Overdrive (3 page)

“Well I wasn’t
cheating on you. Well, at least until I met him. And he seduced me," said
Lucy, her voice rising an octave and nervously pointing an accusing finger in
Logan’s direction.

“What!," a
startled Logan exclaimed.

“You just shut
your fucking mouths. Just shut them," said Mr. Trollope to the room in
general.

Lucy, realizing
that the scene was deteriorating and that someone was shortly going to have a
large hole in them, attempted to defuse the situation.

“Baby," she
said, looking at her husband, “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The large cannon
pointing at her wavered. “Put the gun down baby. I love you so much."

Logan used the
distraction to fire his biodart. It struck Mr. Trollope in the neck who
staggered back, clutching his neck and roaring like a sea lion, simultaneously
firing his plasma cannon. The bolt, largely unaimed, struck the floating AG
light fixture which exploded, raining fragments down upon the occupants of the
room. The remnants of the light fixture struck the bed with a crash. Logan
rolled and narrowly avoided getting pummeled. He sat up and looked around. Mr.
Trollope was slumped in one corner while Mrs. Trollope appeared to have fainted
in the other. Gathering up his coverall, Logan bolted for the door.

“How the fuck do I
get myself into these situations?," he muttered to himself.

Attracting a few
curious glances as his ran down the corridor, Logan finally stopped and began
pulling on his coverall, removing his naked butt from general view.

“Four years
fucking military training, five years service, ten covert combat assignments
and this is what I end up doing."

A woman walking
past veered away from the strange, mostly naked man talking to himself.

Badly needing a
drink, Logan ordered a cart. Arriving one minute later, he clambered in.

“The Listing Ship,
Churchill plaza” he told it and sat back. Just in time too. A cart filled with
security droids was making its way down from the opposite end of the corridor.
The corridor, 20 meters wide, was host to a variety of people, some walking,
and some like him, riding in carts. Weaving in and out of traffic, Logan’s cart
took 5 minutes to reach the plaza. Churchill plaza was about 150 meters in
diameter carved out of the solid rock of Coleridge Asteroid. Filled with
people, mostly tourists by the look of them, the plaza was surrounded by
buildings with facades based on 18
^th
century English architecture.

The cart dropped
him outside one of the buildings, a Pub displaying a sign showing an old
English Galley in the process of sinking. Watched for long enough, the sign
would go through a whole cycle of sailing and then sinking ship in about 30
seconds. Logan, having been bored by it many times before, went straight in.
His military training kicked in and he gave the bar a quick scan before heading
to his accustomed spot in the corner. A good looking brunette woman sitting at
the bar by herself gave his lean six foot figure an appraising glance and
flashed a smile at him as he sat down in a darkened corner and ordered
Copifilian Whiskey from the serving droid. Gulping his drink, certain parts of
his anatomy compelled him to return the woman’s smile even though his brain was
telling him to avoid entanglements – at least for a little while.

He ordered a
second whiskey and slowly sipping it, was informed by his AI that he had a call
coming in. Logan recognized the icon. It was his boss.  Ex-army Major Big Al
Fletcher. Big Al had recruited him into his investigation practice 2 months ago
after Logan had been told that “his services were no longer required," by
Unamuno’s military intelligence division.

Closing one eye,
Big Al’s holo representation filled half his vision. Big Al appeared as an
imposing bull necked individual with a shaven skull. A prominent large black
and bushy handlebar mustache completed the look.

“Captain,"
said Big Al by way of greeting.

“Major”

“I’ve had a very
disgruntled customer on the line Logan."

“Oh?,"
replied Logan, feigning surprise.

“Spare me the
shit, you know exactly who I’m talking about”

“Good news
obviously spreads fast." Not surprising really. If someone he hired had
fucked his wife and shot him with a biodart, he’d probably complain as well.

“What the fuck do
you think you were doing?," the representation of Al’s face shouted at
him.

Logan suppressed
the urge to shrug or smile and failed abysmally. “Well, shagging his wife
actually."

“Does that strike
you as the sort of professional behavior that a client would expect from an
Investigative agent hired from my agency?” Logan got the impression that Big Al
was a bit miffed.

“I guess not. No,"
he replied.

“Yeah, well. Lucky
for you, security has reported that he didn’t have a license for that big ass
plasma cannon so he’s not going to press charges. No wonder you got kicked out
of Military Intelligence. I hired you because, apart from that one little incident,
you were regarded as a top Intelligence operative.”

“Flattery will get
you everywhere."

 “Whatever. I want
you to take a holiday. As of now. And don’t come back until you’ve got your
head sorted out."

“Paid?”

“What?”

“Do I get paid
while I’m on this little holiday?”

“Don’t press your
fucking luck. You’re lucky I don’t fire your arse." With that, Big Al cut
the connection, leaving Logan with his all but empty glass of whiskey.

“Bollocks."

12.30pm. Logan
decided it wasn’t that much fun drinking by himself. Contemplating and then
discarding the idea to go sit with the brunette, Logan decided that it was much
more entertaining to try and corrupt one of his friends. He placed a call to
Felix. Instead of his friend’s icon appearing, a large blue C representing
Coleridge’s central AI materialized.

“I’m sorry,"
it said, “the person you are trying to reach is no longer registered with me.
Please check your eddress and try again.”

Odd. Logan queried
his AI. He had got the eddress correct. Felix and Logan had been friends since
school and had gone through University together. In all that time, Logan
couldn’t remember receiving that message before. Coleridge’s AI was capable of
tracking down any of its citizens and locating them providing you could access
the correct codes. With his years spent in Intelligence, Logan still possessed
most of the programs and tracking hardware that were required.

Firing the code to
Coleridge, he waited for a few seconds while his clearance was approved and
then made his request.

“Location of Felix
Teppitt."

“That person is no
longer resident on this Asteroid."

Most odd.  Felix’s
apartment wasn’t too far from Churchill plaza. Logan decided it might be
prudent to go and have a look around. Using his AI to shunt over the credits to
the bar for his drinks and with a final grin at the brunette who was looking
decidedly lonely, walked out of the Listing Ship and hailed a cart.

Driving up to
Felix’s apartment, Logan passed three men heading in the other direction. Sensing
trouble his body immediately tensed up. Wearing the sword insignia of the
Knights Templar on their sleeves, the trio spared Logan a quick look and then
continued past. Curiouser and curiouser. The Knights Templar were the file and
rank of the Areopagites. A fairly rare sight in the Camus system. 

Getting out of the
cart and walking up to the apartment door, Logan used his personal entrance
code that Felix had provided. It was declined. He ordered his AI to bring his
Burglar program on line. Highly illegal or highly essential – depending on what
side of the law you were on – the Burglar program was capable of getting past
most low level security guardians. The door silently slid open.

About to step
inside, Logan felt a tap on his shoulder. Whirling, his little finger extended,
Logan found himself facing the three Templars. Normally his AI would announce
proximity long before anyone could get close but Templars were renowned for
possessing advanced electronic countermeasures.

The three men,
similar in appearance to be brothers, were all blond, good-looking and six foot
tall. All three were dressed in blue uniforms and carried sword and plasma
guns. Templars were the Areopagite’s enforcers and had to go through a rigorous
selection process. Known as the accepted route to becoming an angel, the
Knight’s Templar must serve of at least 10 years. Even then, elevation to Angel
status was not guaranteed.

The Templar who
had tapped him on the shoulder and who was the target of Logan’s little finger,
addressed him, seemingly undisturbed by the digit pointed in his direction.
Three pips on his shoulder identified him as a Captain.

“Captain Logan
Pope?”

Logan nodded,
still holding his finger outstretched.

“Please remove
your finger from my face," said the Templar nodding at Logan’s finger.

“ Sorry. Reflex."
Logan dropped his arm.

“Allow me to
introduce myself. I am Knight’s Captain Tynan. I believe you are an associate
of Felix Teppitt?”

Logan nodded
again. “What’s all this about”?

“We need to speak
to Mr. Teppitt in regards to some information of ours that he possesses.”

“What sort of
information?."

“That’s between Mr.
Teppitt and ourselves. Do you know of his whereabouts”?

Guy had a bad
attitude. Logan, feeling his body tense up even more, tried to consciously
relax.  “No. And even if I did, I doubt whether I’d tell you."

“That would be
unwise Captain Pope. The Areopagite’s are not known for their understanding of
interlopers in Church business."

“I’m not
interloping. Felix is my friend and as far as I know isn’t involved in any of
your so called ‘Church Business’.”

The Templar
frowned. “Nevertheless, if you receive any communication from him, it would be
in your best interests to contact us."

“Are you
threatening me?”

“Yes."
Captain Tynan’s frown deepened.

“Gracious. Best I
tell you where he is right now then." Who said sarcasm was the recourse of
the weak mind. Logan thought it was underrated.

Captain Tynan
leant closer to Logan. “Don’t fuck with us Mr. Pope," he said quietly.

“Wouldn’t dream of
it. I prefer woman. And its Captain Pope."

“Not from what
I’ve heard," the Templar said snidely. “I believe you are no longer with
Military Intelligence."

“Surprisingly well
informed for a bunch of religious morons aren’t you?” Logan thought that the
situation was about to kick off as Captain Tynan obviously struggled to
maintain control. The other Templars looked at their Captain but a slight shake
of his head caused them to relax.

“Remember what I
said Pope. If you find your friend, your first call should be to us."
Logan’s AI reported that he had received the Templar’s eddress. He toyed with
the idea of returning the address to sender out of general vindictiveness but
was pretty sure that would lead to violence.

The Knight Captain
turned and began walking off. His two men lingered for a bit longer and glared
at Logan.

“Can I help you?”
he asked innocently, smiling at the Areopagite’s.

Saying nothing,
the two men glowered impotently, turned and followed their Captain down the
corridor.

Logan stood for a
moment, watched them go and then entered Felix’s apartment. It was trashed.
Spending a couple of minutes looking around, he could see no sign of Felix –
not that he really expected to. There were no obvious blood stains, no
indications of a fight, and with all the mess, it was hard to tell whether Felix
had ventured back to hurriedly pack. Starting to get disturbed, not only by the
state of his apartment but also by his encounter with the Templar’s, Logan
ordered his AI to bring the higher order search programs on line. Feeding in
Felix’s physical characteristics, he ordered his AI to find a match, or
anything close in the asteroids records from the last 24 hours.

Coleridge reported
it had 12 close matches. Logan requested a visual, and the asteroid showed him
various people matching Felix’s basic physical dimensions. He scrolled through
the first 10 without any joy. The 11
^th
displayed a man walking out
of a StarCruise office. Red hair, 3 inches taller and with a bigger nose and a
moustache, Logan had to play it back again to make sure. It was Felix alright.
The walk gave it away. He doubted anyone who didn’t know Felix personally would
have spotted it, assuming they had access to the same military tracking program
that he did.

Recognizing the
StarCruise company, Logan placed a call, and handing over his security
clearance, received a report on Felix’s  (now known as Horace Belloc) destination. Interesting. The StarCruise Hedonist ship the
Dirty Little Minx
, had left port
3 hours ago. He’d need a fast ship to catch it. Only one of his friends had
access to one, and the Chocolate Avenger would doubtless be busy.