Rath's Gambit (The Janus Group Book 2) (22 page)

Rozhkov frowned.

Where was Martin? He wouldn’t have missed something like that.

He rewound the footage, then fast-forwarded.

Ah, there he is. Standing at the back.

Rozhkov watched as the ceremony ended again. Martin clapped and smiled enthusiastically, but when all of the other detectives formed a line to shake hands with Rozhkov, Beauceron moved forward as if to join them, before catching sight of the police commissioner. Instead of joining the line, he turned and disappeared out of view.

He wanted to make sure the commissioner didn’t associate me with him. Or perhaps he was just ashamed, still, after all of these years.

Rozhkov sat in silence for a minute.

Integrity, dedication, and skill.

He looked down at the phone on his desk, grimacing.

And Martin, my son, can’t even shake my hand in public because of what I did.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He snatched up the phone, pulling his arm back as if to throw it against the wall, and then paused, sobbing. Rozhkov let his arm drop, slipped the phone into his pocket, and then stood and walked toward his garage.

At Beauceron’s apartment building, Rozhkov parked, noting that Beauceron’s assigned parking spot was unoccupied. He called Beauceron’s phone, but the call went to voicemail after a number of rings. Rozhkov left him a brief message, and then waited. After ten minutes with no reply, Rozhkov called again, frowning, but again, there was no reply. He accessed the Interstellar Police network through his dashboard computer.

“Location trace,” he ordered. “Martin Beauceron.” Rozhkov read out Beauceron’s phone number from memory.

“That phone is less than one hundred meters north-north-east of your location,” the computer replied.

Rozhkov’s frown deepened.

If you’re home, why aren’t you answering? And where’s your car?

He got out of the car and walked over to the building entrance, punching the elevator button for Beauceron’s floor. At Beauceron’s door he rang the bell several times, then pounded on it.

“Martin, it’s Alexei. Are you in there?”

Rozhkov tried calling Beauceron’s phone again, then lost patience. He tapped on the door’s security lock.

“Unauthorized user,” the door responded.

“Emergency override, Interstellar Police protocol fourteen-point-two,” Rozhkov told it.

“Identify,” the door ordered.

“Rozhkov, Alexei – Lieutenant Colonel.”

The door clicked open. “Emergency override has been logged. Please file appropriate reports within twenty-four hours.”

Rozhkov pushed inside impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. Martin? Are you okay?” He saw Beauceron’s phone on a table, and then caught sight of the grenade on the bathroom door. “Jesus!” He knelt behind the couch, taking cover from the door.

“Alexei?” A muffled voice came from behind the door.

“Martin? Are you in the bathroom? Your door is mined, don’t touch it,” Alexei yelled.

Beauceron swore. “I thought he might have been bluffing,” he yelled.

“Who? Who put the grenade there?” Rozhkov asked.

“My … associate,” Beauceron said. “The one who came to see you a week or so ago. He’s … he was never a cop, Alexei.”

“I know,” Rozhkov said, peering over the couch at the device.

“I’m sorry, Alexei – I should never have lied to you,” Beauceron continued.

Rozhkov sighed, shaking his head. “Just be quiet, Martin.” Rozhkov held his phone up, and then used the zoom function to take several close-up pictures of the device. He studied them for a few seconds. “Martin, I’m going to take a closer look at the grenade. Are you somewhere safe?”

“No,” Beauceron said. “Wait a minute: I’ll lie down in the tub.” Rozhkov heard Beauceron moving things inside the bathroom. “Okay, ready. But be careful.”

Rozhkov stood and walked over to the door, slowing as he got closer. He stopped several feet away, and bent over slightly, examining the device. Then he snorted. “Martin, it’s set to ‘stun,’ ” he said, straightening up.

“Well, I guess it’s somewhat heartening that he didn’t want to kill me,” Beauceron said.

“Stay in the bathtub, I’m going to trigger it,” Rozhkov told him.

He picked up a cushion and squatted back down behind the couch, then lobbed the cushion at the door, closing his eyes and covering his ears. The cushion hit the wall near the door, and a blast of sound and light washed over him, momentarily disorienting Rozhkov. He shook his head and stood up, then walked over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. A section of tiles lay on the floor, where Beauceron had started trying to dig his way out using the wooden toilet plunger. Beauceron was sitting up in the bathtub, rubbing his forehead.

“You okay?” Rozhkov asked.

“Recovering,” Beauceron grunted. “He shot me with a stun dart a couple hours ago, before locking me in here. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rozhkov said. “What happened?”

“I got kidnapped by another guildsman,” Beauceron said ruefully, climbing out of the tub. “Actually, no – it was the same one that kidnapped me before. I got kidnapped by the same god damn guildsman.
Again.
Alexei, you need to go, don’t get involved in this … I was helping him.”

“I know,” Rozhkov said.

Beauceron didn’t hear him. “You would think that after all these years, I would have learned to stop chasing the Guild. It only causes trouble. I had such plans – I was going to bring him in, help deliver our first real lead on the Guild, he knew so much … but he got the jump on me and got away. Alexei, I’ve betrayed us all – I may be going to jail.”

“Martin, I know.”

“You knew?” Beauceron asked. “How?”

“I watched him when he accessed the database at the station, and I had my suspicions. Your visit tonight confirmed it.” The two men walked out of the bathroom, and Rozhkov handed Beauceron his phone. “Sit down, Martin, I need to tell you something.”

Beauceron shook his head. “There’s no time, Alexei. I need to get to the spaceport—”

“Sit down, Martin,” Rozhkov commanded, and Beauceron, taken aback, sat on the couch. Rozhkov sat on the coffee table across from him. He rubbed at his hands for a second, and then met Beauceron’s eyes.

“Martin, I’ve been betraying the police for a lot longer than you have. And I betrayed you, my friend. My son.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how that guildsman escaped?” Rozhkov waved his hand dismissively. “Not the one tonight, the first one, years ago.”

Beauceron sighed. “I left the door to the investigation room unlocked.”

“No, Martin. You locked it. And then I unlocked it after you left.”

Beauceron flinched, his eyes wide. “What? Alexei, why?”

“I had to, Martin. But I never imagined he would kill other officers, or that you would take the blame for it all. And what’s worse, I watched it destroy your career, and I still couldn’t confess, even then. Martin, I’m sorry. I regret it every single day.”

“Why in god’s name did you unlock it?” Beauceron asked, the anger rising in his voice.

“Do you remember when Katarina was sick, and we were trying to scrape together enough money for the hemobot treatments?”

“Of course,” Beauceron said.

Rozhkov continued: “And after the third round of treatments, the doctors said, ‘It’s a long shot, but if we could do just one more round of treatment, it might work.’ ”

“… so you took out that loan. I remember.”

“No, Martin – I had already remortgaged the house, my credit was shot. You were broke, we were all broke – there was nothing left. I left the hospital that day, and went to a bar. I wanted to get drunk, I didn’t know what else to do. And then a man came up to me, and I always remember it, he didn’t say anything, he just walked up and put a check on the bar. A check for half a million dollars.”

Beauceron put his head in hands. “Oh no, Alexei.”

“She was dying, Martin. My daughter. How could I turn it down?”

* * *

Rozhkov looked up from the bar, where the check lay, his name written clearly in ink. The stranger smiled at him. “You can leave this check, and walk away, and your daughter will die. Or you can pick it up, and use it, and try to save her.”

Rozhkov licked his lips. “Who are you?”

“That depends on what you decide to do with that check. If you decide to leave the check, I’m no one, and we never had this conversation. If you pick it up, then I’m a friend. And when friends need each other, they help each other.”

Rozhkov glanced at the check. “What … kind of help?”

“Information, mainly.”

“I can’t agree to that without knowing more.”

The man put his hand on the check. “That’s a shame. Please give my condolences to your wife.”

“Wait!” Alexei grabbed the man’s hand. “Will my family be in danger?”

“No more than they are now,” the man said.

“Just information, I don’t need to break any laws?”

“Just information,” the man agreed. “If someone in your department were to arrest a man for murder, and you suspected him to be a part of a broader criminal conspiracy, we would like to know that. If the Organized Crime Task Force were to develop a new lead about any major criminal organizations, we’d like to know that.”

Rozhkov swallowed. “What organizations?”

The man met his stare silently.

Rozhkov sighed. “And how long would I be giving you this information?”

“Forever,” the man said.

Rozhkov looked down at the check. “God help me.”

* * *

“I didn’t know it was the Guild,” Rozhkov said. “… but even if I had known, I might still have done it, for a chance to save her.”

“But the last treatment didn’t work,” Beauceron argued. “Katarina died. You could have stopped giving them information.”

“I tried – but then they threatened to kill Elisaveta. I tried, Martin. And then when you caught one of them, they made me help him escape.”

Beauceron sat back on the couch and shook his head in disbelief. “My god, all these years of blaming myself.”

“Martin, please – you have to know how sorry I am,” Rozhkov said, tears shining on his cheeks. “I’ve betrayed your trust, and ruined your career. Ruined your
life
. Please forgive me.”

Beauceron studied him in silence for a time. “No,” he said, finally. “You didn’t ruin my life, Alexei. Losing Katarina ruined my life.”

“I tried to save her, Martin. God, I tried.”

“I know.” Beauceron sighed. “I just wish … it’s too late now. But what else have you told them, Alexei?”

Rozhkov took a ragged breath, and a fresh tear rolled down his cheek. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Everything. I told them about the journalist, Mehta.”

“Oh, no ….” Beauceron shut his eyes, shaking his head.

Rozhkov nodded, and plowed on. “Yes. I killed him, Martin. And his wife, his son – they’re dead because of me. I pulled you off the investigation on that colony because you were too close to catching another one. And I told them about your recent investigation – they asked me if I knew of any rogue guildsmen, and I told them your friend was trying to find one. But I left you out of it.”

Beauceron sat forward on the couch. “When? When did you tell them, Alexei?”

“The day he visited the station.”

Beauceron stood up, and paced for a minute, lost in thought. “But they didn’t pick him up.”

“What do you mean?”

“They would have been following us, surveilling us. They would have figured out who he was, and who he was going after. But they didn’t capture him. They’re gambling that he will lead them to her as well.” He looked up at Rozhkov. “And he is.”

“He’s going to find the other one, the one that went rogue?”

“Yes. He’s headed to New Liberia, to try to break her out of that penal colony – that’s why I wanted to stop him.” Beauceron turned and strode into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Alexei asked, following.

“I have to find him and stop him … and try to warn him,” Beauceron said, pulling a suitcase out of his closet. “I made him wear a tracker bracelet on his ankle, so I’d always know where he is. I might be able to catch up to him before it’s too late, and convince him to turn himself in for his own safety. Alexei, I know I’ve broken the law, and you should arrest me right now, but there’s still a chance I can salvage this. If I can find him, you’ll be able to mount a case against the Guild with his testimony.”

Rozhkov pulled out his phone and activated the screen.

“What are you doing?” Beauceron asked.

“Buying us tickets to New Liberia,” Rozhkov said.

“No, Alexei – stay out of this. If you get involved, they’ll arrest you for it, too. If the Guild doesn’t kill us first.”

“It’s no more than I deserve,” Rozhkov grunted. “And you’re going to need some help.”

Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from
Rath's Reckoning
, Book Three in
The Janus Group
series:

The automatic doors slid open, and Beauceron stepped into the parking lot of the spaceport rental center, squinting to protect his eyes from the swirling dust. He had never really considered Alberon a particularly humid planet, but New Liberia’s arid climate made him realize just how comfortable his home was. He found Rozhkov standing by their suitcases, and showed him the keys to their rental air car.

“Good,” Rozhkov told him, shutting down his holophone. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“They have what we need?”

Rozhkov nodded. They found the air car parked three rows away – Rozhkov loaded the suitcases in the trunk while Beauceron took the pilot’s seat. Beauceron noticed the car’s hoverjet intakes were rusting, but when he ran the programmed pre-flight sequence, the vehicle started up readily. He turned on his datascroll and opened up the location tracking app, searching for the ankle cuff he had forced Rath to wear.