Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) (35 page)

Caroline
was gone. Forever. Back there, buried in Tallahassee near her family. Murphy was having a difficult time coping with the thought that he would never again be able to hold her, touch her soft skin, feel her silky hair, taste her lips, smell her perfumed body, hear her voice, enjoy her wit... The loneliness was all enveloping, like the hostile darkness outside the safe confines of the car... sheer agony, a dull auger boring a hole through his chest. He suddenly felt angry. Angry at her for pursuing a story they all knew was trouble. But he didn't expect them to go this far, he didn't expect
trouble
to include murder. He thought more along the lines of censorship, misdirection, lies, character defamation... that was usually the government's way. Not murder, at least not with its own citizens. But then again maybe he'd grown blind to it. After all, being a cop meant you were part of the machine - you got used to thinking that the machine does what's best, that what
you do,
is what's best.

Caroline was honest, with standards and ethics... something that seemed to be missing in today's media, parroting whatever they were fed. Dan learned through her, how much effect the government had in the broadcast news each day, what you could say, what you couldn't. It seemed the freedom of speech was getting to the point that you could speak it only if the government agreed with the content. She happened to work for one of the few networks that actually wanted to report the news as they saw it, but they still had to do that very carefully. The FCC was after all, the government body that granted a network its license... or could revoke it. Basically putting the government in charge of regulating the freedom of the First Amendment. All in the name of what's best for the greater good.

Caroline Murphy only wanted to tell a real story, something that wasn't simply local events, crime or national politics... something that left a lasting mark. Even in college, she'd had that vision. Instead, she
became
the story and it got her killed. Dan Murphy glanced at the gauges and realized he was doing almost a hundred miles an hour. He eased off the pedal and tried to release the death grip he had on the wheel, his knuckles aching. At this time of night, traffic on I-75 South was fairly light and he eyed the passing exit at Archer road to the University of Florida, where they'd met in college. It seemed like everything he saw or thought of, reminded him of her.

There were hundreds of people at the funeral... friends, family, co-workers, the murderer? Murphy knew what she was working on, hell he answered the call that night. He saw it with his own eyes, his dash cam even recorded it. The Feds were in way over their heads, they should have just left the damn thing alone. It was like poking a tank with a toothpick and expecting something other than what they got, their asses stomped. Just plain dumb. That was the trouble with the Feds; they wanted what they wanted and would let neither facts nor common sense deter them. Anyone half blind, deaf and stupid could tell the thing wasn't from this planet, why on God's earth would you
shoot
at it? He concluded it took a very special kind of stupid to decide shooting at it was a good idea.

He was creeping back up on a hundred again and eased off the pedal, relieved that I-75 was mostly straight. OK, so what chance would a Deputy Sheriff have in finding out who killed Caroline? Well, he had some pretty good contacts and some pretty good ideas. He would probably have to call in every favor and marker owed him, but it would be worth it to track down whoever it was. As a good start, the County Sheriff of Dan's department tossed the feds out of the county, something wonderfully unique to the power of the Sheriff.

He knew it had to be one of the feds he met that night. Five minutes, thought Murphy. Just five minutes alone so I could tear his heart out through his chest with my bare hands. The speedometer crept past a hundred and he left it there, he wanted to get home and start laying out his plan of attack, where to start, who to call. The feeling grew like a fever and he raced the unmarked cruiser through the pouring rain without fear. "No place to hide..." he muttered, "I'll find you... And then I'm gonna kill you."

■ ■ ■

Kyle and Lynette's Black Lab, Pete, stomped stiffly to the sliding glass doors, his hair hackled, growling deeply, puffing his chest, increasing his formidable bulk. Kyle looked up from his pancakes at the two men in crisp, black suits standing on the deck, looking in. “I ought to let the dog out to bite these two clowns...” he muttered, rising from the table.

Lynette popped in from the hallway, “What's he growling about? Ahhh,” she added, recognizing agents Mooreland and Whitman. “What on Earth do they want..?”

“To get their asses kicked,” growled Kyle, tossing his napkin on the table in disgust. He pulled Pete back one-handed, slid the door open and stepped onto the deck, barefoot, closing the door behind him. His eyes narrowed, his jaw set, looking like a predatory animal spying a fresh meal. “So, how does it feel to be a low-life murdering piece of shit...?”

“
Listen here,
old man
...” started Whitman.

Kyle raised one eyebrow, recognizing the voice from the phone call. And that was as far as the agent got, his face meeting with Kyle's sizable fist as it shot out from his shoulder like a cannon shell. “I told you once not to call me that,” he breathed, “
I don't like repeating myself
.” Whitman went down like a felled tree, bouncing on the deck with a red splat on his face, semi-conscious. “You need to learn some manners...” Kyle shifted to Mooreland, “You got something to say, be quick about it and be gone.”

Mooreland put his hands out in front of him in a neutral posture. “Believe it or not, we're not your enemy Mr. Steele...”

“That's a matter of opinion... and as far as I'm concerned, your opinion doesn't matter. So get to the point or get lost.”

“
First, I wanted to say, to my knowledge no one from my unit had anything to do with the accident with the newswoman...” He could tell Kyle wasn't convinced, but it was worth a try. “And, it seems we've worn out our welcome with the Sheriff. Our unit has been asked to leave...”

Kyle grinned evilly, “You've been thrown out of the county, how nice. Kudos to the Sheriff for his show of balls.”

“But I'm sure we'll see each other again,” said Mooreland, attempting a friendly posture. “I'm really hoping I get to meet your son, Jack, some day...”

“
I'd be careful what you wish for, if I were you,” sneered Kyle.

“
I would
just
like to meet him,” promised Mooreland, “we missed him when his ship picked up your daughter...”

Kyle raised one eyebrow, “You
do
understand what you're dealing with,
don't you?”

“
Of course...”

“
I don't think you do...” Kyle responded, “You are out of your league, Mooreland...
way out.
That wasn't my son's ship, that was
much
too small.”

“
Really?” the agent's brow furrowed. “Interesting. You saw the video, how big did that look to you?”

'Three-hundred feet or so.”

“Good estimate,” confirmed Mooreland. “So your son's ship is bigger... how big are we really talking then?”

“
Think
aircraft carrier,”
replied Kyle. “Think total and absolute destruction of anything in orbit, in the air or on the ground. At will. And without opposition. Think scorched earth.” Mooreland didn't reply, just stared at Kyle, with a deer in the headlights look. “So you might want to rethink your approach, your attitude, your actions... because the meeting you seek might come in a form you, your agency, or this government, are
not ready
to experience.”

Whitman sat up covering his bloody face with his hands, “I think he broke my nose, Doug...”

“Shut up, Pete.” He redirected his attention back to Kyle, the enormity of what he was hearing numbing him. He did think for a moment that the old man might be toying with him, feeding him a line of bullshit, but all his training told him that what he was hearing was the truth. And that kind of worried him. “So... whose ship was it then?”

“
Another ship in his fleet. Someone he trusted.”

“
Fleet?!”
The agent's eyes went wide with surprise. The thought of an entire fleet had never occurred to him. And
worried
started shifting towards frightened.

“
Fleet,” replied Kyle, matter of factly. “Again, you're in
so far
over your head...”

“
Yeah, I get it.” But it was still sinking in.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

FREEDOM, VELORA PRIME SYSTEM:
BOOTS ON THE GROUND

In between meals, the galley was empty and Jack sat alone except for Fritz, his back against the wall in the corner with his feet up on a neighboring chair. His e-Pad on his lap, he reviewed the gear and personnel logs for the ground mission to Veloria. Two flights of four fighters went out ahead of the task force to scout the sector and the planet, while the Archer and Bowman launched their unmanned scout drones. They were going to be stationary for a while, flying a slow orbit around Veloria and they needed eyes on whatever came into the system early. Surprises could prove fatal if they were caught, what combat pilots referred to as,
low and slow
.

And then there was the message that Duncan Taylor had brought back with him from the Conquest... His brother Alex had heard a rumor of a bounty offered by the pirates. But it wasn't clear who the bounty was for. The task force? Admiral Kelarez? It might explain some of the direct confrontations with them. Normally, they hit soft targets, they didn't go out of their way to engage military targets, there was no profit involved with that...

“Pudding?”

“
Huh?” His attention snapped from his thoughts, Jack looked up at Marna, the Freedom's Chef, standing with two cups of pudding in her hands. “Chocolate?” he asked.

“
Is you favorite, is it not?” Marna was a rather small, odd looking woman with shiny gray skin and deep-set glassy eyes. And she could cook like the dickens.

“
You bet,” he replied with a grin, his mouth already anticipating the creamy dessert as she slid the cup and spoon over in front of him.

Fritz sat in expectation, his tail swaying, brushing back and forth across the floor. His head tilted to one side, “Mine?”

“Yes, Mr. Fritz,” she replied, stooping to hold the cup for him, “this one yours.” His tongue worked better than any spoon and his eyes closed as he methodically lapped the creamy pudding from the cup. “He likes, very much...” commented the Chef. “unusual, no?”

“
No,” replied Jack shaking his head as he licked his spoon clean. “He likes everything,” he chuckled.

Jack's earpiece chirped in his ear. “Jack, you got your ear on?”

“Excuse me Ms. Marna...” he said pointing at his earpiece. She nodded and playfully patted the Shepard on the head, clearing the empty cup off the table, heading back to her food preparation. “I'm here, go ahead Walt.”

“
Have you seen the patrol report updates?”

“
No, what's up?”

“
The sectors are clean so far, but there's something odd about Veloria...”

“
What's that?” he asked, paging to the incoming patrol notes on his e-Pad.

“
There's supposed to be a station in this system, and by all accounts it's supposed to be near the planet...”

Jack found what he was looking for and began to review the notes. “And they can't find it... that's not good.”

“Understatement of the year, my boy.”

“
Well, how big was it? Was it a mobile station, like Resurrection? Could it have been towed away or drifted off position? ”

“
No, it was a marketing and trade station with repair docks, warehousing, residential suites and military offices...”

“
No debris fields anywhere?”