Darklanding Omnibus Books 10-12: Hunter, Diver Down, Empire (Darklanding Omnis Book 4)

by Scott Moon

  "Dixie!" Sledge whispered harshly from the shadows of an alleyway. "I called your name three times. He's not that far behind you, you need to focus. Or turn on the radio I gave you!”

  “I have a data phone. Your radio thingy is so frontier-ish,” she said as she looked around, realizing she was near the Mother Lode. Sledge’s rough face contrasted so dramatically with her daydream that she squeaked in shock. Recovering her composure was like stepping into a cold shower.

  She nodded slightly to indicate she understood, then continued forward, using her hips slightly more than was necessary to walk effectively. She reached up and plumped her hair with both hands, swaying her body dreamily as she moved. When she dropped her thick, blonde hair down her back, she imagined Ortega's young security officer had to be staring at her in undeniable lust.

  “Really?" Sledge said. "Settle down. Are you trying to look like a runway model or a pornstar?”

  Dixie shrugged.

  ***

  Carter realized too late he should've trusted his instincts. The way Dixie had paused should have been a huge red flag. She'd been lollygagging along, only half paying attention to her environment, which was a bit unusual compared to how she’d behaved the first half of the evening. Then, something had grabbed her attention.

  He'd written off the hesitation as her being startled by one of the scurrying sounds common on this planet at night. He was irritated his research hadn't prepared him for the nightmare quality of this place. A formless malevolence seemed to grow in the air night after night.

  He wasn't afraid of rats, but he doubted the local variety were as tame as the long-tailed mammals he'd sometimes seen on transport ships. Something was watching him. He fought to control the sensation, aware the trauma from the extended combat missions he had endured as a young recruit often made him paranoid and suspicious. He’d been too young and too green to be thrown into the hell of his first war. That hadn’t stopped generals who’d never been to the front from feeding the machine with idealists.

  His worst scars were emotional. That was the reason he kept on top of everything, kept himself squared away, and remained in control. There were no monsters in the closet, and if there were, he was ready for them.

  Few people he'd met could sneak past his sixth sense for danger. It was his crap luck that tonight he met one of them—a man he’d encountered before.

  Michael “Sledge” Hammer didn't charge at him, or yell, or use explosive stun grenades. One moment, Carter was following Dixie, and the next, Sledge had one hand on Carter's gun-hand, and the other wrapped around his neck from behind.

  "I'd tell you not to make a sound, but it wouldn't matter. Kind of lonely out here. No one would hear you," Sledge said, his voice deep and menacing.

  Dixie came back, crossing her arms and standing to face Carter. “You’re making the man's face red,” she purred. “His eyes are watering.”

  A truncated airway was preventing him from resisting or shouting for help. Sledge had about a hundred pounds of muscle on him and years of experience.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Carter managed to grunt.

  "I'm not the one following a helpless young lady at night," she said. "Your boss is going to have to trust me if we're going to work together."

  He hesitated.

  Dixie saw something she didn't like in that moment. "Your boss never intended to make me her master of spies on Darklanding, did she?"

  He didn't answer, only giving her a stubborn, red-faced look.

  Sledge shook him. "She asked you a question."

  "I do security. Whether or not she hires you or doesn't hire you means nothing to me. I was sent to follow and see where you went, find out what secrets you're hiding," Carter said.

  "I don't like these games," Dixie said. "Why send me to Melborn if that wasn't going to prove I'm trustworthy?"

  "We needed to draw Armand Soler out of seclusion. We needed him to vote on a proposal," Carter said.

  "You better loosen that chokehold, Sledge. His eyes are about to pop out," Dixie said.

  "Soler voted, but that'll be his last vote. He's dead," Sledge said. "Stepped in front of a subway train, which is odd for someone who never went near a subway in his life."

  "You can't possibly know that," Carter said.

  "I was a SagCon special investigator. I have connections." Sledge released the chokehold, spun Carter around, then pushed him toward the wall and stood to block his escape. "You look quick, Carter. Real light on your feet, I bet. Maybe you're thinking of making a break for it. Don't make me chase you."

  "It doesn't matter. My team is on the way. You're good, but not that good," Carter said. "Seven against one will stack the odds in my favor."

  Sledge pretended to wait, looking right and left with exaggerated concern. Abruptly, he dropped the charade. "It doesn't seem like your team is going to show…because you came alone, which was probably your first and last mistake as Ortega's hitman."

  "I'm not a hitman."

  "Correction, you're not a good hitman. If I thought you knew what you were doing, I would've killed you two blocks ago." Sledge looked at Dixie. "What are we going to do with him?"

  "I think I'll turn him into a double agent," Dixie said.

  Sledge shook his head. "That won't work. We've met before. He's too much of a straight arrow to maintain that type of deception. That's probably why Ortega keeps him close. He's not a good liar. Normally does what he is told.”

  "He's also not fond of being talked about like he's not present," Carter said.

  Dixie waved her fingertips airily. “Let him go. He’s cute.”

  Sledge gripped Carter’s collar with his left hand, pulling his right back as though ready to punch him. “Whatever. He saw the greenhouse.”

  “Sledge, try not to kill the nice young security officer,” Dixie said sweetly. “He won’t be telling anyone we’re only days away from a new batch of tigi for the Ungloks and a few months from some decent whiskey for the humans. And if he did, that would only drive up the price.”

  Sledge shoved him against the wall again and stepped back, eyes locked on him, chest rising and falling like a man who not only wanted a fight, but needed to fight soon. His inner bear was on full display. A normal man, civilian or military, would be looking for a place to run.

  Carter smiled and glanced at his feet. "That won't stay secret for long. The building is too big and it's right in the middle of Darklanding. But what you really don't want me to do is tell Ortega you know Armand Soler was assassinated."

  Dixie's expression turned to ice. She stepped closer to Carter and jabbed her finger into his chest. "That is something I won't forget. You people used me to kill a man."

  Sledge growled a command. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to put slip-cuffs on you.”

  “You can’t arrest me.”

  “Citizen’s arrest.”

  “Let him go,” Dixie said.

  “Nope. I’m not taking chances where your safety is concerned. He needs a few days to cool his heels at Thad’s fancy new jail.”

  Carter didn’t move.

  “Be smart, kid. You’ve got nothing to prove. I know you’re tough. Fight me, and someone is going to get hurt for no reason.”

  ***

  Tiberius pressed the talk button. "Shaunte, call me as soon as you get this."

  He sat in his office twiddling his thumbs with the lights dimmed. After about five minutes, he broke down and lit a cigar. And if he was going to smoke a cigar, a glass of whiskey was in order.

  He walked to the picture window looking over Melborn. The city lights were as different from Darklanding as a single credit chip was from a billion-dollar investment portfolio. He knew how long it took for a communication to reach Darklanding and didn't expect a quick reply. That didn't keep him from worrying about his daughter.

  Holding his whiskey in one hand and the cigar in the other, he exhaled toward the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm going to say thi
s… I wish I was in Darklanding!"

  The meetings he had scheduled on Melborn were important and couldn't be canceled. Why the hell had Soler been slumming in the subway tunnels? His idiotic death, probably a suicide or worse, had sent the entire financial structure of Melborn into a tailspin. He’d voted on something that was intended to be repealed days later, then died before that could happen.

  Now all the empires were coming down.

  Tiberius Plastes and a few other of the power elite had fires to put out. On the upside, that meant opportunity. On the downside, it meant corporation-crushing risk.

  The call from the SagCon stockholder’s committee had been urgent, putting him between a rock and a hard place. Now he was a long ways away and his daughter was in danger. He should've never left her in the same system with Ortega. The woman was probably the best businessperson he'd ever met, a strategic thinker beyond equal. But her hobby was espionage and she wasn't as good at it as she'd come to believe.

  That made her dangerous. The woman used crude, violent methods when her schemes failed to come to fruition.

  He took a large swallow of whiskey, rolling it over the back of his throat to savor the burn. "Shaunte, answer your phone. I don't want to leave a message like this."

  He stalked back and forth, snarling at animal carcasses he'd acquired on safari on dozens of worlds. The mantle above his office fireplace was covered with awards and pictures with important people. His desk cost as much as a small starship. He stood in front of it, unwilling to walk around and sit in his chair. What kind of man would he be if he sat down when his daughter was about to make a mistake that could, at the very least, ruin her career, and possibly get her killed?

  The phone remained silent. The whiskey continued to burn. Smoke from his cigar twisted its way toward the ceiling.

  The light on his phone blinked—incoming call. He slammed down the whiskey glass and lunged for the receive button. “Shaunte!”

  “Father? Are you all right?”

  “Yes! I am. Why didn't you answer my call?"

  "I did, Father. From the middle of a dead sleep, no less. I didn't think you were the type to make drunken, poorly thought out phone calls in the middle of the night." Her voice had that peculiar sound of a long-distance call.

  "I'm not drunk, not yet. We need to talk about your new friend. This is an open line so let's keep it brief and vague."

  "Fine."

  Now that he had her on the line, he wasn't sure how to tell her what had to be done. She had changed a lot since taking over the Darklanding project. If he tried to push her, she'd push back. This call might've been a bad idea. He started to worry it would have the opposite effect of what he hoped it would.

  "If you don't start talking, I'm going back to bed," Shaunte said.

  "I know we haven't always gotten along. But you need to trust me when I say this is for your own good…"

  The sound of the phone being moved quickly cut him off. "Hold on, there's something on the roof. I’m going onto the balcony to see if I can get a look at it.”

  "Shaunte?"

  The sound of her moving rapidly with her hand over the phone was all he heard.

  "Shaunte!"

  Nothing.

  Tiberius started to pray, realizing halfway through the memorized words how long it had been since he'd even considered such an action. The moment felt surreal, forcing him to sit down. "Shaunte, please talk to me."

  Her voice came back on the line. She was out of breath and sounded irritated. "I'm not sure what's going on out there, but there's been some weirdness I don't like. I constantly feel like I'm being watched, and I’m actually afraid to go out at night. And let me tell you this, I've never feared going where I want to when I want to. I'm not sure I can do this anymore at Darklanding. It's like I’m going crazy."

  "Listen to me carefully, Shaunte. You shouldn't go out alone. Keep Fry with you or that pig-dog-thing.”

  “Relax, Dad. I’m not twelve anymore.”

  “Call off the deal with Ortega. I have to make this quick. We’re losing the connection. There must be a lot of ships moving into the Wilok System. That always interferes with communications networks. Judy Ortega is dangerous. I have information about her real purpose in Darklanding. Get away from her and stay away from her. I’ll come as soon as I can."

  Shaunte's voice slammed through the speaker. "Don't try to rescue me! Let me do this on my own for once." She ended the call.

  Tiberius stared at the speaker. With a heavy heart, he refilled his whiskey glass and smoked a cigar in a room illuminated only by the night lights of Melborn coming through his window.

  CHAPTER FIVE: Bondsman

  Thaddeus consulted his to-do list, then dropped the data pad into his coat pocket. From life-threatening to mundane, the Sheriff of Darklanding did it all. The devil was in the details.

  He stood at the railhead serving Darklanding and the mines. Crews of men with heavy forklifts stacked equipment and supplies onto huge flatbed railcars. This train was a slow mover going to the mines rather than coming back. It contained all the usual gear, but also several railcars loaded with massive drilling and excavation machinery. The last car on the train held rough timber and metal I-beams that would be used as structural support in the new shafts and tunnels.

  A cluster of supervisors argued about the rising water in Transport Canyon. All but one believed it was not a problem.

  "It doesn't look like a problem, is what you mean to say. We have no way to know if the rail foundations are stable. We can't put a load this heavy on tracks that could be out of alignment. What good does it do to send all this equipment if it never arrives?"

  "We have survey crews en route," another man said.

  "Great. Let's wait until they give us a report. That will only take three or four days.”

  Another of the supervisors, who had been quiet until now, spoke. "This train’s already ten minutes late. It's moving now. On my authority."

  Thaddeus was incredibly glad the conversation was over. He didn't know which side was right, but he had things to do besides referee logistical decisions among SagCon middle-management.

  Now that the decision had been made, they all seemed to be relieved and excited the mines were finally reopening.

  Bored, he compared the efficiency of these men to the Ground Forces Corps of Engineers. Some of the men had served in the military, he thought. Some had gone to graduate schools and leadership seminars. Others were like P. C. Dickles, hardworking men who learned by solving problems.

  As fascinating as the analysis was, he had to return to his real problem. Proletan was still locked down. The savant hitman would be released the moment his transport to the Melborn judicial complex was complete. ShadEcon had allies in high places and hired the best lawyers. The only reason he was still in custody was that Thaddeus had exercised his frontier right to ignore certain procedures.

  It wasn't something he was good at. Going by the book made things easier—keep it simple, stupid, was the way to get things done. But running a one-man show forced him to make his own rules half the time.

  He had spent the night reading up on the procedure. In the past, he had requested the people he arrested to be transported to pretrial confinement and assumed the courts would do everything else. This time, it was different. There was a very real chance that Proletan would be released the moment he set foot on Melborn and would then be sent back to finish the job.

  Thaddeus wasn't likely to survive a second encounter.

  He also needed to make a statement to ShadEcon. Keeping Proletan out of the game was a strategic decision as much as it was a legal one. They had to know where the line was. Thaddeus had drawn it when he arrested their hired killer.

  Leaving the loading operation, he proceeded to the front gate where Mast and Maximus watched a crowd of workers protesting against ShadEcon. This particular group was calm. They still had jobs, in theory. They didn't interfere with the reconstruction efforts because they wante
d to work. Thaddeus sensed their frustration and thought half of them were standing here with their signs because they just didn't know what else to do.

  "How are we doing?"

  Mast bobbed his head. "We're doing muchly fine. These men are very polite compared to the last mob we dealt with."

  "I'm going to speak with Shaunte. Let me know if something changes." Thad went to the Mother Lode, where he found Shaunte in her office working furiously on several legal documents.

  “Knock, knock,” he said as he rapped his knuckles on the door frame and entered.

  She glanced up. “Hello, Thaddeus. Did the excavation equipment get shipped?”

  “Yes, Miss Shaunte. It’s trundling toward the mines now.”

  “Good. We’re making progress. Slow, slow progress, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.”

  Thad watched her return to her work. This was their routine, brief hello and back to work. He didn’t mind. It was nice to sit and watch her for a few minutes. He made coffee, then brought two cups to her desk, sitting on the corner of it as he handed her one.

  “Oh, thanks, Thad.” She took the cup in both hands and smiled at him, clearly unaware of where they had been in their previous conversation. “What can I do for you? Sorry, that sounded like I am answering the phone for a total stranger.”

  “Hello, stranger,” he said with a wink and a sip of his coffee.

  She laughed and looked less stressed.

  “I need to bond out Proletan and keep him with me.”

  “Send him to pretrial services like all the others. We don’t have time to babysit a murderer,” she said.

  “You’re right. I might point out, however, that ShadEcon will get him out on bond with one of their bondsmen the moment he arrives in a jurisdiction they have subverted,” Thad said.

  “And they’ll send him back to try again.” She opened a new set of documents and began speed-reading. A few moments later, she shook her head. It was a small movement that made her even more beautiful despite giving him bad news. “I can override most laws, but you can’t be the sheriff and a bondsman. The law is very clear on that.”