Hearts Akilter (7 page)

Woodridge nodded.

“I would never have guessed.”

“Marlene?”

“Ma’am?”

“Deacon said he slept off the liquor here, in your quarters.” She looked about the unfurnished room.

If Deacon had revealed that to Woodridge, he still trusted her. Yet, every instinct she had screamed not to trust Woodridge.

Marlee cleared her throat. “Yeah, I hauled him here and let him snore away on the deck.”

“You also exchanged one of your med vials for his.”

“Oh, that. Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“I was feeling groggy because of the liquor I had consumed, and fatigue was settling in. Sickbay was way too far away to go, and his condition, at least to me, didn’t seem like an emergency-emergency. Besides, the man wasn’t cooperating. I had no idea where he lived. If I had, I would have hauled his ass to his place and dumped him there.” She shrugged. “It just seemed prudent to go home and worry about things come the morrow. Which is today.”

“And you’ve slept the day through?”

“Don’t I wish.” Now why had she said that?

The look on Woodridge’s face and the tilt of her head said she was eager to know what lay behind the comment.

“Ma’am, Deacon woke around 0600 and made a racket. He had to piss and didn’t know where the head was. Then he wanted to know where he was and how he got here. I filled him in, even told him about his arm and how I gave him one of my partly-used vials, which he needed to replace in a day or so.”

“When did he leave?”

“I have no idea. I went back to sleep. I didn’t hear him leave.”

“By any chance did he mention a bomb?”

Marlee flashed her lenses to mimic shock and concern. “No. Why?”

“It’s likely nothing, but in his current state, he imagines he’s found a bomb.”

Marlee schooled her voice. “Really?”

Woodridge nodded. “Commander Asuka, who is Deacon’s best friend, thinks Deacon may have made a bomb and planted it somewhere on the station so he could disarm it, but actually he would trigger it and kill himself.”

Marlee fought a wave of shock and took pains to school her voice. “Why would Deacon do that?”

“Because stress has addled his thinking. Look, Marlene, eighteen months ago he fell victim to a sadistic bomber named Yokovnin. That terrorist took perverse pleasure in sending Deacon bombs. Inside the bombs were clues to where Yokovnin would strike next. The stress and pressure took its toll.” More softly, she said, “Deacon has been reassigned, demoted to an instructor…”

Marlee picked up her mug, took a few swallows of her tepid coffee, which only settled her nerves a fraction, then set the mug down. All the while, she was aware of Woodridge studying her.

“Marlene?”

“Ma’am?”

Woodridge’s voice softened. “I was once in love with Deacon. It was a long time ago. We are friends. I hate seeing him like this.” She got to her feet. “To protect him from more scrutiny, I came here to return your ID pip. No one but you and I know about it. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The pip was in an inside pocket, not on the outside, of the hoodie Deacon wore, and which, I presumed from its size, he stole from you. Commander Asuka hasn’t realized the hoodie doesn’t belong to Deacon. I’m sure you don’t want to come under one of Asuka’s inquisitions, do you?”

“Certainly not!”

“Knowing Deacon as I do, well, I figured he kept the pip hidden to protect his paramour.”

“Hey, I hardly know the man!”

“I realize that. You’re a fine tech, with an enviable record. An asset to Kifel.”

Why was there an undercurrent of a warning in those words?

Politely, Marlee said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“If anyone questions you about your pip, would you let me know?”

Fear slashed at Marlee’s gut. “Is that likely?”

“No telling. Asuka’s got every available Guardian and security unit tracking down Deacon’s activities since he arrived on Kifel. Teams are covertly scouring the station for a bomb.”

“Such a calamity.”

Woodridge nodded. “Shall I keep you posted on Deacon’s condition?”

Skom, did Woodridge want confirmation there was more going on between her and Deacon? Well, the woman was in for a letdown. “No, ma’am. Don’t bother. I seem ill-fated to cross paths with way too many weirdoes. So, the less I know, the better off I am.”

Woodridge almost grinned, and with, “Enjoy the rest of your day off,” she left.

After the door snicked shut, Marlee trembled with relief. By the time she deposited her mug and the one Woodridge had used, her hands stopped shaking.

When she let Henry out of the closet, the robot rolled past her and pivoted around. He kept his voice low. “Marlee, what are we to do now?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s review what we know, see what our options are, maybe make a plan or two…or three…”

****

Deacon sat on his narrow bed and watched his hospital cell door open.

Henry trundled in, a med-tray in one hand. Dangling from his other appendage was a black cloth bag stenciled with a white smiley face.

The robot stopped at his bedside. “Good evening, Deacon.”

“It’s not a good evening.”

“Affirmative. Yes. Due to your present circumstances, you would conclude it is not a good evening. Rest assured, I shall not be long. I am here to change your burn dressing.”

“Swap vials is what you really mean.”

“Affirmative. Yes. Please cooperate.”

“Do I have a choice? No, don’t answer that.” He stuck out his arm and pulled the sleeve of his hospital pajamas back, revealing the cylinder.

When the robot completed his task, he removed the black bag and handed it to Deacon.

Deacon took the bag, which wasn’t heavy. “What’s this?”

“Patients often become bored when hospitalized. Since you are not permitted the stimulation or stress of a vid-link to movies, news, and other entertainments, I have brought you something.”

“I’m not bored.” He was still angry about Nick not believing him. But Henry had a point. Boredom would set in sooner not later. He reached into the bag and pulled out a glossy black and chrome tablet. “Great. I get to bore myself reading.”

“Negative. No. I personally loaded games for you that will sooth your mind and entertain. Turn the gamepad on.
Try G5.
”

Why had Henry emphasized G5?

Curiosity got the better of him. Deacon tapped the on icon and the screen filled with colored squares, but no start menu. He eyed Henry.

Out of Henry’s mouth came a palm-sized holographic display. Words scrolled.
Marlee gift. Lower right corner. Blue, blue, red, green.
The hologram vanished.

Deacon tapped the squares. The screen flashed to a menu of numbers. He tapped number one. Up came a memo from Marlee. After reading her message, hope and relief filled him. He fought back a grin and looked at Henry to give him Marlee’s code words. “Thank you, Henry.
Bottoms Up
looks like a fine game to start with.”

“Indeed it is.” Henry picked up the med-tray and the empty black bag, then departed.

It took Deacon less than ten minutes to check out the tools and devices Marlee had incorporated into the gamepad.

The next morning, he followed Marlee’s instructions and lied convincingly enough so the CMO believed him when he said the accident with the bomb demonstration had triggered nightmares about Yokovnin that resulted in lack of sleep and less than clear thinking—the result…drinking too much alcohol.

It irked, but before transferring Deacon to a regular room in sickbay for a mandatory two-day rest, the CMO relied on two psych tests and a scheduled meeting with one of the station’s mental-health counselors. Yet, what elated Deacon most was as long as he didn’t try to leave sickbay, he could move about at will.

That night after lights out, Deacon lay in his hospital bed staring at the mottled ceiling. All this mandatory rest and he couldn’t sleep. No, what bothered him was the light spilling in from the hallway.

Out in the corridor beyond his doorway, the brilliant overhead lighting seemed brighter than a summer’s day. A second later, feet first, a man clad all in black, slipped down from his room’s ceiling air vent.

The assassin!

Terror sent Deacon reaching for the gamepad under his pillow to pull off the little welder-weapon Marlee had installed on it.

The assassin soundlessly stepped into the room’s darkest corner and made his way down the narrow room toward Deacon.

As Deacon gripped the little rodgun to pull it free of its moorings, the intruder said in a hoarse whisper, “Relax, Deacon, it’s me, Nick.”

For a second, shock replaced terror, then anger kindled. “Go away, you bastard.”

“Keep your voice down. We need to talk.”

Deacon lowered his voice. “I have nothing to say to you, you traitor.”

“Okay, okay, I made a mistake yesterday. I apologize.”

Commander Nicholas Asuka apologizing? The universe must have turned inside-out. Deacon let go of the little weapon and grabbed his bed’s controller, pushing the button, raising the top of the bed until he was sitting up.

Nick remained in the shadows.

“You know you could have come as a regular visitor. Why the clandestine black and dropping from the ceiling—and the whispering?”

“Visiting hours are over, and I couldn’t risk the hall monitors noting my presence. No one must know I’ve come to see you.”

“Why?”

“Forensics released the incident report on the accident that fried your arm. You were right. Insulation had been filed off a power node. Current discharged directly into a blasting cap, setting off the incendiary. Because the saboteur didn’t take off enough insulation, only one square ignited instead of all four, and you’re alive, not dead.”

“Yesterday, you accused me of deliberately tampering with it, insinuating I was acting out, crying for help because I was mentally unstable, dangerous to myself and others, and had me committed!”

“Would you use a polishing wheel to file insulation off a terminal?”

“What?”

“The lab found particles of the grit.”

“So an amateur mucked up, and now you’re willing to believe I’m not crazy?”

“There’s more. After reading the report, I admit I had second thoughts. I wanted to believe you. I went to your quarters and discovered three sensor bugs.”

“What? Where?”

“One on each exit.”

Which meant—

Deacon softly swore. “What were you thinking, Nick? Now my killer knows you were at my place.”

“Wrong. You know me. Always prepared. I considered that katachin incident of yours and brought along a few detectors. When I found the bugs on the doors, I neutralized them.”

That accounted for the two doors, two bugs.

“You said three bugs, Nick. Where was the third?”

“In the head. A vid-unit. It was aimed at the end of the counter where you keep your burn meds. The perp wanted to watch you poison yourself.”

What a disgusting thought.

“By the way, Deacon, while I was in your quarters, I went through your trash.”

“Why? What were you looking for?”

“Proof you weren’t drinking in excess.”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“JJ said you were hitting the sauce.”

“She’s lying!”

Although the darkness of the shadows hid Nick well, Deacon instinctively knew the man shrugged.

“Deacon, you said you met JJ a few times after you arrived on Kifel, the most recent was for dinner in your quarters, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, during my chat with her yesterday, she said you downed a bottle of wine and passed out.”

“That’s bullshit. Yes, we had dinner, but I didn’t drink the bottle dry.” And then he remembered. “I fell asleep.”

“Not so. You were drugged.”

“How do you know that?”

“You really ought to do a better job of housekeeping before you end up with katachins for roomies.”

“You aren’t my mother or my keeper. And what are you talking about?”

“I had the wine bottle in your trash tested. The wine contained a fast-acting sedative. It’s not logical you would drug your own wine, so—”

“You’re saying JJ did?”

“What better opportunity to inject the poison into your med-vials?”

JJ wanted him dead? Why?

Nick had to be wrong about JJ. She might be ambitious, and once she set her mind to something, nothing could sway her resolve, but to harm him? Want him dead? No way.

And then it came to him. If she were the bomber, she couldn’t risk having a bomb expert like him analyze the bomb fragments and conclude Yokovnin hadn’t created the bomb, but some copycat had. And maybe there was something about the bomb that could be linked to her, so she figured it was too risky to let him live.

With a heavy heart, Deacon said quietly, “Are you going to arrest JJ?”

“Unfortunately, no. There’s no concrete evidence. I did pull JJ’s jacket and did some digging. I think I know who her target is.”

“Who?”

“Doctor Gregory Quaine, a renowned gynecologist-surgeon.”

“Why would she want to kill him?”

“Revenge. He’s been accused of drugging and raping women, including some of his patients. Over the past two decades, he’s been brought to trial twice but never convicted. Seems the charismatic doctor is admired and respected in the medical community. He also has a way with juries, which intimidates his victims. Some settle out of court and sign confidentiality waivers.”

“JJ was never raped.”

“Correct, but her younger sister was. The sister was sixteen and so traumatized by the doctor she was committed to a psychiatric hospital. Even after counseling, she had problems and wouldn’t face the man in court or testify. A year later, she committed suicide.”

“I knew the sister committed suicide, but JJ never gave me any details. Where is this rapist now?”

“He’s heading home to Zwolli. His ship docks here, at Kifel, at 0300 hours this morning. He’ll be in sickbay at 1300 hours for a treatment before he boards a flight that leaves Kifel at 1900 hours.”