Victoria Cross: United Federation Attorney (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 9)

by John Bowers

  “Like I said, he went down fighting. He earned that Galaxy Cross, especially after throwing that plasma grenade. He probably saved Foxtrot Company from being wiped out.”

  Nick nodded and swallowed some more beer. For a moment, his eyes lost focus as he gazed back into memory. Kopshevar didn’t know it—no one did—but Nick had thrown that grenade himself, and damn near got incinerated in the process. He hadn’t admitted it because he didn’t want the attention, but the brass had been determined to find out who threw it, so Nick had given Rudy Aquino the credit. The kid had taken a lot of grief from other Star Marines over his innocence and naïveté—and he had saved Nick’s life—so better he get the credit than Nick. It would give Rudy’s family something to treasure, and as it turned out, Nick had received his own Galaxy Cross for the Trimmer Springs battle.

  “So.”

  Nick set his bottle down with a thud and grinned to break the mood.

  “You got anyone in your life? A wife, maybe?”

  Kopshevar shook his head.

  “I tried it once, just after I got out of the service. Didn’t work out so well. We’re still friends, but I don’t think I’m marriage material right now.”

  “That’ll change.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not stressing over it.”

  “Well, you’re still young. My dad didn’t marry until he was forty-five.”

  “What about you? You said you have a girlfriend. Any wedding bells in the future?”

  “Yeah, probably. I’m in no big rush, but I think she wants to tie the knot, and I’m okay with it.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Suzanne.”

  Kopshevar inadvertently glanced toward the table where Victoria was still pretending not to listen. His gaze returned to Nick.

  “She hot?”

  Nick laughed. “Yeah, she’s hot. She’s Vegan.”

  Kopshevar’s eyes widened dramatically.

  “Are you shitting me? Where in hell did you find a Vegan girl?”

  “Like I said, on Sirius. We hooked up when I was stationed there, and after I got reposted here, she followed me.”

  “Probably a good move. I hear things on Sirius are pretty much going to hell.”

  “They are. Once they formed the Confederacy, Sirius isn’t safe for any woman, and especially not a Vegan beauty.”

  “Well, congratulations, man. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks.” Nick glanced at his watch. “Kopycat, I need to go. I have to meet with a prosecutor in a few minutes to go over my testimony. But I’ll stop back in before I leave town.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. Again, really good to see you, Nick.”

  Nick got up from his barstool and placed his cowboy hat on his head. With a nod and a wave, he walked out the front door.

  *

  Victoria Cross let out her breath in a silent sigh of relief as she heard the front door swing shut. Her heart had stopped racing, but her fingers still tingled. It had been ten years since she heard the voice of the man she loved, and the emotions running through her were mixed and indefinable.

  She almost jumped when Kopshevar stopped at her table.

  “You want another Kombucha, Vic?”

  She looked up at him with a flushed face.

  “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

  Kopshevar nodded and started to turn away. She clutched at his hand.

  “Kopycat…thanks for not giving me away. It would have been really awkward.”

  He grinned and nodded.

  “Didn’t seem like a good idea, especially after he said he’s getting married.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Vic. You still love him, don’t you?”

  She chewed her lip to fight the tears that beaded her eyes. She nodded.

  “Yeah. Call me stupid, but I still do.”

  “He’s a damn fool for letting you get away.”

  She forced a laugh.

  “It’s my own damn fault. The main thing is that he’s happy. I’ll settle for that.”

  He squeezed her hand for a moment, then leaned over and kissed the top of her blond head.

  “You need to move on. Find someone who will appreciate you.”

  “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. But thanks.”

  “If you ever need to talk, or just want to talk, I’m always here. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do know that. Thank you.”

  He released her hand and smiled again.

  “Keep your chin up, Vic. Don’t let your feet touch the bottom.”

  He turned and walked away.

  Victoria wiped her eyes and returned to her case file.

  Chapter 16

  Victoria stayed in the Semper Fi until Godney called her.

  “You can come out now,” he said. “Walker has come and gone.”

  “Thanks.”

  Victoria packed up her materials and headed across the street. As she stepped into the lift, her pocket phone rang again.

  “Hello.”

  “I found Tobias,” James Dillon said in her ear. “He’s living in a convalescent home right here in Lucaston.”

  “Fantastic! What’s the address?”

  “I’ll shoot it to you. You want me to go with you to see him?”

  “If you’re not busy, that would be great. Where are you now?”

  “I’m thirty minutes from your office. I can be there in forty-five.”

  “Okay. Call me when you get to the roof. I’ll come up and join you.”

  “Awright. See you then.”

  On the 75th floor, she parked her stuff on her desk and went to the ladies room to wash up. Then she checked in with Godney.

  “How did it go with Walker?”

  “Pretty good, actually. He’s testified before and he knows how things work.”

  She nodded.

  “It was kind of weird, actually,” Godney added.

  “Weird? In what way?”

  “Well, it’s like being in the room with a vid star. He has such a reputation, you know—and the way he dresses! Like Yancy West or something.”

  “I’ve heard other people compare him to Yancy West. And not just his clothing, but the way he works.”

  “He’s quite a character. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would like him.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Well, you know, the whole macho cowboy thing. I don’t get on well with guys like that. They all seem so…superior. They look down on people like me.”

  You mean, short people?

  But Victoria didn’t say it.

  “He wasn’t like that,” Godney said. “He wasn’t condescending at all.”

  “He sees you as a professional with a job to do, just like he is. You’re both on the same side.”

  Godney nodded, still grinning.

  “Did you get everything done?” she asked.

  “I think so. I keep thinking of things that need doing, but essentially I’m ready for trial.”

  “Then you should go home and relax. Put it out of your mind until Monday.”

  “Is that how you do it?”

  She laughed.

  “No. But I always wish I could.”

  Her phone rang again. Dillon was on the roof parking lot.

  “I gotta go, Brian. Good luck on Monday.”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably see you before the trial starts.”

  “Right. Let’s touch bases and you can let me know when you need me in the courtroom.”

  With a wave to Godney, she grabbed her satchel and headed for the lift. Two minutes later she climbed into Dillon’s hovercar.

  “What’s the story on Tobias?” she asked. “Did you say he was disabled?”

  “Right. Couple of years ago, he was involved in a big multi-vehicle accident out on the Trimmer Plain. Six hovercars went down, killed about fifteen people. Tobias was on transit patrol and was trying to make a stop on one of the cars when it happened. The pilot of his target vehicle was drunk and we
aving all over the place. When Tobias put the lights on him, he panicked and killed his thrusters, which caused the cars behind him to collide. Tobias went down, too, and lost both legs.”

  “I think I remember that. It was in bad weather, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Thunderstorms, as I recall. Anyway, his usefulness to the CTP was over and he got pensioned out. Unfortunately, he and his wife had split up a year before that, so he had no family left. Ended up in the nursing home.”

  They found the convalescent home in a quiet neighborhood at the end of a cul-de-sac. Dillon parked the hovercar and accompanied Victoria inside. It was Saturday afternoon and visitors streamed in and out. An aide showed them where to find Tobias, who was playing poker with four other men in a day room. He was seated comfortably in a hover chair chewing an unlit cigar.

  “Tommy Tobias?”

  Tobias looked up. His eyes expanded slightly at sight of Victoria.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Wha’d I do, win the lottery?”

  “My name is Victoria Cross and this is James Dillon. We work for the U.F. Attorney. Could we speak to you for a few minutes?”

  Tobias dumped his cards on the table and moved his chair back.

  “Deal me out, fellas,” he said. “I got more fun things to do.”

  The other men chuckled and continued their game. Tobias guided his chair toward a row of window seats where his visitors could sit down. He spun himself around to face them and waited until they settled into chairs.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “You were a patrol officer for CTP, is that right?”

  “Yep. For nineteen years.”

  “Do you remember a traffic stop you made about twelve years ago in conjunction with ACBI? To catch a smuggler named Wallace Frie?”

  “I sure do. It was one of the more unusual incidents in my career.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Mostly we just patrol the highways and try to keep people from killing each other in traffic. Now and then we worked with other agencies on special assignments. That’s what this was.”

  “How well do you remember it?”

  “Like it was yesterday.” Tobias pulled the cigar from his mouth and dropped it into a waste can. He wiped his mouth with a grimace. “Why are you asking?”

  “Wallace Frie went to prison on that smuggling charge, but he was released a few months ago. Now he’s back in jail charged with murder.”

  “Oh? I hadn’t heard that. Who did he kill?”

  “He’s been charged with the murder of Lloyd Randal.”

  Tobias’s eyes registered surprise.

  “No kidding! He said he was going to kill Randal, and he actually did. Son of a bitch.”

  Victoria’s gaze narrowed.

  “Did you hear him threaten Randal?”

  “No, not me. But I did follow the trial and I guess some other inmate heard him say it.”

  “Okay—”

  “But I’m not surprised.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Randal was an asshole. I won’t say he deserved it, but guys like him usually run into somebody who’s willing to fight back.”

  “Tell me about Randal. Why was he an asshole?”

  Tobias rubbed his chin and gazed out the window for a moment. He looked at Victoria again.

  “He was one of those guys who had to be in charge. Yeah, it was his case and he wanted to get this guy, but he treated us like so many amateurs. We have protocols when it comes to making a traffic stop, especially if it’s a hover rig. The night we arrested Frie, it was blizzard conditions, snow blowing like crazy. Making a stop in that weather is dangerous at best and foolhardy at worst. There were three of us CTP guys in our own cars, and a fourth car with Randal and his partner…I forget his name.”

  “David Jones?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Jones. He seemed like a decent enough guy, but Randal was the senior man and he never let anyone forget it. We flanked the cargo rig with a CTP car on each side and another one above. We used our lights to get the pilot’s attention, then spoke to him by radio and told him his rig was losing hydraulic fluid and that he should set down.”

  “Was it? Losing hydraulic fluid?”

  “No. Telling him that was supposed to make him think we were stopping him for safety reasons and not because he was under suspicion. It almost always worked, and it worked that night, too. Frie took his time and put his rig down in a safe, careful manner. We stopped behind him and the plan was for all of us to approach him at the same time.

  “But Randal wouldn’t wait.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He took off running, charging right into the snow. Even left his partner behind. By the time we caught up with him, he had Frie on the ground, in E-cuffs, and Frie was bleeding.”

  “Bleeding? Did he resist arrest?”

  “Randal said he did. Frie swore he didn’t. In the darkness and the snow, none of us actually saw the take-down, so it’s impossible to know for sure. Either way, Randal punched him in the face a couple of times.”

  “Did you see a gun?”

  “Yeah. In Randal’s hand. He said he found it in the cabin compartment. Frie said he planted it, that he didn’t have a gun.”

  “How did Frie seem to you?”

  “Scared. Surprised. He acted like he didn’t know what was going on, and he was so convincing that I thought maybe we got the wrong guy. But when we checked his load, we found the goods.”

  Victoria questioned him another ten minutes, but Tommy Tobias had told her all he knew. He seemed reluctant to see them go.

  “If I think of anything else…”

  She handed him her card. “Please don’t hesitate to call.”

  He took the card and stared at it, then grinned at her.

  “And if I don’t remember anything else, you can still come by whenever you want. I’ll teach you how to win at poker.”

  Victoria laughed.

  “Thanks for the offer. Winning at poker might be useful. I’ll keep you in mind.”

  *

  Dillon was silent on the way back to the office. Victoria sensed disapproval in his body language, but he didn’t say anything and she didn’t ask. He didn’t speak until he set down on the roof of the Federation Building.

  “Are you done with me for today?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks. Take the rest of the weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “What’s on Monday?”

  “Nothing yet. I’ll be in court part of the day and I don’t have anything else lined up for you at the moment.”

  “Okay.”

  Victoria stepped away from the car and Dillon lifted off. As soon as she reached her office, she closed the door and called Douglas Hitlin.

  “Hi, Miss Cross. I was just about to call you.”

  “Oh? What’s up?”

  “I’ve got half a dozen people lined up for you to talk to. NCF employees, sanitation employees, and a couple of people at Frie’s halfway house.”

  “Wow, you’ve been busy! Good work.”

  “I told them you would be in contact sometime during the week. I hope that was true.”

  “Yes, it is true. I have court on Monday but I’ll contact them and set up meets for Tuesday. Do you have comm numbers on them?”

  “I do. I’ll forward them to your phone.”

  “Good. Tell you what, let’s meet Tuesday morning. I’ll have some more work for you.”

  “That sounds good. Same place? The bar?”

  “Yep. It opens at nine, so I’ll see you then.”

  “Okay. Have a nice weekend, Miss Cross.”

  Chapter 17

  Monday, February 8, 0444 (CC)

  75th Floor, Federation Building – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2

  Victoria was in the office early on Monday. It promised to be a busy week, with the Groening trial getting underway and the Frie trial only a week away. She spoke with Brian Godney briefly before he headed down to the 71st floor courtroom. He w
as wearing his best suit, cheerful and confident of victory.

  “I probably won’t need you until after lunch,” he told her, “but if you like, I can let you know when Walker is done. I’m putting him on first.”

  She nodded and wished him luck.

  As soon as he was gone, she dug into her own case. She had lots of ground to cover and only a week to cover it.

  71st Floor, Federation Building – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2

  Conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder by stoning—the charges against Antiochus Groening were so unusual that the trial had drawn a lot of attention. The two hundred spectator seats in the courtroom were jammed, mostly with web reporters and news crews. Groening, wearing a white shirt and black suit, was present with his attorney. His “suit” was several centuries out of style; a frock coat dominated the outfit, reaching to the knees. In Groening’s case, the suit looked worn and threadbare, but at least it was clean. His long grey beard rested on his chest like a necktie.

  Brian Godney sat at the prosecutor’s table with Nancy at his side. When Judge Moore had settled himself behind the bench, the court came to order. The bailiff called the case and read the charges into the record. That done, Judge Moore turned to Brian Godney.

  “Let’s start with you, Mr. Godney. But first, let me compliment you on your outfit.”

  Godney smiled broadly.

  “Thank you, your Honor!”

  “In fact, I have one exactly like it.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  Moore’s eyes narrowed.

  “In fact, that looks exactly like mine. Are you sure you didn’t slip into my chambers and steal my suit?”

  A few people chuckled. Godney’s smile faded and his cheeks reddened.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case, your Honor.”

  “Hm. Well, it’s hard to tell. You and I are almost the same size.”

  This brought a guffaw from some of the news people, but Godney held onto his good humor. Judge Moore tired of the game and got down to business.

  “Is the Federation ready for opening arguments?”