The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

  A few minutes later a brief message had been dispatched to area HQ. ‘For the attention of Commodore Jacks: In accordance with orders of Admiral Giles, prisoner Poulson transferred to the custody of Cdr. Lloyd, Fleet Legal Dept. at 16:30 Atlas standard time. Marine 1st Class Dobbs.’ It might not catch up with the commodore for a while but it had been sent and logged by the machine. His ass was covered.

  “The Arrow?” said Jacobs. “Hector was taken by Jacks? But that’s unthinkable… isn’t it? I mean, why?”

  “Who knows,” said Burns. “Either way, for the time being the whys and wherefores aren’t our concern. The priority is to find out where Jacks is now and take it from there.”

  “He filed a flight plan earlier today,” said Archie. “According to the plan he was going to the space elevator platform.”

  “Check with the platform,” said Burns. “Confirm that he arrived and assuming he did, where he went from there.” A few minutes later Archie looked up from the com display.

  “Jacks never arrived at the platform. Wherever he went it wasn’t there.”

  “Where does that leave us?” said Burns.

  “He could be anywhere by now,” said Archie. “His ship has a jump drive – it’s interstellar.”

  “Not since Baz finished with it,” said Chuck.

  “That’s right!” said Penny. “It must still be somewhere in-system.”

  “Might have changed ships,” said Mullins.

  “Maybe… and even if he didn’t there are still plenty of places he might have gone,” said Jacobs. “Down to the planet, over to Phoenix or one of the mining platforms in the asteroid belt, even out to the listening posts at the edge of the system.”

  “We could run a check for his transponder signals,” said Chuck. “Unless he’s switched off the transmitter they should show up somewhere.” He ran a check of the Atlas transponder net but shook his head. “Nothing,” he said.

  “Well, if nothing else it tells us that Jacks has something to hide,” said Burns. “I think we should pay Lt. Primrose another visit.”

  With the commodore away, Lt. Primrose found herself with little to do and spent most of the afternoon in her quarters updating her personal log. At 6 p.m. she made her way back to Commodore Jacks’ HQ to check for any messages and was surprised to see the communications array online – Marine Dobbs had forgotten to switch it off. There was nothing incoming but a message had been dispatched a little while ago. She was about to take a look when the door opened and in walked Commander Jacobs, followed closely by Burns, Mullins, Chuck and Penny.

  “Yes?” she asked in surprise.

  “Lt. Primrose,” said Burns. “I need to ask you again if you have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Commodore Jacks.”

  “As I said before Chief Inspector, he didn’t tell me where he was going.”

  “Lieutenant, I have to tell you that this is no longer a personal request, but part of an official enquiry pertaining to the murder of Bernard Stevens and the theft of the computer core.”

  Lt. Primrose looked nonplussed. “Murder? What murder? What would Commodore Jacks have to do with any of that?”

  “That’s what we’d rather like to find out,” said Burns.

  “Commodore Jacks is now on our list of suspects – and it’s a short list,” said Mullins bluntly.

  “But I thought you’d arrested him,” she said, pointing at Chuck.

  “Sub-Captain Poulson is no longer under suspicion and has been released from custody,” said Burns.

  “I don’t understand,” said Primrose.

  “It’s quite simple. We need to find the commodore. I suggest we start by looking at his quarters, his office, his desk, communications and computer terminal.”

  “His private terminal?” said Primrose, aghast. “I couldn’t possibly allow–”

  “You are aware that Commodore Jacks was instructed to grant us his full co-operation, by Admiral Giles himself?”

  “Yes, but–”

  “I imagine those instructions extend to you but if you wish we can go through the channels and obtain a formal search warrant. It’s entirely up to you, but at times like these I always think a little co-operation goes a long way.” said Burns.

  “Unless you have something to hide, of course,” added Mullins.

  “No, no, of course I don’t. It’s just that there… well, there might be some sensitive information on his terminal.”

  “What kind of sensitive information might that be, lieutenant?” said Burns.

  “How Jacks – or even Jacks and yourself – plan to get rid of the core?” said Mullins. “We know he must have had an accomplice. Who better than his faithful adjutant?”

  Lt. Primrose’s mouth dropped open but no words came out. Chuck knew just how she felt. You had to give the two policemen credit – they did have a talent for backing people into a corner in very short order. Well, that’s why they were policemen and he was just a sub-captain.

  “We’ll check his quarters later but for the time being, shall we?” said Burns, motioning towards the door of Jacks’ office. Lt. Primrose offered no more resistance and the group entered the inner office. Burns and Mullins immediately started going through the contents of the drawers in Jacks’ desk.

  “Not a lot here,” said Burns. “Some requisition orders, a few odds and sods.”

  “This is interesting,” said Mullins, rummaging around in the trash can by the side of Jacks’ desk. “What have we here…? Half a bottle of scotch and… a pack of contraceptives – also half empty. Don’t want to let your imagination run riot with that lot.” Only Penny noticed Lt. Primrose turn bright pink.

  “Decent whisky too – none of your cheap stuff,” said Burns, examining the bottle. “Why would he throw them in the trash…?” He gazed around the office before turning to Mullins. “Get up to Jacks’ quarters and see what you can find. Break the door down if you have to. I want to know what’s in there. In particular, I want to know if there’s anything of a personal nature – stuff you wouldn’t want to leave behind.”

  “On my way,” said Mullins.

  Burns then turned his attention to the computer terminal on the commodore’s desk. Firing it up he was greeted by the message, ‘Please enter password’. That figures, thought Burns. “Lt. Primrose, I don’t suppose you’re privy to the commodore’s password?”

  “I’m sorry, no idea,” she replied.

  “Can you hack it?” Burns asked Chuck.

  “Probably, but it’ll take time.”

  “Err… try ‘trapeze’,” said Jacobs.

  “You know Jacks’ password?”

  “No, not really. It’s these computer terminals. Hector was state of the art but these things are twenty odd years old – so is the software. When O1 closed down we had dozens of the things going spare. A lot went for recycling but we kept a few. Trouble was that half of them were still locked by the previous user’s password. We had an engineer sort it out and we put in an override.”

  “How many people knew about that?” said Burns.

  “Just the station commander – so me, and then Jacks.”

  “Well,” said Burns, looking around. “I’d say that secret’s out.” He typed in the password and the terminal immediately sprang into life. “So, what do we have…?” he said. A few minutes later he had the answer. “A lot of... nothing. Looks like everything’s been deleted. Nothing in the recycle bin either.”

  “Can I take a look?” said Chuck.

  “Be my guest,” said Burns. Changing seats, Chuck tapped away at the console but shook his head.

  “No, nothing, and like before it hasn’t just been deleted, it’s all been digitally shredded. However, according to this... the memory module isn’t completely empty, so there must be something in there somewhere – a hidden file or something.” A few minutes later Chuck smiled. “Ha! There you are.”

  “What is it?” said Burns.

  “Just as I thought – it was a hidden file. It’s labeled ‘MF�
��. He must have forgotten about it when he shredded the other stuff.”

  “Open it up,” said Burns. “Let’s have a look.” Chuck opened the file and a row of faces peered over his shoulders at the screen.

  “Looks like some kind of schedule planner,” said Jacobs. Chuck clicked on a day at random and the message ‘Venus 2000’ popped up. “That make sense to anyone?”

  “Some kind of codeword?” said Burns. “Are there any other entries?”

  “Plenty,” said Chuck. “Almost every day, going back to when Jacks arrived. Here’s one, ‘Savannah 1600’, and another before that… yeah, it’s all the same kind of stuff. ‘Raven 1100’… ‘Lavinia 2200’…”

  “Anything else in the file?” said Jacobs.

  “Yeah, there’s a web link,” said Chuck. He tapped on the link and a web site appeared on the screen. ‘MADAME FIFI’S PINK SALON – Your Pleasure is Our Business’, read the banner across the top of the page.

  Jacobs let out a snort. “It’s a bordello, a brothel.”

  “Look,” said Chuck. “Venus, Raven, Savannah… They’re all names of the erm… hostesses at Madam Fifi’s on Phoenix.”

  “And times. Venus 2000, 20 hundred hours – eight in the evening. So that’s what all the schedule entries are for,” said Jacobs.

  “I wonder what Jacks gets up to there?” said Penny.

  “Judging by this, just about anything he fancies,” said Chuck, scrolling down the page to reveal the full range of services available at Madame Fifi’s.

  “My, my, but that’s a lot of money for a massage,” said Penny.

  “Awful lot of massage for your money, though,” murmured Chuck.

  “I don’t think we need concern ourselves with the commodore’s activity of choice,” said Burns. “Go back to that schedule planner for a minute.”

  “I was going to suggest that,” said Chuck. “Because, if I’m not mistaken, there was an entry for… today. Here we are… ‘Misty 1700’.”

  “Well that answers the question of where Jacks is – he’s on Phoenix, always assuming he kept his appointment,” said Burns.

  A few seconds later Mullins returned from Jacks’ quarters.

  “Find anything?” said Burns.

  “Couple of things,” said Mullins. “There were a few spare uniforms and some dirty laundry, among which I found this. It’s a coverall and unless I’m very much mistaken these are bloodstains on the back.”

  “Bag it,” said Burns. “And?”

  “Found this,” said Mullins, passing something over to Burns.

  “A wristwatch?” he said, taking the watch from Mullins and turning it over in his hands. “There’s an inscription the back: ‘To Daniel. With love, Dolly’.” Where did you find it?”

  “At the bottom of the garbage can next to his bed.” Lt. Primrose let out a stifled cry and immediately scuttled out of the room.

  “What’s the matter with her?” said Mullins.

  “Lt. Primrose. Her name is Dolores,” said Penny. “I think you’ll find she’s the ‘Dolly’ on the back of the watch. Daniel is Commodore Jacks.”

  “To Daniel. With love, Dolly? – They had a thing going?” said Jacobs.

  “For quite a while, I think.”

  “Well I don’t think it’s going anymore,” said Jacobs as the sound of muffled sobs filtered through the office wall. “Better go after her, Penny. Tell her – I don’t know – whatever it is that girls tell each other at times like this.”

  “Like what? Plenty of other fish in the sea? You were too good for him? He’s a heartless swine, not worth the tears?”

  “How about ‘He’s a murdering piece of filth and once we catch up with him he’s going to spend the rest of his life in jail.’ That should do the trick,” said Mullins.

  “I think I’ll stick with the fish,” said Penny, leaving the office and quietly closing the door behind her.

  “So what now?” said Chuck.

  “Jacks isn’t coming back,” said Burns. “He erased his files, chucked all that stuff in the garbage. He’s gone for good.”

  “If you’re right about that and he has taken Hector, he what’s he doing messing around at Fifi’s?” said Jacobs. “Once he left O1 why didn’t he just keep on going?”

  “For one thing, he doesn’t know that we’re on to him,” said Burns. “As far as he’s concerned, Poulson here is still locked up in solitary awaiting trial. Having said that, Madame Fifi’s can’t be the only reason that he’s on Phoenix. He could find that kind of place almost anywhere. There must be some other reason.”

  “Waiting for someone?” said Jacobs.

  “That would be my bet,” said Burns. “And, if we’re lucky, that might just give us the time we need to get a result. I’ll get on to Admiral Giles straight away and he can take it from there.”

  Phoenix Station

  Jacks let out a sigh of contentment as he exited Madame Fifi’s. There might be better ways to while away a couple of hours but for the moment he couldn’t think of any. Misty had been on particularly fine form and she’d earned every penny of whatever percentage Madame Fifi was paying her. Jacks had even given her an extravagant tip; it wasn’t something he normally did because once you started doing that kind of thing they tended to expect it all the time, whether they’d earned it or not. Still, since this was his last visit he could afford to be generous.

  Making his way to one of Phoenix’s spacious relaxation areas he sat down at a vacant public data-net terminal and logged into his mail account. Several messages were waiting for him, one of which was from his contact who, it transpired, had been delayed and wouldn’t be arriving on Phoenix until later in the evening. That gave Jacks a few more hours to kill. Enough time for a slap-up meal at one of the swankier restaurants, and maybe even enough time for desserts at Fifi’s. In his wallet he had a special discount coupon, a reward for being such a valued client. ‘VIP Special Service: Three for the price of two (Terms and conditions apply)’. Would that count as too much of a good thing? Of course not; in Jacks’ book there was no such thing.

  Scrolling further down his in-box he saw a few other communiqués that he could afford to ignore and was just about to log out when he noticed an automatic notification from the military liaison office on Atlas. ‘Message received from Marine 1st Class Dobbs via Area HQ. 17:30 AST’. A minute later he had the message in front of him. ‘In accordance with orders of Admiral Giles, prisoner Poulson transferred to the custody of Cdr. Lloyd, Fleet Legal Dept. at 16:30 Atlas standard time. Marine 1st Class Dobbs.’

  That was damned strange. How had Giles gotten involved? And who the hell was Commander Lloyd? Jacks knew most of the staff over at Fleet Legal but he couldn’t recall anyone called Lloyd. A minute later he was talking to a desk clerk at the Fleet Legal Office on Atlas.

  “Commander Lloyd? Sorry sir, as far as I know we have no-one by that name. It’s possible that they could have transferred in since my last shift. Would you like me to check?”

  “Yes, straight away, if you will,” said Jacks. A few moments later the clerk came back.

  “Sorry sir, but at present there is no Commander Lloyd stationed at this office. Would you like to speak to Lt. Compton, the duty officer?”

  “No, thank you. That will be all,” said Jacks, cutting the connection abruptly. He leaned back in his chair. Something wasn’t right. Somehow, the situation had changed; how and why were irrelevant. Indecision and inaction could only spell disaster; it was time to act.

  First, he fired off a message to his contact. ‘Plan compromised – contact upon arrival Atlas system’. His contact wouldn’t be able to receive the message until he emerged from super-space and Jacks would have to remain in-system until then, but if his contingency plan worked – and it would – it shouldn’t pose any problems. Jacks then took the nearest elevator down to Level 7. Exiting the elevator he turned right and made his way to Med Centre 3 at the far end of the corridor. He wasn’t interested in the med centre itself, but in Server 6, s
ituated directly across the corridor and within range of his low power transmitter. Taking a seat in the waiting area he took the small device from his bag, fed in a list of commands and when he was certain that no-one was watching he fixed it to the underside of his chair. Then he arose and ambled back down the corridor towards the elevator. From there he picked up the pace and a few minutes later he was sitting at the controls of his scout once again.

  Orbital One

  “And so, Admiral, the only conclusions we can draw are that Commodore Jacks is linked to the theft of the computer core, and also to the death of Bernard Stevens.”

  “That’s quite an accusation, Chief Inspector. I take it that you have proof?” said Admiral Giles.

  “If the blood on the coveralls matches that of Bernard Stevens, it will be enough physical evidence to hold him for questioning on that count. As far as the core is concerned, its signal was traced to the commodore’s ship. It’s our belief that the commodore then travelled over to Phoenix and it is quite possible that he is still there. If we move quickly, the security people on Phoenix might be able to apprehend him and we can stop this thing right now.”

  “Understood. I’ll set things in motion and keep you informed. Good work, Chief Inspector. Giles out.”

  Phoenix Station

  With a couple of quick bursts from his thrusters, Commodore Jacks broke contact with the docking arm of Phoenix and moved gently away into clear space. Some lackey from air traffic control was bleating about not having given him clearance to depart, his shrill voice blaring away into Jacks’ headset. Jacks shook his head in irritation and cut the transmission. Keeping a very sharp look out for other traffic he guided his ship away from Phoenix airspace and then moved slowly into a high orbit until he found what he was looking for – one of Atlas’s Navstar satellites. He would need a place to lie low until his contact arrived and the lumbering Navstar was the ideal place, masking his position from any prying eyes. Maneuvering the Arrow until it was sitting just above the satellite he adjusted his speed and heading to match it precisely. Satisfied, he switched off the main power and paused to take stock of the situation. Whatever had happened on O1 was out of his control. His priority now was to manage the things that still were. Confident that he had done everything possible, he relaxed in his seat and settled down to wait.