The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission by Raymond Klein (good books to read for women TXT) 📗

Trent looked up from the computer screen and called out, “Do you need a hand?”

“Yes, hands would be nice,” came the response reverberating off the bulkheads.

Trent thought for a second, “No opposable thumbs huh?”

“Oh! You got that right. But, I’m good, don’t mind me. I’m almost finished down here anyway.”

Trent went back to the recording. The guard walked about half way down the hall, stopped, and faced a cell on the right. Trent could not see the cell due to the angle of the camera, but already knew whose cell it was. He turned up the volume. The audio was strained and tiny.

Moffit's voice was tainted with anger. “What are you doing down here? You’re early.”

“I wanted to talk to you about our arrangement,” the visitor said. The computer automatically identified the visitor as a prison guard by the name of Mallton and that he had been with the Interstellar Police Force for fifteen years.

“The arrangement,” Prodor Moffit said calmly and intently, “was 50,000 up front, then the other 50 transferred to your account back home when I’m out.”

“Yeah, about that,” Mallton said, scratching the side of his head. “I’ve been going over my finances, and 50,000 is a large sum of money. I could do a lot with that kind of money.”

“You could do so much more with 100!”

Trent could see the other inmates on the left side slowly getting up from their bunks and walking to the cell doors. Just then Genghis emerged from below decks. “Breach is contained.”

“Hey, Genghis,” Trent said, pausing the recording. “Come over here. You're gonna want to see this.”

Trent quickly briefed Genghis on what he’d seen so far then continued playing the recording.

Moffit said, “What are you getting at, Mallton? That was our arrangement.”

“Yes, it was, but I started thinking . . .”

“That was your first mistake.”

“Yeah right,” Mallton said, then started to pace back and forth. “Like I was saying. I started thinking, how could I really live with myself, knowing that I helped you escape. All those things you’ve done. The things you would probably do if you were out. No amount of money would make me feel good about the whole thing.” Mallton stopped pacing and looked Prodor Moffit square in the eyes. “So, listen up. Deal's off.”

Prodor was silent for a moment then stated, “May I remind you, Mallton, that I still have fans on the outside. And we know where your wife and daughter are.”

“Don't you threaten my family!” Mallton said, raising his voice.

“Your family is as involved in this as you are,” Moffit said even louder. Then he changed his tone. “That money was for your little girl, remember. You want her well, don’t you? Hopper is an excellent hospital.”

“Well, that’s just it. You see, she was never really sick. I needed a story to bait you. We just wanted the money. And you had it. In fact, my wife and I had been planning this for months. Every little detail, all the way down to that anonymous tip that got your fans arrested five days ago. You know, the fans I was supposedly working with. Guess you hadn’t heard about that, huh? And besides, I moved my family. I took the necessary steps and got them to a safe place. So, you see, the arrangement that you thought we had was 100,000. But, for me, it was just 50,000.

“So, Prodor, this is how it’s going to go down. We’re going to reach our destination on schedule. Then, hand you off to the warden at the new penitentiary on Tarket, where you’ll serve out the remainder of your sentence . . . oh I’m sorry. Did I just bring up a sore subject? How long was that sentence again?” He mocked like he was trying to remember, “Oh, yeah! The remainder of your natural life, plus thirty years. Too bad!

“After the transfer is made, we return to Ashlar, and I put in for retirement and retire a wealthy man. So, tell me, Prodor Moffit, who’s the great mastermind now?”

Prodor was livid and shot his arms out at Mallton, but the cell bars held Moffit’s hands back, so that he could barely grasp the guard's uniform. Mallton gave Prodor a slight smile, satisfied with himself that his planning had gone so well from the very start. He took one step back from Moffit’s clutching fingers. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I won’t be down here again until we land. Hope you have a nice trip.”

“No,” Prodor Moffit calmly said. “I’m sorry.” And smiled back at Mallton.

Unbeknownst to Mallton, he inadvertently stepped back into the Kill Zone. A long tentacle emerged from between the bars of the cell behind him. It quickly wrapped three times around the guard's neck in a whip-like fashion.

Prodor enjoyed the look of fear on Mallton’s face. He always did. It was the fear of knowledge. The knowledge of one’s death being close at hand. Prodor felt that familiar feeling coursing through his veins. Its warmth spread throughout his body. It had been so long, that he reveled in it.

The tentacle pulled Mallton back until his body painfully struck the cell bars. He could smell the sour breath of the inmate that held him tight. He was quietly laughing into Mallton’s ear.

Prodor Moffit said, “Did you really think I hadn’t already planned for something like this to happen? I still have other fans. Did you think the ones you were working with and had arrested were the only ones in my employ? Now, my arrangement was that you were never meant to get the second payment. The first 50,” he waved a dismissive hand, “matters not to me. And you and the other guards were never meant to get back to Ashlar.

“And when my fans do finally find your wife and daughter,” he paused for dramatic affect. “Your wife will watch your daughter die first. But not to worry, the three of you