Death of Time (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 4) 2nd Edition.: A thrilling, psychological, Mystery and Suspense, sci-fi detective thriller. (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy)

by Gerry A. Saunders

  “Just what we need,” Charlie remarked, taking the pistols and ammunition out of his case and placing them on the table. Then she picked up one of the pistols, examining it carefully.

  “Good, I’ll be able to hit almost anything with these Desert Eagles.”

  “Be careful Miss, the pistols are already loaded,” Harry said, eyeing Charlie as she got the feel of their weight.

  “Blimey Micky, who is she? Annie Oakley?”

  “If Charlie says she’s okay with them, then, I believe her.”

  Harry shrugged good-naturedly and handed him a memory stick.

  “Thanks,” Micky said as he plugged it into his laptop, and they all waited for Harry to start the video.

  “This video was copied from one that we found in the dead man’s apartment. The guy must have been a voyeur or something to have a camera set-up like this.

  Anyway, count the seconds from when the killer fires the weapon. There’s no sound I’m afraid, but you’ll see the beam as he shoots,” Harry instructed as he set it to play.

  The video showed a man dressed in a red shirt and dark blue jeans who was doing something with a small unit that was secured to the wall.

  As they watched, he turned round, looked across to the door, then went over and opened it.

  Before he could do anything, a man dressed all in black quickly pushed his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

  “I can’t see his face,” Charlie remarked.

  “No. But, watch this.”

  The man in black took a weapon out from behind his back, aimed it at the other man, and squeezed the trigger.

  A purple coloured beam hit the man, who seemed to stand rooted to the spot during the time it took for the beam to burn right through him. Then the beam cut out.

  They watched the recording in horror. It had seemed to take forever, but in reality it was just a few seconds. Only then did the man slowly fall forward and hit the floor, dead.

  “Well. It took three seconds of continuous fire to burn through him,” Harry said.

  “Yes, but when our chauffeur, James, was killed, it was almost instantaneous,” Charlie interjected.

  “True,” Micky agreed.

  “Look,” he said. “Now he’s checking the ceiling.”

  They continued watching as the killer pulled out another gun that was similar in looks to a Very pistol.

  Then, with a weapon in each hand, he looked up at the ceiling for a while, evidently deciding on the point he wanted to fire at. Held the beam weapon close to the ceiling and squeezed the trigger.

  All three watched, counting as the purple beam hit the ceiling and continued ‘burning’ through. Seventeen seconds later it extinguished, with the light from Charlie’s room shining through.

  The killer quickly aimed the other weapon at the hole, fired it, and a small canister shot up through the hole.

  “That would have been us, gone,” Charlie replied, her voice sounding harsh.

  They looked again as the killer put his weapons away, then left the room.

  “So we still haven’t seen his face,” Micky said, thinking about it.

  “That’s true Micky. But, at least we’ve learnt something from this,” Harry said, “We can see that his weapon is limited. Each time he fires it takes longer to burn through. But perhaps he can ‘recharge’ it.”

  “Yeah, probably. I guess the body was traumatized for it to remain upright for so long,” Micky added.

  “Yes,” Charlie said. “I’ve read about something like that. Under certain conditions, the body just locks up.”

  “We’ve made a theoretical analysis of the weapon from what we could see on the video. Naturally we would prefer to get our hands on it,” Harry said.

  “But we all agree that it’s quite large for a handgun. The only thing that we can relate it to, operationally, is a nuclear reactor,” he said, then paused as they looked at each other and gasped in astonishment.

  We think that it operates in a similar way to how a nuclear reactor operates,” he added. Then paused again allowing them to think about this before continuing.

  “The action of squeezing the trigger, must push a graphite rod outwards, which in turn, causes it to go critical.”

  “Wow, that’s dangerous.”

  “Very, Charlie and the technology employed is certainly beyond us at the moment,” Harry agreed.

  “Is that all Harry?”

  “Afraid so, Micky. Copy the rest of the information on the memory stick into your laptop. There’s a bit more about the Parker family and a blow-up of the killer’s handgun.”

  Micky copied it all, then handed the memory stick back to Harry.

  “Thanks, Harry. At least this gives us a bit more to go on.”

  “I’ll leave you both to it then,” Harry said, shaking Micky’s hand and kissing Charlie on her cheek as they walked towards the door.

  Suddenly, Micky felt a violent emotional surge from somewhere nearby.

  Then it was gone.

  'Someone’s bumped into something,’ he thought. Then, realising his error called out.

  “Stop, Harry!”

  But he was too late.

  Harry had already opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

  Harry started to say “I’ll talk to you…” When a beam of purple energy hit him in the chest, holding him rigidly upright while it burnt through him.

  “Guns. Quick,” Micky yelled at Charlie, sensing nothing from Harry.

  ‘Too late,’ he thought. ‘Harry’s already dead.’

  He grabbed the pistol Charlie threw to him. Flung himself out and across the corridor. Ending up behind Harry’s body, with his revolver pointing in the direction the beam had come from.

  A solitary man stood facing him, he was 30 feet away and holding a weapon.

  Micky fired at him, again and again. But each bullet only served to push the man jerkily backwards, until finally Micky’s pistol was silent.

  He was out of ammunition.

  “Charlie,” he shouted.

  “Aim at his head.”

  She dived out into the corridor, getting two rounds off before she realised she was shooting at an empty space.

  The killer had rapidly descended the nearby stairway and was already running out of the building.

  Micky staggered under a blast of violent emotional output from the running killer.

  He felt the level fall, then surge, then dip again. Finally, the emotional output slowly faded then disappeared altogether.

  “Shouldn’t we go after him,” Charlie asked.

  “It’s no use. He’s already too far away. He must have had a car or motorbike close by.”

  “And he must have been wearing a bullet-proof vest, or we’d have had him.”

  “Agreed Charlie, But when I shouted for you to aim at his head, he escaped. He knew he was vulnerable.”

  Two men rushed up; one of them armed.

  “Are you both all right?”

  “We’re just about Ok. Are you security guards?”

  “Yes. We saw it all on our camera.”

  “Tell me, it was recording everything,” Micky said almost pleading.

  “It should have been. The cops will be here in a minute,” said the armed man.

  “Can we check the security camera’s recording?” Charlie asked, taking out her identity card.

  “I’m a police officer from England and we can’t afford to wait for them.”

  The unarmed guard said, “Sorry, We’ve got to wait for the cops to come,” then spoke to someone on his phone.

  Within minutes, the Hotel’s housekeeper came, and, trying hard not to look at the body, handed the guard a blanket to cover Harry’s body.

  “That’s better,” she muttered to herself as she walked away. “Can’t afford to upset the guests.”

  Then two policemen hurried up the stairway coming towards them, with their revolvers drawn.

  “Put your weapons down,” they ordered Micky an
d Charlie, who both complied.

  One of the policemen held up the blanket to look at the body for a moment then looked back again at Micky and Charlie.

  “Who are you two? Why are you armed?” He asked.

  You don’t understand. We’re the good guys. That was my friend,” Micky replied, pointing at Harry’s dead body as they both offered the policemen their ID cards.

  “We’ll see about that,” the one in charge replied as he studied them.

  “So, you’re Micky Sanderson. No middle name. An American national. Ah, I see that you’re attached to SEID. I’ve heard of them. I suppose you’re one of their investigators then.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Your department’s based in Chicago, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a long way from home then,” he remarked as he passed Micky’s credentials back.

  Yeah, but we operate wherever we’re needed.”

  “And you Miss. You’re a policewoman, and from England, then. Yes?”

  “First I’ve seen,” muttered the other, not waiting for Charlie to reply. “Not bad looking for a Brit.”

  “Yes I’m a policewoman, and we’re all good looking, officer,” Charlie pointed out.

  “H’m,” the first officer said as he studied her details.

  “Christine Herriot Bernstein. So, you’re British. You’re licenced to use firearms. Ah, I see that you’re a 1st class level marksman,” he ended, looking quite impressed as he handed her credentials back to her.

  “Good to meet you, Miss. Um, you can pick your revolvers up now,” he added, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “Thanks,” they both replied in unison.

  Two medics came along from the stairway, both looking serious. “Is this him?” One of them asked, pointing to the blanket.

  ‘Geeze,’ thought Micky. ‘Pretty obvious I would have thought.'

  One of the medics lifted the blanket. “Ugh,” he exclaimed. “Never seen a wound like that before.”

  “You might see a lot more if we don’t get the killer soon,” Charlie snapped.

  “What happened Mr Sanderson?” One of the policemen asked as he holstered his revolver.

  “Well Harry, that’s his name. He stepped out into the corridor, and a man shot him, drilling a hole through him.

  Then I rushed out of the room to see what had happened and found the killer just standing there facing me, about 30 feet further down the corridor.

  I fired my whole magazine into him, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. He must have been wearing a bullet-proof vest.

  Then I called for Charlie to come out and fire at his head. But by then he’d legged it and was nowhere to be seen. That just about sums it up.”

  “Ok. Well, it’s clear that you did not kill this, err, Harry. Certainly not with those pistols,” stated the most authoritative looking policeman.

  He turned to the security guard. “I see you have a surveillance camera in this corridor. I need a copy of the recording covering at least the last couple of hours.”

  “And a copy for us would be helpful,” Micky added.

  The policeman looked at Micky, then said. “Ok, make them a copy as well.”

  “Thanks,” Micky said as the guard hurried off.

  Two more people, in plain suits, then turned up, and Micky could see they were wearing shoulder weapons, by the bulge on their left side.

  “We're from homicide,” the one who seemed to be in charge, announced to the policemen.

  “I’m Detective Pentrist, he’s Detective Robertson. So what’s been going on here?” he asked.

  “Mr Sanderson, who’s from SEID, saw and took part in the action,” one of the policemen informed him.

  Pentrist turned to Micky. “Then you can take me through the events Mr Sanderson. But let me see your credentials first,” he added, putting his hand out.

  After he had checked the credentials and passed them back. Micky gave their version of the encounter.

  Pentrist was puzzled over what could have caused the wound in Harry’s chest.

  He deliberated with his colleague for a while then they both decided that it might help them if they let Micky and Charlie go on with their own investigations, but working in tandem with them.

  Just then, the security guard returned with the copies. “I’ve copied the recording onto two sticks,” he said, handing one to Micky, then looking at Pentrist said. “I suppose you’re in charge now so you might as well have this one.” Then handed it to him.

  “Thanks,” Micky said. “I assume that’s all for now then. You know which room we’re in if you need us Mr Pentrist?”

  “Yes. Thank you for your co-operation Mr Sanderson, Miss.”

  With that, Micky and Charlie went back into their room closing the door behind them.

  Micky found it hard to believe that one of his closest friends was gone. Just like that.

  He couldn’t help feeling it was all his fault.

  If he hadn’t come to America, and if the killer hadn’t followed him, then Harry would still be alive.

  Chapter 13.

  Parker.

  “Too many people out there. Better let them get on with it,” Micky said to Charlie as he called Cedrick from his laptop.

  “Hello Cedrick,” Micky said looking sombre.

  Cedrick, on seeing his expression, asked, “Bad news, Micky?”

  Before answering Micky looked at Cedrick and saw his worried expression.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Harry has just been murdered.”

  Cedrick looked really shaken and was silent for a moment as he took the news in. Then quickly composed himself.

  “Same as the rest?”

  “I’m afraid so. Just outside our hotel room door.”

  “Damn. I liked him. He was a good worker.”

  “Yes. I know he was married. Did he have kids, Cedrick? He never mentioned any to me.”

  “Just one boy. Fifteen15 years old. But his wife left him a few years back, taking the boy with her.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I’ll have to find them,” Cedrick shakily replied.

  “I feel awful about it, I think the killer mistook him for me,” Micky said. “But I got a reasonably good look at him even though he was about 30 feet away, so I think I would recognise him again. I would certainly recognize his emotional makeup the next time.”

  “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “Harry left more information with us. At least one of the hotel’s security cameras also got him, but it wasn’t from a precise angle.

  Anyway, I’ve got a copy of the security camera’s recording of the event. I’ll send it to you now,” he said. Copied it into a folder and sent it to Cedrick’s computer.

  “Ah… Got it, Micky. So how’s Charlie bearing up?”

  “I'm all right Cedrick,” Charlie reported. “Hopefully, we can get back to looking for the Parkers now.”

  “Charlie, I feel better knowing you’re with Micky. Just keep him from getting you both killed.”

  “Don’t worry Cedrick. We both intend to be more careful from now on.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’ll speak to you both later. I must try to talk to Harry’s family now.

  “OK, we’re letting homicide cleanup. They know where we are and we’ve told them we’ll be around if they need us.”

  “Good, Micky. I’ll liaise with their department to ask what else they might need you to do.”

  “Ok Cedrick,” Micky replied and ended the contact.

  Micky checked the time. 11:25. To Micky, it had seemed a lifetime ago since the shooting.

  “Let’s run the security recording, just in case it’s picked up something we missed in real time.”

  They played it and saw that it showed the action but only from one direction. However, it was useful to see it as an on-looker would have.

  “Micky. Look, there,” Charlie said, pointing at the killer’s face as he turned to run d
own the stairway.

  Micky froze the image and copied it to his phone’s picture gallery.

  “It’s not very clear,” Charlie said sounding disappointed.

  “It’s better than nothing. Let’s see what other information Harry left us,” he said. He felt depressed and had a thumping headache.

  “Are you all right Micky?”

  “Yes, but the emotional levels outside are crowding my senses. Depressingly so.”

  “He won’t come back now surely? Not with all this activity.”

  “No. I think you’re right,” he answered as he looked through the information.

  “Let’s see… Here’s the info on the Parker clan,” he said as Parker’s photo popped up on his screen, along with extra information about his family.

  “He was quite handsome,” Charlie remarked

  “To a woman’s eyes I suppose,” Micky replied slightly sarcastically. “Ah, here’s his address. It’s the same as two of his sons,” he added sounding surprised. “I would have thought from his age, that any children would already have left home.”

  Charlie looked at the address.

  “I saw that area on the map when I was looking for Newark,” she said tapping in the address. “Yep, we just need to go on along Spring Road.

  Micky transferred the relevant information to his phone.

  “Right, I’ve got it all,” then read it out loud, checking it was correct.

  “So, we just follow Spring Road until we come to Anna Street turn-off. Then go down Anna Street towards the industrial area. Then along it until we find his house. Oh, no number, just his name on the gate.”

  “Good, that’s not very far, Micky.”

  “No, and it should be pretty easy to find as well,” he replied, checking the time.

  “Good it’s almost noon. Come on Charlie, get whatever you need, we’re leaving now.”

  Ten minutes later, and with their handguns in their pockets, they were ready to go.