  * * *

  Praeton System

  “Heads up,” said Fletcher as he scrutinized the data coming into his passive scanners. “We’ve got company.”

  The Reaper had spent the previous twenty four hours drifting silently at the very edges of the Praeton system. Powered down, she lay almost invisible against the background of space.

  “What do we have?” asked Jacks.

  “A light transport – military. They’re making straight for the facility.”

  “Have they scanned the area?”

  “If they did, they haven’t seen us. They’re closing on the facility and transmitting the access codes… now.”

  The freighter slowed as it rendezvoused with the asteroid and a minute later it disappeared from Fletcher’s scope. “That’s it – they’re inside. We just have to wait for them to finish their business and then we go in and retrieve the sensor pack.”

  Two hours later the transport emerged from the facility and moved smartly away, Fletcher tracking its progress as i
t moved towards the edge of his sensor range. It made the transit to super-space and disappeared from his scope altogether.

  “I’ll get suited up,” said Tully.

  Fletcher maneuvered the Reaper alongside the asteroid and brought her to a halt directly in front of the hangar doors. Meanwhile, Tully was making the final pressure tests on his EVA suit. Satisfied, he entered the airlock began the decompression sequence, feeling the suit tense slightly as the pressure dropped. Once the sequence was complete, the Open Door icon appeared on the control panel. He gave the icon a tap and watched the door slide smoothly open to reveal a sight that never failed to take his breath away – an endless field of stars, stars and more stars. He gave a small gasp as he always did, silently berating himself for the lack of professionalism but at the same time consoling himself with the notion that even the most hardened space-walker probably did much the same thing. Who could fail to be moved by the incredible vista that lay before them?

  He stood at the edge of the precipice and prepared to take his first step into the void, something more exhilarating than charging down the back straight in a Charnak 3 bulldozer race, and ironically, considerably less dangerous. EVAs were safe enough if you obeyed the rules. Bulldozer racing simply had no rules at all.

  And then his foot left the deck plating and he was free – as free as it was possible for any man to be. Free from gravity and the earthly baggage that went with it. Free from desire, sorrow, regret and all the other things that got in the way of living simply for the joy of the moment. It was just him and the universe, coasting along together in perfect harmony.

  “Everything all right, Corporal Tully?” said Jacks over the com.

  “Yes, sir,” said Tully, pushing aside the joy of the moment and returning to the job at hand. He engaged the suit’s thrusters and guided himself to the spot where he had earlier affixed the sensor pack. It was still there. He undid the clamps and made the return journey to the airlock in a matter of seconds. By the time he had divested himself of the pressure suit the facility’s access codes had already been downloaded and were ready for transmission. Tully arrived on the bridge just in time to see the two great hangar doors slide open up to reveal a cavernous space inside. Fletcher played with the attitude thrusters and the Reaper slid slowly into the hangar and up to the air-lock. As soon as they were safely docked, the hangar doors closed behind them.