The Last Flight of the Argus (8 page)

“
Tell me something,” B’taav’s voice came through the tab in Shepherd’s ear. “Is this Ferro City’s tourist spot?”

“
If you’re looking for tourist spots, I recommend the local jail. With all those guards surrounding it, she’s the safest place we’ve got.”

Shepherd rubbed his nose and marveled at the rapid drop in temperature. As if things weren’t uncomfortable enough, the wind kicked up.

“
Any more of this and you’ll need to chip me off the corner,” Shepherd whispered. “What time were they meeting?”

“
Now,” came his response. He heard the sound of B’taav shifting in his seat in the car. “There they come.”

Shepherd spotted the same green compact from the Longshore Club a few days before approach the Tropic Hotel. The officer shuffled away from his lookout post and approached a trash bin. He rummaged through the refuse, sorting through the rotted food and acting as if he was looking for buried treasure.

“
They’re coming right at you,” B’taav said.

“
Ok,” Shepherd said. He spotted a worn porno mag and flipped through it.

“
Not bad,” he muttered.

“
Say again?”

“
Never mind.”

The green compact came to a stop only a few feet away from Shepherd. Orlando Echo, the tall, young man who met Gail Griffen in the Longshore Club, stepped out. In his left hand was a black briefcase.

The driver of the car, Carlo Giny, shut the car down. He too exited the vehicle. His black hair flickered in the stiff breeze. He closed his door and nodded to Orlando before locking the vehicle up. Together, the two walked past Shepherd and into the Tropic Hotel.

“
Get ready to move,” B’taav whispered.

Shepherd held the porno mag and took a slow walk to the entrance of the Tropic Hotel. Through the broad windows at the front of the building he saw the young men walk through the lobby and approach the elevator.

“
They’re heading up,” Shepherd whispered as the elevator doors closed. A LCD panel over the elevator doors flickered with ascending numbers. The duo came to a stop on the 63rd floor.

“
They’re on her floor,” Shepherd said. “We are set.”

Shepherd took one last look at the magazine before throwing it back in the trashcan. He then ran across the street and into the rusty blue car. He was pleased to find it warm inside.

“
How exactly did you convince me to wait out there?”

“
You flipped the coin.”

B’taav put away the camera he used to photograph the two men entering the Tropic Hotel.

“
So I did. Have they made it to her apartment?”

“
No,” B’taav said. He reached for a small display screen between the car’s front seats. Four images took up equal sections of the monitor’s display. Gail Griffen sat in the chair before her television, waiting. Her eyes were on the apartment door.

Setting up the Vid Bugs in Gail Griffen’s room proved useful. In the days since doing so, B’taav and Shepherd discovered she offered the two men from Lewitt Catering ten thousand credits for information regarding any and all Merrick cruise ship maintenance schedules. It was the sort of inside information anyone could use to plot a raid.

The sound of a light knock was heard over their headphones.

“
There they are,” B’taav muttered.

On the monitor, Gail Griffen rose from her chair.

“
Who’s there?” she asked.

“
Us,” came the muted reply.

Gail opened her door and allowed the two visitors entry. After they were in, she quickly closed the door.

“
Sit down,” she ordered.

“
She sounds tense,” B’taav said.

“
She’s probably new to this.”

“
Yeah,” B’taav said. “It might be time to call the police in.”

“
And here I thought you were a loner.”

“
Normally, I am. But there’s little sense—”

“
Look, we can get backup in a matter of minutes. But so far, the only thing we’ve got on Gail Griffen and those two boys is conspiracy and minor industrial espionage. The worse they get is six months to a year in a minimum security jail. I doubt Merrick sent you all this way for that. How about we give her a little more time and see if she talks the boys into admitting something more substantial?”

On the monitor, Gail Griffen’s two visitors sat down. Gail did not. She paced just behind them, saying nothing. The visitors watched her movements and, after a second or two, Orlando said:

“
So are we doing this?”

Gail Griffen stopped pacing.

“
The information is worth every penny,” Carlo, the driver, said. “We went through a lot of shit to get you this. If anyone finds out we’re out of a job.”

“
I don’t much care for your troubles,” Gail Griffen replied. “You should have thought about that before you set your price.”

“
Funny you should mention that,” Orlando said. “We figure what you want is worth a little more. But we’re not greedy. We just want another thousand.”

Shepherd grinned.

“
If you want to buy something in Salvation, you gotta bargain for it. We pride ourselves on our strong belief in capitalism.”

“
I’ll give you five hundred extra,” Gail countered.

Shepherd whistled. “She’s been out of Salvation too long. Now they’ll ask for seven fifty. She should have lowballed them.”

“
How about seven fifty?” Carlo said.

Shepherd let out a laugh. On the monitor, the image flickered.

“
I can’t do that. You’ll have to settle for five,” Gail Griffen said. Her voice was high strung, impatient. She rocked in place, tense and full of energy.

There was a long pause. Too long. The monitor flickered again.

“
Something isn’t right,” B’taav said.

Indeed, Gail Griffen seemed to not care about what the duo brought her, nor terribly interested in finalizing their deal. On the monitor, the image steadily grew worse.

“
What’s wrong with the camera?” Shepherd asked.

“
Interference,” B’taav replied.

“
Fuck this,” Orlando muttered. He got to his feet and reached for something in his jacket pocket. A gun. “You don’t want our stuff? Fine. We’ll keep it. Give us our money and we’ll leave.”

The images on the monitor dissolved to black.

“
Call the squad cars in!” B’taav yelled. As if by magic, a fusion gun appeared in the Independent’s hands. He was out of the car and running to the entrance of the Hotel.

Shepherd fumbled for his phone while he too exited the vehicle.

By the time he stepped onto the street, B’taav was already at the Hotel’s entrance. The sound of gunfire exploded in Shepherd’s ear. He cursed and reached for the ear tab. He heard a dull electric whine and, thinking better of it, left the tab in place.

He too headed for the entrance of the Hotel.

CHAPTER THREE

B’taav
was at the Tropic Hotel’s elevators when the sound of gunfire roared in his ear piece. Someone was shooting at Gail Griffen's apartment. He pressed hard on the elevator’s “up” button. The nearest of the three elevators was on the 4th floor and heading down.

“
Call the police,” B’taav yelled to the Hotel’s Manager. The man crouched low behind his glass case.

He grabbed the phone and did as told.

By the time the police answered his call, the platinum haired man was in the elevator and gone. Shepherd stepped into the Hotel’s lobby. The officer drew his weapon and walked to the manager’s glass booth.

“
Where did my partner go?” Shepherd asked.

The manager put the phone down.

“
Into the elevator. What’s going on? Is this about Gail Griffen?”

“
I’m afraid so. Did my partner tell you anything?”

“
Yeah, he said to call the police.”

“
Did you?”

“
Of course.”

Shepherd nodded. He looked back at the Hotel’s entrance and within seconds spotted the distant lights of several squad cars converging on the Hotel.

They’re running quick tonight
, Shepherd thought.

“
The police will cordon off this place. Any guests show up down here, tell them to go outside. Don’t get in our way.”

“
I won’t.”

Shepherd smiled.

“
Take it easy, we won’t mess up the room you rented us.”

“
What about Gail Griffen’s room?”

“
Can’t promise anything there,” Shepherd said. He remained in the lobby as long as he could. When the police cars screeched to a stop before the Hotel’s entrance, he headed for the elevator.

Just
as the elevator reached the halfway point of its journey the Independent heard a second gunshot through his earpiece.

B’taav winced. The sound slammed through his already numb ear. Afterwards, all B’taav heard was garbled electronic feedback.

B’taav considered the distortion and his pale face grew pale.

She jammed the Vid feed and now she's jamming the audio signal
, B’taav thought.
She knew we were watching and listening.

The elevator passed the fifty-fourth floor. B’taav removed his ear tab and put it away. He then checked his gun to make sure it was loaded and ready.

The
elevator doors opened on the 63rd
floor.

B’taav took a quick glance at the south hallway and leaned back inside the elevator. He did the same for the north hallway. Both sides were clear.

B’taav stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked to Gail Griffen’s apartment door. He was thankful for the hallway carpeting. It muffled his footsteps.

Shepherd
swore. The elevators were descending too slowly. He looked at the hotel manager. The man shrugged.

“
They’re old,” he said.

Shepherd shook his head. Several officers emerged from their vehicles and headed to the Hotel’s front entrance. More squad cars were coming from down the street.

And Shepherd needed to be in the goddamn elevator.

B’taav
leaned against the hallway wall. In front and to his right was the door to apartment 6345. There was a small hole in the upper half of the door and a similar hole on the wall opposite the door. Smoke rose from each. The two holes were the result of fusion blasts.

B’taav's body tensed as he reached for the doorknob. Abruptly, he stopped. Another door, the one to apartment 6348 across the hall, opened. An elderly lady stuck her head out of her apartment to see what was going on.

B’taav put his index finger in front of his mouth and then pointed at his gun.

“
Fucking Independents,” the old lady muttered. “If it isn't the heavy metal music it's the fucking shooting.”

She disappeared into her room and sealing the apartment door.

The elevator doors closed just as the first of a group of officers entered the Hotel’s lobby.

Sorry I couldn’t wait
, Shepherd thought.

“
B’taav, do you read me?”

His ear tab emitted a low electric whine.

“
If you can hear me, don’t bother answering. My earphone is dead. I’m in the elevator passing the... uh...20th floor. Squad cars have surrounded the building. I’ll be up in a moment.”

Shepherd swore. If his tab went dead after the second gunshot, there was every reason to assume that B’taav’s tab was also gone.

B’taav
pressed the side of his head against the door to apartment 6345. He listened for any sounds coming from within. Someone inside the apartment groaned. The voice belonged to a man. The groan was followed by the sound of something large hitting the floor.

“
Your suitcase is empty,” said an angry female voice.

B’taav recognized the voice as Gail Griffen’s, but her tone was far deeper, more guttural than ever before. Regardless, she was alive and seemingly uninjured while at least one of the men who came to see her was in pain.

B’taav was surprised by this. Was it possible someone as petite and frail as Gail Griffen could disarm and incapacitate two men, at least one of whom was carrying a weapon? If so, she was far more dangerous than she outwardly appeared.

“
For the last time, where are those documents?” Gail said. Incredibly, her voice was even deeper than the moment before. There came the sounds of movement and someone walking away.

B’taav held his gun tight. He took a step back and kicked the door open. What he saw inside Gail Griffen’s room made his blood run cold.

Shepherd
checked his gun for what felt like the hundredth time while in the tight confines of the elevator. He muttered meaningless words to himself.