Burnside's Killer_Extended Version Read online

  I called up a display of the manifest Jane had put together for the Calypso. According to the paperwork, and the ID overlay she'd cobbled together for the ship, she was towing a salvage vessel back to Hunter space. The admiral was well known for his love of fast ships, and a penchant for salvaging anything he could get his hands on despite his fortune, so it was the perfect cover. If our killer was watching for a tail, she wouldn't see it coming.

  With nothing better to do, I rummaged through the ship's stores, and found something which could be called "food" without too much irony. I chewed it absently, deep in thought, and washed it down with a beer.

  An assassin.

  It was tempting to beat myself up over missing that key fact, but like Jane had said, I was too close, and I didn't have firsthand experience with that lifestyle. Sure, I'd encountered my fair share of less-than-savory characters in my time, even fought against a few in the service, but my beat was Earth System. We were pretty well insulated from what went on in the outer systems. Besides, away from the major cities or stations, assassins were usually the purview of bounty hunters. We only saw them when they were local.

  I called up the case data again on my PC, and gave it a more critical read than I had in months. Now I did, I could see what Jane had seen. It was not only possible the victims had prices on their heads, it was likely. Erasmus Livingstone, for example, was openly suspected of being a major crime figure, though no one seemed to care very much, because he was a society gadfly who gave money to worthy causes. Arnem Heissman, the mining magnate, ended up leaving his empire to his son, who turned out to be a lot friendlier towards the unions than his old man had been. It might have been the unions, or even the son himself, who put out the hit. Hell, maybe Millicent, Heissman's cold bitch of a wife might have been behind it.

  I went through the rest of the list with a new critical eye. Augustine Quon was well known as a gambler, and a winner. What if he pissed off the wrong people? Jeremiah Rourke had a string of ex-lovers, both male and female, who might have wanted him dead. And Trevor Howard's power over that particular government committee might have been enough to have someone want to take him off the chess board.

  As for Patterson, I was sure there were no shortage of players who were looking for his place in the spotlight once he was gone. A year's worth of endorsements alone would more than cover what the killer charged.

  But all this new insight just prompted more questions.

  How did the killer get her contracts? For that matter, how did the people who hired her find her? It's not like she put out an online classified ad saying 'will slice off willies for cash'. It all had to be extremely hush-hush, and the sort of people who hired assassins didn't normally give referrals to friends at cocktail parties. Hey, I got this great new contract killer, she's really good. Cleans up the scene and everything. Let me give you her contact info.

  But a hit on Jonathon Hunter would be something else entirely. The bounties on his head would be in the hundreds of millions. And anyone who managed to kill him would end up not just rich, but notorious throughout the galaxy. Were the earlier hits just practice, a way for the killer to master her modus operandi? She got good at her trade, and collected her money, all the while preparing for the big score. That's what John Slice had suggested.

  No, it didn't add up. Hunter had only been in the public eye for a matter of months. It had been one hell of a time for him, to be sure, but still, when the killer was beginning her spree, Jonathon Hunter was still a no-body. But still, it made sense to create the pretense of a serial killer. After all, the only people who would come after her would be the cops, only one, in fact, due to the sensitive nature of the crimes. An assassin, on the other hand, would draw attention, and a bounty hunter would essentially be a moving target as bright as a supernova. Not to mention, every single assassin and bounty hunter to take on Hunter, was dead. A serial killer though, wasn’t even on his scanner.

  Now fate had given her an opportunity to go out with a bang, and she was going to take it. What she didn't know was that I was going to be there to stop her.

  Assuming Jane let me, of course.

  I managed to sleep, getting a full eight hours, showered, shaved, and ate. Batteries recharged, I opened a channel to Captain Jane.

  "What's our status?" I asked.

  "Crossing Cobol," she said, sounding as fresh as when we'd left the Orbital. I wished I was in my twenties again, and still had that kind of energy. "Another couple of hours. The station is just beyond the down jump lane in Midnight."

  The speed of her ship was something else. Two and a half systems in less than twelve hours was unheard of. Maybe the lack of life support went into speed instead.

  "I've got something I wanted to run by you before we docked," I said. "Just a theory I've been kicking around."

  "I'm all ears."

  "You know from my files that none of the bodies showed any signs of struggle, yes?"

  "Yes."

  "Even James Patterson, the last one who was heard screaming, didn't have a mark on him. And he was an impressive physical specimen. He could easily have put up a fight against just about any attacker, especially if his life depended on it."

  "I thought the same thing."

  "So what does it suggest to you?"

  "That the victim was in the process of sexual intercourse at the time of death."

  She said what I was thinking, though I probably wouldn't have put it quite so eloquently.

  "That's my theory," I said. "In fact, not just in the process, but at the climax. It would explain why there was never a struggle. An orgasm would distract the victim so the killer could finish her job. Once the vic realized what had happened, it would be too late. He'd pass out from loss of blood, and simply drift off peacefully into the great beyond."

  "Also correct," she said. "However, there is one unanswered question involved in that theory."

  I nodded and sighed.

  "Why did Patterson scream?"

  "Yes. None of the others did. Perhaps it was a particularly spectacular orgasm."

  "I don't know about you, but I've never actually screamed," I said, with a soft chuckle.

  "I wouldn't know," she said evenly.

  Whoa. This amazing creature was apparently still a virgin. Moreover, she'd just confessed to me she was still a virgin, with all the emotion of someone reading an eye test chart. I filed it away for later.

  "Well, it'd be highly unusual," I said. "Besides, the neighbor said it sounded like a shriek of terror, not a groan of pleasure. Waking the dead, I think was the description used. It's possible he became aware of what she was doing while it was happening."

  "Maybe it was pain."

  "Could be. But it's been my experience traumatic wounds like that don't actually cause people to vocalize above a simple grunt. Shock usually inhibits any type of strong response. Plus the cut would have to be extremely quick, so it's not like she was slowly sawing it off."

  "So what do you think might have happened?"

  "Maybe he saw the weapon, and realized what she was going to do."

  "Unlikely. If he had, he would have tried to overpower her. He was quite fit."

  She paused a moment.

  "We'll be on the station soon, and I have some messages to send before we get there. Gather up what you need, we'll move to accommodations on the station as soon as we dock."

  That was welcome news. I was ready to get started on this endgame, whatever it turned out to be.

  "You're right," I said, continuing the conversation as if she hadn't interrupted it. "I was clutching at straws. But I think we're agreeing on at least one thing here."

  "What's that?"

  "The killer had sex with each victim before the kill."

  "Which brings up several more questions," she said. "Including one very obvious one."

  I nodded.

  "If the killer and the victim were naked and bumping uglies right up to the moment of orgasm, where the hell did the murder weapo
n come from?"

  Twenty One

  Hunter's Redoubt didn't look like anything to write home about, when Jane's freighter first came out of down jump. My screen showed a station which looked pretty basic, and quite old, and for a moment I wondered if all the hype about Hunter and his expanding empire had been just that, hype.

  That impression lasted all of five seconds.

  A cluster of battleship turrets came clearly into view as the ship made its way to the top of the station, which, unlike most, pointed directly at the jump point. And just in case that wasn't enough, three Pocket Battleships lurked nearby. This innocuous station was quickly revealing itself to be a heavily armed fortress. Any pirate who made the mistake of coming here with anything less than an armada, would probably end their adventure as a cloud of debris floating through the sector.

  Who was this kid, anyway? Hunter was a billionaire, an admiral in no fewer than five fleets, and I remembered reading he was even royalty somewhere, a duke or something. All in the space of a few months.

  "Impressive, no?" Jane said over the coms.

  She meant the station, not Hunter. But it applied equally.

  "Impressive yes," I replied. "Is it really as mean as it looks?"

  "When it has to be. Jon flew it as a two seater fighter for the second battle of Avon, and earned the Victoria Cross from the British for it. But it's a leftover from the era when Pompeii ran it. It wasn't exactly safe in those days by any means, but it was a better place to be, than on the planet itself during the civil war."

  Again she made me shift mental gears abruptly. I hadn’t heard of the Victoria Cross. I really needed to look his record up. But the second part of what she'd just said sidetracked me.

  "Civil war?"

  What the hell was she talking about?

  "It wasn't widely reported," she said. "Pompeii broke away from the American sector a decade ago, and reintroduced slavery in the process."

  "Slavery?!" If I'd been drinking anything at that moment, I probably would have choked. "Are you serious?"

  "Very. It was an ugly situation, and an ugly war. But it was thankfully quick, ending when Jon arrived to evac General, then Colonel, Smith's team, who'd been lured there as bait for Jon. His arriving with a Corvette and Heavy Privateer tipped the balance of power away from the government's forces."

  "This is the first I've heard of any of it," I said. "I admit I don't follow the news all that closely, but you'd think I would have seen something about it. We're talking about slavery, for God's sake."

  The ship banked to the left, pulling mine along with it, as it made its way towards a small ship docking entry point on the far side of the station. Jane's flying was impeccable, good enough to make me wonder if she was using an auto-nav system. The longer I was with her, the more I realized she'd earned those captain's stripes on her shoulders, age be damned.

  "The Midgard War broke out a week later," she said. "I don't think the media had time to pick up on the civil war before being thrown into the middle of a major conflagration. Pompeii was little more than a skirmish by comparison."

  I shouldn't have been surprised. The media were hit-and-miss at the best of times, which I guess is the nature of the beast when you have to cover an area that's as vast as the spine. Things are bound to slip through the cracks. My own killer, for example, had evaded media attention for two years. A lot of that was due to my efforts, and those of other police departments, of course, but I was still grateful for it.

  "Most of the six thousand or so people on the station are leftovers from the Pompeii days," Jane said as the ship approached its docking port. "You'll get used to the American accents soon, I'm sure. A significant portion of the station is uninhabited at the moment. Jon hasn't made most of those areas open for purchase or rent just yet. He wants to get the mini-sector organized first."

  An eighteen-year-old getting a sector organized? It was tough to wrap my head around. This seemed like the perfect opening to ask a question which had been nagging at me since we first met. I'd avoided the discussion till that point in an effort to be diplomatic, but now we were here, and about to start working together, I thought it was time to know.

  "What exactly is your relationship with Jonathon Hunter?" I asked, and immediately regretted my choice of words. "I mean, uh, not that you-"

  "I told you when we first met," she said. "I captain this freighter for him."

  "It's just that you seem closer than a captain and a commander." I was starting to wish I'd never opened my mouth. "I mean, not, you know, close close…"

  "Let's just say it's complicated, and leave it at that for now," she said easily. "A girl has to keep some secrets, Detective. Don't you think?"

  "Yeah," I said, letting out the breath I'd been holding. I was grateful to be let off the hook. "And it's Dick, remember?"

  "Of course. Dick."

  The ship sidled up to a slip in the docking bay large enough for both, just as a voice came over the coms for both our ships.

  "Greetings," said a female voice. It sounded familiar somehow, but I couldn't quite place it. "This is Janet, the station controller. Your ships have been scanned, and no contraband has been detected. Your Earth Sector Police Department identification has been noted. Please present yourself to station security at your earliest convenience. Welcome to Hunter's Redoubt."

  I whistled silently. Tech which could detect contraband, especially from such a distance, was beyond anything I'd heard of. It also occurred to me that this Janet, whoever she was, had been able to read through the ID overlay Jane had come up with for my ship, and identify me as a cop. This place really was as formidable as it looked.

  "I'd best get my arse in gear, and get to security, then," I said to Jane. "When I was in the military, 'earliest convenience' meant 'double time, soldier!'"

  She chuckled.

  "Whenever you're ready is fine. Janet needs to work on her tone a bit."

  The ships came to rest on their landing struts, and the bay door began to close. Since we apparently weren't in any hurry, I took some time to wash my face and drag my fingers through my hair. Even though I’d shaved a couple of hours ago, I used the razor laser again, just to make sure I was presentable.

  Of course, for obvious reasons I'd stopped using a blade razor immediately after seeing the killer's first crime scene photos, and noting what was missing from the victim. The laser version used the same tech as the fresher, which ships with limited water used instead of showers. They were much safer than blades. Of course, there were modern alternatives to the laser shaver as well, but real cops who wore fedoras and trench coats, shaved.

  I changed back into my good detective's suit, picked up the bag of needful things for living on station, and headed into it. It was almost like a small city inside, with corridors as wide as streets in some parts, and vast open areas for commerce. It could definitely have done with a coat of paint, if you know what I mean, but like Jane said, Hunter was still in the process of turning it into what he wanted.

  Crowds buzzed past me as I walked. My hat and coat got more than a few curious looks, but no serious attention. Maybe they figured even if I was a cop, I didn't have any authority here, so I wasn't worth worrying about. That would ultimately work in my favour, since I was here to catch a killer.

  My PC gave me arrows to where the main security office was, and Jane was waiting outside the door when I arrived. Not a hair was out of place, and she looked fresh as a daisy, despite the long trip.

  "You look good," she said. "I'd hardly guess you just came off a space voyage."

  "And you look like you just walked out of a salon. How the hell did you manage that? You didn't even get to sleep on the trip."

  She flashed a grin, and motioned me towards the door.

  "Blame it on my youth."

  I shook my head as the door slid open, and I walked through. Jane followed me into the room, which was all shiny new tech, and sleek ergonomic design. This part of the station had obviously been a prio
rity for Hunter, which, given his enemies, was understandable.

  A woman in the center of the room rose from her chair, and headed towards us, and I almost did a double take. She looked enough like Jane the two could be sisters, except this one had shoulder-length hair, and green eyes instead of blue. Her outfit was identical to Jane's, so I figured it must be the uniform here in Hunter land, although only Jane had shoulder insignia.

  The woman extended a hand.

  "I'm Janet."

  "Dick Burnside," I replied, taking her hand, and trying to keep the curiosity off my face. "Pleased to meet you. You're the head of security, then?"

  "Acting head. The position is one of many which hasn't been filled yet, so as station commander, I'm performing a number of functions on the station right now."

  Again I was struck by how Hunter seemed to find these capable people, who seemed barely out of their teens, to handle his affairs for him. Security chief for a station this size, would be daunting enough for an experienced veteran. This woman looked to be the same age as Jane, and it made me wonder for a moment if they weren't just sisters, but twins.

  But that wasn't my business at the moment.

  "Do you have a security force in place, Commander?" I asked.

  She motioned for us to sit. The chairs were a bit utilitarian for my pampered rear end, but the women didn't seem to even notice.

  "We have enough for our present needs," said Janet. "And call me Janet. I'm not military." I nodded. "Most of our residents are from the Pompeii system. There are a few transients at the moment since traffic to and from the Australian system is beginning to pick up again. But overall we haven't tagged anyone as a real troublemaker. A few drunk and disorderly, since most of what's available to the public here are food and entertainment venues, as I'm sure you saw on your way here, but nothing our security droids couldn't easily handle."

  I nodded again.

  "Do you expect to fill the security chief position anytime soon?"

  "It will likely have to wait until General Smith arrives back from her current mission. About half of her team are doing security for Jon at the moment. The other half are off in your stomping grounds somewhere."