Mars Rising (Domeworld Saga Book 1) Page 6

  Max eyed the token and stood. "This way."

  "Alone," Simmons said. He waved a hand toward the closed door to the cellblock. "I'll need you to open it."

  "I don't understand," Max said. "You normally don't care—"

  "This is a classified matter," Simmons said.

  "I just want to see my sister."

  "Absolutely not. Administrator Barnes gave me specific directions."

  Max got up and opened the main door.

  "Please leave the station," Simmons said. "Remain outside until I leave."

  That seemed like the worst possible punishment to Max. "Why can't I at least see her?"

  "One more argument from you, and she'll get no food."

  Max turned stiffly and went outside. Simmons usually brought in the prisoners for lockup after he'd interrogated them, but Barnes had brought in his sister instead. Everything had been irregular from the start. The only reason to make Max leave the station was because the investigator hadn't questioned Sarah yet.

  He went up the outside staircase to a locked door that clicked open when he pressed his badge into the slot. The evidence room stretched the length of the station, but saw little use. Most evidence was too valuable to leave locked up in a room and was generally put back in supply. Even a stainless steel knife that had been used for murder ended up back in someone's kitchen eventually.

  Down past the rows of empty tables and shelves was a vent grate Max had used a number of times. In cases of disputes where the constable had final say, he found it useful to lock accomplices in a cell together and leave them alone. They'd eventually talk and Max would listen to their unintentional confessions.

  Kneeling quietly on the dusty cement, Max tilted an ear toward the grate. The creak of the vault door preceded muttered instructions from Simmons.

  "Turn around," he said.

  A moment later, Sarah spoke. "What do you want, Simmons?"

  The man must have removed Sarah's silencer. Hearing her voice again brought tears to Max's eyes.

  "Here is your lunch," Simmons said. Something clicked.

  "Why are you here?" Sarah asked again.

  "I have some follow up questions. First, do you know why your parents were expulsed?"

  "No."

  "Please be truthful, Sarah," Simmons said in a sickeningly calm voice.

  "I know my mother stumbled onto something she shouldn't have seen," Sarah replied. "Ever since you bastards killed my parents, I wanted to know what it was. I guess I must have found it."

  "In truth, your mother discovered nothing of consequence, but she was too relentless in her quest for answers." Simmons cleared his throat delicately. "Unfortunately, she shared her research with your father, condemning him as well."

  "For what?" Sarah said. "I'll be dead in a few hours so you might as well tell me."

  "Let me be clear, Sarah: There is nothing to hide, no secrets to uncover." A nauseating smugness hung heavy on Simmons's words. "Your mother spread her paranoia and delusions to your father. The governor saw the danger of such rumors spreading like a virus." He paused. "You see what I'm saying, yes?"

  "You're lying."

  "It appears the paranoia is genetic, Sarah. Once we realized what you were doing, we knew there was no choice but to act."

  Sarah huffed. "You're a sad little man, do you know that? By this afternoon, I'll be lying dead on the red sand outside and you can't even admit the truth to me. Are you so afraid of it, Simmons?" She gasped. "Oh, or perhaps you actually believe what Alderman, Kearns, and the others told you. If that's the case, you're the one who's delusional."

  "Hardly," Simmons said. "Your brother may be the civilian constable, but I'm the only law enforcer that matters. To such ends, I know all there is to know, and I tell others what to know."

  Sarah responded with scornful laughter. "I guess you weren't smart enough to be a real lab coat."

  A loud pop rang out, hand on flesh, and Sarah whimpered.

  "You're right, of course," Simmons said, his calm voiced edged with pride. "I'll tell you something I only told to your mother before her death. You came even closer than she did to discovering a single detail that would unravel this place like a ball of rolling yarn." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps I'll give you the answer you seek if you cooperate with my questions."

  Sarah didn't respond right away, probably weighing how much the answer was worth with her dying soon. "What do you want to know?"

  "Did you tell anyone else anything about your suspicions?"

  "No," she replied.

  "Written anything down? Made copies of files?"

  Max could almost picture Sarah biting her lip as she hesitated with the answer. "I copied Kearns's gravitational charts file and saved it on server thirteen under a folder named statistics."

  "Thank you." Simmons probably put a check on a slip of paper with each answer, Max decided. "Anything written?"

  "No."

  "Was there anyone else you hoped might be an accomplice?"

  "What happens to anyone I name?" she asked.

  "I would like to know why you thought you could trust them."

  "So you could keep an eye on them?"

  "They would be entered as a person of interest for one year, until such time as their lack of treason proved them not guilty," Simmons said. "A reasonable precaution."

  "I'd like to amend an earlier answer," Sarah said. "There was one person I trusted—one person I told about my suspicions."

  Max could almost see the investigator's eyes flashing. "Oh?"

  "Robb Alderman."

  Max had to stifle a chuckle. His sister might be down, but she had plenty of fight in her. While her brother had been marching blindly, Sarah had been secretly fighting the machine. How she'd managed to do it so long without being caught was amazing.

  "Did you really tell Robb?" Simmons sounded unconvinced.

  "Yes. He believed me, too. That's why he used Kearns's computer to send me the gravitational charts file."

  "Yes, he admitted to doing that," Simmons replied. "Don't think for a moment he'll feed the father with you."

  "Fine with me. I suppose it doesn't matter that he wants to bring down his father so he can be the governor."

  Simmons chuckled. "It doesn't work that way."

  "I know. I'm certain Kearns would be next in line. Maybe Robb will kill him too."

  "These are serious accusations, Sarah."

  "Well, maybe I'm just lying," she said.

  Simmons cleared his throat again—apparently a nervous habit. "Thank you for your help, Sarah. Unfortunately, it's time to put back on your silencer."

  "What about my answers?" she said.

  "Oh, yes." He laughed. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. Your last moments alive will be spent wondering why you died."

  Chapter 7

  "I assumed you wouldn't tell me," Sarah replied, then calmly said, "In scientific terms, you're a lying piece of steaming shit, Investigator Simmons. I'm certain the breeding labs will make sure to expunge your genetic code from the database so they don't accidentally birth another skin bag of pure excrement."

  "Since we're being scientific," Simmons said, "let's observe Newton's Third Law."

  A loud slap echoed. Sarah cried out. Max's fists clenched impotently. He wanted to run downstairs and break the man's neck. Simmons hadn't even admitted anything—apparently, he wasn't one to gloat.

  "What would you like for a last meal?" Simmons asked.

  "Your roasted head on a platter," Sarah spat back.

  "Since that's not possible, I'll decide for you. Bread and cheese, perhaps?"

  Sarah went silent, and the vault door creaked shut a moment later.

  Max eased himself up quietly and quickly made his way downstairs. He leaned against the edge of the building and stared into the street as if he'd been waiting there all along.

  Simmons emerged from the station and glanced at Max. "You may go back inside, Constable."

  "Can't I at least see her while
you're here with the key?" Max asked.

  "Afraid not."

  Max's bones groaned with the effort of holding back physical rage. "Don't you have a heart buried in there somewhere, Simmons? I'll bet your parents are real proud."

  "My parents, whoever they were, died long before I was born." The investigator folded his arms behind his back and stepped nose-to-nose with Max. "I'm what you civvies refer to as a freezer baby."

  "Doesn't make you special," Max said. "Plenty of civvies born that way."

  "Yes, but your family was…rare." Simmons looked Max up and down. "Your parents were allowed to naturally beget two children." He shrugged. "A shame it didn't result in productive members of society."

  "You mean cogs." Max clamped his mouth shut before he spoke treason.

  Simmons seemed to take no offense. "A finely tuned machine produces superior results." He boarded an electric cart. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Constable."

  Watching the investigator drive away, Max decided he despised this man even more than he hated Richard Barnes. Duties Max did with a heavy heart, this man did with glee. He went back inside and walked toward the vault. He noticed something different, but it took a moment to pinpoint exactly what it was. A small gray lump stood out on the ceiling above the vault door.

  He fixed his eyes on the vault door and pretended not to see the lump since he knew the lump could look right back at him and hear everything he said. He'd accidentally found one such eavesdropping device during one of his early investigations into treason charges and had nearly been sent to the airlock himself.

  Simmons probably hoped Sarah's accomplices would visit. She might not be able to talk, but all the investigator cared about was seeing who came. From what little Max knew, his sister had acted alone in whatever she'd done. He pieced together a little more of the puzzle. Sarah found Mom's equation and decided to solve it, but realized something was wrong with the numbers in the gravitational charts.

  She manipulated Robb into using Kearns's computer to send her the file with the correct information. Shortly thereafter, Barnes had taken her into custody and brought her here. There was still a lot that didn't make sense. Why hadn't Simmons been the one to arrest her? Why hadn't he interrogated her on the science campus?

  Max stared at the metal door, wanting to say something encouraging to his sister, but knowing better to say anything with the surveillance device. "I love you, sis."

  Sarah replied with a muffled cry.

  He went back to his desk and sat down, tried to think. It took a few minutes of twisting and turning the pieces until he found more that might fit. Simmons hadn't arrested or kept Sarah on the science campus, either because he was unable to do so at the time or because he decided she should be brought here to root out any collaborators.

  An icy chill worked its way up his back as he considered the implications. What if they'd bugged the station before bringing Sarah in? What if they'd been watching all this time? Max banged his fist on the desk. How could he be so stupid? He'd seen Simmons operate like this before. Max had watched two people walk to their dooms when they visited Edwin Mill, suspected of speaking out against the Constitution.

  Simmons hadn't let Max hear what was captured by the eavesdropping equipment, but whatever it was condemned the primary suspect to feed the daughter. The other two had vanished, presumably locked up somewhere secret, maybe even on science campus.

  What were the names of those poor souls? Max closed his eyes, letting the faces of ghosts drift by. He saw the faces of a man and a woman. What were their names? He didn't need long to remember. After all, he'd heard both earlier today: Josephine Walls and Brent Carlisle. They were the two transfers who'd died in the brassworks.

  Alderman might have complete power here, but he had to know too many feedings at once would stir resentment among the population until it boiled into a revolt. Even the governor and his cronies had to be careful not to prune too many branches or they'd kill the tree. If Barnes was Alderman's bulldog, Simmons was the black panther lurking silently in the tree, waiting to pounce.

  He'd used Edwin Mill as a honeypot to bring out the traitorous bees, and now Sarah was his bait. The problem was, nobody was biting, unless Max had already swallowed the worm without knowing. Even now, he might have a hook in his mouth, a patient fisherman waiting before reeling him in.

  Max cursed himself one more time for good measure, then stood and left the building. He leaned against the wall outside and looked up and down Main Street. Thanks to the builders, few structures in Central had windows, and there were few alleys between the connected buildings. Everyone grumbled about having to walk a hundred yards down Main so they could use Alderman Street or First to circle around to the communes.

  The lack of care on the builders' part made it easier for Max to see nobody was watching the station—at least not nearby. The roofs were flat, offering no concealment, so even if Simmons parked himself on a building much further down, he wouldn't have a good view.

  Max walked around the corner and upstairs to the evidence room. He went to the middle row of shelving and picked up the corner of the middle unit. Careful not to scrape the concrete, he rotated the shelf back a few feet to reveal a large divot in the floor. Inside it sat what he'd stolen from supply and several devices left behind by his predecessor.

  Constable Walton had been a good man who'd taught Max everything he knew. Once he trusted his deputy constable, Walton had shown him these instruments and how they worked. The small silver bit of metal was a bug. The gray wand next to it detected bugs. Such equipment was the sole domain of Simmons, and Max's mentor had never told him how he came to possess such sensitive items. He had told Max that they were only to be used in an emergency.

  He bent down and picked up the detector and bug. Whatever battery technology they used still worked just fine even after so many years of sitting in a hole beneath a shelf. Max turned on the bug and tested the detector. A red light flashed faster and faster, going solid when the wand was within a few inches of the bug. He turned them off.

  Max tucked the detector in his pocket and rotated the shelf back into place. When he looked up from the task, he jumped back with surprise.

  Scarlett shook her head. "What are you doing up here, Max?"

  "How did you know I was up here?"

  "I came out of the saloon and saw you turn the corner." She frowned. "What's happened? You look pale as a ghost."

  Max tried to deflect. "What were you doing at the saloon?"

  She held up a complaint card. "Keeping busy, Constable." Scarlett frowned at him again then headed for the exit, apparently unaware of Max's true purpose.

  He turned on the wand and hid it in his long sleeve to hide it from Scarlett and any cameras inside the station. His deputy sat at her desk wiping complaint cards clean. Max kept his back to her and looked at the detector. The light remained green. He paced around the room, trying to look as if he were thinking hard. Scarlett looked up at him with curious eyes, but turned back to wiping the cards.

  It wasn't until he wandered into the cellblock that the light on the detector began to blink red, faster and faster the closer he stepped to the bug he'd noticed earlier. By the time he finished his sweep, he felt confident it was the only bug. Max dared hope the investigator hadn't eavesdropped on Max's earlier conversation with Sarah. He left the cellblock and closed the door behind him. The solid steel should mute any conversations from the front of the station.

  "Max Planck, you're driving me to distraction," Scarlett said. "You keep walking back and forth looking at the walls like they might bite you."

  "Maybe they will," he shot back. "Maybe this whole damned dome already bit us and swallowed us whole."

  She leaned back in her chair. "That doesn't make a lick of sense."

  "It makes too much sense to me." Max felt all the wind run out of him. He'd reached the end of his chain and run in smaller and smaller circles until he ended up pinned against the stake in the ground. No matter how far
he wandered, he ended up back in this building, powerless to save anyone.

  He remembered the sad look Pooka, the border collie, used to give him when she wound her chain so tight around the stake she couldn't even move. That dog knew she was bred for herding cattle, but the only animals on the farm were chickens. Since Dad didn't want her chasing chickens, he kept her tied up. He eventually couldn't take her whining any longer and took Pooka back to the rancher who'd given her to him.

  Max once thought he was meant for something great, but the sad realities of this life had caught up to him. He wasn't here to investigate or prove anyone's innocence. He was just on display to make the civvies think they had rights, to make them think justice existed.

  There were just four hours to go until Sarah's execution, and he'd run out of ideas.

  Max sagged into his chair and put his head on the desk. A strong hand squeezed his shoulder. He looked up and saw Scarlett standing next to him.

  "Were you like this before?" she asked.

  He nodded numbly. "I used to pester Simmons and Barnes to no end, telling them I needed proof before one of my civvies was going to feed." A wry laugh escaped him. "Maybe they just humored me, Scarlett. Maybe they found it funny that I actually thought I was the law here. Constable Walton used to fight tooth and nail with Science Division."

  "He fell down some stairs and broke his back, right?" Scarlett said. "They fed the daughter with that man before he even woke from his coma."

  "Yeah. After my parents fed the father, Simmons came up to me and told me that he hoped I finally understood my place." Max ground his teeth. "He said Constable Walton was a bad example for me. The way he spoke about it, I realized right then that Walton's death wasn't an accident."

  Scarlett's eyes flared big. "Best you don't repeat that to anyone else."

  "You gonna report me?" Max looked up at her.

  "Nah." She walked back over to her desk and picked up some complaint cards. "I don't hate you near as much today as I usually do. If feeding your sister doesn't drive you insane, maybe you got a chance at being half decent again."

  Max squeezed his eyelids tight. The thought of sending his sister to feed just about did him in. His foot bumped into the safe under his desk. A pair of six-shot blasters sat inside. Twelve shots to kill someone who mattered. If Sarah fed, then fuck it, so should Alderman, Barnes, or Simmons. The investigator probably wouldn't be there, but the governor and administrator went to all feedings.