Resurrection
Page 5
“Alright, that’s enough,” waved Reegan.
Derrik shrugged, “But I didn’t say anything…”
“Yeah,” snorted Reegan, “see that you don’t. Because I need him more than I need you - so if he stabs you in the neck and spits in your face while you bleed out, I’m not going to much care.” He turned his attention to the Chief Engineer who had been sitting silently on the sofa for the entire meeting, “Any problems leaving the turrets deployed, Chief?”
“Not a one.”
Reegan nodded, “Good. Let’s get that done immediately. Mr. Ragnaar, I want you to work with navigation and astrometrics. Do a detailed review of these charts from Captain Nagol, see if there’s anything that jumps out at you as a preferred route or any information that we might find useful. You can use my office…”
“I hate to break up the party, Skipper, but we have company out here…”
■ ■ ■
Lieutenant Loech Braskus adjusted the focus and narrowed the sweep of his P-57’s sensors.
“What is he, L.T.?”
Braskus hazarded a quick glance out over his left wing at his wingman’s P-57, “Looks like a merchant and a couple escorts. No idents and nothing in the database. Stand by…” Gloved fingers pipped buttons on his comms console, selecting a frequency and directional beam to reach the Perseus. “Perseus, you catching my data feed?”
“We have it, Lieutenant.”
“I’ve got no matches in my system, Perseus…”
“Not sure on the hauler, but the escorts are obsolete, Fireball heavy fighters…”
“Fireball? That design is well over a hundred years old, isn’t it...?”
“Correct, Lieutenant. I am informed, the folks out here commonly live off of old military surplus and whatever they can cobble together. But they should not be discounted or underestimated.”
“Copy that, Perseus.” Braskus glanced out over his left wing again, “Did you catch that Junior?”
“Copy, L.T., don’t underestimate hundred-year-old junk…”
“Because if it has lasted this long, it means it’s rugged and reliable…” Braskus reminded him.
“Good point, L.T.”
■ ■ ■
“Skipper, according to the telemetry Mr. Braskus is sending us, that merchant and his escorts are not heading to the gate to Xian Pi…”
“So, they’re not on the same route we’re using,” noted Reegan. “How close will we pass?”
“If they maintain their current heading, approximately thirty-thousand miles.”
“Using their heading, extrapolate their destination.”
“According to Captain Nagol’s charts, there are two planets in that sector of the system… but neither one of them are habitable.”
Reegan’s moth skewed sideways, “Hmm…” He keyed his comm, “Mr. Ragnaar, has your team garnered any additional information from the charts...?”
“Aye, Sir. Our findings are nearly complete.”
“Step it up, please.” Turning his attention back to the situation at hand, he tapped the yellow alert, the warning klaxon sounding once, yellow lights flashing throughout the ship. “Let’s double check all systems, people. And let’s pull Mr. Braskus and his wingman back towards the Perseus, I’d like to cut our separation by about fifty-percent.”
“Aye, recalling fighters to closer CAP.”
CHAPTER THREE
SANDY HILL BAR & CASINO, SANDORRA : ALL BETS ARE OFF
Chase Holt unfolded his six-foot three-inch frame as he stepped from the car, his boots creating a dusty plume from the arid desert soil. “I can NOT believe you’ve done this again. And dragged me into it with you…” The afternoon sun cast long shadows.
Mercedes Huang rolled her eyes as she stepped out into the heat, “A hundred miles and you don’t say a damn word and now you’re going to bitch?”
“Lady you’ve got to stop doing this shit!”
“Stop whining and open the trunk.”
Holt stomped to the back of the car, threw the trunk hatch open, reached in and grabbed two shovels laying on plastic sheeting, tossing them down in the dirt, a slight breeze carrying the dust away. “Last time,” he pointed at her, “last damn time.”
“Just help me lift him out,” she snapped, reaching into the trunk.
“You like it too much,” jabbed Chase, “That’s your problem. You’re like a freaking Black Widow…”
Mercedes straightened up, dropping the contents in the plastic, back into the trunk with a thud, “Is that a comment on my heritage? Are you being racist?”
Chase straightened up, “Racis… What? NO! What the hell are you talking about? Black Widow - as in, killer spider…” He pointed at her, “You’re nuts! You know that? You’ve got a freaking screw loose…”
She shook her head and turned back to the task at hand, “You’d be bored without me. Now help me here…”
Chase grabbed his end, manhandling the plastic wrapped bundle out of the rear of the car, “I’m telling you, this is the last time…”
“Oh, stop. He deserved it and you know it.”
Dropping the bundle in the dust, Chase picked up a shovel, “The Sheriff could have handled it for us…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snarked, “he takes payoffs from them too. We can’t trust him as far as we can throw him…”
Chase started digging, “Maybe you should kill him too then, huh?”
“No, he’s more useful to us alive…”
Chase stopped digging, “You mean you’ve actually thought about it?”
Mercedes picked up the other shovel and started digging, “Of course. But he can be manipulated, so we kind of need him.”
Chase shook his head and started digging again, “Oh brother.”
Mercedes stopped digging, one hand on her shovel, the other gesturing widely, “Come on, what was I supposed to do with him? Let him bug the Sandy Hill? He was a plant, a spy. Fortunately for us, he wasn’t very good at it and we caught him. Or those clowns over at The Topps Casino would have been all up in our business…” She stepped on the shovel, forcing it deeper into the sand, “Like we need that shit.”
“You don’t think they’ll come looking for him?”
Mercedes started digging again, “What are they gonna’ say? Hey, have you seen the spy we sent over to bug your place?”
“I guess not,” shrugged Chase. “You sure it was The Topps?”
“He gave them up pretty readily when I got into hi…”
“Stop,” insisted Chase with a wave-off, “I don’t want to know how you got him to give it up. I just want to know if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she replied. “Did you bring the bottles?”
“Yeah, they’re in the trunk,” nodded Chase. “I don’t understand why we just don’t leave him out here for the Yotes. It’ll be dark soon…”
“Because we don’t want to count on wild dogs to take care of him for us. That stuff we brought,” she nodded toward the car, “will dissolve him into slurry by morning; bones and all.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah, no DNA, no nothing. Just don’t get any on you when you’re pouring…”
■ ■ ■
The two-hour drive back from the desert to the Sandy Hill Bar & Casino was almost as silent as the drive out. Chase wanted a shower. No, he needed a shower. He wanted to wash off the fine dust that reminded him too much of Afghanistan. Thankfully the desert of Sandorra didn’t stink like the Middle East… a smell one doesn’t ever forget. A hot stank that crawled up your nose, burned itself into your brain and clung to your clothes despite multiple washes. He mentally winced just thinking about it.
“What?”
Chase glanced over at Mercedes, “What, what?”
“You shuddered. What were you thinking about?”
Chase shook his head, “Nothing.”
“This?” she thumbed back over her shoulder.
“No…”
“Ah,” she nodded, su
ddenly understanding. “The dust. Yeah…” she looked over at him, “doesn’t smell as nasty though...”
“Almost like fresh pine or something, right?” he countered.
She semi-smiled, “Yeah, couldn’t put my finger on it, but you’re right. Pretty close.”
Off the main highway into the city streets of Sandorra, the car skimmed the surface of the street, traffic flowing in both directions, the city lights making Sandorra the bright spot in a dark desert. “Almost home…” sighed Mercedes.
“Uh oh…” Chase nodded at the flashing emergency lights about six blocks up the street, his heart skipping a beat.
“I see it. Is that in front of the Sandy Hill?”
“Sure looks like it,” replied Chase, easing off the throttle and checking his mirrors.
“Of course it is,” Mercedes snapped. “Can’t even leave for a short drive in the country without some crap going down.”
Chase glanced at her sideways, “You didn’t just call this a ride in the country. Seriously…”
She ignored him. “Don’t drive all the way up. Get us off the street and park, we’ll walk. We should go in through the back.”
■ ■ ■
One of the security staff, dressed in a tuxedo, caught Chase by the elbow, stalling him as he and Mercedes passed through the offices, headed for a common area of the casino, “Sir, ma’am, you can’t go out there looking like that.”
Chase followed the man’s eyes down, his pants and boots covered with dust.
“Where have you two been?” he asked with a concerned, parental tone. Recognizing the unspoken look the two casino owners exchanged, altered his thought process. “Never mind,” he motioned. “You have to get cleaned up before you go out there,” he said extending his empty hand, palm up, “Where’s the car? Let me have your fob.”
“Far corner of the lot,” replied Mercedes, as Chase handed over the car’s control fob.
The security agent snapped his fingers to grab the attention of an associate, “Darino,” he whispered loudly, tossing the young man the car’s fob, “far back corner of the lot. Take it and clean it up. Spotless inside and out… understand?” The man nodded, quickly heading for the back entrance without hesitation. “Fast,” he called after him.
“What’s going on out…”
The man in the tuxedo held up his hand, pausing Chase, mid-sentence, turning away, listening to his earpiece. In a moment he turned back, “Alright, go to your rooms and get cleaned up, don’t let anyone see you like this…”
“What’s going on out there?” frowned Chase.
The security man reached inside his tuxedo jacket and turned down his earpiece, leaning closer to Chase and Mercedes, speaking just above a whisper, “Evidently, our friend, was dating one of the dancers over at the Topps. She showed up a little while ago, drunk or high on something, looking for him. The team kept an eye on her, we were hoping to wait her out, figured she’d go home… She waited for him to get off shift for a while, and when he didn’t appear, she started getting anxious and loud. So, we gently, very gently, encouraged her to go home and wait for him there. She started screaming like a maniac - something about wanting our boy and something about Poppa Topps killing everyone. She pulls out a zip gun and starts throwing rounds all over the place…”
“Oh my God” sighed Chase. “Our people?”
“Not one person hit. Red put her down. One shot.”
Mercedes moved in closer, “Are you telling me… this…” she pointed behind her, “was Big Daddy Topps’ kid?”
Chase turned his back on the conversation, and covered his mouth, “Oh, fuck me,” he breathed. He turned back, “Are you shitting me?”
The security man put his hands out to stall any further speculation, “Hold on now, there’s no confirmation of that. That’s not even part of the discussion out there…”
“But it’s possible…” inquired Chase.
“Anything’s possible,” replied the security man with a shrug. “But nothing is confirmed and they haven’t asked.”
Mercedes cocked an eyebrow, “So who’s handling…”
“Red is handling the police investigation. He’s doing really well and the fact that he has direct point-of-view playback is making it pretty cut and dried.” He waved them off, “Now go get cleaned up, they’ve asked to speak with you both. We can’t stall them forever…”
■ ■ ■
Most of the entertainment venue of the Sandy Hill Bar & Casino had returned to normal by the time Mercedes and Chase appeared at the front bar where Red and law enforcement had gathered - the investigative interview having broken down to light chit-chat.
Chase walked up behind Red and put his hand on Red’s shoulder - a human thing to do, even if Red was a machine. A machine in a tuxedo jacket. “How are you doing Red?”
“I am doing fine Mr. Chase. All my systems are operating within acceptable parameters.”
“That’s good. But I meant, how are you feeling...?”
“I understand what you are trying to do, Mr. Chase, but it is unnecessary. There was a threat - I neutralized that threat to maintain security and safety for our employees and patrons. I feel no emotion for that task. While I suppose it could be humanly regrettable that someone has ceased to exist, the responsibility lies with the actions that person committed to bring about the inevitable conclusion.”
Chase nodded, a slight curl at the corners of his mouth. He patted Red on the back - he knew it was a machine but he felt compelled just the same, “Thanks Red. I think you’ve actually helped me.”
“I am pleased I could be of assistance…”
A figure in a dark trench-coat and dark hat rounded the bar, headed for where Mercedes stood, speaking with the Chief Detective for the case.
“Ms. Huang…”
“Well, well, well…” mused Mercedes, “Inspector Brooker. How nice of you to stop by and see us,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
He shrugged one shoulder, the other still in a sling under his coat, “I was in the neighborhood…”
“I just bet you were…”
“I saw all the commotion,” he gestured, “thought I would check in and see if everyone was alright.”
“Disappointed?” she smiled wickedly.
“Actually,” volunteered the Chief Detective, “during Inspector Brooker’s recovery at our medical center here, our two departments agreed to a temporary personnel swap… For cross-training and cultural purposes…” he added. “We are grateful to Amanpoor for this opportunity to see how it’s done in the big city.”
“Isn’t that nice,” smiled Mercedes, her lips pressed tightly.
“We understand the deceased’s boyfriend worked here?” asked Brooker politely, relishing her discomfort. “May we speak with him?”
“Well, I’ve never seen her before,” Mercedes motioned toward the covered gurney heading out the front door of the casino, “so I have no idea who she’s referring to…”
“This man,” offered the Chief Detective, handing her his e-Pad, displaying a photo.
“Oh, Waldron. Yeah, he used to work here…”
“What do you mean used to?” interrupted Brooker. “Where is he now?”
Mercedes shrugged, “No idea. We haven’t heard from him. He didn’t show up for work two days in a row, so we terminated his credentials and employment. We can’t have that kind of behavior…”
“When did you see him last?”
“A couple days ago, I guess. I never saw him much...”
“What did he do here?”
“Electrician I think. Like I said I didn’t see him very much.” Mercedes reached over and tapped Chase on the shoulder, “That kid, Waldron, wasn’t he an electrician?”
Chase turned away from Red, “Handyman. He did some electrical - did a little of everything. Why?”
“When did you see him last?” prodded Brooker.
Chase rubbed his chin, “Hmm, a couple, maybe three days ago. Why?”
“I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend,” offered Chase. “Of course, I didn’t talk to him too often - I don’t know that much about him.”
“You two are just a wealth of information,” Brooker said sarcastically. “What about his last name. You know that at least?”
“Not off the top of my head,” replied Chase. “But I’m sure our office has that information if…”
“Hold on Brooker,” Mercedes stalled Chase by tapping his arm. “Why is this about us, all of a sudden?”
Brooker glanced over his shoulder to confirm that the Chief Detective had dropped out of the conversation like he suspected. Gathering Chase and Mercedes, he moved them away from the bar, “Because dead bodies seem to follow you people around like a plague…” He looked around for Torn Dado, “Where is the other one?” he mused. “Never mind,” he shook his head. “And this time,” he said softly, “I think you two have stepped into it sooo deep, you’re in it up to your necks…”
“I think it’s time for you to go, Brooker,” insisted Mercedes. “As usual, you’re starting to bore me.”
“Listen to me,” insisted the Inspector, “you don’t even know, do you...?”
“Know what?” asked Chase suspiciously.
“Don’t encourage him, Chase. He’s just trying to…”
“Trying to warn you,” insisted Brooker, cutting her off. “Trying to protect you.”
Chase folded his arms across his chest, “Protect us from what?”
“He’s full of shit, Chase…”
“Harland Topps,” hissed Brooker, ominously.
Mercedes waved it off, “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would his kid be working here when his daddy has his own casino…”
The Inspector frowned angrily, waggling his finger at her, “Don’t be professionally obtuse with me, young lady. If Waldron was working here it was to keep tabs on you. And with a man like Poppa Topps, it doesn’t matter if you killed his kid or not - a fact, which, I don’t really care one way or another… But if he even thinks you did, he’s going to burn this casino to the ground and kill everyone in it.”