Bounty Hunter at Binary Flats (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 4)

by John Bowers

  This one had no tripod, but mounted what looked like a small, reversible jet engine underneath, which would give it incredibly long range and speed. The cockpit area was covered by what looked like a SolarGlas canopy, and probably seated four instead of two. Nick watched as it skirted the canyon rim, presumably looking for whoever had killed Vanov and Childers. Cybele also saw it, and gasped.

  “Duck!” he whispered, and lowered his own head as it skimmed within a hundred yards of them.

  The sled kept going around the edge of the canyon; Nick lost sight of it as it reached the other side, but could hear its muted engine as it continued the other way. His heart tripped with anticipation until, several minutes later, he heard the jet spin up and begin to fade toward the south. He checked his watch again and slowly let out his breath.

  “Are they gone?” Cybele looked up again.

  “I think so. Let’s give them five minutes, in case they left someone behind.”

  “Will five minutes be enough?”

  “I dunno, but we can’t stay here forever.”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her fear begin to fade. After a couple of minutes Nick stood upright and peered down the canyon, but could see nothing. He heard the birds and the breeze and the faint trickle of water, but nothing else.

  “I think we can come out now,” he said quietly, “but keep your rifle handy. Until we’re safely out of here, we won’t know for sure they didn’t leave someone behind.”

  “Are we going to retrieve the bodies?”

  “No. I’ll get some manpower from Centauri Springs and come back tomorrow. I think we’ve stretched our luck enough for one day.”

  ***

  The ride back to the Prater estate was fairly rapid. Once they cleared the canyon, Nick and Cybele kicked their horses into a fast gallop, letting the wind wash over them as they covered the three miles in just a few minutes. Nick held onto the saddle horn and enjoyed the run as the bay unleashed its pent-up energy. He didn’t think they were in much danger at this point, but didn’t relax until they reached the wide pastures of the estate.

  Just before the hilltop estate came into view, Nick reined the bay to a halt. Cybele also stopped and swung around to face him.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  He held up the machine gun. “I need to hide this.”

  “Why?”

  “What happened today is classified,” he said. “You understand me? Until I get to the bottom of this, we tell nobody.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “Not even my dad?”

  “Not even him. I’m sorry.”

  “So…”

  “If he sees this gun—if anyone sees it—it will raise questions I’m not ready to answer. Do you know of a spot where we can stash it?”

  Cybele stared at the weapon a moment, then nodded toward the road a half mile below them. Several clumps of trees grew in a gully beside the pavement.

  “You should be able to hide it down there. When I was in high school my friends and I used to hide our cannabis there.”

  Nick grinned. “Nice to know. Show me.”

  ***

  It was early afternoon when they finally reached the horse barn and swung down from the saddles; both horses were snorting and blowing air, winded but not really tired. The bay swung his head up and down as Nick pulled the reins over his head and led him toward the paddock. Nick patted him on the shoulder and handed the reins to William Barnett.

  “Looks like you gave these two a good workout,” Barnett said with a grin.

  Cybele smiled and hauled her saddlebag off the grey.

  “Yes, we did. It was fun.”

  As they strode up the incline toward the house, they saw Senator Prater still sitting where they’d left him, studying a document as if he hadn’t moved.

  “What’s our next step?” Cybele asked.

  “We don’t have a next step. I have to go into Centauri Springs and I’ll probably spend the night there. You can do what you want, but you can’t tell a soul what happened today.”

  “What’s so important in Centauri Springs?”

  “Dennis Childers, if he followed my orders. I have to talk to him and find out what he knows.”

  She nodded. “I forgot about him. Why can’t I come with you?”

  “That should be obvious—you’re a civilian, and this is U.F. business.”

  “But I was there too!”

  “You aren’t law enforcement.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Don’t even think about fighting me on this. Some serious shit is going down here and I still don’t know what it is; until I do, anything you do or say might constitute an obstruction. You hear what I’m saying?”

  She stared into his eyes, her lips parted.

  “Obstruction? You mean…a criminal act?”

  “It can be, so don’t get close to it.”

  Her frown deepened and she closed her mouth. Her shoulders slumped in resignation.

  “Okay, fine. But that’s more excitement than I’ve ever had in my life, and I want to tell someone about it. Or at least write about it.”

  “You still can, but not today.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll let you know when.”

  Cybele heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned up the incline again.

  “Fine.”

  Gil Prater looked up as they approached the pool deck. He stared for long seconds, then frowned.

  “Have you been in a fight, Marshal?”

  Nick dipped his head sheepishly.

  “It’s been a long time since I sat a horse. I forgot how low a tree branch can be from that high off the ground.”

  Prater smiled. “Took a tumble, did you?”

  “I did. But it was fun all the same.”

  Nick reached the deck and stopped, looking around.

  “Everything quiet here?”

  “So far.” Prater got to his feet and stretched. “Business as usual.”

  “Good.”

  “Did you show Marshal Walker the canyon?” Prater asked his daughter.

  She gave him a fleeting smile and nodded without meeting his eyes.

  “Yeah. We had a nice picnic and everything.”

  Prater’s eyes narrowed as he sensed her evasion. He looked as if he wanted to ask something else, but instead returned to the patio table. He picked up his drink and took a gulp.

  “Where do we go from here, Marshal? With the investigation, I mean.”

  “I have a few more leads I need to run down, but I’m pretty close to declaring this whole thing a hoax.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t think you’re in much danger.”

  “Well…that’s good news. I guess.”

  “I would say so. I have some business in town this evening, and I’ll probably spend the night there. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow, and if my suspicions are right, we can close the case then.”

  “All right.”

  “In the meantime, take all the same precautions you have been. We don’t want to relax too soon.”

  “I understand.”

  ***

  Cybele Gannon watched as Nick’s hovercar disappeared in the distance, then turned back to the patio where her father sat making notes on a paper tablet. She picked up his liquor glass and took a swallow, then set it down again. She heaved a sigh of satisfaction and settled onto a patio chair.

  Her father looked up. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Not right now.”

  “You get everything you need?”

  “Not quite. But I will.”

  He eyed her a moment, then nodded and returned to his notepad. Cybele stood up and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Daddy. I owe you one.”

  Chapter 12

  Centauri Springs – Alpha Centauri 2

  Nick Walker’s head was spinning by the time his hovercar skimmed into Centauri Springs. Before leaving the Prater estate he had loaded his gea
r into the car and stopped to retrieve the machine gun from its hiding place beside the road. He wasn’t absolutely sure when he would return to the hilltop estate and didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

  He had a lot to think about, but first he needed to interview Dennis Childers… assuming Childers hadn’t made a run for it.

  Nick turned down the street toward the police station and slowed as he neared the parking lot. He saw half a dozen vehicles beside the building, but the battered hovercar Childers had taken from the canyon wasn’t there. He felt a stir of anger; he’d talked tough to Childers, but knew the odds were against the man obeying his orders.

  He cruised slowly down the street past the police station, checking cars parked along the side, but nothing. He circled the block with the same result—Childers was nowhere in evidence.

  Well, no surprise, really. Childers and his brother had committed a major felony when they held Nick at gunpoint, and both had criminal records; not many felons would hang around to chat after something like that. Nick just wished he knew what their motive had been, and if they were in any way connected to Vanov.

  He debated stopping in at the police station and filing a request to be on the lookout, but decided against it. When Childers left the canyon, he had probably blasted right on through Centauri Springs and headed north as hard as his aging car could go. Instead, Nick returned to the fuel station where he’d gassed up yesterday. It had an attached au’tel where he could spend the night, and he needed time to sort things out. He had a lot of unfinished business after today’s adventure in the canyon, but the worst thing he could do was operate without a plan.

  The au’tel, just like every other au’tel he had ever seen, was faded and featureless, a flat building with perhaps twenty rooms that all looked exactly the same. He walked up to the registration machine and used his thumbprint to purchase a room. He specified one night, which was probably all he would need; the machine used his thumbprint to access the planetary database and retrieve his information, deducted the room charge from his personal account (he would bill it to the Federation Marshal Service later), printed him a receipt, and issued him a keycard.

  That done, he located the room and moved his car in front of it. He carried his luggage inside, then took a blanket from the closet and returned to the car. He wrapped the machine gun in the blanket and took it inside. With the door closed and locked, he turned on the air conditioning, unwrapped the blanket, and hefted the machine gun for inspection.

  The gun wasn’t a total surprise. The Cult Rebellion had used the .29 calibre as a squad assault weapon; Nick had seen guns like it before, after the rebels using them had been killed or captured. The gun could be mounted on a tripod for static defense, but was light enough for a single man to carry and use in the same way one used a rifle. It was a rapid-fire weapon with virtually no kick, yet the slug was heavy enough to stop a charging horse.

  This one had been customized. The factory model featured a wooden handgrip that allowed the gunner to hold the barrel with one hand while firing with the other. Gun barrels tended to heat quickly in combat and a man could be seriously burned if he grabbed onto one, but the wooden grip reduced that danger. The gun Nick was holding had been modified—the grip was mounted on a horizontal brace attached to the barrel, placing the grip itself about six inches to the side. This not only reduced the burn danger even further, but added stability for the gunner, making it easier to aim and steady. The magazine had also been enlarged—instead of thirty rounds, this one held sixty.

  Nick inspected it carefully, then laid it back on the blanket. It might be fun to own a weapon like this, but this one was evidence in a murder, so he would resist the temptation to play with it. At the moment he had other things on his mind.

  It was only midafternoon, but he felt as if he’d lived a week since he woke up. He’d arrested one man, shot another, and almost been killed himself. But the mystery he had come here to solve was deeper than ever, and had taken a left turn. He pulled out his pocket ‘puter and opened a document. When things got confusing it always helped to map things out.

  He began to make notes.

  § Gil Prater had received what amounted to a death threat, a wanted poster that said “Dead or Alive”.

  § The wanted poster was a fake, if Roman Vanov could be believed. Nick never liked to take anything at face value, but based on what happened in the canyon, he was pretty sure Vanov was telling the truth. The poster wasn’t about Gil Prater at all, but about Nick Walker.

  § Vanov’s name and nationality were highly suspicious; the only dealings Nick had ever had with Rukranians were related to the war. The Rukes had supplied weapons and training for the cults nine years ago, and more recently had tried to get the uprising started again. How did Vanov fit into that scenario, or was it coincidence?

  § Vanov’s appearance in the canyon changed the complexion of everything. Nick still didn’t know what the man wanted, but it almost had to be related to the war. He didn’t buy Vanov’s explanation, but couldn’t completely discount it either.

  § The fact that Vanov knew Nick’s name was also highly suspicious. The fact that he knew Cybele Gannon was even more suspicious. How did Cybele fit into the picture…or did she? Maybe Vanov and Prater had something going, and Prater had volunteered to bait the hook.

  Nick sighed and set the ‘puter down, running a finger through his hair. Right now he had more questions than answers, and it looked like getting the answers would be a very dangerous undertaking. There was probably still a dead body in the canyon, possibly two if the hoversled he’d seen hadn’t picked up Vanov. At the very least he needed to recover Tom Childers, and the location where he was killed was a crime scene that needed to be investigated.

  But he shouldn’t do it alone.

  Nick was no stranger to working without backup, but he was up against some very big boys now, and he should probably call for help. His first instinct was to talk to Chief Sheehan again, but he hesitated—Sheehan had been adversarial the moment he learned Nick’s identity, warning him not to be shooting people in his town. The canyon wasn’t in his town, but Nick could imagine his reaction to hearing about the killings. Since the canyon wasn’t in his jurisdiction, he was under no obligation to render assistance and would probably refuse, but even if he did help, Nick was in no mood for his self-righteous commentary.

  He stored his notes in his electronic mailbox on the AlphaNet, then picked up his pocket phone and called Camarrell.

  ***

  “U.F. Marshal Service, Camarrell office.”

  “This is Nick Walker from the Trimmer Springs office. I need to speak to Marshal Chiang.”

  “Hang on a minute.”

  Nick was put on hold, then a new face appeared on his phone. Nick had met Marshal Chiang when he was first assigned to Alpha 2. Chiang was a veteran lawman and the second highest ranking Marshal on the planet.

  Chiang peered out at him and a small grin cracked his face.

  “Marshal Walker? Trimmer Springs?”

  “Yes, sir. How’re you doing?”

  “I’ve had better days…and worse ones. What the hell do you want?”

  “I need some help.”

  Chiang stared at him a moment, then pretended to grab his chest.

  “Hold on a minute while I break out my defibrillator.”

  “Sir?”

  “Nick Walker calling for help—don’t know if my ticker can take it.”

  Nick flushed slightly as he got the joke. He managed a grin.

  “Sorry to pop your bubble, sir. I guess we all need help now and then.”

  “Yeah, us mortal humans do, but Nick Walker? Never!”

  Nick maintained the silly grin until Chiang got over himself. Finally Chiang turned serious.

  “Okay, what’s up? It must be bad if you’re calling for backup.”

  “Potentially,” Nick said. “I’m down at Centauri Springs on a call and this one got a little weird.”

  “Weird
how?”

  Nick took two minutes to sketch him a thumbnail of what had happened in the canyon, without too many details. He never mentioned Cybele Gannon, Gil Prater, or the Childers brothers.

  “I need to go back into the canyon and retrieve Vanov’s body, if it’s still there,” he explained, “but that place is a custom-built ambush waiting to happen. I figured I should take at least one other person with me.”

  “If you were working for me,” Chiang said, “I would send six men with you. Trouble is, I don’t have anybody available right now. How long will this keep?”

  “Till tomorrow morning. I can’t let it sit any longer than that. I don’t know what the Rukes are up to yet, but I’m pretty sure they won’t sit on their ass for long.”

  Chiang stared at him, chewing his lip as he considered that.

  “I have a rookie I could send down there, but he’s green as grass.”

  “A rookie?”

  “Yeah. He’s still in the Academy, but they’re sending him out here for some field work. Sort of an internship.”

  “When did they start doing that? I never got any field experience before I graduated.”

  “Neither did I. I guess it’s a new thing they just started. Six months before graduation they let them get their nose wet in a field office somewhere. Like I said, this kid is green, but at least he’s a warm body. You want him?”

  Nick sighed, disappointed. But he shrugged.

  “I guess he’s better than nothing. At least a second pair of eyes to watch my back. What’s his name?”

  Chiang frowned. “I don’t remember. I just got the memo this morning, and it’s still on my desk. He’s supposed to arrive sometime tonight. I can send him down as soon as he gets here.”

  “Okay. That’ll work. You got my GPS coordinates?”

  Chiang checked his phone and nodded. “Yep, I’ll store your pocket phone ID and he can track you with that.”