Asteroid Outpost (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 1)

by John Bowers

  They stood in a narrow corridor with two doors on the right, about ten feet apart. On the left was a recess leading to a small airlock—Nick could look through the double windows and see empty space outside. He looked expectantly at Willoughby, whom he could see more clearly now, though the corridor was dim. The man was actually fat, though it was a hard fat and he looked as tough as he needed to be.

  “Where the fuck are we?” Nick demanded suspiciously

  “We,” Willoughby grinned at him, “are here.” He pointed at one of the doors on Nick’s right, then the other. “Take your pick—blonde or brunette.”

  Nick’s brow knitted in thought. “They both good looking?”

  “Angels from heaven.”

  “Both seventeen?”

  “Near enough.”

  Nick rubbed his crotch and considered.

  “How about let me look at ‘em first. Easier to pick that way.”

  “Nope. Cost you five hundred apiece just to look, even if you don’t do nothin’ else.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You better not be shittin’ me, Willoughby! If you try to cheat me—”

  “Easy, Jones, easy. Just protecting my investment, that’s all. These girls are top of the line. You won’t find another like them anywhere in the ‘roids, and that’s a fact. I’ll need the money up front.”

  Nick shook his head. “Uh-uh, I don’t think so. Not until I see the goods.”

  Willoughby’s cheek twitched as he measured Nick’s resolve. Finally he nodded.

  “Awright, half now, half later. But you better have five hundred.”

  Nick pulled out his wallet and removed a wad of bills. It was everything he’d brought with him to Ceres—he hadn’t had time to visit a bank yet. He peeled off five fifties and handed them to Willoughby, peeled off five more and let him look at them. Willoughby nodded in satisfaction.

  “Okay. Make your choice, then.”

  “The blonde, I guess.” Nick put his wallet away.

  “I’ll need your gun belt, too.”

  “Whoa!” Nick took a step back, hands out at his side. “No way. The first thing I learned out here is never go anywhere without my gun. You just back the fuck off!”

  Willoughby sighed patiently, as if Nick were being unreasonable.

  “It’s just a precaution, okay? I don’t want any weapons anywhere near those girls.”

  “What, you think I’m gonna shoot one of ‘em? I would never do that!”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t, but what if you get distracted and she gets her hands on your gun? She could kill you and try to make a break for it. It’s like keepin’ a gun away from a child, you just can’t take the chance.”

  Nick looked startled. “What are you talking about? Are these girls prisoners!”

  “Of course they are. Why do you think they’re way the fuck down here, instead of a regular room in the resort?”

  “Aw, man, I dunno…I don’t need no more trouble with the law.”

  “Ain’t no law around here, son. Just Farrington Security, and they don’t give a shit.”

  Nick was still hesitant. “I ain’t never raped nobody before.”

  “And you ain’t raping nobody now. This is a business transaction, all right? Nothing more than that.”

  Nick took his time thinking about that, letting Willoughby wait. He never broke eye contact. Finally, with great reluctance, he unbuckled the gun belt and handed it over.

  “I swear to god, if you fuck me over…!”

  But Willoughby grinned and shook his head. He hung the gun belt on a hook bolted to the bulkhead.

  “It’ll be right there when you come out.”

  He turned and produced a key, the old fashioned kind, and unlocked the first door. It was a pressure door—he pushed the control lever and it slid into the wall with a pneumatic hiss. Grinning, he nodded at Nick and waved toward the door.

  “Enjoy yourself. You’ve got one hour.”

  * * *

  “I think Walker is right,” Russ Murray said as he and Jim Keating headed back to the security office. Rev. Sledge had told them everything he could remember but added nothing much that was new.

  “Right about what?”

  “The girls are still on the asteroid. Based on the traffic pattern you described earlier, they couldn’t have been taken off before their disappearance was reported, and you’ve been monitoring everything since.”

  “Okay, but where the hell are they?”

  Murray sighed wearily. It was almost 2200 hours.

  “That’s the sixty-four megabyte question. You’re positive every inch of the asteroid has been searched?”

  “Every millimeter.” Keating looked around. “Where is Walker, anyway?”

  “He went to prowl around a little on his own. Thinks he might uncover something.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “I have no idea. He just arrived on Ceres last night. He’s a rookie, too, no experience whatsoever. I’m not expecting too much from him at this juncture.”

  “Seems like a nice enough kid.”

  “I guess.”

  They entered the security office and retired to the lunchroom again. A fresh pot of coffee sat waiting for them.

  “What kind of security staff do you have here?” Murray asked.

  “About twenty men altogether, five or six to a shift. And, of course, Macy on the radio. She’s the only female on the crew.”

  Murray nodded. “How many of them do you trust?”

  Keating smiled, as if they had already settled that point. “One,” he said. “Me.”

  “How did the search go down?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How was it conducted? Who was in charge? Was it done in teams or all at once?”

  Keating frowned as he thought back two weeks.

  “Captain Guthrie organized everyone into teams,” he said slowly. “Four teams, I think. Sent each team to search a different part of the rock.”

  “All at the same time? Or in shifts?”

  Keating’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking, Russ?”

  “I’m wondering how much overlap there was. You know, search one section, move the girls into it, then search the section where the girls were but no longer are.”

  Keating’s jaw tightened. “You think some of our people were involved in this?”

  Murray shrugged again. “To quote Walker a little while ago, I’m keeping an open mind. Think about it, Jim—if every inch of this rock was truly searched, then the only way the girls could have remained undiscovered would be if at least one of the searchers knew where they were and searched around them.”

  “But what would be their motive?”

  Murray’s mouth crinkled in irony as he stared at his friend.

  “Do you really have to ask that?”

  But Keating was shaking his head.

  “I dunno, Russ—some of these people leave a lot to be desired, but kidnap and rape…”

  “How well does Farrington Security pay these guys?”

  Keating snorted. “Are you kidding? You could make more working for the U.F. Marshal.”

  “That bad, huh? You said yourself these girls are worth a fortune in a whorehouse. Maybe that’s an incentive.”

  Keating thought about it. His mouth became a grim line.

  “Hide them out, wait for the heat to blow over, then quietly move them off the rock?”

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it? Guthrie has already given up on finding the girls alive. Now Walker and I are here, but we won’t be here forever. Soon as we’re gone, the coast will be clear. Wait a couple more days for insurance, until you lift the traffic restriction, and it would be safe to move the girls. Send them halfway around the Belt, turn them over to a qualified pimp, and take fifty percent.”

  “Wow! That’s downright scary. So the question is, which security men do we need to be looking at?”

  “More to the point, who was in charge of those teams? If the team
leader wasn’t in on the plot, it would be tough to pull that off.”

  Keating nodded and stood up. In two stiff strides he reached a data board on the wall covered with a diagram of the asteroid and markings made by the search teams.

  “Team A,” he said slowly, pointing, “was led by Ted Hiromoto. Team B was Wilbur Barrett—” He pointed again. “—team C was run by Calvin Best, and Team D…”

  He pointed at the section of the asteroid farthest from where they were standing. He turned and looked at Russ Murray.

  “Team D was Walter Willoughby.”

  * * *

  Willoughby closed the door behind Nick and locked it. The room was tiny, barely six feet by eight—and cold. It had originally been used as a storage space for EVA construction crews, probably when the asteroid was first being drilled out for habitation. The insulation was thin and Nick’s breath suddenly frosted in front of his face; goose bumps appeared on his arms.

  He stood over a thick mattress that rested on the deck and gazed down at the girl lying there. She was awake, staring right back, and she was everything Willoughby had said she was—absolutely stunning. Her long yellow hair lay in a pile beside her face and she had snuggled her cheek into it for warmth. She was covered by a heavy insulated blanket, but her breath also frosted the air and her cheeks were blue.

  Tears slid down her cheeks as she stared at Nick in terror.

  “Please!” she whispered. “Please, don’t!”

  Nick knelt quickly beside her and put a finger to his lips. His heart pounded with anger at her condition, but he would think about that later. Right now he had more important things to consider.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he whispered. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a United Federation Marshal, and I’ve come to get you out of here.”

  “A m-marshal?”

  “Shh! Don’t talk out loud. Someone is right outside.”

  She blinked and swallowed, daring to temper her fear with hope.

  “Are you Martha?” he asked quietly. She nodded. “And where is Mary?”

  “I-I’m not sure. Right next door, I think.”

  Nick nodded. That agreed with what Willoughby had told him. “Have you been able to talk to her?”

  “No. But…I hear her crying sometimes. When the—men come in.”

  Nick’s gut twisted. “How many men?”

  She shook her head helplessly, fresh tears flowing.

  “I don’t know. Six, maybe seven. Policemen.”

  “Policemen!” Nick was shocked.

  “I think so. They have uniforms. H-How did you find me?”

  Nick pulled the blanket up a little higher and tucked it around her chin.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. I don’t have time right now. Just keep quiet for a minute, okay?”

  Nick stood up and turned to the door. It had no window, so he couldn’t see out, but neither could anyone look in. The room might be wired for sound or surveillance, but he’d seen nothing that might hide a camera, though a micro-cam could be planted in one of the vents. If Willoughby was watching, and Nick didn’t do anything with the girl, he might become suspicious and come in. He didn’t have a lot of time.

  He ran a hand over the door. Most pressure doors had controls on both sides, and this one was no different, but he suspected the control on the inside was disabled to keep the girl from letting herself out. When Willoughby had locked him in, he had effectively trapped Nick until he returned. He’d said Nick had an hour, but Nick had no intention of waiting that long. He’d found the girl and it was a fairly safe bet the other one was right next door. All he really needed to do now was get out of the room and take Willoughby down.

  How hard could that be?

  He reached into his boot and withdrew the Ru-Hawk .44. The gun was freezing cold, but when he cocked it the cylinder rotated. He lowered the hammer and took a deep breath. With the gun behind his back he pounded on the door with his left hand.

  “Willoughby!”

  Willoughby’s voice was muffled as he answered. “Goddamn, Jones! You finished already?”

  “Let me out! I want my money back! This girl is dead!”

  For just a moment there was total silence, then he could hear someone fiddling with the pressure door. It slid open with a hiss of compressed air and Nick took a step back, expecting Willoughby to rush inside to see for himself. But it didn’t quite happen that way.

  “Nice try, Marshal Walker,” Willoughby said smugly. His fat face was twisted in a grin and he was holding a laser pistol in his hand. To his right, a smirk on his face, stood Capt. Guthrie.

  Chapter 11

  “Where’s Willoughby now?” Russ Murray asked.

  “Off duty. He could be anywhere.”

  “Can you page him?”

  “Sure. But he might not answer. He’s about as uncooperative as Captain Guthrie when he wants to be. What makes you think he’s the one we’re looking for?”

  Murray pointed to the diagram.

  “This area right here—it’s the farthest place on the asteroid from here, and farther from the rest of the inhabited spaces. If I was going to hide a kidnap victim, that’s where I’d do it. You said his team searched that area, so that makes him my prime suspect.”

  “Okay. I can page him—what do I say?”

  “Just ask him to come to the office, that the U.F. Marshal needs his help.”

  Keating shrugged, as if he didn’t think it would do any good. He walked into the outer office and picked up a radio.

  * * *

  “Did you think you were fooling anyone, Marshal?” Capt. Guthrie asked with a wry grin. “With that clumsy attempt at undercover snooping?”

  Nick nodded ruefully. “Yeah, I did. At least, I was hoping I was.”

  Guthrie snorted. “I’ve been watching you since the minute you landed. When you split off from Murray, I sent Willoughby to keep an eye on you.”

  “He didn’t do a very good job of it. He led me straight to the girls. I wasn’t even getting close until he showed up.”

  “You would have found them sooner or later. I know Murray—he would have searched the asteroid all over again, especially this end because there’s nobody down here. But now he won’t have to, because you’ve already done that and you didn’t find anything.”

  “You expect me to tell him that?”

  “No. But when this section decompresses, it will be obvious there’s no one alive down here. And you won’t be around to tell him what you found.”

  Nick laughed in spite of the situation.

  “You think killing a U.F. Marshal is going to take the heat off?”

  “Oh, I’m not going to kill you. You’re going to have an accident. You know, eager-beaver rookie from Terra, doesn’t know shit about how to work an airlock…pushes the wrong button.”

  “Well aren’t you just the criminal genius?”

  Guthrie shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

  “And now…you’re going to tell me what it is about?”

  “It’s about money. It’s about retirement. I’m sick to death of living on the ass end of the Solar System. Once I get those girls into circulation, in six months I’ll have enough cash to get to Mars or Titan and settle down. I ain’t looking for much, don’t need to get rich—I just want to get a planet or a moon under my feet. No more deep space, no more low-gravity habitats, no more microwaved food. Just a few creature comforts. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. I just think it’s too bad you’re willing to sacrifice two innocent young women to fulfill that need.”

  Guthrie’s lip twisted into a sneer.

  “I’m sorry for them,” he said. “I really am. But they had no business coming out here in the first place. I heard what you said to their old man—that habitat is wired—and you were right. He was a goddamn fool to bring them here. So it’s on him, not me.”

  “How do you figure that? He isn’t the one selling his
daughters into prostitution.”

  “Simple logic, Walker—if I don’t do it, someone else will. Those two will never get out of the ‘roids intact, no matter what, so it might as well be me.”

  “What about Willoughby here? Sounds like you’re going to take all the money…what does he get out of it?”

  “Once I get mine, all the cash goes to him.”

  He took a step to his right.

  “Now come on out here, like Willoughby said, and raise your hands.”

  Nick took a step forward, through the pressure hatch; the toe of his boot snagged on the coaming and he tripped. Both men started involuntarily as he fell; he caught himself and straightened up. When he did, his .44 was pointed directly at Willoughby’s chest.

  “May I suggest…that you drop your pistol very slowly.”

  Willoughby turned pale as he gazed at the cannon in Nick’s hand. Even Guthrie showed some emotion as his eyes widened.

  “Walker, if you pull that trigger you’ll blow this habitat all to hell,” he said in a tight voice. “You’ll kill all of us!”

  Nick’s nerves were humming, but he kept his voice even.

  “In that case, I’m guessing you don’t want me to pull the trigger. So tell the fat man to lower his weapon. If I let you keep these girls they’ll both die a slow and painful death. I’d much rather kill them now than let that happen.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Walker!”

  Nick raised the .44 and aimed it at Willoughby’s heart.

  “If you shoot first, my trigger finger will jerk by reflex. Even if I miss you, I won’t miss that bulkhead. And we all know it can’t stand up to a .44 Magnum. So what are you going to do?”

  Willoughby swallowed in indecision, glanced at Guthrie, then back at Nick. His breathing had become labored. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered the weapon.

  “Drop it,” Nick said. “Kick it over to me.”

  Willoughby let the pistol tumble from his fingers, then gently nudged it forward with his boot. Nick watched him carefully, tense as a coiled spring.