Asteroid Outpost (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 1) Read online

“What!”

  “That’s right. For the last two years she’s been in limbo somewhere. I need to find her.”

  “Well…if she wasn’t logged in, then she isn’t there.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “It only makes sense. Inmates have to be logged in. How else could they keep records?”

  “Maybe they didn’t want to keep records. Maybe they had something else in mind.”

  “Like what? Nick, you’re not suggesting they killed her?”

  “Anything is possible, but this girl was a looker, so I doubt it. More likely she’s in a whorehouse somewhere. But I need to get inside that lockup.”

  She was silent for a long time. Too long, it seemed to Nick.

  “Monica?”

  “Yeah…I’m here. Just thinking.”

  “What’s to think about! Just give me the goddamn warrant!” He was losing patience.

  “Okay, okay. No need to get angry. Meet me at my office in…oh, give me an hour. I’ll have the guard let you in.”

  She rang off and Nick sat back, feeling numb. Monica didn’t sound like herself, had been edgy all morning. What the hell was going on?

  The front door opened and a young man Nick had never seen walked in. He was wearing slacks and a white shirt open at the collar. He stopped in front of Nick’s desk and smiled.

  “Are you Marshal Walker?”

  “Yes, I am. Can I help you?”

  The young man extended an envelope and Nick took it.

  “What’s this?”

  “You’ve been served. Have a nice day, Marshal.”

  The visitor walked out the door and Nick popped the envelope. For just a moment he couldn’t believe his eyes, then he threw the document on his desk and tilted his head back with a sigh.

  “Jesus jumping Christ!”

  After a moment he reached for the comm again and called Dave Tarpington.

  “What’s up, Nick?”

  “Are you in your office?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  Centerville - Ceres

  Misery Allen dozed contentedly in Nick’s bed, happier than she had been in years, maybe happier than she had been in her life. She drifted in and out of slumber, sensuous dreams flitting through her head like vids projected just behind her eyelids. It was warm here, the bed firm but soft. Just outside the window she heard an occasional E-car, or a voice calling out. People in the park, Centerville on a Saturday morning—a pleasant reprieve from the weekday grind.

  Sex with Nick had been great, the best she ever had. She rolled over leisurely, stretching, her nude body relaxed and content, her blood flowing smoothly. Her eyes opened and then closed, then opened again. She should get up, she thought, then closed her eyes again. Drowsing, that delicious state between sleep and waking, when she was no longer tired but enjoying sleep too much to stop. She took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, twisting her head to the left, her thick hair bunching up on that side, her opposite breast flattening out as the muscles pulled the other way. Mmmm. She could smell him, on his pillow. He wore a light, very basic aftershave, and she could just detect a trace of it, enough to make her heart beat a little faster. She couldn’t wait for him to return so they could make love again.

  She should get up, she reminded herself. He would be back soon. He’d said a couple of hours, and that was…how long ago?

  She sat up abruptly, letting the sheet drop away. She should get a shower, then start a fresh pot of coffee. Have it ready when he got here. She wanted to please him. He’d been very clear that he wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship, but she was only twenty-one, so she had plenty of time for that. Right now, if they could have two years together, she would take it. And who was to say he wouldn’t change his mind? Especially if she made him happy.

  She yawned, sighed again, and twisted her neck around to work the kinks out of it. Mmmm. Felt good. She rubbed her eyes and kicked her feet over the side of the bed.

  The bathroom was tiny, even smaller than the one in her apartment on the fifth floor. She found soap and a fresh towel in the linen compartment and slid the shower door aside. She set the thermometer and gave it a minute to prep, then stepped inside and turned the water on. It was cool at first, gradually warming, as it was supposed to do, in case she had set the temp too high and needed time to turn it down. The modern showers were amazing. She turned in a complete circle, soaking her body from every angle, then broke open the soap and poured it into the massager. The massager went to work, scrubbing her with soft, gentle brushes, and the water reached the desired temperature. She closed her eyes and turned slowly, letting the massager at her from every angle. She began to think about what she and Nick should do for lunch.

  Misery turned again, lifted her arms, and the brushes moved in, scrubbing briskly. The hot water felt good, but she had set it a little too high—it was starting to sting. She turned to the thermostat and bent down to look at the screen. It was fogged by steam and she had to wipe it with her finger to read the setting, but it looked okay—just what she had programmed. But the water was getting hotter still, and it was starting to burn. She frowned slightly and reached for the override, to turn up the cold.

  The minute she touched it, the override came off in her hand—she stared at it in surprise. Surprise turned to fear when the blue thermostat setting began to spiral downward, indicating a reduction in the cold water; the red was still at the same setting, but started spinning up higher. Steam clouded her vision and suddenly the water spraying her skin was scalding. Misery screamed and grabbed for the door, but the door was jammed. She jerked it frantically, breaking a nail, but it wouldn’t budge—

  Something exploded; it was just a small thing, part of the thermostat, but the shower went to full force, blasting the tiny space with near-boiling water. Misery Allen’s terror turned to horror and her scream became a shriek. She lunged against the door, again, and again, thrashing helplessly in the tiny space. Agony washed over her, like nothing she had ever imagined. Within seconds consciousness faded as her mind began to shut down and shield her from further trauma; she slumped against the wall, gasping as she slid down to the shower floor, where she finally, mercifully, passed out.

  The shower continued to rage for six more minutes, then shut itself off. Just that suddenly, the bathroom was silent; except for the trickling water draining out, there wasn’t a single sound.

  Not even a heartbeat.

  Government Annex - Ceres

  “Is this a joke?” David Tarpington stared at the document in his hand in disbelief.

  “Doesn’t look like one. Farrington Industries is suing me for harassment.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Tarpington’s blue eyes met Nick’s brown ones. “What’re you gonna do?”

  “I’m gonna make them work for it. If they think I’ve harassed them before, they haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Tarpington handed the document back. “So what’s the next step?”

  “Judge Maynard said to meet her upstairs and she’ll give me that warrant. You want to come along?”

  “Hell, yes. I have nothing better to do today.”

  They left Tarpington’s office and headed up the stairs to the courtroom.

  “Question,” Nick said thoughtfully. “Were you here when Monica became judge?”

  “No. I came a couple of years later. Why?”

  “I was just wondering. She told me she was working as an attorney when she got the appointment.”

  “That’s my understanding, too.”

  “Was she a prosecutor or a defense attorney?”

  “Neither. She was privately employed.”

  Nick glanced at him. “Yeah? Employed where?”

  “Farrington Industries.”

  Monica had said she would have a security guard let Nick in, but Tarpington had his own key and they strode through the courtroom toward the judge’s chambers in the back. Nick knocked once
and she called out to enter. He and Tarpington stepped inside and stared in surprise at another man who was already there.

  Monica was seated at her desk but, Nick thought, looked a little ill at ease.

  “Marshal Walker,” she said, “I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Cramer.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed as he sized up the man before him. Five feet ten, slender, athletic, forty-five, curly brown hair, slightly balding, expensive suit, immaculate grooming, pencil mustache. Stanley Cramer’s eyes were hidden behind dark shades which were hardly needed anywhere on Ceres and certainly not in this dim office; his face held no hint of a smile or any other emotion. He exuded all the charisma of an android.

  Nick extended a hand just to see what would happen; Cramer gave it a perfunctory shake and released it.

  “Mr. Cramer is the head of Farrington Industry’s—”

  “Legal department,” Nick finished for her. “I’ve heard the name.”

  Cramer tilted his head. “Indeed? Where?” His voice was surprisingly soft.

  Nick shrugged. “Oh, I don’t remember. Important men get talked about. It was probably in a bar somewhere.” He turned to Monica, who looked at him uncertainly. “I didn’t realize Mr. Cramer was invited to our meeting.”

  She smiled weakly. “I didn’t realize Mr. Tarpington was invited.”

  “Touché.” Nick pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Monica kept her voice even. “Mr. Cramer came by to seek a restraining order.”

  “Against…?”

  “Against you.”

  Nick nodded as if he’d expected it. He threw the document he was carrying onto her desk.

  “I guess that goes hand in hand with this.” He glanced at Cramer, who was still standing. “Right?”

  “No. That’s a separate matter entirely,” Cramer told him.

  Monica picked up the document and studied it, then turned wide eyes on Stanley Cramer.

  “You’re suing Marshal Walker?”

  “For one million terros,” Cramer said. Nick detected no emotion in his voice, neither smugness nor anger. The man was an android.

  “For harassment?” Monica was still trying to wrap her mind around it.

  “He tried to bully his way into Farrington lockup two days ago. He tried to browbeat Messrs. Farrington and Farrington, and when Mr. Silva refused to let him carry weapons into the lockup yesterday he shot him in the foot.”

  Monica turned questioning eyes on Nick.

  “That’s one version,” Nick said. “Then there’s the truth.”

  “I just told you the truth,” Cramer said.

  Monica held up both hands. “Hold on! This is not a hearing, so let’s stop this right now before you start shouting at each other.”

  “I’m not shouting,” Nick said.

  “Not yet. Look, we have a situation here—”

  “I don’t have a situation. I just want that search warrant. You said I could have it.”

  Monica looked flustered. “Y…es, I did, but now Mr. Cramer is seeking a restraining order, so…that puts a whole new light on things.” She studied her desk as she spoke.

  Cramer started talking, but Nick didn’t hear him. As he stared at Monica something clicked and he felt a peculiar sensation ripple across his skin. Things began to jell in his mind, pieces coming together…pieces that formed a picture he didn’t like very much.

  “Did you call him over here?” he asked suddenly, cutting Cramer off.

  “What!” Monica spun on him in shock. “What did you say?”

  Nick’s eyes bored into her like radar.

  “You didn’t need an hour to get over here. When I was at your place earlier you had already showered and groomed. All you had to do was change clothes, but you wanted an hour.”

  She shook her head in irritation. “Nick…what the hell are you talking about?”

  Nick glanced at Cramer, who still stood there like an android.

  “For a man who’s suing me for harassment, and someone seeking a restraining order, you’re awfully calm. Things like harassment and protection orders usually tend to raise the blood pressure a little, but you’re standing there like a goddamn robot.”

  “I resent that remark,” Cramer said quietly.

  Nick swung back to Monica, whose eyes had gone wider than ever, her mouth hanging half open.

  “Ever since I started talking about a warrant you’ve been trying to talk me out of it. But once I told you about the girl you knew you couldn’t sidestep it, so you stalled me to give him—” Nick inclined his head toward Cramer. “—time to file an injunction.”

  Monica’s mouth closed and her already dark skin darkened further with rage.

  “You are skating awfully close to a contempt charge, Mister!”

  “No I’m not. Do I get the warrant or not?”

  “Not if you continue to speak to me in that tone! I am a Federation judge—”

  “Which he bought and paid for!” Nick stood suddenly and kicked his chair back against the wall, freeing his hands for action.

  “That’s it!” Monica shouted, leaping to her feet. “You are in contempt! Five hundred terros or five days in lockup!”

  “Take it out of my paycheck!” Nick turned to face Cramer squarely. “Where is Nikki Green?”

  If Cramer was frightened, his shades concealed it; not a muscle in his face so much as twitched.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nikki Green. Female, African ancestry, beauty-pageant gorgeous; she would be about twenty-four by now, if she’s still alive. Where is she?”

  “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else. That name means nothing to me.”

  Monica’s head swiveled from one man to the other; behind Nick, David Tarpington still stood by the door, rooted with astonishment. Nick saw Cramer’s expression and realized conventional methods weren’t going to work. Cramer was supremely confident—he had the power and knew it. Nothing Nick could do legally would get past the starcrete wall in front of him. He considered for all of five seconds, and two thoughts came to mind:

  Sometimes you have to take a few steps on the dark side to get the job done.

  And the other was:

  Improvise!

  He drew his laser pistol.

  Chapter 26

  “Jesus Christ!” Monica Maynard screamed. “Put that away!”

  “Nick, for god’s sake!” Tarpington started forward, but stopped when Nick held up his left hand. Nick’s eyes never left Cramer’s face.

  “I’m going to ask you one more time,” he told Cramer in a low, dangerous voice. “You tell me where that girl is, right now, or I swear—”

  “You’re going to shoot me?” Cramer clasped his hands together, as if preparing to deliver an invocation. “Is that how you solve your problems, Marshal? With violence?”

  Nick hesitated only a second, then took one quick step forward and grabbed Cramer by the coat collar with his left hand. He spun him around and slammed his forehead into the wall, then spun him back and held him by the throat. A trickle of blood streamed from Cramer’s forehead.

  “That’s right, asshole! I will use violence if I need to. When I’m dealing with the scum of the galaxy I’ll do whatever it takes. You’ve used plenty of violence yourself, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cramer wheezed.

  “Oh, yes you do! You railroaded Jessica Garner for an assault she didn’t commit, locked her up in that dungeon you call a lockup, and had her systematically raped for two years.”

  “She tried to kill Mr. F—”

  Nick jerked him forward and slammed him back into the wall again, cutting off his words.

  “You had her husband murdered in the bottom of an ice mine because he was trying to get her released from your torture chamber. You’ve got the medical examiner terrified of her own shadow so you can get medical reports and death certificates altered to cover the hundreds of cripples and dead bodies that come out of that place.
You sabotaged Agua Solar’s space freighter and killed the crew, and you sabotaged their drilling equipment to cause accidents that would cast doubt on their safety procedures, forcing their stock into the toilet and putting them out of business…all so your Farrington pals could get control of the entire ice mining industry on this rock.”

  “You’re delusional!” Cramer grunted, showing a little emotion at last. “I’ll have you—”

  Nick slammed his head into the wall again.

  “I’m not finished, shithead!” He glanced at Monica, then back to Cramer. “You also had Judge Boxner murdered so you could install your own pet judge in the only courtroom on Ceres. I can’t imagine why she went for it, but I’m going to find out.”

  “You’re insane! Certifiably insane!”

  “And you’re under arrest.”

  Nick holstered his pistol and spun Cramer around, wrested his arms together, and E-cuffed him. He shoved him to the floor and turned on Monica. She was staring at him in horror, showing more fear than anger.

  “Nick! Have you lost your fucking mind? Where did all that come from? You can’t prove any of that!”

  “I will, by the end of the day.”

  “If you think I’m going to give you a search warrant now—”

  “I won’t be needing it,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Turn around.”

  Her eyes couldn’t get any wider—but they did.

  “WHAT?!? Jesus, what do you—”

  “You’re under arrest.” He grabbed her wrists and spun her around, carefully but firmly. She twisted her head around to make eye contact, but he was snapping a second set of cuffs on her wrists.

  “Oh what charge?” she demanded, her voice wavering.

  “Conspiracy to commit murder. Don’t fight those cuffs, you’ll electrocute yourself.”

  He released her arms and she stumbled back against the wall. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at him, her whole body rigid.

  “Murder! Have you gone insane?”

  Nick turned to David Tarpington, who stood on the balls of his feet, as if ready to run. His expression suggested he also thought Nick might have suffered a mental episode.