by John Bowers
“Anyway, it’s a good thing we did go into the lockup. We found Tarpington in there, nekkid as a jay-hawk and spread out to dry.”
Nick’s blood ran cold. He’d forgot all about Tarpington.
“Is he…?”
“Alive. Barely. They damn near skinned him, but I think they were saving him until they had you. Then they could eliminate you both at once.”
“Where is he now?”
“On his way to the hospital. He’ll be all right in a few days. He’s been knocked around some, but he’s tough for such a pretty boy.”
Nick sagged slightly, his cold fear turning to numb relief.
Milligan turned to look at the prisoners, who glared sullenly back at him.
“What are we charging these people with?”
“Everything,” Nick said. “Kidnapping, rape, murder, sabotage, conspiracy, and a whole list of corporate offenses. It’ll take me a week to write it all up.”
Milligan nodded. “And who runs this place in their absence? The Outer Worlds can’t afford any interruptions in water shipments.”
“If you’ll authorize the space fare, I can have Carmen Castillo-Bernal here in three days. She can oversee operations until the courts sort it all out.”
“All right. I’ll see if I can scare up a judge on Mars to grant her power of attorney until a receiver can be appointed.”
“I can do that,” Monica said from a few feet away. She was seated on a divan, holding her son in her arms. Charley had fallen asleep.
Milligan shook his head. “I don’t know about that. Seems like you have a few charges pending against you as well.”
Monica gently disentangled from the boy and stood up. She looked from one man to the other, conflict in her eyes.
“After you hear my story, maybe you’ll think about withdrawing that complaint.”
Milligan raised an eyebrow at Nick. Nick turned to Monica.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Remember I told you I came out here for love? I wasn’t completely honest about that. My husband wasn’t dead when I got here. Mark and I had an apartment in the Village for about six months. Then I got bored and decided to get a job. I applied at Farrington and they hired me in their legal department.”
She fought back a surge of emotion as she explained.
“What I didn’t know was that the whole bunch was racist. Both Farringtons and Cramer too. They called me names, started harassing me, and finally Henry started raping me. They said if I told anyone they would kill Mark. By then I was already aware of three suspicious deaths due to ‘mining accidents’, so I knew they weren’t bluffing.
“Then…I got pregnant. I knew it wasn’t Mark’s because we had agreed not to have a family on Ceres, and he used birth control. So Mark found out, and I had to tell him what was going on. He went ballistic, of course, and confronted Henry Farrington. The next day…” She stopped, her lungs seizing, and began to sob.
“Mining accident?”
She nodded. A moment later she was able to continue.
“When Charley was born, Henry took him. He said I could visit him once a month, but I could see him more often if I wanted to ‘cooperate’.”
“Sounds like you were already cooperating.”
“That’s what I thought, but they had other plans. They wanted their own judge, someone they could control. I said okay—and the next thing I knew, Judge Boxner was dead. In a matter of days I was appointed to the bench and…well, you know the rest.”
Nick stared at her in wonder. He still had a ton of questions, but most of them could wait. He glanced at Milligan.
“What do you think, Marshal? Tarpington hasn’t filed that complaint yet.”
The old man cleared his throat with a rumble.
“I think this all needs to be documented and the Martian Judiciary needs to review it.” He grimaced. “But it all fits with what we know and suspect, so I’m inclined to believe it. For the time being, I don’t see why Judge Maynard can’t remain on the bench on a provisional basis.”
Monica tried to smile but failed as fresh tears arrived.
“Thank you!” she whispered.
“However…” Milligan gazed at her sternly. “…the first thing you should probably do is revisit any tainted cases where people are still locked up and start turning people loose. Even if you were under duress, you’ve harmed a lot of people. The quicker you correct that the better, and it may help your case when all this comes under review.”
Monica nodded weakly. “Of course I will.”
Milligan turned away. Nick put an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. He pressed his face into her thick hair and whispered in her ear.
“So all that stuff about being horny…was that Cramer’s idea, too?”
“No!” She pointed to Henry Farrington, sitting on the floor. “Do you think I would sleep with him if I had a choice? After I became judge he moved on to other women. I recovered from the rapes and started to have normal desires again. But—well, you know…microbes.”
Marshal Milligan conferred with Beech and Murray, then returned to Nick.
“Looks like you have things under control here, so I’m going to take the judge home—assuming you’re done with her. I’m an old man and I haven’t had my dinner yet.”
Nick nodded. “Nothing pending that can’t wait.” He glanced at Monica, who looked totally wrung out. “I’ll stop in later to check on you. Don’t go anywhere.”
“You don’t have to worry, Nick. I just want to get Charley out of here. Maybe we can have a decent life after this.”
Suddenly his eyes narrowed.
“How did you get out of lockup?”
“Turd Murdoch broke us out. He murdered the night man.”
“Zima?”
“No. A man named Williams.”
Nick and Milligan exchanged glances. One more charge against Murdoch.
“Go ahead and call that Castillo woman,” Milligan said. “Tell her to get on the next ship headed this way. We have to keep this operation running or those outer colonies will dry up.”
“I’ll call her tonight.”
“Tomorrow I want you to draw up a list of suspects and charges. We may need to import some help, but I want every son of a bitch arrested who had anything to do with this mess. As soon as Gary Fraites gets back from Mars, he’s gonna want the information.”
“What about Tarpington?”
“He’s too junior for this.” Milligan nodded toward Monica. “And she’ll have to recuse herself; she may still face charges of her own. This will have to go to Mars for trial, and it’s gonna be a hell of a scandal.”
Chapter 31
Nick turned back to gaze at his prisoners. Murray stood over them like guard a dog. Fred Ferguson, no longer armed, stood to one side like a lost pup, shifty and nervous.
“Did anybody bring a scoop shovel?” Nick asked no one in particular. “I see an awful lot of shit stacked on the floor.”
Russ Murray snickered. “Ain’t that a hoot? Especially since the Turd is already gone.”
“Marshal Milligan said you guys went into the lockup. Any sign of Nikki Green?”
“No, but we haven’t searched the whole thing yet. We did find another woman, though, in the same room with Tarpington. I have no idea who she is, but she was in pretty bad shape.”
Nick’s face heated with anger and he glared at the twins on the floor.
“You know what? You better get these bastards out of here before I decide to violate their constitutional rights.”
Murray grinned, his eyes gleaming with admiration.
“Where we gonna put ‘em? If we lock ‘em up here someone will probably turn them loose.”
“Take them to System Springs. I’ll call Zima and tell him you’re coming.”
Murray nodded and began hauling the prisoners to their feet. Henry Farrington, still bleeding from the forehead, scowled angrily; his brother, looking dazed, seemed unaware of what was going on. Nick wo
ndered if his mind had finally snapped.
“What about me?” Fred Ferguson looked at Nick hopefully.
“You don’t belong with this crowd,” Nick told him, “but you’re still under arrest for killing Misery Allen.”
Fred’s face fell. “You said helping you would make up for that.”
“I said it might help—but you still have to stand trial. Tell the prosecutors what you told me and testify against the guy who ordered the hit. You did a good thing here tonight, Fred. Don’t fuck it up by doing something stupid.”
Ferguson, looking despondent, pursed his lips and nodded.
“What’re you gonna do?” Murray asked as he prepared to herd the Farringtons toward the door.
“I’m going to try to find Cramer. He left just before you guys got here.”
“What’s his involvement in all this?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I do know he’s up to his eyes in it. I’ll see you back at the shed.”
“What about this guy?” Murray nodded at Ferguson.
“I’ll hang on to him. He works here, so he can help me find my way around.”
Murray eyed Ferguson with contempt. “Don’t turn your back on him.”
Nick called Milo Zima as soon as the deputies left with the prisoners. He arranged for private cells for both Farringtons and asked Zima to send as many armed men as he could spare over to the Farrington facility. They were facing a security problem that could turn serious if it wasn’t handled speedily; with only four U.F. Marshals on the asteroid, and roughly two hundred armed Farrington prison guards…well, the math was pretty clear.
Nick finished the call and turned to Ferguson. “Ready to shave some time off your sentence?”
Fred gulped. “What do you mean?”
“You said you’re a plumber here. You should know this place like the back of your hand.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Good. I need a tour guide.”
With Fred at his side, Nick entered the Farringtons’ private quarters. Beech had already searched them but Nick wanted to see for himself. He was impressed with the size of the suites each man lived in, if not exactly the style in which they lived. Harvey’s suite was cluttered, messy, filled with an assortment of expensive toys that bordered on the eccentric—working models of space ships, maglev trains, and scientific novelties filled one entire room; by contrast there were racks of old paper books, some of them centuries out of date; a holographic entertainment suite that must have cost a million terros…and a computer system that tied in to an observatory on the surface of Ceres. All in all, it looked like the playhouse of a very rich twelve year-old nerd.
Henry’s suite was very different. His quarters were neat, tidy, and clean; he seemed interested in religion, with tomes of ancient Greek and Hebrew scripture and a holo-reader with a library of contemporary religious material. But the room next door was decorated with holo-porn posters that left nothing to the imagination. With a flick of a controller an entire wall sprang to life depicting sex acts of the most brutal and disturbing nature. Nick watched in disgust for ten or fifteen seconds before shutting it off.
“What a sick fuck!” Fred Ferguson breathed.
Nick turned in surprise—he’d almost forgotten that Fred was there.
“Did you know about any of this?”
“No. I haven’t been in this room.”
“But you’ve been in this suite?”
“Yeah, once. He had trouble with his water supply a few months back and I fixed it for him.”
“Any idea where the kid’s room is?” I hope Charley never came in here!
“Yeah, I’ll show you.”
Fred led the way into an adjoining apartment, a small one. Charley’s room was a small bedroom with very few decorations and only a few toys. The bed was made and everything was in order, as if a maid had just left.
“Did you see anyone else in here? A young black woman?”
“No. I was only here once, and there were no women around.”
Nick compressed his lips. He had hoped that Henry was holding Nikki Green nearby for his personal entertainment; as bad as that sounded, the alternative might be much worse. He sighed in disappointment.
“Okay, let’s go into the lockup.”
They returned to Harvey’s office and exited through the same door Cramer had used when he left. This led to a private elevator that only had one button. Nick pushed it and they started down.
“What’s on these other floors?” he asked Ferguson. “Two through six.”
“Just offices, maybe some document storage. Nothing else.”
Nick nodded and fingered his .44. His pulse quickened a little as he anticipated what might lie ahead.
“When we get into the lockup, you stay behind me. If anyone challenges us, be ready to hit the floor.”
Fred’s eyes widened and he gulped. “You think there might be trouble?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Just be prepared.”
The lift stopped abruptly and the door opened. Nick looked out onto a long, dark tunnel that stretched fifty yards into the distance, from the office building to the prison. A dim light every two hundred feet provided the only illumination, and as he stepped out of the lift it felt as if he was walking into an ancient coal mine. The tunnel was unfinished—the floor was starcrete, but the top and sides were just bare rock. It looked like the perfect place for an ambush, so long and dark that he couldn’t tell if there were cross tunnels or cutouts; anyone could be waiting down there.
Nick drew his .44.
Fred stayed ten feet behind, breathing heavily. Nick’s own heart was beating in his ears. He moved steadily forward, eyes narrowed, watching for any sign of movement. His leather heels rang on the hard floor and echoed back at him from the far end. He hadn’t felt this exposed in a long time.
But they encountered no hiding places and reached the other end without incident. The tunnel ended at a flight of steps, and Nick moved up them slowly, gun ready. At the top of the steps he saw another corridor and picked up a whiff of human excrement. They had reached the prison.
Just yards ahead they encountered a window with a brightly lit room behind it. Nick stared through the window at the accoutrements of torture, saw splotches of blood on the floor and walls; saw the generator with alligator clips, the crossbeam with suspended cables for dangling prisoners…but no one was in the room.
“What’s this place?” he asked Fred in a low voice.
“Interrogation.”
Nick turned on him. “Interrogation! It looks like a torture chamber!”
“Well…that’s what they called it.”
“Have you ever seen it being used?”
“Yeah. There’s almost always someone in there.”
“Male or female?”
Fred cleared his throat, as if reluctant to answer. “They fuck women in there. Can we keep going now? That place gives me the creeps.”
Nick nodded. Score one for Fred…maybe. Unless the room gave Fred a guilty conscience.
They continued down the corridor.
They came to a T and stopped. Here they saw women’s cells, dozens of them, stretching away to the left. To the right appeared to be offices, interview rooms, and the main entrance to the cellblock. Light from an office window glowed into the corridor but Nick didn’t see any personnel. To his left the cellblock was dark; he heard women snoring lightly, and a few others moaning in their sleep. He put his head together with Fred Ferguson, talking in low tones.
“What I don’t need right now is attention, and if we go past those cells there’s a chance someone will wake up and start making noise. I need to know where someone might stash a prisoner that no one knows about; do you know of any dungeons or isolation cells where they might be holding a woman illegally?”
Fred shrugged. “There are several isolation cells in different parts of the prison, but most of them are in the men’s lockup. The only one on this cellblock is the one we just passed.”
“Marshal, I’ve been all over this place for years, and the only place I’ve ever seen a woman like you’re talking about is in that one cell. I’ve seen a lot of different women in there, but never anywhere else.”
“Isn’t it possible they hold women in the men’s lockup?”
“Sure, it’s possible. I’m just telling you what I’ve seen, and I’ve never seen any women over there. Except…”
“Except what?”
“Sometimes they put female prisoners in with the male prisoners for a few hours. I think the male prisoners bribe the guards for doing it.”
Nick felt a wave of despair. If Nikki Green was in the building, he needed to find her…before Stan Cramer learned that his partners were under arrest. Cramer had said he had something to “take care of”; what that meant Nick could only guess, but under the circumstances it sounded ominous. Nick had mentioned Nikki Green’s name, and if Cramer felt threatened by Nick’s interest, she could be in serious danger. Goddammit, he had to find her!
But he needed help.
With a sigh of resignation, he turned to the right and marched down the corridor toward the lighted window. When he reached it he saw a guard sitting at a desk with his feet kicked up onto the corner of the desk, eyes closed, a concert headset plugged into his ears. Still gripping the .44, Nick shoved the door open and kicked the guard’s feet off the desk; the sudden shift of balance almost dragged the man out of his chair. He jerked erect with a startled look and a shout, then his eyes focused on the cannon in Nick’s hand and he gulped in fear.
“On your feet,” Nick told him. “Up against the wall.”
Shaking with fear, the guard stumbled upright. Nick shoved his face against the wall and relieved him of his sidearm, then stepped back.
“What the hell is going on?” the guard panted. “Who the hell are you?”
“U.F. Marshal. Hands behind your back.”
“What for?”
Nick placed a hand on the back of his head and slammed his forehead into the wall. “Because I said so. Now do it!”