Asteroid Outpost (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 1) Page 11

  “He never laid a hand on me. I threw him over the bar and into the mirror. That’s about all there was to it.”

  Monica’s eyes widened. “You threw him over the bar? He’s twice your size!”

  Nick shrugged. “Low gravity. It’s all in the leverage.”

  “I wish I could have seen that!” She smiled with pleasure. “So you embarrassed him in front of his friends.”

  “Yeah, if that’s what they are. I’m not sure he has any real friends. People are just afraid of him.”

  “As well they should be.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “He’s threatening to kill you, Nick.”

  After leaving Judge Maynard’s office, Nick saw Misery Allen sitting at the defense table studying a brief. He stopped next to her and she glanced up.

  “Marshal Walker!”

  “Hi. Listen, I’m sorry about canceling dinner on you. I had to leave the asteroid on a case, and it came up all at once.”

  “I understand, Marshal. It’s the nature of law enforcement.”

  “Let me make it up to you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. When I figure out what I’m doing, I’ll call you.”

  She laughed and swatted at him. He winked and walked out of the courtroom.

  System Springs - Ceres

  The habitat just north of Government Annex was a small one, roughly the size of Farrington South. System Springs, one of the four water corporations, had its facility there, both the mine and the office. Nick identified himself at the gate and asked for the head of security. After a short wait the guard pointed to a long, low building fifty yards inside the gate and let him through. Almost before Nick could park his E-car a door opened and a man stepped outside to wait for him.

  “Are you Marshal Walker?” The other man was around thirty, medium height and clean cut, with a perpetual gleam in his eye. He looked very dapper in slacks and a white shirt with a carefully knotted necktie, something Nick hadn’t seen since leaving Terra.

  “That’s right.” Nick offered his hand and the other man shook it.

  “Milo Zima. Come on inside.”

  The office was clean, efficient, and businesslike. Nick saw four people working at desks, two of them attractive women. Zima led him to a glassed cubicle on one side of the main room and closed the door behind him. He gestured to a chair and Nick sat down.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

  “Not right now, thanks.”

  “Are you sure? I make the best coffee on Ceres.”

  Nick’s eyebrow lifted a fraction and he grinned. “I’ll take that bet. I haven’t had a decent cup since I landed.”

  Zima laughed and poured him coffee from a brewer on a corner table. Nick sipped it and closed his eyes briefly as the roasted flavor penetrated his sinuses. When he opened them again Zima was grinning at him.

  “Well?”

  “Mr. Zima, I think I may have just found the first honest man on Ceres. This is heavenly!”

  Zima laughed again and sat down behind his desk. He regarded Nick with frank but friendly eyes.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Marshal. I didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve even heard of me.”

  “Don’t be. By now everyone on Ceres has heard of you.”

  Nick sipped the coffee again and set the cup down. His surprise was evident.

  “You’re the man who broke the kidnapping case at Caribou Lake,” Zima told him. “You’re the man who roughed up a pair of Farrington goons in the courtroom, and you’re the man Turd Murdoch wants to kill.”

  Nick gazed at him in astonishment, his head spinning.

  “Jesus Christ! I did all that?”

  Zima laughed delightedly. “Word travels fast here. Ceres is like a microchip—electricity doesn’t have to travel very far and it takes very little to get the job done. Substitute ‘gossip’ for ‘electricity’ and you get the analogy.”

  Nick nodded slowly. “Wow.”

  “So how can I help you?”

  Nick shook off his surprise and screwed his mind down to business.

  “You said something about ‘Farrington goons’.”

  “Did I say ‘goons’?” Zima’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe I was being too generous.”

  “I’d like you to elaborate on that, if you don’t mind.”

  Zima leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands behind his head. His smile faded and his eyes became serious.

  “Are you sure you want to travel down that path?”

  Nick studied his eyes, trying to decipher the warning.

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because right now, the only person trying to kill you is Turd Murdoch.”

  Chapter 13

  “I think you better explain that.” Nick picked up the coffee cup and sipped it. Milo Zima didn’t reply immediately, his eyes still locked on Nick’s face.

  “Why did you come to me?” he asked finally.

  “You’re just the first on my list. I plan to visit all the security offices, and you were the closest.”

  Zima nodded. “Fair enough. What is it you want to know?”

  “I picked up a rumor about prisoner abuse. So far the only suspect I have is Farrington Security, but it occurred to me that it might be more widespread than that.”

  “You were wondering if System Springs Security is also guilty.”

  Nick sipped his coffee. “Are you?”

  The gleam returned to Zima’s eyes.

  “I guess it depends on your definition of the word ‘abuse’. It also depends on which side you’re on. A prisoner who gets whacked over the head is likely to scream abuse, but the guard who whacked him might have just been protecting himself. You see, Marshal, when a man’s life is threatened, it isn’t difficult to overreact. One whack turns into two, and sometimes ten.”

  For just an instant, Nick’s mind flashed back three years, to a cratered hilltop on Alpha Centauri 2…a terrified young Star Marine, already bleeding from shrapnel wounds, smashing an unconscious rebel’s head with a rifle butt. He took a deep breath and set the coffee down.

  “I can understand that. Force is sometimes necessary. But I saw a guard rough up a man in a courtroom when there was no call for it.”

  “You won’t find that in my facility. I won’t say it hasn’t happened, but when I find out about it I get rid of the offender. I’ve had to fire seven men since I’ve been here.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A little over five years.”

  “You didn’t prosecute the offenders?”

  For just a second Zima’s features clouded. “There isn’t much interest here for prosecuting that sort of thing. When I fired them they just went to another security firm.”

  “Which one?”

  “Take a guess.”

  Nick sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. He spread his arms, as if blessing a congregation.

  “Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “About whatever is on your mind. You’re dying to tell me something, but I don’t know which questions to ask. So you take the lead.”

  Zima grinned broadly. “Am I that transparent?”

  “I wouldn’t say transparent, just anxious. You’re practically jumping from one foot to the other.”

  “Well.” Zima was still grinning. “I suppose I can trust you?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  Zima’s smile faded again, his eyes turned serious.

  “There are,” he began, “four detention facilities on Ceres, one at each of the mining security firms. Ours is one of the smallest, Farrington has the largest. Most prisoners are detained at Farrington, both long and short term incarceration. Other firms, such as ours, send them overflow when our facilities are full.”

  “How many can you house here?”

  “Only about fifty. Astral Fountains is the same—Col
onial Waters can hold about a hundred.”

  “And Farrington?”

  “Three thousand. They have a real prison over there, and it’s full most of the time.”

  “Are there that many prisoners on Ceres? I thought the population was only eighty thousand.”

  Zima nodded. “That’s right, but this ‘roid is packed with felons. We have twice as many men on probation as locked up, probably more.”

  Nick was silent and Zima continued.

  “The staff over there, with very few exceptions, are no better than the people they incarcerate. In some cases they’re much worse. What you saw in the courtroom was not an anomaly, but neither was it typical. The usual treatment of prisoners is much worse.”

  “How much worse?”

  “People die, Marshal. Women are raped. Farrington is the only place with facilities for women, and some of the guards over there are sex offenders.”

  “Jesus!”

  “And that’s not all.” Zima leaned forward. “Some of the guards pimp the females to the male prisoners.”

  Nick stared at him in shock. “You can prove this?”

  Zima sat back and shook his head grimly. “I have evidence, but it’s not conclusive.”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “Circumstantial, most of it. A few case histories, a few statistics…you have to put the pieces together.”

  “What about eyewitness testimony? Victim testimony.”

  “Several, but none who are willing to take the stand. They barely got out of there alive, and they’d like to stay that way.”

  “Has any of this been reported to the U.F. Marshal? Before now, I mean.”

  Zima shrugged. “Marshal Milligan is a good guy, but he’s very pragmatic. He isn’t going to make a Federation case without hard evidence, and so far I just don’t have enough to satisfy him. I’m not blaming him—he has a big enough job already, with the whole damn Asteroid Belt to police. That, plus the fact that he isn’t a young man any more…”

  Nick waited for Zima to complete the thought, but he didn’t.

  “I’m a little younger than Milligan,” he said.

  Zima’s smile returned. “I was thinking the same thing. This is much too big for a private security firm to take on, but you’re a real, honest to god U.F. Marshal.”

  “What about Russ Murray? Have you told him all this?”

  “Some of it, but Murray’s an asshole. And that other guy, Beech—he’s a good guy, but he’s afraid of Murray. Won’t take a shit unless Murray okays it.”

  “So that leaves me.”

  “Yes it does. A rookie marshal, trained and tested, but without the institutional baggage that will eventually stick to your ass like the barnacles on a sea ship.”

  Nick had to laugh, partly because it was funny, but mostly because he needed the emotional relief. What Zima was alleging was already starting to depress him.

  “What else do you have for me?”

  Zima pulled open a desk drawer and reached inside. He pulled out a tiny data chip and tossed it over.

  “There’s a copy of what documentation I have on the situation in Farrington lockup. Study it on your own time and do with it what you will. I’m available if you need me.”

  He closed the desk drawer as Nick slipped the chip into his pocket.

  “Anything else?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Well, yeah, but I had the feeling you had a lot more to say.”

  “I do, but it’s all speculation. Pure gossip.”

  “Gossip isn’t a crime.”

  Zima laughed. “Look, Marshal, I’ve given you a heads-up on what I know for sure. Anything else I say might be misleading. I’d rather not steer you in the wrong direction just because of a gut feeling.”

  “A gut feeling about what?”

  “I think Farrington is dirty. Top to bottom. Not just the security division, but the whole goddamn thing.”

  “What do you base that on?”

  “Absolutely nothing. That’s why I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just a security cop, not a detective. I try to deal in visible facts and leave the blue-sky to those who are trained for it.”

  Slightly disappointed, Nick waited for him to continue, but he was done. Nick got to his feet and drained the coffee cup.

  “Mr. Zima, thank you for the great cup of coffee and the information. It’s been enlightening.”

  Zima rose and shook hands.

  “Like I said, Marshal, if you need me, you can call. Day or night.”

  Government Annex - Ceres

  Nick returned to the office to find it empty. Milligan had apparently gone to lunch, and neither Murray nor Sandy Beech was present. Nick took the data chip and plugged it into a player, slipped into a headset, and began to educate himself.

  Zima’s data contained medical records dating back four years, dozens of them, detailing injuries to prisoners that could only be the result of fights, beatings, or even torture. Nick knew that fights were common in lockup, and wouldn’t have been surprised if the list had been limited to broken jaws, ribs, knocked-out teeth, or an occasional stabbing, but this list went much further than that. Some of the records indicated extensive burns, severed ears, mutilated eyes, even a couple of severed tongues. There were the inevitable inmate rapes, of course, but also genital mutilation, including evidence of electrode and acid burns. Many prisoners had lost fingers and toes, either severed or crushed, and nails had been pulled out. In at least thirty of the cases before him, the prisoners had died.

  And that was just the male prisoners.

  In the women’s wing the abuse took on a more sado-sexual tone: penetration injuries, both vaginal and anal; circulation and soft-tissue injuries, possibly the result of bondage-type ligatures; severed nipples; severe bite marks on breasts and buttocks; petechial hemorrhaging caused by non-lethal strangulations…the list went on. And, again, there were fatalities—nearly one-sixth of all women who went into Farrington lockup never came out alive.

  After an hour Nick leaned back and closed his eyes. Farrington lockup held nearly three thousand men, out of eighty thousand on the asteroid, but also over seven hundred women; with only five thousand females on Ceres, that meant fourteen percent were behind bars. Prostitution was legal, so what kinds of crimes did women commit in a place like this?

  He rested his eyes for a few minutes—or maybe it was his heart that needed resting—then returned to the data. Several survivors had given statements to Zima describing their experiences in lockup, but none were willing to testify in court. After reading the transcripts Nick didn’t blame them, and yet someone needed to do just that.

  He shut off the chip reader and dropped it into a desk drawer. He sat in thought for several minutes, then opened his space bag and pulled out his .44, along with the holster he had hidden in the men’s room at Caribou Lake. Before returning to Ceres he had retrieved everything, including the two hundred fifty terros he’d paid Willoughby. Now he put the .44 back in the shoulder holster and strapped it on, securing the gun under his left arm. He might never need it again—it was too powerful a weapon for this environment—but he wasn’t willing to bet his life on it.

  Grabbing the keys to the E-car, he walked out of the office.

  Ceres North - Ceres

  Nick found Jessica Garner at her apartment in Ceres North; the apartment building sat facing the west wall of the habitat. The apartment was on the top floor and Nick had to ring the bell four times before he got a response. The voice that came through the door speaker sounded tenuous and frightened.

  “Who is it?”

  “Nick Walker, Ma’am. United Federation Marshal.”

  “Nick Walker? I’ve never heard of you!”

  “I’m new in town, Mrs. Garner. I just arrived on Ceres three days ago.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I need to ask you some questions. About Farrington Industries.”

  He waited for her to reply, but it took severa
l seconds.

  “I don’t work there anymore,” she said finally. “Please go away.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Garner, I can’t do that. I’m investigating a case and I need your help.”

  She was silent for nearly a minute, and Nick knocked again.

  “Mrs. Garner? I need to come inside.”

  “I don’t know you! I’ve never heard of you!” The voice was becoming ragged.

  “I’m going to hold up my badge so you can see for yourself.”

  He pulled the badge off his shirt and held it close to the camera. Nearly a minute passed before she spoke again.

  “Are you carrying a gun?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Two of ‘em. But they’re for your protection as well as mine.”

  “Who do you need protection from?”

  “Lots of people, Ma’am. Same as you.”

  After a moment he heard the snap of the lock, but the door didn’t open.

  “I have a gun, too,” she said. “If you try to shoot me, I’ll shoot you first.”

  Nick’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected that, but he couldn’t fault her for being careful. He debated for a moment, then nodded.

  “Okay, here’s how we’ll play it. I’m going to take my guns off and hold them up by the belt. You keep yours in your hand. When I come inside I’ll put mine down and you can keep yours. That way we can talk and you’ll feel safer. Do we have a deal?”

  “I guess that’s okay. Take them off and let me see them.”

  Nick removed his gun belt and shoulder holster, holding them up to the camera by the leather. She murmured something he couldn’t quite make out, and the door slid open. He stood there a moment, hopelessly vulnerable, until he spotted her. She was ten feet inside the apartment, facing him, a small laser pistol in her hand. He nodded briefly, then took a step inside. As he approached she backed away, keeping ten feet between them, and pointed her pistol toward a couch by the wall. Nick walked over to it and sat down, then placed both weapons on the floor at his feet. Jessica Garner closed the door, locked it, and took another chair facing him—still ten feet away. The pistol remained in her hand.