by John Bowers
Jessica Garner was gone.
Chapter 33
Government Annex - Ceres
Nick was dead on his feet when he got back to the U.F. Marshal’s office, but his mind was racing and he couldn’t seem to slow it down. He had a desperate feeling that time was running out for Nikki Green, and now Jessica Garner as well. Garner had lived quietly for two years in her apartment, and tonight, just hours after Nick’s raid on Farrington Industries, she was missing? That was no coincidence.
Stan Cramer had said he had “something to take care of”; Nick had feared that “something” might be Nikki Green, and maybe it was, but Jessica’s sudden disappearance, with signs of violence, was doubly foreboding. He hadn’t met Nikki Green yet, but according to Jessica she had taken Jessica’s place in the torture cell, which meant they had a great deal in common. In Stan Cramer’s mind, they might represent a threat too serious to ignore, in which case they must both be eliminated.
Nick sat back in his desk chair and closed his eyes for a moment, resting his body while his mind did its own thing. His body felt numb, but he was too tired to sleep.
When Cramer left Harvey Farrington’s office, everything had been under control from his point of view—Nick was a prisoner and Murdoch had orders to kill him. Why, then, would he choose that moment to dispose of the women? With Nick out of the way, everything should have been going his way.
But according to Henry, Cramer was the real brains behind Farrington Industries. With fifty-two percent of the business he was making millions, yet his name did not appear on any of the documentation Nick had seen. Cramer was clearly smarter than the Farringtons—those two, for all their arrogance, were about as bright as the sun when seen from Ceres…a Christmas tree bulb. As a lawyer, Cramer probably knew the operation would eventually crash and burn, and when it did, the Farringtons would be left to take the fall while he, Cramer, took his money and disappeared.
He was also smart enough to know that killing Nick wouldn’t solve his problems. Once the U.F. Marshal—any U.F. Marshal—zeroed in on the criminal aspects of the operation, it was over. Thirteen years of crime and corruption had created too much wreckage, left too many witnesses, for it just to go away. Killing Nick might buy him a few hours, but apparently he hadn’t even been willing to take that chance—he had skipped immediately, leaving his “partners” in blissful ignorance.
So where was he now? Where would he go?
And what were his plans for those two women?
Nick sat up and rubbed his eyes. He debated making a pot of coffee, but decided against it; he was already wired and caffeine would only make it worse. Instead, he would take care of first things first.
* * *
It was shortly after five in the morning when he walked into the Government Annex hospital. The artificial light outside had been increased slightly to simulate dawn and life was beginning to stir on Ceres. The asteroid was coming awake for another day.
David Tarpington was awake, though still sedated. He peered at Nick through a swathe of bandages that covered much of his face and body. In spite of his condition, he managed a feeble grin.
Nick took his hand.
“David, I’m so sorry! I should never have sent you in there alone.”
Tarpington attempted a shrug. “I agreed to it.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Speaking slowly, his speech slightly slurred, he gave Nick a thumbnail account of finding a woman in the torture chamber and his own capture.
“I don’t know who the woman was,” he finished. “She never came through the court. I would have recognized her.”
“Who did this to you?”
Tarpington’s eyes closed for a moment and Nick thought he had dozed off. The heart monitor beside the bed began to beep a little faster as the eyes opened again.
“The person who slugged me was Henry Farrington. After that I don’t remember much.”
Nick spent thirty minutes with Tarpington, then headed for the basement, hoping to find Shirley Chin. She had just arrived and was slipping into her lab coat. Her eyes were bright from just waking up. She peered at him with something less than enthusiasm as he stepped into her office.
“You never came back last night,” she said.
“No. Things came up. Sorry.”
She stood over her desk, rearranging papers, clearly ill at ease.
“I wasn’t sure if you worked on Sunday,” he said.
She shrugged. “Nothing much else to do.”
“Did you have something to report?”
She picked up an autopsy report. “Misery Allen’s death was due to hyperthermia. She was boiled alive.”
Nick stared at her, feeling numb. He hadn’t thought of Misery for several hours, and the mention of her name depressed him. He didn’t answer right away.
Shirley Chin raised her eyes to meet his.
“I’m willing to testify,” she said.
Nick blinked. “You are?”
She nodded. “If you can guarantee my safety, I’ll testify. But not on Ceres. Get me off this rock. Get me to Mars or Terra first.”
Nick pulled out a chair and sat down. Shirley Chin remained standing.
“Tell me what you will testify to. What do you know?”
“Everything you were asking me about. Falsification of death certs, phony diagnoses. Terror and intimidation.”
“How did they intimidate you? What do they have on you?”
“They don’t have anything on me. They simply told me that I would end up in a torture cell if I didn’t cooperate. They didn’t need any more than that.”
“Who told you that?”
“Stan Cramer.”
“You didn’t report this?”
Her laugh was a harsh bark. “Who would I report it to? Marshal Milligan? Until you showed up he only had three men, himself included. Farrington runs the whole rock, including the courthouse! Half the men on this asteroid work for Farrington, and every one of them is a threat to my life. You say Cramer is locked up and that’s great, but as long as Farrington Industries exists my life is in danger. That’s why you have to get me off Ceres before I’ll say another word.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “The Farringtons have been arrested. Within three days the operation will be under Federation receivership. We’re probably going to arrest and prosecute everyone who works in the lockup, and hundreds more as well. The investigation will go on for months, maybe years.”
She sat down suddenly, her eyes wide.
“What about Turd Murdoch? He’s one of their most dangerous employees.”
“He’s upstairs right now recovering from laser wounds. He won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
Staring at him in disbelief, she closed her mouth and swallowed hopefully.
“You mean it’s really over?”
Nick grimaced. “Almost. Unfortunately, Stan Cramer got away. He’s at large right now—”
“What!” She leaped out of her chair, wringing her hands. “You bastard! If he knows I’ve talked to you—”
“He doesn’t. And he won’t. He’s on the run. He knows it’s over and he’s trying to save his own skin.”
“Oh, thanks a lot! Killing me will help him do that!”
“Look, Doctor Chin—”
She shook her head, waving her arms. “Get out of my office! Don’t come back until you have everybody in custody. Maybe I’ll talk to you then. Maybe.”
Nick sat there a moment staring at her. Clearly she was too distraught to cooperate any further. He stood up.
“Okay. I’ll come back after I find him.”
He started for the door, then turned back.
“Do you have any idea where I might look for him?”
“No! I’m not his friend! Why would I know anything about him?” The look in her eyes was very close to panic. She pointed at the door. “Get out, please! Just go!”
Defeated, Nick nodded and left.
Nick walked back to his
office and sat down at his desk. Milligan wasn’t in yet and, since it was Sunday, Nick had no idea if he would be. He hadn’t even been on Ceres a week, so he didn’t know who took days off or when…if they ever did. As Shirley Chin had said, there didn’t appear to be much to do on the asteroid except work or drink in a bar somewhere.
Nick placed a call to Carmen Castillo-Bernal on Mars, told her she was needed to take over Farrington immediately, and spent ten minutes assuring her that it wasn’t a joke. Between sobs of gratitude, she thanked him profusely and promised to be on the next ship headed for Ceres. Nick disconnected, but ten minutes later she called him back with an itinerary; she already had her passage booked—she would be arriving on Thursday.
Again Nick disconnected, then pulled up the Airlock Authority on his computer to check docking schedules for arrivals so he could meet her when she arrived. As he scanned the arrivals column, he noticed the departures column right next to it, and his heart suddenly thundered in his chest…
FSS Aurora was scheduled to depart Ceres in four hours, destination Mars. There wouldn’t be another departure for four days.
Nick glanced at his watch—it was almost six o’clock. He grabbed his pocket phone and started punching in numbers, but at that moment the front door opened and Russ Murray came in, followed by Sandy Beech. They stared at him in surprise.
“You look like hell, Walker. Didn’t you get any sleep?”
Nick stood up and shook his head. “I started to, but—” He quickly filled them in on Jessica Garner’s disappearance and his conclusions about Stan Cramer’s flight. “Henry Farrington said he’s a Sirian citizen. I’m betting that’s where he’ll go, if he can get off the asteroid. Most likely he already has his money in SiriusBank, so all he has to do is get away.”
Both men stared at him thoughtfully.
“So why do you think the women are in danger?” Beech asked.
“Nikki Green hasn’t been seen in two years, so I just want to locate her. But Jessica Garner is suddenly missing, too, and I can’t think of anyone else who might have taken her. From what I saw in her apartment, she definitely didn’t go willingly.”
“But why would Cramer kill her?”
“She’s a witness.”
“So is Judge Maynard and the Farringtons and a lot of other people. Once he gets to Sirius none of them can hurt him, so why would he take the time to kill just one witness?”
Nick stood swaying with fatigue, his mind grinding to a halt. He shook his head dully.
“I dunno. I just feel like she’s in danger. And…it’s my fault.”
Murray glanced at Beech. “Walker is right about the Aurora. We need to make sure Cramer doesn’t leave on that ship.” He turned to Nick. “But he could also get off the rock by heading to another asteroid. We need to check the jalopy departures, too.”
Nick frowned. “If Cramer left the rock in a jalopy, how would that help him? If he wanted to get to Sirius he would have to leave from Mars or Terra, and the only way to get to either one of those would mean leaving Ceres in a passenger ship.” He blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t it?”
“If he’s trying to get to Sirius. At this point, that’s just a theory.”
“But—”
“Get some sleep, Walker. You’re dead on your feet. Sandy and I will cover the exits for the next few hours. We’ll call you if we need help.”
Nick dropped into his chair, a hand on his forehead. “Oh, God! I am beat.”
“You’ve had a long day. And a longer night. Go sack out. We won’t let the bastard get away.”
Centerville - Ceres
Full simulated daylight had been switched on by the time Nick arrived at the hotel. People were out and about, on their way to work or play. Nick entered the hotel lobby and headed for the lift, too weary to take the stairs. As he passed through the center lobby he saw Marshal Milligan talking to a group of people. At second glance he recognized Rev. Sledge and his two daughters. Puzzled, Nick detoured slightly and joined them.
“Marshal Milligan. What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
Milligan peered narrowly at him. “I was just heading out to breakfast. I live on the third floor.”
Nick felt stupid. It had never occurred to him to ask where Milligan lived, but it seemed everyone else in local government lived in the hotel so it only made sense that Milligan did too. He smiled weakly.
Rev. Sledge stuck out his hand to Nick.
“Marshal Walker, I’m glad we ran into you. We’re about to board the ship for Mars, but I wanted to thank you once again for rescuing my children. God knows what might have become of them if you hadn’t been there.”
Nick accepted the man’s hand and nodded. He still thought Sledge was a fool, but saw no point rubbing it in. Martha and Mary, looking lovely but subdued, also thanked him.
“Just doing my job,” he said mechanically. “Glad it worked out the way it did.” He chewed his lip briefly. “And…I hope neither of you will ever return to the asteroids. It just isn’t safe.”
“You don’t need to worry, Marshal,” Sledge replied. “I think we’ve all come to the same conclusion.”
Nick excused himself and continued on to the lift. At least those girls were safe…but what about Jessica and Nikki? He still had no idea where they were, but was convinced they were still in danger. Stepping into the lift, he yawned, grateful that Murray and Beech had taken over the search. He had to get some sleep, at least for a few hours. He pushed the button for his floor and leaned against the elevator wall, closing his eyes briefly. That bed was going to feel awfully good.
The elevator jerked to a stop and he straightened up. The door slid open and he stared in surprise at the small figure huddled against the wall. His heart hammered with a surge of adrenaline as he stepped into the corridor and knelt in front of the child. It was Monica’s son, Charley.
He was covered with blood.
Chapter 34
Nick’s scalp tingled as he looked up and down the corridor. No one was in sight. He put his hands on Charley’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. The boy had been crying and looked dazed; his shoulders twitched as he sniffled.
“Charley? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Charley shook his head, staring at Nick with listless eyes. A tear trickled down his cheek.
“What happened? Where did all this blood come from?”
Charley turned and looked down the corridor, toward the door to Monica’s suite. For just a moment he didn’t answer, then fresh tears appeared and the trickle became a flood.
“Mommy…”
“Jesus Christ!”
Nick stood abruptly, his fatigue vanishing. A few quick strides brought him to Monica’s door, which faced the door to his own room. Monica’s door stood ajar, and Nick drew his laser pistol. His own door was still closed, and he quickly unlocked it. Motioning the boy toward him, he pushed him gently inside.
“Charley, stay in here until I come for you. Okay? Don’t open the door for anybody!”
Before the boy could answer Nick secured the door and locked it. He stepped up to Monica’s door, noting a smear of blood on the handle. He listened for a moment, but all was quiet. Pistol ready, he nudged the door aside and peered into the suite. Everything seemed in order at first glance, no obvious signs of violence. Nothing overturned, nothing shattered. He stepped inside and swept the living room with his gun. He saw no one, but a pool of blood stained the white carpet near the bedroom door. His heart thundered faster, and he crossed the room quickly, shoving open the bedroom door.
Monica lay on the floor at the foot of her bed. She was wearing a bathrobe, also white, also bloodstained. At first he thought she was dead, but her eyes flickered and she lifted her head weakly.
“Nick…”
Nick shoved his gun into its holster and hurried forward. As he started to kneel beside her, he saw alarm in her eyes—she was looking past him.
“…look out!”
Nick spun around bar
ely in time to see a male figure looming over him, but not fast enough to avoid the attack. He raised his elbow to deflect the heavy porcelain lamp that was headed his way, but it shattered against his skull with only slightly diminished force. He collapsed onto his left side, head spinning but still conscious; his right hand reached for his laser pistol again, but a sharp-toed leather shoe kicked it out of his hand and he found himself staring up into the grim face of Stanley Cramer. Cramer was holding a laser pistol of his own, and it was aimed straight at Nick’s eye.
“I believe you have another weapon, Marshal,” Cramer said coldly. “Give it to me…slowly.”
Nick squinted and shook his head against a wave of dizziness. He rolled slowly onto his back.
“You’re cooked, Cramer. You might as well give it up. You’ll never get off the asteroid.”
Cramer smiled in his quiet, unassuming manner.
“I believe I will get off the asteroid. And you’re going to help me.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Give me the other gun. Or I’ll shoot the niggo again.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Monica, whose eyes were dull with pain. She was gasping, her expression hopeless. Weakly, she laid her head on the carpet. Nick reached for the .44 and drew it out of the holster with his finger tips. Cramer bent over and took it, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“That is one heavy weapon!” he said in admiration.
“Yeah. Big enough to decapitate five or six crooked lawyers with a single shot.”
Cramer smiled and stepped back. He took a moment to pop the cylinder on the .44 and dump out the bullets, then tossed the gun onto the bed.
“It won’t hurt anyone now. Get up.”
Cramer stood well back as Nick struggled to his feet, keeping him covered with the pistol. Nick shook his head to clear it, swayed once or twice, and stabilized, his mind racing.
“Why did you shoot Monica? What did she ever do to you?”