Three for the Money A Sequel to "The Faithful" by Jules PART FIVE   Twenty-One Warm moisture soaked through Riddick’s shirt where Jack pressed her face to his chest. She twisted her fingers into the already wrinkled material, squeezing almost painfully as she pulled herself close. Trembling against him, she sobbed quietly, her breath hitching in her throat. He felt like a bastard, laying that on her tonight. He wanted to say something to her. Later. Things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better. Dividing his attention wasn’t going to help. They were far from safe. But just now they were a hell of a lot closer to it than Marlene Castor. He glanced up at her as he wrapped his left arm around Jack’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze that he hoped was comforting. Marlene stood on the other side of Mackey, her eyes flitting to each of them. Her outward composure had returned and she held it up like a wall as Virgil moved toward her, skirting the armed and dangerous. “Marlene?” “He’s lying,” she said evenly. Jack stiffened as though she’d been shot through with a jolt of electricity. She released Riddick and he caught the bright glint of tears as she spun to face Virgil. It occurred to Riddick that it might be a good idea to hold onto her. He reached out, gently snagging her arm. She didn’t seem to notice. “You told me she called the hotel.” Each word was pronounced precisely, as though she wanted to make sure they’d understand. “You said that everything was okay. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t just fucking stop and think about it hard enough because I /believed/ you! You asshole!” Her eyes flashed as they fixed on Marlene. “Why?” she asked. Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat impatiently. When Marlene didn’t reply she continued, her voice cold and flat. “Talk,” she said. “Or so help me I will twist your fucking head off.” “Jackie!” snapped Virgil. He looked sorry the instant he’d done it. His eyes darted to Riddick, who guessed that the grave set of his features wasn’t what Virgil was hoping to find. Good. Screw him. Maybe he wasn’t in it as deep as the Castor woman but he sure as shit knew something. Riddick suspected that cowering in the parking lot, the man really hadn’t thought Jack was in any danger. But what kind of son of a bitch stood by and watched a man threaten his own daughter? That’s right, you morally upstanding bastard. You tell him. “You want me to be polite?” Jack shouted. “Fuck you!” She seemed to notice Riddick’s hold on her for the first time and pulled away. He let her go and she moved toward Marlene, who came up against the wall trying to keep space between them. Mackey tensed but stayed put. “I can’t talk about this,” said Marlene. “This?” asked Virgil, panic rising in his eyes. “What this? What the hell is going on? Did you know that people were trying to kill my daughter?” “They weren’t,” she said. “It’s a lie.” “Maybe this is just a big misunderstanding,” said Virgil, glancing around hopefully. Riddick wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “Yeah, that guy was going to misunderstand her to death,” Riddick said plainly. “And you would know, is that it?” Marlene shot back. “Mr. Riddick, the only killer in that parking lot was you.” It took a second, but understanding crept it’s way into Virgil’s expression. Way back when, Riddick had made a name for himself in this part of the galaxy. He almost laughed. The galaxy. Big, important man. Get over yourself. Not now, though, because confused or scared stupid, Virgil would probably cooperate. Marlene was no idiot, though. And if she was scared she wasn’t letting it show. She would try to find a way to use this against him. “Holy Christ,” said Virgil, gaping at Riddick. He moved to take Jack by the arm but she dodged him. “At least he’s honest about what he is,” Jack scowled. “Can’t say the same about either of you.” “Jackie, Honey.” Virgil swallowed loudly, tried again to pull her toward him and failed. “He’s wanted for murder.” “Not anymore,” Jack replied flatly. “Sending out a memo doesn’t change anything,” said Marlene. Jack’s eyes narrowed and she launched herself forward. It wasn’t a good swing but she still connected with enough force to slam Marlene back against the wall and nearly send her sprawling. “You don’t know shit, lady.” The shock faded quickly and Marlene resumed her calm with an ease that even Riddick had to admire. “I know that he killed someone tonight. Right in front of me.” Riddick scowled. He started it! He doubted that the cops on Terra-Luna respected playground rules when it came to homicide. Gaping like a landed fish, Virgil glanced from one woman to the other. “I don’t even know where to start.” Pressing a finger to his ear, Mackey frowned and cut off any forthcoming replies. “We need to speed this up or take it elsewhere.” “I’m not going anywhere with you,” said Marlene. Sidestepping Jack, Virgil made a move toward Marlene. Riddick deterred him with a warning glare. “Take her.” Mackey reached out quickly, clamping a hand on Marlene’s arm. “Ma’am,” he said in remarkably soft, pleasant voice. “I’d rather this didn’t have to involve any further physical violence.” Jack’s knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists. “I’ve got no problem with it.” “Where are you taking me?” “Away from here,” said Riddick. “And if your old man wants you back with all your fingers and toes, he’ll keep his distance until we’ve had plenty of time to sort things out.” “You wouldn’t dare.” He almost laughed right in her face but damned if any of this was the least bit funny. Say she told them everything they wanted to know. Even a good look at the big picture wouldn’t give him a clue as to how they were going to deal with it. “Let’s go.” Mackey led the way, guiding Marlene by an arm as they marched down the hall toward the elevator. Jack took her place in the middle with a glance back at Riddick and Virgil, bringing up the rear. They descended to the ground floor in silence and Riddick watched Jack in the polished surface of the doors. She leaned into a corner, staring at the floor and twisting a lock of loose hair around her fingers. Without lifting her head she reached out with her free hand and set it on his arm, giving a gentle squeeze. He wondered if he would still be forgiven after she’d had a chance to catch her breath. The small procession crossed the lobby and halted at the rear entrance as Mackey lifted a hand. “Clear,” he said after a short pause. There were only three cars in the tiny parking lot, one of them the little black ride they’d borrowed from Lonnie Fenster. The door slid open as they approached and Mackey helped Marlene into the back. Less gently, Riddick sat Virgil in the middle, then slid in beside him. Three across was probably asking too much of the car and he was forced to pick his arm up and set it along the back of the seat to make room. Marlene shifted as far away as she could to avoid his hand, pressing against the dark, padded wall. Virgil didn’t complain and Riddick didn’t have to tell him tough shit. So far, so good. Mackey gave Jack a hand into the passenger seat and slipped behind the wheel. Jack reached down in front of her and slammed the seat back along its rails as hard as she could, squashing it against Marlene’s knees and making her cry out. “Oops,” Jack said, inching the seat forward again. The car hummed softly as Mackey eased it into the street. He kept clear of main streets, leaving the residential area behind. The buildings became taller as they drew closer to the center of town. They passed a sprawling, three-story structure with the biggest parking lot Riddick had seen on Terra-Luna and a queue of cabs and buses lining the sidewalk. A large sign high on the outer wall said GRIMALDI’S in luminous, blue letters, and further down, arched neatly over an entrance SERENITY MALL was spelled out in neat, glowing script. He glanced at Jack, sitting stony-faced in the front seat. Maybe he would take her shopping when they were through dealing with the shadowy world of corporate crime. Girls liked shopping, right? Next to all this, standing outside a changing room door holding a purse wouldn’t faze him at all. The streetlights outlined Jack’s profile as she turned to Mackey and broke the silence. “Who the hell are you?” “Garvin Mackey,” he said. “I’m a private investigator.” “Why are you here?” She glanced back at Riddick and he tapped Mackey’s seat. “Go ahead,” he said. Then he turned a pointed stare on Marlene. “We all might as well start talking.” She glared at him across Virgil, who looked as though he wanted nothing more than to sink into the leather and disappear. “Donald Castor hired me to find you, Ms. Weller,” Mackey began. “Under the pretense that he was acting on your father’s behalf and that both of them were concerned for your welfare. Naturally I’ve now got some serious doubts regarding Mr. Castor’s intentions.” Jack jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve got some serious doubts about his, too.” Beside Riddick, Virgil sagged farther into the seat. “So you’re helping us out of the goodness of your heart?” Jack asked. “Something like that, yes.” “So what are we doing now?” She looked back at Riddick again. Her eyes still shone with repressed tears and he resisted the urge to reach out and wipe them away before they had the chance to gather and fall. He wished for something to clean the streaked makeup from her face. “We’re taking a little drive while Marlene tells us a story,” he said. “She’s going to tell us what the hell’s so important that her old man decided to kill us. I mean, he’s a big, important guy, he sure wouldn’t want to risk getting involved in this kind of thing over something small. Now me, I’m a whole other story...” He turned a heavy-lidded gaze on her and hitched up one corner of his mouth. “It don’t take much for me.” “You don’t scare me,” she hissed. “I can try harder.” “Let’s start at the beginning,” said Mackey. “Ms. Weller, you ran away shortly after your grandfather passed away, correct?” Jack nodded. “Before the will was read?” “Yeah,” she said. “I knew about the money, though. Dad’s money. He kept telling me he would share it with me if I’d stay and make nice with him until I was old enough to move out on my own legally. Tells you something that it wasn’t worth millions to stick around.” “Then the will was read and Jackson Weller’s wishes were made public enough for Donald Castor to know who he was going to have to deal with. Problem was, your dad didn’t have legal control of the company shares and you were nowhere to be found, so it was all up in the air. If you didn’t return to claim your inheritance, the shares would probably have gone back to the company and been sold off.” “Then why didn’t he just let that happen?” asked Jack. “I wasn’t planning on coming back.” Mackey shook his head. “He didn’t know if you’d change your mind before the time limit was up. Also, when the shares reverted to the company, current shareholders and employees would be given first crack at them. He wouldn’t have been able to get a hold of enough to do him any good.” He turned onto the road that skirted the mall’s perimeter. “I’m not sure whether he really did intend for me to find you and bring you back here, or there was supposed to be an accident along the way. Or heck, even a blatant attempt on your life. Whatever it was, it was fouled up when I went to check up on you in Port Safi and you weren’t there.” Riddick couldn’t suppress a smile. He and Marty had landed in Port Safi about an hour and a half before Jack’s shuttle touched down. The arrangements were made that would release the Tolliver to Cappy when the Death Maiden finally made its way to New Tangier and Riddick was checked into a hotel and out of sight, leaving Marty to keep an eye out for Jack. And, he presumed, Reggie. The cops had shown up and spirited Jack away before Bender could make contact, though, and Marty had been forced to lay down a shitload of cash in bribes to find out why. That information led them to the lawyer, who they’d had no trouble spotting on his way to the Port Authority building. A right hook and a change of clothes later, Marty had marched straight in with his shiny new briefcase and marched straight out again with Jack. “I still don’t know,” frowned Mackey, “whether the crash was pure coincidence or engineered, somehow.” “Marlene,” said Riddick. “Care to fill us in?” “I think you’re all insane.” “But you think it’s a possibility?” asked Jack, ignoring her. “You think that if he found a way her mean old man would have crashed that whole ship to get rid of me?” “After recent developments, I sure wouldn’t put it past him,” said Mackey. “We’re insane?” Jack said, leaning around the seat to glower at Marlene. “I’d feel all important if it didn’t make me sick. Okay, okay, so he kills me. Then what? I couldn’t even find out the status of my inheritance without making an appointment since Daddums here tied it up with red tape.” “That was probably their idea. With your father’s protest in place, awaiting a hearing to either declare you dead or delinquent, the shares would be frozen. They wouldn’t belong to Castor, and he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on them until the resolution, but no one else would be able to, either.” Virgil’s face reddened. “I’m not an idiot!” he shouted. “I think I would know if all this was going on behind my back.” “Dad, you saw boobs and dollar signs, no way in hell was anything else going to edge its way in there.” “Jackie Marie!” “Stop talking to me like I’m a child,” said Jack. “Maybe that astonishing development will help get my mind off the fact that you’ve been living with someone who’s in on a plot to have me killed.” Out of steam as fast as he’d built it up, Virgil’s shoulders slumped and he fell silent. “So Dad has me declared...whatever, and contests the will...” “With a little help from some well-paid lawyers that he can’t afford, provided by Mr. Castor.” “He gets the shares, he marries Marlene or thinks with his dick long enough to just sell them over, and whammo!, Donald Castor becomes even more disgustingly rich.” Jack sighed. “But I made it here.” “With backup,” nodded Mackey. “The kind that I suspect no one would have put you with. I know it threw me off. The whole trip back I tried to track you down, convinced that you’d been kidnapped. All I had was a grainy security photograph of Martin Bender.” Jack winced at the name, her fingers dropping to toy nervously with the hem of her dress. “It wasn’t enough to identify him. That I didn’t manage to do until I got here to Terra-Luna. In fact, I identified both of your companions and suddenly realized that I was not being paid enough for the job.” “What job?” “Getting you away from them.” “Why?” Jack frowned. “Bad influence,” said Riddick. “I was given the pretense that you were under the influence of unsavory characters,” Mackey explained. “When what I’d been told didn’t jibe with what I saw, I began to suspect that Mr. Castor had been misled. When he became overenthusiastic about taking you by force, I suspected worse.” They’d rounded the mall and rejoined the flow of regular traffic on the other side. When Mackey’s explanation didn’t resume, Jack spoke up. “I loved Grandpa Jackson,” she said softly. “More than anything. He was always so nice to me. Spoiled me rotten when I stayed with him and Grandma. Our ancestors built that company right up from the dirt. Underneath it, even. Wellers have held onto it for centuries. But it’s not worth letting my friends get hurt. Or...killed.” She paused, sniffling. “If someone had stopped for just a second before they went through all of this trouble and asked me to sell it, I would have. I’m sorry I let Marty talk me into coming back.” “It was his idea?” Mackey frowned. Marlene straightened just a bit, chewing on her lip. If something in there interested her, it couldn’t be good. “Kind of. I guess. He found the paperwork on the lawyer and explained it to me. Why?” This was heading in a bad but not altogether unfamiliar direction. More than once Riddick had considered the unlikelihood of he and Bender meeting up again the way they had. And the money. Thirty years of military service could land a guy a pretty hefty paycheck and Marty had never been secretive about his finances. But the idea that they hadn’t come together by chance would pop up from time to time and rattle around in his skull until finally he would put it out of his mind. The fact of his freedom had made the source of it seem utterly unimportant. “He was a member of the salvage crew that picked you up--” “It was my decision to come here,” said Jack. “He came with me, not the other way around. Marty would never do anything to hurt me.” “Ms. Weller, I know that--” “No,” she said quickly. She made a warding gesture, as if invisible symbols in the air could keep dark thoughts away. That seemed to shut him down and Riddick was grateful for it. Jack had already been witness to the violent destruction of the illusion of a society-safe Riddick. The last thing she needed was a stranger hacking away at the base of Saint Marty’s pedestal. Shops and restaurants gave way to a long section of grass and trees heated by the rays of skillfully place sunlamps. A block wide and several blocks long, the park served as a buffer between the family-friendly hotels and businesses on the east side and the village of Little Babylon. As they passed the first row of topless prostitutes standing along the sidewalk, Jack made a small, incredulous sound. “Where the hell are we?” “Little Babylon. The Red Light District. The Pavillions of Pleasure,” said Mackey. “Where else can you go that folks’ll think nothing of hearing screams from the next room?” added Riddick. “Gee, Dad, I’ll bet that if we get lost in here you can draw us a map, huh?” “I haven’t been here in years, Jackie.” “And we’re all real proud of you,” she snapped back. “So what are we doing here?” Mackey turned into a small, empty lot and parked. “First,” he said, withdrawing a slender computer case from his inside pocket. He set it on the dashboard and flipped it open, revealing the face of an attractive young woman with dark blonde hair pulled into a neat bun. “Tracking device traced and rerouted, sir,” she said cheerfully. “Thank you, Lusci,” replied Mackey. “Destroy, please. Single pulse.” “May I recommend the lady remove her earrings?” “Ma’am?” Mackey held a hand out to Marlene. She glowered at him briefly, then removed her earrings and dropped them in the center of his palm. Tiny sparks flew between the bright, clear stones and Mackey pocketed them. Virgil snorted and uttered a short, humorless laugh. “They’re telling the truth, aren’t they?” he asked, turning an incredulous gaze on the woman beside him. When she didn’t respond he simply stared, openmouthed for a moment, then, “Is that why you’re with me?” he asked. “Corporate freaking espionage?” “Please, Virgil--” Her voice wavered and for the first time she seemed in serious danger of losing her cool. Riddick couldn’t blame her. Her only ally had turned on her and now she was all alone in a car full of hostile individuals who had just destroyed her last link to the cavalry. “Rehab, school, the job, ‘I love you, Virgil’...any of that not have something to do with Daddy?” Riddick opened his mouth to break up the impending family squabble but Mackey caught his eye and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Riddick held off. “What do you want to hear?” she shouted. “That all of it is meaningless? Yes, we met because I was looking for you but I didn’t clean you up and take you home because Daddy told me to!” “It just happened to work out well for him, is that it?” “He saw the benefits in our relationship, yes,” she agreed. “Nothing more than that?” She lowered her eyes and said nothing. “Nothing more than that?” Virgil repeated. “She had to know about those guys in the parking lot, at least,” said Jack. She clicked open the seatbelt and turned backward in the seat. “But as much as I hate to admit this, I think you’ve been had, too, Marlene. You knew they would be there. You just didn’t know they were going to kill us.” “My father is a lot of things,” said Marlene. “Not all of them are good. But he’s not a murderer. Those men, they were just supposed to scare you.” “If you don’t mind my saying,” Mackey put in. “That doesn’t appear to be the plan, anymore.” Riddick nodded in agreement. “Well,” he said. “The bad guys have a plan. Question is: what the hell is ours?”   Twenty-Two “Whatever it is, we don’t need to talk about it in front of her,” said Jack, nodding toward Marlene. “Just because I don’t want to rip her head off and shit down her throat at the moment doesn’t mean I trust her.” “Good point.” “I mean, what’s to keep her from running to Daddy the second she gets the chance?” asked Jack. “Exactly.” “Can we stuff her in a locker, somewhere?” “No, you can’t,” said Virgil. “I am actually sitting here in the car with you,” scowled Marlene. “Can’t let her go until we’ve gotten ourselves into a defensible position on a couple of fronts,” said Mackey. “We?” Riddick hoisted an eyebrow. “Overdeveloped sense of justice,” he shrugged. “Any chance whatsoever that I can get you all to work with the authorities on this?” “No,” Jack said quickly. When Riddick didn’t say anything, she cast a puzzled glance his way. “No, right?” Mackey’s eyes lit up. “I can help you,” he said. “You’ve got a clean record--” “Unless somebody’s got a good memory, yeah,” replied Riddick. Jack blinked at him. “You’re serious.” “As a heart attack,” he replied. “Would be nice to make the system work for me for a change.” “Explain to me exactly when it was that you lost your damn mind?” Panic knotted her stomach. Of all the rotten times for a bout of lawfulness... Jack glared at Mackey. “What are you trying to do? They’ll arrest him! And you!” She made a frustrated gesture in Riddick’s direction. “Since when did you start trusting the cops?” “Legal channels might be the only way to successfully deal with the situation,” said Mackey. “Why does he talk like that?” Jack asked. “He used to be a cop.” Jack turned a frank gaze on Mackey. “Why aren’t you one anymore?” “I wanted to travel,” he said. “Didn’t like being tied down in one place. Plus a bounty license allows for certain freedoms that law enforcement officers just don’t have. For instance, there’s much less paperwork to do if I’m forced to shoot someone.” “Well, right on,” said Jack. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad. “Though naturally I prefer to avoid violence if at all possible.” “How do you catch violent people, then?” “If I’m lucky, when they least expect it,” he replied with a short laugh. “So why are you helping us, really?” Without a moment’s pause, he replied, “I inadvertently put your life in danger, Ms. Weller. I would appreciate the opportunity to set things right.” Jack met his eyes with as intense a stare as she could muster. “Did you have anything to do with what happened to Marty?” The question didn’t seem to take him by surprise. “Some of my advice may have led to a bit of over-compensation on the part of Mr. Castor’s hired help,” he said. “I did what I could to rectify that.” She waited for him to go on but he fell silent and suddenly found something interesting under one of his fingernails. She thought about asking for something more but it felt wrong. Jack wasn’t sure why but she wanted to know the details. Maybe so she could flog herself with them later. When all of this began to sink in she was going to start crying and not stop for a very, very long time. Jack swallowed loudly and suddenly found herself wishing for a drink. Something stiff. Or maybe a tall glass of milk in Marty’s honor. “Can you prove any of these accusations?” asked Marlene. “Your father was very careful to keep our correspondence within legal parameters,” said Mackey. “So, no.” “Not yet.” Marlene glanced at each of her captors, careful, Jack noted, to avoid looking directly at Virgil. She looked tired and Jack began to feel an inkling of sympathy. Finding out that your old man wasn’t anything like you thought he was could get a girl down. “I want to talk to him,” Marlene said. “No way,” Riddick replied immediately. “You can’t expect me to believe what you’re saying without--” “I don’t give a fuck what you believe, lady,” said Riddick in a low growl. The muscles of his jaw worked and his body filled with a sudden, dangerous tension. “You’re not here to be convinced of anything. You’re not here so we can talk you over to our side. I don’t want you to be my friend. I want someone to hurt if your old man tries anything else.” Jack shuddered. Every instinct she had said he was serious, though she didn’t really need them to tell her that. It was a good idea, taking Marlene. After all, Castor was apparently already willing to kill them. What was he going to do? Really, really kill them? Could she let him do it, though? Some basic part of her felt the need to protect her fellow woman. Of course, the other part wanted to claw Marlene’s eyes out and kick her off an overpass. “There’s a place around the corner called Shibari,” Mackey began. Marlene cut him off. “No.” Smirking, Mackey said, “Now how does a nice, high-society gal like you know what kind of place that is?” “What kind of place is it?” asked Jack. “Bondage club,” Mackey replied. “Really complicated, Japanese stuff.” Jack shot him a look. “The point is,” he said. “They rent rooms by the hour and no one would blink if I brought her in and tied her up for say, five or six hours.” “Detective,” said Jack slowly. “It’s a lonely job, isn’t it?” Mackey shrugged, then frowned as though he’d only just realized what Jack had said. “So you tie her up and then what?” Jack asked, trying to keep a lid on her joy at Marlene’s growing unease. “No offense, pal, I mean you seem like a nice guy and all but I don’t trust you any further than Virgil here can throw you.” “Understood,” Mackey nodded. “None taken. What do you propose, Mr. Riddick?” “I’m not sure.” Jack wondered how the two men had ended up working together. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Mackey had done to earn even a little of Riddick’s trust in so short a time. Unless somehow he knew this guy, too. For a man who’d spent most of his life in prison he sure seemed to know a lot of people. “Have you contacted anyone from the company, yet?” Mackey asked. Jack shook her head. “No,” she said. “I was saving that for tomorrow, after I talked to my dad.” She glanced at Virgil and found him watching her with an odd expression. There was something soft in it that she could only remember seeing once before, at Grandpa Jack’s funeral. But there was fear, too. Was he afraid of her? The influence she had over Riddick? Just hours ago either one would have made her feel magnificent. Now it was just...sad. “I was going to do all the legal stuff tomorrow...today...whatever.” “You still should,” said Marlene. They turned as one to stare at her. She straightened and shifted to the edge of the seat, freeing herself from the space she’d been wedged into between Virgil and the window. “If Virgil drops his suit, your inheritance can be transferred in less than twenty-four hours. Once you’ve taken possession of the money and control of the shares I’ll see to it that my father makes you a reasonable offer.” “I’ll do it, Jackie,” Virgil nodded. “I’ll do it right now if I can.” “You can’t guarantee that,” said Riddick. “I can if you let me talk to him,” Marlene replied. “No,” Riddick shot back. Marlene let out a loud breath. “What are you going to do? Sit right here in this car until he finds you?” ”Maybe.” “Let her call,” said Jack suddenly. “If we can work this out then maybe nobody else has to get hurt.” “They’ll trace the call,” said Riddick. “There are ways around that,” Mackey offered. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Riddick turned an unreadable look on Jack and she shook her head, questioning. The wheels in his head were turning and she prayed he wouldn’t speed off without her. “What?” she mouthed silently. “Pop the hood,” he said to Mackey. Mackey shrugged and did it, then pulled out the ignition chip and handed it over. The chip hung with two other smaller ones on a ring with the body of a woman molded in flesh-colored plastic. She was naked except for the sign she held in front of her that read “Doc Martini’s” in pink neon script. Riddick dropped the chips into his pocket and slid the door open. He gave Jack a quick nod then stepped out and slammed it shut behind him. She tugged at the release while she watched him stride to the front of the car and disappear behind the open hood. Inside the car it had been quiet save for their own voices. Outside was another story altogether. Jack was struck first by the booming beat of music from the building they’d parked behind. It thumped in her chest and shook the pit of her stomach, making her feel exhilarated and a little queasy at once. She stood and let the door fall closed, glancing around before stepping toward the front to join Riddick. His brow was furrowed and his eyes flashed as he paced the small area hidden from the passengers’ view. Maybe it wasn’t the music that was making her feel this way after all. “What are we doing out here?” she asked. “Talking,” he said simply. “Just us, for a minute.” Jack glanced at the car’s exposed innards. The big, red wire that should lead to the battery instead lay across it, disconnected. He followed her gaze. “Being sure,” he said by way of explanation. “Haven’t done a lot of it lately.” “Me neither.” “I know,” said Riddick. “I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault,” she said. “You couldn’t have seen any of this coming. No one could have, I guess.” He stopped gnawing on his lip and fixed her with a mildly disbelieving look. “Okay, I lied, part of it is definitely your fault,” she admitted. “You scared me. A lot. I knew, you know? I did. I had it all worked out. I was okay with it. But then reality was so much...different.” “I wasn’t apologizing for what I did,” he said gravely. “I want to make that clear. Given the same situation I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again.” He paused, scratching absently at his chin. “I am sorry I scared you, though.” “It’s okay,” she said. “I forgive you.” Riddick was silent for a long while and for a moment she was afraid she’d said the wrong thing. Her heart hammered and this time she knew it had nothing to do with the music. His eyes wandered, reflecting the flashing lights on the nearby street. When they settled on her again there were tiny wrinkles at the corners, as though they were trying to smile without help from the rest of his face. “Why?” She thought about it while he leaned against the car and watched her, motionless, like a snake that was trying to figure out which part of her to eat first. Some little bit of her was still afraid but she could feel it growing smaller and smaller, diminished by tonight’s efforts. The surge of terror that had sent her scrambling away from him may have been its last hurrah. “You did it for me,” she said. “Yes.” He said it matter-of-factly, like she’d asked him if he liked chocolate. But through the calm she could almost see him shifting beneath his skin. “Thank you.” It sounded stupid, even to her. This time the silence between words began to turn awkward and she tried to think of something to fill it with. There was no shortage of things she wanted to say, this just didn’t seem to be the time for most of them. If she didn’t stop waiting soon, though, she’d never get to it. “I need to know what you want to do,” he said. She knew what he meant but so many wrong answers crowded out of her head, each trying to beat the others to be the first stupid thing out of her mouth. “Well, she’s right,” she said. “Can’t stay here forever.” Could have been worse. “We can go to the cops and hope that they’ll protect you. But there’s a chance that Castor’s got them in his pocket.” Jack imagined what would happen if the cops came into this on Castor’s side. She didn’t want to think about Riddick going back to prison, especially for her. The alternatives appeared to be running and screaming, or winding up dead. Inspiration struck and her mouth was moving even before she’d fully formed the words in her mind. “We should just leave.” “What?” “We should get the hell out of here before anything else happens,” she explained. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. We could go to Earth or Mars maybe and sit back and deal with this from a nice, safe distance.” “That’s not a bad idea.” “In fact, you know what? I don’t even give a shit about the money, anymore. I wasn’t kidding. It’s not worth it. We should just walk out to the curb, flag down a cab and get on a ship to wherever right now. Mail Mackey his freaking keys.” Tears suddenly began to gather and blur her vision, stinging the already tender skin around her eyes. She waved her hand in front of her face as if trying to ward them off. “Jack--” “You said we were out here to talk, so I’m talking,” she said. So much for holding it all back until later. Might not be a later. “I swear, Riddick, if I’d have known there was even a microscopic possibility that any of this could happen I would never have come anywhere near this place. People are trying to kill me, we might have to go to the cops which means you could end up in jail just for saving my life and Marty--” He opened his mouth but she didn’t let him get a word out before she continued. “Don’t even try to tell me that he was old and worn out and went the way he wanted to go because we both know that’s a pile of shit,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t going to say that.” “Oh.” She fell silent and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. Her nose started to run and she sniffled. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “You’re all I’ve got left. We’ll do whatever you think is best.” Riddick started to pull his lower lip into his mouth again and stopped, running his tongue over it instead. His brow furrowed as though not talking had suddenly become painful. Something awful occurred to Jack as she watched him. All along she’d been thinking in terms of ‘we’ and ‘us’. What if he didn’t intend to stay? Why should he risk going back to jail? To stick around and protect her? Her heart thundered in her ears so loudly she almost didn’t hear herself speak. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?” He scowled at her, looking mildly insulted. But not guilty. Thank God. “No,” he said. Her eyes overflowed and she swiped at them impatiently with the back of her hand. Riddick stepped up, tugging out the tail of his shirt and holding it out. He looked like a little boy, with his stained shirt half-untucked and his big, dark eyes fixed on her with concern. All at once, the wall of tension and fear burst and instead of sobbing Jack began to laugh. Riddick pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tightly, resting his cheek on her hair. Then he released her and stepped back, all business again except for the slight hitch at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll go,” he said. “But we can’t go yet. I know I said I wasn’t going to lie to you anymore, Jack, but believe me it was for a damn good reason.”   Twenty-Three For starters, the Night Train wasn’t really a train except perhaps in a wagons and oxen sense of the word. It referred to a long line of vehicles moving civilians from one place to another. Tonight most of those vehicles were carts, rusted ground cars and a pack of loudly protesting donkeys laden with everything from toolboxes and refrigerated metal cases to straw baskets and wire cages crammed with chickens. Leading them like a quartet of lumbering giants were four trucks painted in light, mottled browns and marked with the blue and white stars of the United Nations of Free Space. Clusters of men and women walked silently along with them. Nerves and exertion had kept the talk to a minimum once they settled in for the long haul. The people were Muslims from the oldest civilian-settled area outside of Earth’s solar system. The moon and Mars had been colonized first but other planets were too close or too far from the sun to make the effort and expense worthwhile. Then three planets in the Devayani solar system were opened. Seeking a haven from the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, a group left Earth together and formed the state of New Jordan on the newly approved planet Vishnu. The oasis town of Al Mudawarrah had never been large, and its numbers had dwindled even more with the founding of New Mecca. Border disputes with fellow Muslims to the north had lead to continuous violence that drove even more people to make lives for themselves elsewhere. Those who had stuck it out had found themselves held alternately as shields and hostages by warring factions on both sides of the border. Finally, as part of a peace agreement their land had been taken from them altogether and offered up as a sacrifice. Treaty signed, people packed and moving. The Night Train had pulled away from the settlement just after sunset, leaving behind six generations worth of progress and all of the equipment and belongings that couldn’t be hauled by the animals or strapped to the trucks. The four Nomad ground transports were overloaded, their sides and roofs all but invisible beneath the heaviest pieces. They were too broad and sturdy to sway under the weight as they bumped through pits and ditches in the cracked and craggy soil. There were no roads, just places that were smoother than others. The path they followed was an old riverbed, blessedly free of rock and washed clean of any large deposits of the minerals that interfered with mine detection. Scattered along the line of civilians in their loose, light clothing were soldiers, armed and armored. The agreement that had lead to relocation of the refugees allowed only the four trucks and two squads of UNFS-appointed soldiers. A grand total of twenty-four Marines to protect eight hundred civilians. Bender shook his head. That was the problem with the deals being cut by men who rode desks and encountered nothing more threatening than paper cuts and spilled coffee. At least they’d had the good sense to send Nebulas. Each one of his men was as good as three or four from anywhere else. When the sun had gone down the desert heat had disappeared with it. The hard-packed, rocky soil was covered with a light dusting of sand that swirled and whipped in a chilling breeze that bit through every piece of his clothing not covered by an extra layer of armor. His rank earned him a place in the cab of a vehicle but Bender had refused it. He’d grown up drifting through free space on a roaming medical ship the size of a small city. Power conservation protocols kept the level of warmth barely higher than the required minimum and like most kids he’d never put a jacket on when his mother asked him to. After awhile he learned to ignore the cold, even enjoy it. His fellow Marines clearly didn’t feel the same. They held their weapons close as though they generated body heat. Women walked in huddled groups close to the protected sides of the vehicles with blankets thrown over their shoulders and pulled close against the cold. The men kept their heads bent against the breeze but as it subsided they looked up and scanned the terrain with wary eyes. The intelligence forecast didn’t call for violence but Bender didn’t put much faith in it. Treaty or not, the refugees’ fear of an attack was like something he could reach out and touch. More than one of them had laid a hand on his shoulder and whispered a quiet prayer tonight. Bender considered one of his own but nothing came to mind. He was a half-assed Catholic at best. Besides, he preferred not to rely on anyone but himself and his men. Not even God. Alright, maybe just a little one. Our Father Who art in Heaven, don’t let the sneaky sons of bitches get the drop on us. The ground was flat enough that he could see clear to the horizon in all directions without interruption. Endless kilometers of fuck all. Up ahead the flats would begin to rise into low, rolling hills. Not high enough to cover anything big but a good enough spot to place shooters. The minesweepers and the FIU’s might find them before it was too late. Might. There were too many ways to outwit the machines. Not all of them required expensive equipment, so the brass’s assurances that any opposition they faced would be poorly funded didn’t mean shit. And like the one that mirrored it on Earth, this region was no stranger to suicide attacks. It was damned hard to stop someone if they were determined to kill themselves and take you with them. If anyone could keep their asses out of the fire it was Wilkins, head down over the Field Imaging Unit in the lead truck. Still, Bender couldn’t shake the image in his head, clear as day, of armed men waiting prone and motionless in the sand for their approach. For now, there was nothing moved except a few dust devils kicked up by the wind. He watched them swirl, his vision making the tiny flecks stand out in light relief against the moonless sky. It was beautiful country if you didn’t care much for trees and grass. He wondered why they’d chosen it. Hell, if his ancestors had spent centuries in the sand he sure as shit wouldn’t pick up and move an entire planet away to find more. He checked his chronometer. Six hours gone and only three more to go. In an hour and a half they would meet an escort from Sakkara and be out of the territory covered by the treaty. More trucks would pick up the civilians and their livestock and they would be able to call on at least limited air support. He’d ordered the birds to stand by just in case but unless the shit really hit the fan he was officially forbidden to call for them. The whole goddamn thing would have been simpler if they could have just picked up and flown the refugees to their new home. But there had been complaints from the other side. It was too intrusive of the UNFS. Too much direct involvement. They had no right to dictate terms. Too much grace had already been shown in letting moderators interfere at all. Blah fucking blah blah blah. The aggressors had bitched and moaned until the Jordanians were forced into making this slow trek across the desert. It left them vulnerable. Somebody had to have considered that or they wouldn’t have protested so strongly against an airlift. It didn’t fill him with confidence that things would remain peaceful. His orders were to protect the refugees to the best of his ability. It was like trying to cover an elephant’s ass with a doily. The Nebs were good. Better than good. They were fucking unbelievable badasses. But they were stretched a little thin and as if that wasn’t bad enough they’d been told to avoid an Incident if at all possible. An Incident would help solidify claims that the UNFS were bullies. It would weaken their position with developing governments. To the Representatives, the word could mean anything from a bitch slap to a nuclear offensive. He was just a couple of assignments away from his foot having an Incident with somebody’s ass. Bender snorted and walked on. He glanced back along the line of slowly plodding civilians. They were trailed by a mixed herd of sheep and goats held together by a handful of attentive herdsmen. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him. Two boys sped up to pull up even with him, a skinny brown dog trotting behind them. They were around sixteen, he figured. Maybe a little younger. Their heads were covered with flat, round caps held in place with small metal clips. One of them flashed a grin and offered a small wave. Bender kept his hands on his weapon and nodded in return. The long walk didn’t appear to have depleted their youthful energy and their wide, brown eyes held none of the weary suspicion of their elders. They fell into step with him and marched on in companionable silence until the low hills came into view on the horizon. Up ahead, the driver leaned out of the lead truck’s window and motioned to him. Radio silence probably wouldn’t make much of a difference out here in the open but they’d maintained it anyway. He jogged to catch up, then grabbed hold of the side-view mirror and swung onto the side step. He leaned against the front of the window, giving him a view of Farris behind the wheel, and Wilkins whose attention was focused on his scanner. “Wilco?” “I had something,” he said. “What?” Wilkins shook his head, frowning and muttering something Bender couldn’t hear. “Shit.” An arm thrust out of the next truck in line, beckoning to him. In the wide window he could see the new guy, Sellers, trying to get his attention. Fuck it. He thumbed on the radio. “Talk.” “Metallic objects in a discernable pattern, Cap. One hundred and fifty meters ahead, just past a bend in the riverbed.” His voice trembled with excitement. Bender turned to Wilkins. “Whatever it was, get it back. Now. Sellers, calm the fuck down.” “Yes, sir.” The ‘sir’ made him twitch but he let it go. Pressing issues and all. The river bed had been an obvious choice but still the safest one. If they left it now the composition of the surrounding soil would make it harder to spot a trap before they reached it. If they stayed on it looked like they were going to hit one anyway. At least this way they’d be able to see it coming. “Keep rolling,” he said. He patted Farris on the shoulder and jumped down, falling back and peering between trucks at Cochran. Cochran turned to him and nodded, then slowed and dropped out of sight. A goat gave a curious, trembling cry from somewhere at the rear of the line and Bender turned. Casual. No cause for alarm folks. He walked backward for several paces, squinting to look back the way they’d come. Nothing but the ghostly traces of the tracks left by their passage. “Eight o’clock, Cap.” Wilkins’ voice in his ear. Facing the rear, he barely had to move his head to see what Wilkins had pointed him at. The rifle followed his gaze but he didn’t lift it. “Oh, fuck me sideways,” he laughed softly, letting out his breath. Up on what had once been a riverbank the little brown dog was sniffing frantically and digging at the dirt. There were native predators but not too many big enough to take it on. It would get eaten or it wouldn’t. The boys called to it, whistling and slapping their legs to get its attention. The dog gave a sharp, raspy bark and continued to dig. It fell forward with a high-pitched yip and vanished from sight. “Shit,” hissed Bender, shouldering the rifle. A chill raced up his arms that had nothing to do with the cold. “Tahat!” he shouted. The bulk of the refugees did as they’d been instructed, ducking between rows of vehicles and taking cover. One of the boys broke from the crowd and started toward the bank at a run, calling for the dog. Bender thrust out a leg and tripped him as he passed. The boy fell to the dirt in a cursing, struggling heap. “Get the fuck back!” His friend and an older man broke cover to retrieve him. They dragged him thrashing and screaming behind a truck. Bender didn’t take his eyes off the gentle rise of the old riverbank to watch them. Human shapes materialized out of the dirt, dwarfed by the weapons they held. Bipods swung from the barrels, then dug into the ground to support the guns as they fired. Bender shot first. The nearest attacker fell backward and out of sight. He downed another as he backed toward the nearest Nomad. The engine gave a low, harsh rumble as it slowed down. “Keep rolling!” he hollered over the sound of gunfire. Bullets whistled past his head and thunked against something behind him. There was so much strapped to the truck that errant fire had little hope of making it through. “Incoming!” With a possible exception. Fire and thunder erupted beneath the truck and it bucked against him, nearly shoving him off his feet. Tongues of orange flame flared out and up the sides. Bender felt the heat on his legs but no pain. The truck didn’t catch but the shit strapped to the side started to burn. “Motherfu--” A bullet glanced off his side but the armor held. He barely noticed as the vehicle began to shudder and bounce, emitting the piercing, metallic screech of metal on metal. Lucky fucking shot. He raced around to the back and leapt up on the wide bumper. He peered over the high, armored tailgate and was met with dozens of pairs of dark, frightened eyes. The truck held mostly old ladies and small children, all of whom were huddled on the floor, the old shielding the young. Good. “Stick with the civilians,” he said into the radio. “Don’t chase. They can’t have this shit set up down the whole fucking riverbed. Farris, get the kids out of here. Cut southwest about a hundred meters up.” The third truck in line loomed behind him and he waved them around. “Go! Get the fuck out of here!” He motioned for the fourth truck to pull up and stop as he dropped to the ground. He had to shout to be heard, even over the radio. “Get these people loaded onto your vehicle, Campbell,” he said. The man shook his head. “There’s no room, Cap!” “Do what you can.” There was more commanding in that simple, calmly uttered sentence than any amount of shouting. Campbell nodded and got to it. Bender covered them while they coaxed the frightened civilians out of one vehicle and into the other. He sprayed the bank until the clip was nearly dry. He let it fall and shoved another into place. They were only taking fire on one side. Maybe it was meant to force them back, onto the opposite bank where whothefuck-knew-what was planted. Kirwan was directing the civilians around the trucks and straight ahead. Carts were cut free of dead and wounded animals and pushed along from the side while people ran behind them. A ragged scream came over the headset and down the line a Marine collapsed to the ground. A refugee dashed into the open and pulled him to safety. Relative safety. The truck pulled away and Bender dropped behind the still-blazing one for cover. The fire had spread to the roof. Chunks of material caught in the updraft and spiraled upward, still burning. The heat and light were beginning to interfere with his vision and he moved away, “They’re piercing armor, Cap.” He cursed under his breath and quickly ran his fingers over the hit his armor had taken. A chunk was missing. Under funded my left nut. The red-orange of a muzzle flash bloomed off to his left. He swung the rifle around and fired without aiming. The target shrieked and tumbled into darkness. The sound was high-pitched, not at all like the voice of a man. He took aim again and realization hit before he pulled the trigger. The guns weren’t big. The people were small. Bender forced himself to squeeze the trigger a fraction of a second too late. It felt like a giant fist had smashed into him and broken everything inside. He was suddenly on his back with no memory of falling, the wind knocked out of him from much more than impact with the ground. He coughed and blood filled his mouth, nearly choking him as it rushed up his throat. Pain seared, sharp and steady in his midsection, sending hot tendrils down his legs and up into his chest to grip his heart until it felt close to bursting. A dark shape loomed over him and he blinked against a harsh light, trying to bring it into focus. A boy. Young. Maybe ten. His eyes were glazed and empty like a doll’s and his face was slack as he leaned down and pulled off Bender’s helmet. His motions were cool, methodical as he slipped it onto his own head and drew a sidearm from his waistband. Bender still felt the weight of the rifle in his right hand and struggled to bring it up. The effort brought on a fresh wave of agony and hot whiteness threatened to wash out his vision. The boy leveled the gun at Bender’s head and fired.   Twenty-Four It was obvious something had changed when they got back into the car. The girl threw herself into the seat and jerked the seatbelt across her chest with such fierceness that Mackey expected it to snap. She fastened it and crossed her arms tightly, then turned to stare out the window. The fire in her eyes made Mackey glad she wasn’t looking his way. Riddick slid the side door shut and dropped the keys into his hand with a carefully neutral look. Mackey thought about asking and discovered that he didn’t really want to know that badly. “He’s my dad, Riddick,” said Jack. Her voice wavered as though she were holding back tears. “We can’t just kill him.” In the back seat Virgil made a small, surprised sound but remained otherwise silent and still as if by doing so he could avoid coming to their attention. “Castor won’t pay anything for him,” shrugged Riddick. “And we don’t need to be dragging around that kind of dead weight.” His emphasis on the word “dead” prompted another panicked whimper from Virgil. “We do owe somebody for Marty,” Jack sighed, nodding. She turned shining eyes on Marlene. The tears seemed to evaporate in a blaze of anger. “But I want it to be her.” “No can do, Jack. She’s our ticket out of here.” The look Marlene shot Riddick could have melted steel. He ignored her. Jack let out a loud “huff” and turned back around. She met Mackey’s eyes and he caught the glint of repressed laughter as she winked out of sight of the captives in the back seat. He nodded gravely, schooling his expression into an icy glare. “I can get rid of the body,” he said. “They’ll find life on the sun before they find him.” “Now wait just a goddamned minute,” said Virgil. He glanced at Riddick first, naked fear draining the blood from his face. Then he turned to Jack, eyes pleading when he couldn’t seem to make his mouth do the job. “Don’t be an idiot, Virgil,” Marlene snapped. “They’re bluffing.” Riddick cocked his head and flashed a humorless smile. “You sure about that, sister?” he asked. The smile vanished as though it had never been and a cold light filled his eyes. “Already done one tonight. I got no problem with one more.” Mackey wasn’t sure about everyone else but for an instant he believed. Could he have been that wrong? Silence and a thick tension filled the car. Uncomfortable came to mind but then unnerved slapped it and kicked it out. He kept his expression casual, as though the whole scene were horribly uninteresting. “Please believe me,” said Virgil. He was addressing Riddick, looking for mercy in those bottomless shark’s eyes. “I would never have let anyone hurt my little girl.” “Didn’t look too fucking eager to defend her before.” Virgil glanced at Jack and slumped as far as he could, crammed between Riddick and Marlene. The man looked miserable. The beginnings of dark circles were forming under his eyes and his face was pale, though the conversation could be the cause of that. His dress shirt was rumpled, the collar open and the tie at half-mast. He ran a hand through his mussed hair and sighed. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about that,” he said. He raised his head to look at Jack, his face open and earnest. “It won’t ever happen again.” Riddick shook his head and crossed his big arms over his chest. “I don’t know if I believe you, Virgil.” It sounded the way it might if he’d said it to a small child. Mackey suddenly discovered that he had no desire to see Riddick anywhere near a small child. Ever. “I don’t know if you should believe him,” said Jack. The anger had vanished, leaving behind a disturbing lack of expression. Her eyes mirrored Riddick’s. Not cold, not mean, just empty. “He’s a liar. A selfish, thoughtless, liar. He can’t protect me, even if he wanted to. Now that I think about it, I don’t need a damn thing from you anymore, Virge.” “The card,” said Riddick. He didn’t elaborate but Jack picked it up. “Where is it?” she asked. “Where’s what?” Virgil looked puzzled. Mackey couldn’t blame him. “My card. Grandpa’s card,” Jack explained. “You said you were going to give it to me at dinner but we got jumped before I remembered to ask for it.” Virgil let out a short, high-pitched laugh. “Is that important right at this moment?” “That’s what we’d like to find out,” Jack replied. “We can’t finish discussing whether or not you people intend to kill me first?” “Tell you what,” said Riddick flatly. “You got the card, we won’t kill you.” He swallowed loud enough for them to hear and spoke in a whisper. “I don’t have it.” Jack made a frustrated sound and threw up her hands. “I’m really trying here, Dad, and you’re not helping at all.” “I couldn’t find it,” he shrugged. Something about the set of his shoulders looked suddenly hopeless. Mackey felt the urge to give up the game but part of him was afraid of finding out that it wasn’t a game at all. “Tough luck, Virge.” Riddick moved to reach into his coat and Mackey tensed. “I have it,” said Marlene quickly. All heads swiveled in her direction. She drew back into her corner, clearly not pleased at being the sudden center of attention. “Why am I not surprised?” snorted Jack. “Why?” Virgil asked, incredulous. His eyes narrowed; thoughtful or angry, it was difficult to tell. “When you told me where you’d found it I thought it might be important,” she said. “It was in my goddamned safe deposit box,” he muttered. Jack gripped the back of her seat so tightly her hands stood out in stark white and red against the black leather. It seemed to require an enormous effort to keep her from diving into the back seat fists first. “What the fuck gives you the right?” she asked. Marlene didn’t answer. No one seemed to expect her to. “Where is it?” “My office.” “Your office?” Jack repeated, frowning. “Why?” “We don’t know what it’s for.” “Don’t know what it’s for, my lily white ass,” growled Jack. “It’s a plain, white card with an embedded chip and no other identifiers,” Marlene shrugged. “It’s a key that could fit millions of systems but so far it doesn’t seem to fit any we know of.” “We?” asked Virgil, still gaping. “I’ve had a few guys in the research department working on it.” “What the hell for?” At that, Marlene fell silent, lips pressed tightly together as though trying forcibly to keep something in. “Spit it out, lady,” Jack said in a low whisper. “You don’t have all night.” Riddick was still leaning, almost lounging, back in his seat, exuding a casual menace. He made no effort to frighten yet Marlene’s gaze flicked to him, her cool leaking away through widened eyes. “It wouldn’t have become such a project if its use was more obvious.” She shrugged and the gesture lacked her former grace. “Did your grandfather tell you what it was for, Jackie?” “None of your fucking business,” said Jack. The corners of Marlene’s mouth twitched but she didn’t smile. Good call. “You don’t know, either.” “I want it back.” It was the wrong thing to say, something Jack seemed to realize just a second too late. Marlene did smile, this time, but not as smugly as she might have. She wasn’t safe, yet. Not wise to poke the tiger with a stick while you’re still in the cage with it. “One phone call and I can have it here in twenty minutes.” “You just don’t quit, do you?” “I would just like to resolve the situation peacefully.” “And I really, really want to hurt you,” said Jack. “So, we’re going to have to work awfully hard.” “You can’t mean that, Jackie,” Virgil said softly. “Told you, Dad, I got out and saw the world. Now I know that if someone’s nice to you it’s probably because they want something, only the strong survive, and assholes have got us outnumbered by at least ten to one.” Virgil nodded toward Riddick. “And he doesn’t want anything from you, is that it?” “Actually I’m hoping that he does.” It was Virgil’s turn to glower. It made Mackey think better of the man that he looked this angry. Not that it was any of his business what these people did with each other. But if Jackie Weller was his daughter he wouldn’t want her crushing on a man like Riddick; wouldn’t want them within ten kilometers of one another. “Don’t even look at me like that,” hissed Jack. “I’m not sure how I should look, Jackie.” “I liked that scared shitless thing you had going on before,” she replied. “Fine,” said Virgil. “I’m afraid of you. Is that what you want to hear?” “Yes,” she nodded. “Kind of sad when a girl has to go through all this just to get some attention from her old man, huh?” He didn’t have anything to say to that. “Look, I could keep this up all night but we’ve got places to go,” said Jack. “The big problem is what to do with you two when we go there. There’s always Mr. Mackey’s idea. Of course I wouldn’t get to watch you both get tied up and flogged and there’s no fun in that.” She glance at Mackey. “And no offense, but I’d rather not leave the three of you alone anywhere, together or separately. So, Mr. Mackey, you’re going with us and Dad, Marlene. So are you. Only you two get to ride in the trunk. Won’t that be fun?” “Excuse me?” asked Virgil. “The trunk?” “No,” said Marlene. “Absolutely not.” “I don’t remember anybody giving you a choice,” Riddick rumbled. He threw the door open and stepped out, motioning Virgil to follow. Virge just looked at him for a long, uncomfortable space of seconds, then slid across the seat and swung his legs out. “The alternative’s a whole lot worse,” said Riddick. Nodding, Virgil stood and put a hand out for Marlene. She stared at him, openmouthed. “You’re just going to let them do this?” He shrugged. “What choice do we have?” Marlene took Virgil’s hand and let him pull her out of the car. When she straightened, Mackey saw her tense and his hand went to the butt of his gun. He wasn’t sure why. It’s not like he was going to shoot her even if she tried something. She was unarmed and no match for Riddick. He doubted even she and Virgil together would be able to break away from him. Besides, anything that offered Riddick an excuse to harm them didn’t seem like a good idea. Virgil suddenly threw himself forward shoulder-first into Riddick. So much for good ideas. The larger man spun him around and shoved him back into the car. Marlene turned to bolt and Mackey flung open the driver’s side door. She smacked into it and stumbled backward. Riddick stepped out of the way and let her land hard on her rear end, then leaned down and grabbed her by the hair close to the scalp. She squealed and kicked at him as he hauled her to her feet. He growled as the point of her shoe caught him in the shin. Mackey jumped out, throwing an arm across Virgil’s chest as the man tried to rush to her defense. “Let go of her!” Virgil shouted. Mackey muscled him back but it wasn’t easy. Virgil had a few pounds on him and he was frantic. It occurred to Mackey that he might have to help her himself. She thrashed and twisted, pounding her small fists against Riddick’s chest. He didn’t seem to care. In fact, his lips twitched with what might have been the beginning of a smile. But he wasn’t hurting her, that she was doing it all on her own by struggling. Mackey couldn’t say he approved but some of the tension eased out of his shoulders and he forgot about the gun. No good pulling it if he didn’t mean to use it. He was almost certain that Riddick would see it and assume the same. “Ms. Weller,” said Mackey. “Would you be so kind as to press the gray button to the right of the steering column and open the trunk?” He heard the click and watched the trunk lid raise slowly. Riddick put a hand under it and pushed it open all the way, then spun Marlene to face him. He grabbed her arms just above the elbows and held them tightly against her sides. “Hold...still.” Marlene froze. He hadn’t shouted, but still those two words were filled with such overwhelming malice it made Mackey shudder. It dawned on him that Riddick hadn’t just ignored her struggles but had allowed them. From where he stood he could tell she’d realized it, too. She sagged, whimpering pitifully. Her shoulders trembled and her breath came in quick, quiet gasps as she began to cry. “Don’t overestimate what you’re worth to me,” said Riddick. His eyes glinted, like bright stones held just beneath the surface of dark water. “I would love to put my hands around your fucking neck and squeeze until you die. It would serve your old man right for what he’s done and what he’d do if he got half a chance.” Virgil started forward again and Mackey grabbed his arm. He drew the gun and held it low at his side. It didn’t matter anymore if Riddick thought he was a threat, because he was. Regardless of what she’d done, Mackey wouldn’t let the man murder Marlene Castor if he could stop it. Chances were if it came to that things would get ugly in a hurry. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, flicking off the safety and laying his finger over the trigger. Ethics were getting to be a real pain in the ass in his line of work. “But I’m not going to do that,” Riddick said finally. “It would upset Jack and put her in more danger than she’s in already. When I let you out of the trunk, you can thank her for saving your life. Now, get in.” Nodding wordlessly, she did as she was told, climbing into the trunk and scooting as far away from Riddick as she could get. Mackey sighed and quickly slipped the gun back in its holster. He felt Riddick watch him do it but he didn’t care. He wanted the message to be clear even if it meant spending the rest of tonight steeped in the tension that hung between them now. Hurting these people for real was not an option. He pulled Virgil around back and nudged him toward the trunk. The man climbed in without protest, pressing up against Marlene in the tight space. Riddick pushed the lid down firmly, revealing Jack, who stood on the other side of the car watching them both. Her eyes were large and serious, as though she understood, too. “Can they breathe in there?” she asked. “For a while,” Mackey nodded. Riddick grunted, as though he disapproved of the answer. “Won’t someone hear them if they bang on the car?” “Soundproofed,” said Mackey, staring absently at the trunk. That made the girl smile. It disturbed him but he couldn’t say why, exactly. “What now?” Mackey turned and leaned on the car. He started to cross his arms over his chest but decided to lean his hands on the trunk instead. The position gave him a much better chance of getting the gun drawn before Riddick could reach out and snap his neck. “We go to the hospital and make arrangements,” said Riddick. “What about them?” “They can wait in the fucking trunk.”   Twenty-Five The smell hit Jack the moment the elevator doors opened; disinfectant; clean sheets; pristine plastic; the tang of something she couldn’t name but made her wrinkle her nose in a vain attempt to relieve the itch without scratching.  Hospital smell.  She hated hospitals.  She wasn’t even sure why.  There was no childhood trauma to account for it.  No bad experience that had marred her for life.  She’d never been to them except to visit other people.  Maybe it was just being slapped in the face with all the things that could go wrong with a body that bothered her. Bad as it was it had nothing on the morgue.  One glimpse of the long rows of still, sheet-draped bodies and Jack had felt panic rising in her throat along with the threat of something more tangible.  The sight of a pale hand, fallen from beneath the cloth and dangling over the side of a cold metal table had been enough to send her scrambling for the elevator with her hand over her mouth. The only thing that had kept Jack from a raging full-on panic attack was the knowledge that Marty wasn’t in there.  She hadn’t really pictured anything when Riddick had told her he was dead.  To her dead had become synonymous with “torn to pieces” and she just didn’t want to imagine him like that.  Now she had a new image of death. Cleaner, colder, but just as horrible. They marched down the long, bright hall, Jack taking two quick steps for every one of Riddick’s as she tried to keep up.  The men’s footsteps were near-silent but Jack’s heels echoed loudly on the polished floor.  She glanced around self-consciously but there didn’t seem to be anyone around to notice. “Why is it so damned quiet in here?” Riddick set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.  She looked up at him.  His eyes were concealed behind a pair of dark glasses that reflected the long row of cold, white lights on the ceiling.  She didn’t need to see his eyes to know that he wasn’t bothered by any of this.  Even the morgue hadn’t put a dent in his cool.  It made sense, she supposed.  Hard to be disturbed by the sight of dead people when you’d been making them for most of your life.  Harsh words, even in her own head, but tonight she thought she’d earned the right to be just a little bit harsh. Hell, harsh didn’t begin to cover it. “That was some performance back there,” said Jack.  It sounded so much less confrontational than “how could you be such an asshole?” Riddick’s mouth dropped open and he made a small, surprised sound. “Oh shit, we were acting?” She pursed her lips and frowned up at him. “Don’t be funny,” she said.  “It’s hard to be mad at you when you’re funny.” “Good thing it doesn’t happen often.” “Me being mad or you being funny?” He snorted. “It was just about the worst thing you could have said to me at that moment, that’s all,” she said. “I set things straight with you as soon as I could, Jack.” “You could have just not said anything in the first place.” “I could have.” “But your need to fuck with Marlene’s head outweighed your need to not scare the shit out of me?” “Yes.” “I asked for honesty. That’ll teach me.” Jack glanced over at Mackey and saw him studiously ignoring their conversation. Smart man. “I already said I was sorry I scared you.” “Didn’t count, you hadn’t told me about Marty yet.” “You keeping score?” “Should I be?” He seemed to think about it for a moment before he said, “No.” They rounded a corner and found a glass-walled waiting room with a pair of dull blue vinyl couches and carpet in stained and threadbare industrial gray.  The walls were an anonymous not-white and besides a single, forlorn-looking plant in a corner the room was unadorned.  Two women shared a couch, huddled together against one end with hollow gazes fixed on nothing Jack could see. A man slouched low on the other couch, reading a magazine.  His long legs were stretched straight out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.  He seemed out of place, like he should be waiting for a bus or sitting underneath a tree in the park. The instant he spotted Mackey, that all changed.  He was on his feet so quickly it looked like someone had hauled him up on cables.  He dropped the magazine on a table and headed for the door, running a hand through his short, dark curls.  Mackey stopped short in front of the waiting room door as the man approached.  He didn’t look pleased. “Fenster...”  He said the name like a warning. Riddick kept walking and Jack hurried after him. The main room of the ICU was one big, open square with the center walled off by the tall counter of the nurses’ station and four meters of empty floor on all sides.  The stark, white walls were broken up by pale blue half-curtains hung on white rods and rings.  One wall held an enormous chart filled with names, numbers and words Jack couldn’t make out.  She scanned the names.  Bender, M. wasn’t one of them.  She wondered which name was his. Riddick let out a low growl.  She followed his gaze to an open curtain on the opposite side of the nurses’ station and knew without asking that that was where they’d been headed.  Her heart clenched.  The room was empty.  What did that mean? “Where is he?” she asked. “I don’t know,” Riddick said flatly.  He glanced around the room and spotted Mackey walking quickly toward them, the other man in tow. “They moved him,” Mackey said quickly.  “Out of ICU.” “That’s good, right?” Jack looked at Riddick.  Good didn’t seem to cover the look on his face right now.  “That’s good, that they moved him out of here?” “The hospital wasn’t thrilled with having armed men on the ward,” he explained.  “So they put him in a private room.” “You lost me,” said Jack. “The detective in charge of the crime sce--” A glance at Jack and he quickly revised.  Not quickly enough.  When he continued her head was already filled with images of chalk outlines and flashing lights. “--investigation put a round the clock watch on him.  For some reason he’s not entirely convinced he’s dealing with an ordinary break-in and attempted robbery.” “Investigative genius,” growled Riddick.  “Where the hell is he?” Mackey gestured toward another set of doors and started walking.  They followed, Fenster trailing behind like a dog that had just been smacked with a rolled-up newspaper.  Mackey kept talking as he led them on. “The detective is here to speak with the surviving assailant.  He’ll probably want to talk to the two of you as well.” Jack blinked.  “Surviving assailant?”  She put heavy emphasis on the “t”.  “Holy shit.  Go Marty.  So why does this guy want to talk to us?” “You may not have been present during the assault, but you’re registered in the same hotel room as the vi--as Mr. Bender.  An interview is the least they’re going to want.”  He paused, meeting Riddick’s eyes.  “Any information they learn about connected events could help them catch the parties responsible for both attacks.” “We already know who’s behind them,” said Jack. “Yes, ma’am,” replied Mackey.  “But the authorities will be able to deal with the problem far better than we can on our own.” Riddick scowled.  “If they can’t, we’ll be caught up in the system with the long arm of the law crammed up our asses while Castor’s free to take pot shots at us.” “I strongly urge you to tell the police what you know,” Mackey said.  “I’ll corroborate the events in which I had a part.” “Gonna tell them about the people you’ve got locked in the trunk of your car?” asked Jack, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. Mackey sighed.  “Alright,” he said.  “But we will discuss this later.” “You locked people in the trunk of my car?” asked Fenster, incredulous. Jack started to mention that she didn’t exactly buy the shock from the guy who’d had the trunk sound proofed in the first place but then Fenster laughed. “I feel so proud,” he said, hand over his heart. “Shut up, Fenster.” They pushed through another pair of double doors and the stark, white walls were replaced by a pale, dusty pink.  Jack frowned at the sign. “Neurology?” Riddick shrugged, then stiffened as his gaze focused on something down the hall.  A pair of uniformed cops stood like bookends on the opposite sides of a door. Mackey lengthened his stride and pulled ahead of them.  He didn’t say a word but Riddick slowed, putting a little space between them.  Riddick put an arm across Jack’s shoulders, already covered by the jacket he’d worn to dinner.  It fell to mid-thigh on her, a comforting shell.  He hung his head.  Jack took the cue and tried to look bereaved instead of scared out of her goddamned mind. They hung back while Mackey approached the cops.  He reached slowly into his jacket and drew out a wallet, flipping it open with practiced ease.  The three men took a step away from the door and spoke in hushed tones, their body language friendly and relaxed.  Like old friends.  She wondered if Mackey knew them or if all cops acted that way with each other.  Mackey nodded and gestured in their direction, the officers’ gazes followed.  Jack huddled against Riddick, afraid to move. “What happens if he screws us over and turns you in?” she whispered softly. “I don’t think he’ll do it,” said Riddick.  He smoothed a hand over her hair.  “Besides, if he does, the three of them still aren’t enough to take me anywhere I don’t want to go.” “You’re not going to start a fight in a hospital,” she said, turning her face up to look at him. He shook his head.  “I won’t start one.” She glanced back toward Mackey to find him heading their way.  He looked serious but not grim.  She hoped that was good. “Can we see him?” “Not yet.” “Why the hell not?”  Jack asked, a little louder than she’d meant to. “The officers have been instructed not to let anyone else in.” Riddick glanced at the door and Jack felt him tense against her. “Who the fuck is in there, now?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “Tone it down,” said Mackey.  “They wouldn’t have let anyone in without checking them out first.” “He doesn’t know anyone here,” Riddick said.  “Or he would have said so.” “He’s got family on Earth.”  Jack’s heart hammered in her chest.  “Right?” “Even if they got a hold of someone the second he was brought in, there’s no way in hell they caught a commercial flight fast enough to get here by now.” “I don’t think it was commercial,” said Mackey. He pointed over Riddick’s shoulder and the two of them turned back toward the double doors at the end of the hall. Jack didn’t realize that her mouth had fallen open until she snapped it shut. Four men in military uniforms pushed through the doors, their booted feet clicking softly on the tile.  They wore the cool gray shades of urban camouflage, with black berets tucked into their belts.  Three men had sleek, wicked-looking rifles slung over their shoulders.  The other carried only a black-handled sidearm in a holster at his side.  Each had a knife sheathed along their left thigh that laid on her arm would probably reach from fingertips to elbow.  Their faces were stern but somehow managed not to look unfriendly.  They weren’t all big men but to Jack they looked ten feet tall. The cops straightened and rested their hands on the butts of their holstered guns at once, like it was procedure.  Jack suspected it was more like the start of some hard-core dick-waving.  She didn’t need to see any of these guys with their pants off to know who would win. Riddick pulled her to one side and let the soldiers pass.  He watched them go by with something like longing.  Or regret. “Those aren’t Nebulas, are they?” asked Jack. “Regular Marines,” he said. “If those are the regular ones I’d hate to see the rest.” Riddick gave a soft chuckle.  It was a good sound. They didn’t march so much as glide across the polished floor, stopped a meter and change in front of the policemen.  The man with the sidearm did the talking, low and fast. Jack strained her ears, even held her breath, but couldn’t hear a damn thing. Movement turned Jack’s head toward the other end of the hall.  A man with an orange tray had stepped into the hall, padding softly on a pair of dusty white running shoes.  He wore faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved, blue flannel shirt with worn elbows.  The shirt was untucked, flaring around his thin frame as he walked.  The tray held two tall, white cups and a squat, unmarked paper box. Jack could smell the coffee from here. His dark blond hair was cut short but the bangs were long, falling into his eyes and shaving a couple of years off Jack’s estimation of his age.  His eyes were sparkling blue and friendly and he smiled at Jack as he passed.  It was a sympathetic smile that said he understood what she was going through; what anyone would be going through if they were standing around in a place like this.  Jack couldn’t help it.  She smiled back. He surprised her by saying, “You’re all here to see Martin.” There was the barest hint of an accent in his voice that made it sound a great deal like Marty’s, but not as deep. She almost blurted out “yes” but that would pretty much have defeated the purpose of all their sneaking around.  She looked to Riddick for help, permission, something. He was regarding the man with as much suspicion as she was.  The guy didn’t look like a cop, or a Marine, or even remotely threatening. He must have seen something in their faces because he flashed that reassuring smile again and shifted the tray to his left hand so he could extend his right.  Riddick took it, thus electing himself spokesperson. “Curtis Finch,” said the mystery man.  “I’m a friend of Martin’s.  We grew up on the Nightengale together.” “Richard Riddick.”  Sure it was his name, but it still sounded strange to Jack to hear him introduce himself.  “This is Jack.” She nodded.  “Hi.” “Garvin Mackey.”  He asked what Jack figured was on all their minds.  “You local, Mr. Finch?” “Nah, I just came up from Darwin,” he said.  “Well, not just now.  I was already on my way up here.  Marty gave his mum a ring and said he was going to be round this way, and I’ve been Summering over at her place so she drug me along.  Got tired of waiting on the old boy, I guess.  Never has been much for patience, Mother Bender.” “Mother...” Jack just shook her head.  This was too much.  She wasn’t sure why, exactly, but she was actually taken aback by the fact that Marty had a mother in the first place. “We had a layover on Memorial Station and had a call put through from the folks here at the hospital.  Weren’t due to leave for another eighteen hours so Martin’s mum called some of his old buddies and they shot us up here in a hurry.” He gestured at the Marines, who had replaced the policemen by the door.  Jack couldn’t blame the cops for moving. “Marty’s mom called the Marines for a ride?”  She didn’t try to hide her amazement. “Oh yeah,” said Curtis, chuckling softly.  “As far as they’re concerned she’s on a par with Mother Mary.” “So what, they think he’s--?” “God,” Curtis nodded.  Then he winked at her.  “He’s never gotten up himself about it, though.” He started to ease the door open with his backside, eyes fixed on the coffee as though the power of his gaze would somehow help keep it upright. “If the fellas here will clear you, you can come on in,” he said suddenly.  Then, with a tilt of his head and a sheepish smile he asked, “Do you know this girl Reggie he’s been going on about?” Going on about Reggie?  That sly dog. “Pretty well, I guess,” shrugged Jack. “Oh, then Mrs. Bender’s going to want to have a word with you, for sure.” Jack looked back at the men.  Riddick leaned on the high counter next to Mackey and Fenster as the three of them watched with casual, half-assed interest.  Jack suspected they were trying to look harmless.  Not working. Mackey might have pulled it off except for the butt of his gun in its shoulder holster peeking from beneath his coat.  Fenster just looked like a criminal.  And Riddick.  In a pink tutu and frills, holding a bouquet of flowers and an all-day sucker he wouldn’t look harmless. God, what an image. “Go ahead, Jack,” he said. “What about you?” He glanced at Mackey.  “I’ll be out here.” Jack set her hands against the wall as instructed and allowed herself to be searched.  The search was thorough but polite, followed by a once-over with a metal-detecting wand. “Think you can stay out of trouble?” she smirked. “I’ll manage.” Truthfully, she was much more worried about leaving him alone with the two men than she was about going into a room with strangers.  It was stupid.  Riddick could more than take care of himself.  But Mackey was making her nervous.  Maybe he really did mean well, but all the talk about going to the cops for help worried her. What if they did put Riddick back in prison?  Even if it was temporary she couldn’t say what kind of effect it would have on him.  Would he hate being back in the cage?  What if he decided he was more comfortable there? Plus she’d have to fend for herself.  Sure it sounded selfish but it was something she might have to consider.  If it was just a matter of being on her own, no problem.  Being on her own in the middle of a shitstorm this big was something else entirely. The cops might help.  Or try to, anyway. Maybe she could throw herself on the mercy of the big, bad Marines.  One thing she knew for sure was that nobody was getting into Marty’s room with anything more dangerous than a cotton ball. “You can go on through, ma’am.” Jack took a deep breath and pushed through the door. The room was dark enough to be easy on the eyes but there was plenty of light for Jack to get a good look around.  The first thing she noticed was Marty.  As if it were possible to notice anything else.  The big jerk could have warned her. She didn’t recognize him at first.  Most of what showed from beneath the sheets was covered in bandages and tape.  One wrist bore a pristine white plastic cast that made the dark, angry scrapes and bruises on his knuckles stand out.  The lower half of his face was criss-crossed with wide surgical tape that held a broad, clear tube in place.  The steady rise and fall of his chest would have been more comforting without the mechanical hiss that accompanied it. Jack swallowed loudly and tried unsuccessfully to blink back tears.  Nothing this sad and beat up could possibly be Marty. “It’s not nearly as bad as it looks.” Her head snapped toward Curtis, sitting beside the window in a pale blue vinyl chair with a paper cup cradled in both hands.  Jack had nearly forgotten that there were other people in the room.  Only then did she notice the woman in a matching chair beside the bed. She leaned her hands on the rail and regarded Jack warmly with clear, green eyes.  Her hair was dark and drawn back into a loose bun at the base of her neck.  Not an artfully disheveled style but one that genuinely appeared to have been done in a hurry.  Her skin was smooth and pale and there were few lines on her face, even when she favored Jack with a glowing smile. “Sophie Bender,” she said softly, holding out a hand. It wasn’t a good day for Jack and keeping shock under wraps. “You’re Marty’s mom?” Gaping, she took the hand and shook it gently.  Oh no, there wasn’t even the semblance of cool, here. “Not the crusty old hag you were expecting?” she smiled.  Her accent was thicker than either Curtis’s or Marty’s but it wasn’t hard to tell that they’d all come from the same source. “Not even close,” Jack replied. Sophie Bender laughed and it reminded Jack more of Marty’s mellow chuckle than any noise coming from a woman should have.  Jack liked her already. “After Martin’s father died, I had a lot of work done.” She smiled fondly and stroked the back of Marty’s hand as she continued. “Simon never much cared what I looked like.  When he passed on, I had a whole pile of money and the sudden urge to be appallingly shallow and selfish.” Jack didn’t know quite what to say to that but she couldn’t keep from smiling.  Sophie emanated the same kind of casual charm and disarming calm that Jack had always seen in Marty.  It made her wonder what his father must have been like.  Maybe the underlying intensity was his contribution. “You look great,” she said finally.  It even sounded stupid to her. Curtis stood and pulled his chair over beside Sophie’s, moving it carefully so it barely scudded across the floor.  He patted the high back. “Nearly forgot my manners,” he said. She almost refused the seat.  When the hell had feeling completely at ease with people started to make her nervous? Ignoring her first impulse, Jack eased herself into the seat.  Her feet ached and she fought the urge to slip off her shoes.  She made a mental note not to wear heels the next time she was planning a night of violence and intrigue.  Planning.  Oh yeah. “So, you’re Jack,” said Sophie. Jack’s cheeks warmed.  “Oh, I...yes. Sorry.” “Martin says you’re a nice girl.” “God knows I try to be.” Sophie smiled.  Closer up, Jack could see tiny lines around her eyes and the hint of dark circles dusted with makeup. “He also told me that he’s very fond of you.” Jack blushed again.  “He did?” The corners of her eyes began to sting and she turned away from Sophie to face the bed. It didn’t help, much.  From her new vantage point a dark collar of bruises was visible around Marty’s neck.  She made out the shape of fingers curling around one side right up under his chin.  The hand that had done it must have been enormous.  A sudden, too-vivid image sprang to mind and she squeezed her eyes shut.  Not only did it not block out the picture but the tears that had been precariously balanced finally rolled down her face in a small, salty torrent. Too much had happened in too short a time.  The night Jack had now was nothing like the one she’d started off with. It was all supposed to be good.  Go out and have a good time with Riddick; flaunt her power and her happiness; make things right -- or at least tolerable -- with her dad.  She’d had it all worked out.  Well, obviously not. The idea that the ship had been crashed on purpose made her feel sick enough as it was without adding the possibility that it might have had something to do with her.  All those people dead.  Marty here in this awful place, looking hardly a thing like the man she knew.  Riddick probably on his way to prison.  For what?  In the end it had to come down to money.  More money for somebody who had more than anyone would know what to do with. “I’m so sorry,” said Jack.  She turned back to Sophie and found the woman watching her with a tired but sympathetic gaze.  “This is all my fault.” Jump to Chapters 1-5     6-10   11-15  16-20  21-25  26-30   31-35 LunarWeb Search RETURN TO ENTRY PAGE Disclaimer:  The characters of Fry, Imam, Jack and Riddick belong to USA films.   No copyright infringement is intended. Everybody else is mine all mine.