But that looks…like a copycat design, Ashton thought, as they walked about the park. The governor’s mansion, the mall, the departmental building…I only wonder if it was ordered by a previous empress, or by a previous governor. Some of the buildings look awfully new.
And then Hernandez unwittingly answered his question.
“You like the design of the Imperial Park?” he wondered with a smirk. “It seems familiar, no? It was completely redone about fifteen years ago, when Señora Renata Palomo de la Gallego entered the sector governor’s office. She had most of the old buildings demolished, and the Sector Governor’s Mansion renovated and enlarged. All of this is new,” he said, waving his hand at the governmental buildings. “It is much nicer than it was, but it was very expensive. Not everyone approved of the taxes she levied to raise the funds.” He laughed. “Señora Governor Palomo likes to call the mansion ‘El Palacio del Gobernador.’”
Uh-oh, Ashton thought.
Mark Martin, comprehending that he was stuck on Catalonia until he could afford to get himself off it, had spent the night in the bar, alternating between shooting cheap whiskey, sipping black coffee, and dozing in a corner booth. He had ducked into the bar’s restroom to freshen up and change into clean clothes from his suitcase, then located a public locker facility and rented one in which to stuff his soft-sided case.
At this rate, he thought, I’m gonna scrape bottom on the bank account by the end of the day. I gotta start bringing some in.
Then he went in search of employment. If he could find a job, he could find a place to stay. It might not be much, and it might be in a bad part of town, but it would be a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in, until he could save up for the fare home to Sintar.
And take out that damned Ashton somewhere along the way, I hope, he thought vindictively. This is all his fault.
To his shock, however, that very afternoon, Martin spotted Ashton wandering the city with a young uniformed police officer.
“What the hell?!” he wondered, shocked. “What’s he doing out here, just lollygagging?” He paused, then patted down his pockets as he stepped around the corner of a building. “Where’d I put it, where’d I put it…”
Finally he fished out a small pistol. Then he ducked into a shaded alcove.
“Now let’s see what I can do,” he said with a smirk of glee.
Hernandez was answering some questions that Ashton had about the history of the city when a loud crack sounded from the masonry nearby, and a spray of stone chips pelted them. This was closely followed by a sharp report. Within seconds, the sequence repeated twice.
“¡Mierda! That was a gunshot! Someone is shooting at us!” Hernandez cried, as the two ducked instinctively, then swiftly sought shelter, leaping over a low brick wall and crouching behind it. “Where did it come from?” (Shit!)
“I dunno, dammit,” Ashton said, once they’d placed the brick wall between themselves and the general direction from which the shot had come. “Dammit to hell! Don’t tell me those jerks got people here after me!”
“You have enemies, mi amigo?”
“Yeah, and they don’t seem to know when to quit,” Ashton grumbled. “Their bosses are all dead, and yet they’re still out to get me, it looks like.” He shook his head. “Sorry to drag you into this, Jaime. I think we need to get back to the Headquarters building pronto, and get outta sight.”
“I think you are right!”
“Dammit,” Martin fussed. “I missed! I kept telling Gorecki I needed more marksmanship training, but no! I’m the snitch, the spy who slinks around and runs back and tells ‘em. Where the hell did they go? I want Ashton bleeding out on the ground, dammit!”
Martin sneaked over to the location where Hernandez and Ashton had been standing, keeping his weapon in hand but hidden in his pocket.
But when he got there, they were nowhere to be found.
“Damnation,” General Walder cursed, when Ashton and Hernandez reached Catalonia Sector Imperial Police Headquarters and reported in. “I didn’t think we had any of the Sintaran IPD toadies here!”
“I might have been followed here, sir,” Ashton noted. “There’s nothing to stop someone from having seen me depart Sintar and catching the next flight here. For that matter, I don’t know for a fact they weren’t on the same ship with me. I spent the entire trip holed in my cabin, out of sight, per advice from Captain Carter and Colonel Peterson.”
“Mmph,” Walder grunted. “That’s a possibility, I suppose. And it makes better sense than vipers already here. I’ve seen no sign of such at all until this. Are you sure it wasn’t just a barrio war?”
“We were walking around the gubernatorial park, sir,” Hernandez pointed out. “There should be no gang warfare near there; Señora Governor Palomo would not have it.”
“Well…shit,” Walder cursed. “That just complicated my plans by an order of magnitude or two. Lay low for a while, Ashton.”
“Yes, sir,” Ashton sighed. “Again.”
In the meanwhile, Mark Martin managed to find a blue-collar job as a transport mechanic in a shop only a few blocks away from the Imperial Police Sector Headquarters. It only paid the base amount because it was a starting position, but he wasn't cut out for much else in the way of work available in Catalonia Ciudad, and was barely competent at that, so he had to take
