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

by John Bowers

  “Your daughter told me that you opened the bank to support local business and development—”

  “That’s right. A lot of local people don’t trust the big financial giants, so I gave them something to make them feel more comfortable.”

  “Alpha Financial Investments, the phony corporation who sent those transfers, is listed as headquartered in Camarrell. Why would a phony corporation in Camarrell use your bank when they could more easily hide among the big depositors in a larger city?”

  “I don’t know. If you ever find out who they really are, maybe you can ask them.”

  “Why did you call me down here instead of calling the Marshal at Camarrell?”

  Prater scowled. “Back to that again? Goddammit, I told you!”

  “Where did you hear my name?”

  “You were all over the holonews last year! Everybody on the planet knows who you are.”

  “And because of that, you decided I could solve your problem?”

  Prater waved a hand. “I don’t remember! I think Michael may have suggested it. I didn’t really care who we called, but I thought it was worth reporting.”

  Nick sat back and stared at him in thought.

  “Can we talk to Michael?” Nathan asked.

  Prater, still angry, nodded. He touched a button on the comm beside his chair.

  “Michael, will you come into the study, please? These gentlemen would like to have a word with you.”

  Silence reigned for thirty seconds. Michael Smith breezed into the room.

  “Here I am! How can I help?”

  Prater lifted his chin. “When we decided to call in the U.F. Marshal, weren’t you the one that suggested calling Marshal Walker?”

  “Yes, sir. I had heard that he was the best.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Nick asked.

  Michael smiled at him.

  “From Cybele. She’s been wanting to interview you.”

  ***

  Luisa served enchiladas for lunch. In spite of the tension in the air, Prater insisted that Nick and Nathan join them, and neither man objected. Nathan ate as if he were starving, his mouth too full to even comment on the food. Nick caught Luisa’s eye as she carried another steaming dish to the table.

  “This is delicious,” he told her. “Best I’ve had in years.”

  She beamed at him and squeezed his shoulder, then returned to the kitchen. Nick was halfway through his second helping when Cybele Gannon walked in, her smile lighting up the dining room.

  “Am I too late?” she asked as she pulled up a chair.

  “Barely in time,” her father replied. “Where did you go?”

  “I had a big story to cover.” She cast a significant glance at Nick. “There was a shooting in town.”

  “A shooting?” Prater almost dropped his fork.

  Cybele nodded, scooping enchiladas onto her plate.

  “Yep. Some drifter drew down on a cop and got himself killed.”

  Prater looked stunned. “There hasn’t been a shooting around here in years. Who was the drifter?”

  “Nobody knows yet. He wasn’t carrying any ID and the police are running his prints and DNA.”

  “Who was the cop?”

  “Uh…well, it wasn’t really a cop…it was a—”

  “U.F. Marshal,” Nick said, cutting her off. “And, since the case is still under investigation, we can’t talk about it.”

  “You shot him?” Prater looked pale.

  “He drew first,” Nick said, sidestepping a direct answer. “What’s interesting is that he was the fourth person in two days to pull a gun on me.”

  Prater swallowed in surprise and laid down his fork.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I told your daughter to keep silent about this, but I guess there’s no harm in telling you now. Yesterday in the canyon, we ran into three men. Two of them were drifters, just a pair of small time hoods, but the other was a Rukranian. What’s doubly interesting is that the man this morning also appears to be a Ruke. And they both seemed to know who I am.”

  “What—what happened in the canyon?” Prater cast an anxious glance at his daughter. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Daddy.”

  “Cybele can give you the details later,” Nick said. He fingered the swollen tissue around his left eye. “I’m just wondering how it is that two Rukes show up in this area just when I get here, and they both seem to want me dead.”

  “I… Why are you asking me?”

  “Have you seen any Rukes around here recently, Senator?”

  “No. I’ve never seen one around here, ever.”

  Nick took another bite and chewed it, his eyes still on Prater. Prater sat stiff and motionless, emotions flickering across his face. Finally he tossed his napkin on the table.

  “Walker, I’m getting the distinct feeling that you suspect me of something. I think you’d better just spit it out.”

  Michael Smith, who hadn’t said a word, pushed his chair back an inch, his eyes wide as he swiveled from one man to the other. Nick finished his mouthful and leaned back in his chair.

  “Okay, Senator, here it is. The wanted poster was a fake, we’ve established that. But it wasn’t delivered to your mailbox.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “I watched the video surveillance from your cameras. Nobody put a diplomatic pouch in it and nobody took one out. So the poster originated somewhere else.”

  Prater glanced at Michael. “I thought you picked up the mail that day.”

  “I was going to, but someone beat me to it. I found the mail stacked on my desk. The pouch was underneath the regular mail.”

  “So you just assumed it came in the mail?”

  “Of course. What other possibility was there?”

  “Who else picks up the mail?” Nick asked.

  “No one, usually, unless I ask them to. And I didn’t ask anyone that day.”

  Nick nodded. “My guess is that the pouch and poster originated right here inside your house.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Prater sputtered. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “That’s a good question. I’ve interviewed your staff and I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, so I’m inclined to believe it wasn’t any of them.”

  “Who does that leave?”

  Nick only stared at him. Prater’s face began to color.

  “You think I faked the wanted poster? For what purpose!”

  “To get me to come here from Trimmer Springs.”

  “I ask again—for what purpose?”

  “Follow the trail, Senator. I show up here to investigate the poster, and in less than two days I’m looking down the barrels of four different guns—three in the canyon and one this morning in town. That’s a giant coincidence, don’t you think? Add to that the irregularities in your bank activity—”

  “What irregularities?” Cybele asked.

  “They’re not irregularities!” Prater roared. “They’re just unusual activity, and they happened thirteen years ago!”

  “And ended just days before the cult uprising began.”

  “What!!??” Cybele stared at Nick as if he were crazy. “Do you think my father had something to do with the rebellion?”

  “I’m just asking questions,” he told her. “If you have a better explanation that fits all these pieces together, then I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about! But I can tell you that my father is not guilty of anything. The only reason you’re here is that, after the poster showed up and he was talking about calling in the law, I told Michael that he should call you. I was already planning to write an article about you and I figured this was a perfect opportunity.”

  “How did Vanov know your name?”

  “What? Vanov—”

  “The man you killed.”

  Prater almost fell out of his chair. Words collided in his mouth.

  “You killed a man?” he d
emanded of his daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? What else am I in the dark about?”

  “I told her to keep quiet until I had time to check on a few things,” Nick said. “Don’t worry, she didn’t do anything wrong and she isn’t in any trouble. Vanov had me dead to rights and was about to punch my ticket. She actually saved my life.”

  Prater pushed his chair back, his lunch forgotten.

  “I am so goddamned confused…what are you going to do now, Marshal?”

  Nick picked up his fork.

  “I’m going to finish my lunch, then Nathan and I are going on a little trip. You don’t need to ask where because I won’t tell you in any case, but you should know that I’ve already written all this up and filed it in my electronic mailbox on AlphaNet. If I turn up dead in the next few days it will automatically be retrieved by the U.F. Marshal’s office and everything in it will be thoroughly investigated.”

  “Where does that leave me? You’ve made some pretty wild accusations here.”

  “I haven’t made any accusations, I’ve just asked some questions. For the time being you are a person of interest, nothing more. Until all these questions are answered, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Chapter 17

  “Was that a good idea?” Nathan asked as Nick pulled away from the Prater estate and followed the winding road down the side of the ridge. They had arranged to leave Nathan’s car at the estate while they ventured south to see where that might lead. Nick slipped on his sunshades to combat the glare from twin suns.

  “Was what a good idea?”

  “You gave away your whole case back there. If Prater is guilty of something, now he can cover his tracks.”

  Nick shrugged. “Sometimes you play it close to your chest until you figure things out. And sometimes, when you aren’t getting anywhere, you just dump the facts on your suspects and see what they do with it. If you’re lucky, they might panic and do something stupid.”

  “And if they’re innocent? They might talk out of turn to the wrong people without even knowing it and tip them off that you’re closing in.”

  “Do you think we’re closing in? I don’t. Right now I have more questions than answers. Nothing about this makes any sense so far.”

  Nick reached the plain at the bottom of the ridge and turned south, cruising at ninety knots and fifty feet of altitude. The terrain ahead looked empty, desolate. Here and there he saw farms and the occasional dairy, but mostly it was undeveloped country. He wasn’t sure how far they had to go to run into the settlements everyone said existed south of Centauri Springs, but it looked like it might take a few hours. He glanced at Nathan.

  “Looks like we have some time on our hands. You want to hash it out? I’ll run the evidence by you and you tell me what it means.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Okay. First, the wanted poster was a fake. Except it wasn’t. Vanov told me the poster was real, but it wasn’t for Prater, it was for me. What does that tell you?”

  “Doesn’t tell me anything. It raises two questions: Who wants you dead, and why?”

  “I can answer those,” Nick said. “The poster was issued by the Rukes, according to Vanov. He said they were pissed at me for ending the war. He said the Rukes lost a lot of money when the coalition collapsed.”

  Nathan looked at him in surprise.

  “You ended the war?”

  “No. I had a hand in one particular battle, and the war ended soon after that. The revolution was already losing and they were about to fold anyway.”

  “So what did Vanov mean?”

  “He believed the revolution was still strong, but the cultists lost heart after that one battle. It’s bullshit, but that’s what he said.”

  “Okay…”

  “I don’t buy any of it. There’s another reason for the poster, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Nathan frowned. “If the wanted poster was issued by the Rukes, then how did it get into Prater’s possession?”

  “Prater said it came in the mail, but I think we’ve established that it didn’t. Somebody placed it on Michael’s desk with the regular mail. The whole idea, according to Vanov, was to get me down here where they could get at me.”

  “But how did they know Prater would call you? You said yourself that there are other marshals closer to Centauri Springs.”

  “According to Michael, that was Cybele’s idea. She’s been pestering me for an interview, and she saw an opportunity.”

  Nathan was silent a moment.

  “Nick…someone in Prater’s house has to be working with the Rukes.”

  “I think so too, but I don’t know who. Prater sounds very much like an innocent man. He was completely shocked to find out that Cybele and I had been ambushed, or that she had killed a man. I was watching him and it’s pretty hard to fake that kind of shock.”

  “So if Prater wasn’t in on it…then who? Michael?”

  “Possibly, but I’m not convinced.”

  “Cybele?”

  Nick squinted uncertainly and shook his head.

  “I can’t rule her out, but I’m inclined to say no.”

  “Why? Because she wants to interview you? That could be a deception.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t figure what she stands to gain. She has no motive.”

  “I see your point, but you also said that Vanov knew her name, which is pretty suspicious when she claims not to have known him.”

  “Yeah, there is that. But if he was using Prater as a pawn to sucker me in, it makes sense that he did some homework. Just because he knew her name doesn’t mean she knew him. And…” He held up a finger. “…Cybele killed him. Why did she do that if she was part of whatever is going on?”

  Nathan sat silent a moment. Then he turned his eyes on Nick.

  “What about this…for Vanov’s plan to work, you had to be called down from Trimmer Springs. The only reason you were is that Cybele recommended you. Vanov had to know in advance that she would do that, or his whole plan would fall apart. She almost had to know about it in advance.”

  “Maybe not. If Vanov had their house bugged…”

  “It wouldn’t matter. The whole point of the poster was to draw you out personally. Why dump that on Prater when he might have called anybody at all? Someone in his house had to be primed to recommend you, and Vanov had to know that.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. He studied the horizon a moment, trying to think of a counter argument. Finally he let his breath out slowly.

  “You’ve got me there, Nathan. I don’t know the answer.”

  Nathan sighed. “But it still doesn’t explain why she killed him.”

  Nick grinned. “You think maybe she just fell for my winning personality?”

  Nathan laughed. “Or your cowboy hat.”

  “Maybe it’s my eyes.”

  “Naw, it had to be your sense of humor. She just couldn’t let Vanov kill you after you made her laugh.”

  “Don’t tell Suzanne any of this, okay?”

  Nathan turned innocent eyes on him. “Why not?”

  ***

  Half an hour later Nick’s pocket phone buzzed.

  “Nick Walker.”

  “Marshal, it’s Virgil Bullard. I thought you’d like to know we got an ID on the dead perp.”

  “Yeah? Who is he?”

  “His name was Boris Nemorov. He’s a citizen of Centauri B but a resident of Alpha 2. He came here a little over a year ago on a legitimate starpass, but he doesn’t seem to have a permanent address. He’s moved about quite a bit since he got here.”

  “Any suspicious associations?”

  “Not that we can find so far. He doesn’t have any family on file and no permanent job. When he first arrived he went to work for a transportation company, but he left there after about three months and everything after that is a blank.”

  “Okay, Virgil, thanks. How is the Chief doing?”

  “You mean Fearless? He’s pacing around like a tornado looking for a cheap n
eighborhood. But that’s nothing new—he’s like that most of the time.”

  Nick laughed. “Just for the record, Nathan and I are headed down toward the Isthmus. If we’re not back in a day or two, you might notify the U.F. Marshal’s office in Camarrell. Ask for Marshal Chiang.”

  “Will do. Watch your ass down there—I hear it’s a pretty lawless place.”

  “Not for long. We’ll clean it up.”

  Virgil laughed and they signed off. He brought Nathan up to date and they rode in silence for a moment.

  “Nick…what exactly are we looking for? Who are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Hopefully we’ll figure that out when we get there.”

  ***

  Ten minutes after the two U.F. Marshals left the Prater estate, a satellite call was placed to an undisclosed number at an undisclosed location.

  “Yes?”

  “Two U.F. Marshals are headed your way. They should be there in three or four hours.”

  “Walker?”

  “Walker and his pet.”

  “His pet?”

  “A rookie marshal, just out of the Academy. I guess Walker is afraid to work this case alone.”

  “What are they driving?”

  “A blue hovercar, 0443 Stellar. It has a rental sticker on the back.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  The call disconnected.

  Traveling South, Alpha Centauri 2

  Nathan Green had just arrived in Camarrell the night before and was dispatched immediately to Centauri Springs, leaving him no time for sleep since his arrival on Alpha 2. As Nick cruised south into territory he’d never visited, Nathan dozed in the seat beside him. The afternoon suns beat down on the car and the farther south they traveled the higher the temperature rose. The terrain varied little at first, and Nick saw some of those cattle ranches Hornbeck had told him about. Gradually they ended and the country looked unspoiled. Soon Nick was fighting drowsiness himself, but was rescued when his pocket phone buzzed.

  It was Suzanne. He transferred her call to his dashboard, enabling him to talk on video and still operate the hovercar.

  “Hey, there, gorgeous. What’s going on with you?”