by Rob Guy
“That’s the point. Nobody will be looking for you down here. And if they do come we’ll see ‘em.”
“I would. I think this is the perfect place to come looking for someone who is trying to hide.”
“It’s called a double bluff,” Harry said looking round the apartment. “It means…”
“I know what a double bluff means, Harry.” Petersen turned to look at him. “What you got?”
“Pseudo ham and pickle.”
“Huh!”
“Come on, we’ll share. We don’t have long. Soames asked me to come and get you.”
“Gareth? What does he want?”
“No idea. But he was insistent. Maybe you’ve made an impression.”
Petersen made a noise. “Yeah, sure.”
“I’ll get the coffee.”
A few minutes later, Harry brought in two steaming cups and they sat together at the small table, facing each other.
“So,” said Harry, biting into his sandwich.
“So what?” said Petersen, doing likewise.
“I’ve been meaning to ask. Why didn’t you go to the Council before I found you?”
“That’s easy enough to figure out. I needed to make sure that whoever I saw wasn’t on Tyrell or the Judge’s payroll. I’ve been observing the council offices for days, trying to figure out who I could approach.”
“And not having much success I would say. Pity you didn’t know I was after you. My team could have saved you a lot of trouble.”
Harry liked the sound of that. My team.
“Well, excuse me for not trusting you, a total stranger, and armed to the teeth.”
“I see your point.”
“Now you tell me about Timothy. Where is he? Do you know?”
Oh shit. I haven’t had the chance to tell him. How is this going to go?
Harry figured on the direct approach. What other choice was there? He told Petersen everything he thought relevant, including the fact that he had killed Hackman. Knowing this, Harry figured it might help Petersen trust him more. But as he relayed past events, it was evident that Petersen’s mind was wandering. Harry tried his best to console him.
“You’ve done the right thing here,” he said. “You were out of options, my friend. Either you came with me or risked being taken back to Earth.”
Petersen hung his head. “All I want is for everyone to get what they need. Water is what everyone needs. Why should the likes of Tyrell and Headlock be allowed to sell it to the highest bidder?”
“Look, I agree with you. But this is the way it is. You can’t change things overnight, and you certainly can’t change things by yourself. But if you can stand before the Council, the whole Council, mind, not just that windbag Berkeley, and convince them what Headlock plans to do, then perhaps we can make a difference here. And if they won’t listen then we simply go public.”
“Nice speech,” said Petersen, clasping his hands together. He then tilted his head. “But where have I heard that before?” He snapped his fingers and pointed one at Harry. “Ah yes, last weeks edition of Spot The Bullshit.”
Harry sighed. “Oh dear.”
He looked hard at Petersen, the man’s short, podgy features showing an array of reds and pinks. There was sweat beading down his temples, and he recalled how this corpulent whistle-blower had been struggling to catch his breath in the alley. The man had even puked.
He waited a minute before speaking, watching Petersen becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the silence. “I have to say, you disappoint me Gus.”
“And why is that?”
“I thought you would be more angry, about Rogers I mean.”
“Timothy.”
“I’ll call him Rogers if it’s all the same to you. I didn’t know him as well as you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I know how close you were.”
“”You know nothing.”
“Then tell me.”
Petersen paused, and then put a hand to his mouth. He stared down at the floor as he spoke. “Tim was a great hydrologist. In time he would have been better than me, and that’s not easy for me to say.”
“But you’ve said it anyway.”
“But it is the truth. Or it would have been.” His eyes started welling up.
“Ah please. You’re not going to cry on me are you?” Harry’s hard-nose tactics were working.
“How can you be so cruel? Haven’t you ever lost someone close?”
“In my line of work it happens all the time.”
“What, as a bailsman?” Petersen scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“I was on the Bureau before that. Saw a lot of good men go down, none more so than my partner.”
Petersen appeared chastened. “I’m sorry. This is difficult for me right now. I…” He gave up trying to speak and put his head in his hands. Harry let him cry it out for a minute before tapping him on the shoulder.
“Come on, you need to snap out of it. Let’s focus on nailing Headlock. After all, he’s the one responsible for Rogers’ death.”
“I know, I know,” Petersen replied, sniffing and rubbing at his nose. “How did it happen? Your partner, how did it happen?”
“Same guy that got Rogers got my partner.”
“He did? You neglected to mention that part. I guess I should thank you for what you did, despite how I feel about your sort.”
“My sort?”
“Government types with guns. What drives a man to join the Bureau and carry a gun?”
Harry thought briefly of his father, murdered at the hands of thugs. But now wasn’t the time to tell that story.
“When I get this out it is a last resort,” he eventually replied.
“Was there one in the chamber?”
“Look, this is hardly….”
“Was there?”
Harry sighed. “No.”
“I knew it! What does it feel like to fire it?”
“Look, I hardly think this is the time to talk about such things. A minute ago you were bawling like a wretch. Now you’re all guns and ammo.”
“Timothy is dead because I refused to do what Headlock wanted. I can’t help who I am. How about you? Why did you leave the Bureau?”
“You really want to do this? Now?” Petersen just looked at him. “Okay. Well, my ex-partner and I were poised to put the lid on one of the biggest smuggling rackets in East America. We arrived at the location, but unknown to us, someone had tipped off those inside, and we ended up shooting our way out of trouble. We didn’t start it, but were simply defending ourselves, returning fire. I was scaring everyone half to death with the noise. Out in the street, one of my rounds ricocheted, and hit a civilian and put him in a chair for the rest of his life. I got suspended, and I finally quit.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I was with the Bureau for twelve years before I took up this venture. Shooting someone isn’t a good thing to happen to you, trust me.”
Petersen finished his sandwich. He rubbed his palms on his pants. “Headlock and Tyrell will kill us both, kill everyone on the Council that opposes them, you know that.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll make sure that won’t happen.”
“How?”
“Look, you have to understand, I’m here to help you.”
“You can’t help me. Look what happened to Timothy.”
“Hardly my fault. I was just getting started on the case.”
“I’m not blaming you for any of this. I know you’re here to help, but how many are there in your team?”
Harry had to be quick. He wasn’t entirely sure himself.
Manny, Heidi, Angel? No. Jemima? Jade?
“Five, including me.”
“Huh! What can you do against Headlock and Tyrell?”
“A whole lot more up here than if we were back on Earth. You forget there’s a whole planet they’ll have to deal with, as well as my team. No amount of money or bribes can alter the f
act that the populace won’t allow those two to destroy Phobos, once we’ve made it public. And you under-estimate my colleagues and myself. I’ve been through here more than once, made a lot of friends.”
“And enemies too, I shouldn’t wonder.”
Harry frowned and sighed.
Oh dear.
This wasn’t quite going the way he thought it would. It seemed to him that Petersen was ready to die, had indeed resigned himself to the fact. Harry would have to turn this around pretty fast if all concerned were to get out alive. But he had been through here before and made friends, that part was true. But unfortunately so was the other part. He had a few gambling debts, and he was pretty sure he had been named chief litigant in a divorce case here. That would have been Daphne once more. Though their current situation was dire, Harry’s mind drifted back just for a second, and a wistful look came over him. And now that he actually thought more about her, he felt sure Daphne might be able to help him, if the time came.
He had to shake himself. He took a deep breath, and studied Petersen for a moment. The man was deep in thought. One thing Harry knew for certain. Headlock would be churning up trouble for all of them, but him especially, no doubt about that. He had been one step ahead of him all the time. That had to change.
“Come on,” he said. He stood up and took Petersen’s elbow. “We need to move. How do you feel?”
“Like a dead man.”
Harry grunted. “I’ve been dead before. It’s a piece of cake. Let’s go.”
34
The Message
Harry and Petersen arrived back at the council chambers, and were directed to the conference hall. As they approached they could hear the murmur and bustle of many voices from behind the tall, coffered doors. Harry pushed them open to find the room crowded with people. He strained over the heads looking for Soames, or Jacks, or indeed anyone he recognized.
“Harry? What’s going on?” Petersen asked nervously.
“I’ve no idea,” Harry replied, hardly helpful. “But I’m going to find out.”
He left Gus by the doors and mingled into the crowd. He eventually found Soames and Jacks by the huge bay window overlooking Central Plaza. They were deep in conversation with two others, both of whom Harry didn’t recognize. One was a woman, around fifty, attractive, slim, dark skinned, and with her collar length hair shining and cut just like Heidi’s. The other was a man, tall, equally slim and distinguished, with a white crew cut and pencil thin grey moustache.
Soames must have seen him approach out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to greet him.
“Hey, Harry, at last. Where’s Gus?”
“By the door. What’s up?”
“May I introduce Mayor Marjorie Calvin, and Colonel Maurice Stevens, our chief military advisor?”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr Watt,” said Stevens in a stiff British accent, extending a hand.
“Harry, please,” said Harry. “Madam Mayor.”
“My pleasure, Harry,” said Calvin, eying him up and down; slow, deliberate.
“I like a woman who’s quick on the uptake.”
The mayor looked baffled, before smiling.
“Gareth, what’s going on?” Harry asked again.
“It’s why I wanted you both here. About two hours ago we received a transmission from your Judge Headlock.”
Harry sighed and hung his head. “I figured it was about time for some shit slinging. Pardon me, mayor.”
“Marjorie, please,” said Marjorie, continuing her visual inspection.
“Something tells me I’m not going to like this, unless by chance he was calling to see if I’ve received his advance.”
“I’m afraid not, and yes, you’re not going to like it.”
“Well I figured that much, otherwise why have your chief of the military here? And everyone on Mars it would seem.”
“But now you’re here we can get on with proceedings.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re about to replay the message for the whole Council.”
“Whoa. Is that wise?”
“That’s how we do things up here. We are not hiding this from anybody. The people, or rather their representatives, have all been summoned to hear the message. Now you’re here we can get on with it. May I suggest you and Gus stay close to the door and the two gentlemen standing either side of it?”
Harry turned to see two quite obvious looking security guards trying not to be obvious standing next to the entrance. He saw Gus, and made a gesture indicating everything was okay and to stay put.
“Are you expecting trouble?” asked Harry.
“You never know,” Soames answered. “After you hear what Headlock has to say, you’ll appreciate my advice.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Of that I’ve no doubt. But if things get ugly, we want to ensure there’s no, shall we say, incident.”
“What the hell is in this message?”
“Best if you hear it first.”
Soames was giving Harry his best, non-committal, spin doctor answers. Bemused, he tried another route. “So who here knows me, besides you guys, Berkeley and Entwistle?”
“Everyone here is going to know who you are in a minute. Excuse me.”
“What?”
Soames moved off before Harry could ask anything else. He was met by several members as he made his way to the back of the room. Harry turned to look at Stevens and Calvin who both appeared grim.
“What’s going on?” he asked, now more than a little peeved.
“You’ll see,” said Stevens.
“I’ll….” Harry puffed out his lips in frustration. “Bloody politicians. Can I get a straight answer?”
“I’m not a politician, Mr Watt,” retorted Stevens, rather put out.
“But I am,” said Calvin. “Just be patient, please.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Soames began, his voice raised. “Please can I have your attention. Thank you all for coming at such short notice. There are two announcements to convey, the first of which I will hand you over to our chief councillor, Senator Aaron Berkeley.”
There was mild applause as Berkeley made his way from the side of the temporary stage to stand alongside Soames.
“Thank you, Gareth. Now then. I will get straight to the point. My friends, about two hours ago we received a transmission from Earth, from a person actually, a transmission that can only be described as an act of war.”
The obvious reaction to such a statement was one of uproar, consternation, nervous mumblings and the rest. This is precisely what Berkeley got. He waited a minute, and talked with Soames while he let the statement sink in.
In the middle of it, Harry was contemplative. He had been wondering just what the Judge would do, and now it seemed he had laid down the gauntlet big time.
After the minute was up, Berkeley moved back to center stage. “Please, people, hear me!” he shouted, but his audience kept on chatting. One woman had even fainted. He grimaced and opened his lungs. “Goddamn it! Pipe down!”
The crowd all stopped talking, and turned to look at him. The chief councillor straightened his tie and pushed out his chin. “That’s better. Now then, you are here to listen to a broadcast sent by one Judge Headlock, a man of many means, and a bloody nasty individual, a reprobate of the highest order. Before we proceed however, I have another announcement to make. There is someone here who knows the Judge personally, and as a result of this, the Board have unanimously agreed to make him our new sheriff.”
Silence.
“Mr Watt, please come up here.”
For whatever reason, Harry’s legs persuaded the rest of his body and mind to walk forward, step up to the dais, and take Berkeley’s hand in a gesture that apparently sealed the deal. The chief councillor, never one to miss a holograph opportunity, held it and shook it for several seconds, and smiled as several holographers stepped forward to take their picture.
“Harry Watt, our new sheriff!�
�� Berkeley declared, and started clapping his hands.
The Board, standing behind him, all began applauding and this slowly spread to the rest of the room.
“Hang on a minute,” shouted a man. “What the hell is this? You’ve just said we have a declaration of war against the colony, but you think it’s the perfect time to swear in a new sheriff? Are you nuts? And what’s wrong with Pratt?”
Harry eyed the exit.
“For your information, Sheriff Pratt was killed two days ago,” Soames informed them.
“What!”
More uproar.
“How?”
“In the line of duty, of course,” chipped in Berkeley.
“I say,” said another individual, “that’s hardly the way to conduct your office, you know. Under section 1 of the Martian Constitution, you must…..”
“Oh belt up, Hector!’ exclaimed the first talker.
“Who killed him?” asked another.
“Err…”
“The perpetrator was also killed during the shoot out, a man believed to be an associate of Judge Headlock, as was Sheriff Pratt.” said Soames.
“What the hell are you talking about?” said the first speaker.
“Pratt was bent, okay?” Berkeley blustered in. “And….”
“And the man responsible for finding that out is that is standing right before you,” Soames said quickly, giving Berkeley a hard stare. He motioned for him to step back.
Harry felt the corner of his mouth rise without prompting. For a moment he smiled his plastic smile whilst all eyes were on him. But slowly his glazed expression dropped away to be replaced by one of utmost uncertainty. He didn’t know how much more of this he could stand. As he listened to the bullshit, he came to the conclusion, yet again, that all governments, be they major or minor, were run on lies, by liars, and that the people really weren’t interested in the truth, especially if that truth meant they had to think, or, God forbid, make a critical decision.
“Him?” exclaimed the first man. “He’s only just got here. How the hell did he know about Pratt? And where’s your proof?”
“Never mind all that,” said the Constitutional man. “When were you planning on telling us?”
“We just did,” said Soames.