A Tangled Road to Justice

by Olan Thorensen

  Another forty-three minutes passed, and from the open door of the dirigible came four men, each carrying a long case over one shoulder and holding a small bag in the other hand. They were about to step down when the first man stopped, looked around, and said something to the men behind him. I could see other men still inside the ship, their heads craning to see the holdup. Two other men came out and huddled with the first man; then all three descended the gangway.

  I walked over to meet them. Naturally, I wasn’t alone, and I’d picked my companions for their appropriate aura of menace: Ashraf, Ron Chang, and the two brother pairs, Nazer and Lamoa. We stopped halfway to the ship.

  Behind us were two hundred armed men and women—some of whom had never held a firearm and now wielded Cherkoff’s weapons as if they knew what to do with them. However, looks were everything in this situation. Well behind them were another five hundred citizens of Justice. I figured their mere presence had to be an intimidating factor on its own.

  Cherkoff’s heavy weapons were positioned to flank our armed mob. A few of the people manning them actually knew which lever or button to push.

  By the time the three men from the dirigible were twenty meters away, I knew these were a different breed than the men Cherkoff had employed in Justice. All three had the “look,” that hard-to-define presence implying hardness of spirit and mind, self-confidence, and the potential for danger lurking deep below outer appearances. The narrowing of the leader’s eyes conveyed that he was making a similar assessment of me.

  I didn’t wait for them to stop or to start the interchange. “You’re not staying in Justice. It should take no more than an hour for your dirigible to refuel and leave. Any of you still here after one hour will be shot. Once the ship leaves, any attempt to land men via rappelling or parachute will invoke a ‘shoot on sight’ order by hundreds of armed citizens.”

  “And who the hell are you?” barked the leader, a tall, lean man with short frosted hair and visible scars on his left hand and cheek.

  “I’m the law in Justice. Makon Cherkoff is dead, and his surviving men left by dirigible earlier today.”

  Without losing eye contact, I gestured to Keno Lamoa. The big man tossed the tarp-wrapped bundle on his shoulder to the ground, jerked a free edge of the material, and out rolled Cherkoff’s body. The unrolled position was face-up, fortuitously enhancing the effect. I’d assumed the leader of the men coming to aid Cherkoff would recognize him, and I’d comm’d Ashraf to bring Cherkoff’s body.

  “If you need DNA confirmation, take any part or all of him with you when you leave.”

  As luck would have it, the VTOL from White chose that moment to lift off from the hospital grounds—Millen and the two badly injured locals on their way to Oslo.

  The leader’s expression didn’t change, but he jerked his head around when he heard the VTOL. Then he focused several seconds on Cherkoff’s face. I didn’t doubt there was recognition. He looked around at the people and the weapons, turned to say something to the other two men, and all three wheeled and headed back to the ship. Logic said they would leave now that there was no one to back them. Unfortunately, experience had long ago taught me that logic and firearms were surly companions.

  When the last of the three men entered the ship and just before the door closed, Manuel Ormega exited and ran to us.

  “The pilot says they’re leaving right away. The range of the ship is so great, they don’t need to refuel. He says it’s a new extended-range model built to test the market for more direct transport as Astrild develops. He doesn’t know anything about the men, just that the ship’s owners gave him orders to fly a group of men directly from Oslo to here as fast as possible.”

  Ormega wheeled and starting trotting toward the field house, shouting back over his shoulder, “I’ve got to get to the controls to release the mooring.”

  For the next half hour, we watched the novel dirigible until it was out of sight. Then we followed it on Ormega’s radar until it disappeared off the screen, heading in a direct line to Oslo.

  “Gentlemen,” I said to the tense group, “I need a drink and then intend to sleep for the next ten to twelve hours.”

  CHAPTER 23

  One result of lifting the communication blocks was that I got regular comm messages from Mr. White. Some were to give updates on Millen—he was doing okay. Other messages asked for details on how the citizens of Justice were doing, now that they were back in control. I reported prospects were promising. Felzoni was back as judge, a new marshal was on duty along with a good support staff, news and information channels were once again functional, and the Regional Council had reconvened.

  Now, the future was up the people of Justice.

  White also requested excruciating clarifications on the written reports I’d sent him and gave several admonitions not to say anything about who had sent us. This wasn’t a problem because I couldn’t reveal information I didn’t have.

  Finally, one mid-day, a comm text came from White. All it said was, “Job over. Return Oslo ASAP. Same hotel restaurant, sundown, five days.”

  No “Congratulations on mission accomplished,” “Take a month off to relax,” “You’ve earned the undying gratitude of civilized humanity,” “Your monthly bank statement will reflect the Agency’s appreciation,” or “I’m in awe of your success.” Shit, not even a “How are your bruises? Get well soon.” I didn’t know what I’d expected.

  So, here I was, waiting to board the dirigible out of Justice in an hour and a half. We’d arrived just seventeen days previously, so I thought there hadn’t been time to develop deep personal relationships with anyone. However, time was only one factor. How the time was used could be as or more important. There was no question those days and personal interactions had been intense.

  It had been the same in the FSES. Unit members I didn’t like only had to ask a favor of me, and I’d grant it—if we’d shared the brotherhood of fighting together and relying on one another. It wasn’t something that could be explained by logic. Maybe it was evolutionary wiring in our brains for when we hunted mammoths, fought off other tribes, or defended our clan from predators.

  I didn’t expect a big send-off. The last days had offered many occasions to express parting words and hopes for the future, especially when I talked with Boril Bossev, Alredo Landa, Aleyna Hamdan, David Ostell, and Omar Felzoni. I acknowledged their thanks for returning their town to them, but I also reminded them that they’d foolishly let it slip away to Cherkoff. Now, as I waited to board, three men walked toward me from the field building, two of whom I hadn’t expected.

  The first to speak was Karl Schlottner, the local VLK Rare Earths executive.

  “Heard you were leaving today. I wanted to thank you for what you did for Justice. By the time I got assigned here by VLK, things were already out of hand, and I was tied up by higher management’s concern with production and efficiency. It was only after you’d gotten the rest of the people committed that I could help. As it is, I had to do some fancy dancing to convince those higher than me that the stability of the mining operation depended on backing the revolt against Cherkoff. They still weren’t happy but swallowed it.”

  “It’ll help if you can manage to stay involved, even if on the sly,” I said. “The people of Justice got used to not standing up, and old habits can recur.”

  “I’ll do what I can. Pass my regards to Millen when he’s better.”

  We shook hands, and Schlottner walked away, after raising a questioning eyebrow at the second man.

  “Schlottner seemed surprised to see you,” I told Johnson, the Starsumal researcher who had lit the spark that got Millen and me to Justice.

  “Maybe he’s just wondering who I am to see you off. I’ve only seen him twice and never spoke to him. He probably doesn’t remember ever seeing me. I’ve got to tell you I never imagined what I’d set in motion when I contacted that colleague in Oslo. I figured there might be some pressure put on the Oslo authorities to do something abo
ut Cherkoff, but you and Millen were not what I expected they’d send.”

  Now, if Millen and I were secret agents, or whatever you might call us, there’d be some restriction on saying anything about who we worked for. For example, it being verboten to say, “We work for a Federation Black Ops Agency that interferes with internal affairs of non-Federation worlds.” However, since I didn’t know exactly who was paying us, I figured a little truth with no details wouldn’t hurt. If whoever they were wanted me to keep secrets, they needed to tell me what the secrets were.

  “Actually, Oslo didn’t send us, and, to tell the truth, I don’t know who did.”

  “Oh, I understand,” said Johnson, smiling. “You have to keep it to yourselves, especially if it hadn’t worked out, and any blame had to end with you. I had to ask.”

  That’s the good and bad part about being a secret agent—people will project their preconceptions.

  “Where are you headed next?” Johnson asked.

  “I really can’t say.” Which was the truth. I couldn’t say because I didn’t know.

  Johnson laughed and raised both hands. “All right, all right. I get it. Secrecy. Well, I suppose I’ll never see or hear from you again, so whatever happens for you next, I have to say it’s been interesting.”

  I shook hands with Johnson and turned to the third man seeing me off.

  “Marshal Hayek,” I said, to be answered by a “Humph!” as the ex-bouncer and worker at the Starliner bar surprised me with a hug.

  “Still sounds strange,” said the big man when he released me. “When I was younger, I found myself on the other side of contact with authority. Now look at me—I’m the man who would have come looking to put me in a cell.”

  “You’ll do fine, Ashraf,” I said. “People respect you, and you had a big role in getting rid of Cherkoff.”

  “Hah! Not compared to you and Millen, I didn’t. It’s strange, but in a way it was Cherkoff that changed my outlook. If he hadn’t come along, I’d probably have spent the rest of my life just trying to stay out of trouble. It also makes me wonder why I didn’t end up as part of his crew.”

  “Well, I didn’t know you before, but there’s no doubt in my mind you never would have worked for Cherkoff.”

  Ashraf shrugged. “I hope you’re right, but who knows? What I do know is that I’ll do anything to make sure nothing like Cherkoff happens again in Justice. One thing’s for sure, the people aren’t hesitant to provide for stronger law enforcement. Besides keeping Donal Wilton on as deputy, the Regional Council has authorized building a larger office, a real jail, two more full-time deputies, and a regular auxiliary corps of deputies that will include many of those who took part in fighting Cherkoff, such as the Nazar brothers.”

  I slapped him on the back. “I think you’ll do fine, Ashraf, but it’s like I encouraged Schlottner—the important thing is not to let problems get a foothold and to stamp it out early, even if some in the community might want to let things slide. People can have short memories.”

  “If you’re ever back around this part of Justice in the future, stop and see us,” said Ashraf, turning to leave. “Oh, before I forget, Ron Chang comm’d me. He hadn’t heard you were leaving today and wants you to delay. He’s on the way.”

  “I’ll see if I can get the pilot to hold on a while,” I said and returned Ashraf’s wave.

  We waited. It turned out the pilot wasn’t that concerned about keeping a fixed timetable. At least, he wasn’t once I’d transferred a week’s salary to him using Millen’s credit card. Millen had given me the passwords during a short comm with him the previous day. I doubted Millen had in mind bribing dirigible pilots to hold flights, but he wasn’t in a position to second-guess.

  Forty minutes later, the pilot checked with me for the third time, looking like he might regret our arrangement. That’s when I spied a car with a big VLK on the door speeding in from Justice to stop a hundred meters away. Chang exited the vehicle and strolled up to me.

  “Thanks for waiting. Just heard you were leaving. There’s something I wanted to talk with you about. I won’t be asking any questions about who sent you and Millen to Justice, but I can make some guesses. You didn’t come for the scenery, because you knew someone here, or because you were thinking of settling in Justice. My guess is you’ve done something like this before and will again. My contract with VLK is up in six months, so I’m stuck here until then. I’m not sure if Schlottner is going to think he needs added security from now on, so there’s a chance I’ll have to move on, either to another VLK site or find another position elsewhere on Astrild. Business security is pretty tame and pays well enough, but I’ve done it for a couple of years, and I’m thinking it’s a little too tame. If you and Millen decide you need more help in the future, I’d be interested if you kept me in mind.”

  This was something I hadn’t expected. I had gotten used to the idea of Millen and me being a partnership, even if our exact relationship seemed to be evolving. Chang was good. We’d left him in charge of the armed citizen mob, while Millen and I went after Cherkoff. Although I hadn’t been around Chang that long, I had an intuition we’d get along. Plus, right off I could think of a couple of times in the last two weeks when even one more person would have made things smoother and safer. The only problems? I didn’t know what was coming next, where it would be, or who made such decisions. I didn’t expect that the answer to the last question would be me.

  “I’ll pass it along, Chang, but don’t be surprised if you never hear from us.”

  “Maybe not, if you leave Astrild. But something tells me if you hang around, it’ll become harder for you to remain unnoticed.”

  I didn’t respond. If Justice were any indication, he might be right. I also wondered whether that should worry me.

  I boarded the dirigible to Trondheim, then the train to Oslo, going back along the same route we’d taken to Justice. Since using Millen’s credit card to delay the dirigible departure had worked so well, I’d been tempted to take an air-breathing aircraft from Trondheim to Oslo. I restrained myself, though, unsure whether there had been a reason for us to take more time to get to Justice. That was one of the problems with not knowing all the rules.

  The first thing I did was check into the same hotel as when we’d first arrived. Then I secured our baggage—which this time included our arsenal. The next thing I did was take a taxi to the Cedars Hospital.

  “Hades! I’m not dying,” said Millen, when I walked into his room carrying flowers.

  “How was I to know that?” I rejoined. “Last time I saw you, it was an undetermined situation.”

  “Nah. The chest looked worse than it was. The suit absorbed most of the sonic shock. They kept me unconscious for a week until the bone quick-heal took hold enough to dampen the pain. Mr. White was there when they woke me the first time. He figured correctly the first thing I’d want to know was ‘Who won?’ I don’t remember much after Cherkoff and I started shooting at each other, but I guess you killed him.”

  “Technically, yes. But you hit him in the liver. He was a dead-man-walking, just didn’t know it. He would have finished bleeding out in a few more minutes, which I would have been happy to let happen if we weren’t short of time. Then there was the girl.”

  “You ever find out who she was?” asked Millen.

  “Daughter of one of the ranchers whose place Cherkoff took over. The father disappeared under suspicious circumstances—probably Cherkoff’s doing. The mother was left with five kids and the threat of being evicted. According to the girl, Cherkoff keep her at the ranch in exchange for leaving the rest of the family in their house and an open tab at several stores in Justice. Also explains the extra man we found on the third floor. He’d bring the girl from where she was kept every time Cherkoff wanted her company, then took her back.”

  “I read your report,” said Millen. “Out of curiosity, did you start shooting and hope he didn’t cut her throat or wasn’t that a factor?”

  “Well, I w
asn’t going to drop my rifle like he demanded, and there wasn’t time to dick around, so I took a chance. Shot him in the wrist where the median nerve passes through. It controls the thumb and main fingers holding the knife. If I’d hit it directly, he couldn’t have cut her at all, so I must have just nicked the nerve.”

  I laughed. “FSES didn’t believe in broad education, but they sure gave us plenty on all the ways to kill and incapacitate. I can name you every major nerve and vessel in a human body.

  Still, it was a good shot considering I had to go through the back of the wrist. I figured the bullet might continue on, but where it hit the girl wasn’t as bad as the throat gash. She’s doing fine.”

  I was still holding the “flowers,” so I looked around for a vase. Finding none, I pushed the plug on the room’s sink, turned on the water to get a couple of centimeters, and laid the unappreciated gift stems down. When I turned back, Millen’s eyes were closed.

  “I’d have got you red roses if they’d had any and if I wasn’t afraid people would think we were involved. The woman in the florist shop downstairs told me these aren’t real flowers, just some Astrild plant whose stem ends look like flowers. I figured you wouldn’t know the difference.”

  Millen mumbled something with his eyes closed, then cleared his throat and said, “Interesting that so many Astrild plants have bracts since they don’t have flowers. It still isn’t known why nature bothered with colored bracts since there’s no pollination needing insects.”

  Knowing that a plant bract was a modified colored leaf evolved to help attract pollinators was the extent of my botany. I knew this only because as a teenager, I’d briefly dated a girl who couldn’t stop complaining about how the weather in Indiana didn’t allow her to grow bougainvillea.

  The fact that Millen knew more about plants than I did surprised me. One of the few things I knew about his background was that he wasn’t from Earth, and his home planet was relatively inhospitable. Doubly surprising was that he had knowledge of any plant from anywhere. His knowing and using the word bract didn’t match my image of him.