Local cops hated seeing them come into their jurisdiction. They stayed on edge the whole time the bastards were there, and they celebrated as soon as the shitheads rode out of town on their high horses. And Burlington was now having to deal with some of these very assholes now.
As he stood below Tiger’s room at the Spaceport Inn and surveyed the destruction, he mentally cursed this bunch of black-clad bastards. Did he not have enough problems with Cutter Hawkins and his gang of smugglers? Throw in homegrown scum like the Tuttles, and he sure didn’t need this aggravation. And there was always something going on down in Rocket Town. He had more than enough on his plate.
At thirty-seven, Burlington was one of the youngest Special Inspectors in the ZP. Even so, he was a grizzled veteran. Huntsville had always been an active sector. Most regions with an interplanetary spaceport usually were. He’d made a name for being a hard-nosed cop who was willing to take it right up to the line to get the job done. Occasionally, the line might even be blurred. He was a cop’s cop. Among the ZiPs, he was known as a “Dick Tracy.” There was very little he hadn’t seen, and he had good instincts.
But now, he had this pile of shit in his lap. And in a major way. It looked as if a small war had erupted at the old hotel. Above him, an aerial pumper hovered just outside the pilot Thomas’ room, spraying down the last of the smoldering furniture. Ambulances had taken away some of the injured ARA’s. Apparently, they’d run into a somewhat formidable adversary. Burlington was surprised to find himself almost delighted by that. Uniformed officers in SWAT gear had rounded up the rest of the mercs (why not call them what they were) and herded them up with their fancy high-tech craft. And even though they were being kept under “custodial guard” by two of Burlington’s men, none seemed overly concerned. They just sat quietly, drinking water, relaxing, even joking and laughing. Their cocksure confidence infuriated him.
He was dying for one of the confiscated Martian cigarettes hid away in the inner pocket of his trench coat. Most of the older cops would’ve thought nothing of it. In fact, many of them shared the same outlawed vice. But this was a very active crime scene and there were a lot of young cops around … not to mention the press. He needed to set an example.
“Special Inspector Burlington.” A voice from behind him interrupted his fuming. He turned to see a patrol officer in full tactical gear striding up. Following behind her was one of the blacked-out troublemakers. “This is the man I think you’re wanting.”
The bounty hunter had the mannerisms and body language of someone who’d spent his entire life giving orders. Burlington suspected either ex-military or some sort of police. The man stepped past the officer and extended his hand, a warm smile on his face.
“Inspector Burlington, I’m Forrest Frost.” With the tone of his voice and his almost cheerful disposition, Frost acted as if they had just met for an afternoon tee-off at the country club. Burlington wasn’t about to play nice. He stared down at Frost’s hand as if it were leprous.
“Special Inspector Burlington,” he replied curtly, making no effort whatsoever to shake the man’s hand. Realizing this, Frost let his hand fall back to his side, but the smile never wavered, as the detective continued. “And I think you owe me an explanation for all this.”
Frost’s smile morphed into a look of genuine regret. “I apologize for this. Sincerely. But, I assure you, it was all part of a legally sanctioned attempt to apprehend a lost asset.”
“A legally sanctioned attempt that I was not aware of. It’s a courtesy for you vultures to notify local law when you’re operating in our jurisdictions.”
“I totally agree. And in hindsight, I dropped the ball there.” He never even flinched at the insult. Smooth operator. A glint appeared in his eye, as he added, “But, as you said, it’s only a courtesy. I have “Alpha” status. It’s not a requirement.”
You enjoyed pointing that out, didn’t you? You arrogant prick!
“I’m sure this can be verified?”
“Your department should have my credentials by now. I figured after this little mess I’d need to send them on in.”
Burlington shot a glance at the officer who hovered nearby. She gave a slight nod. Even without the silent affirmation, he never doubted the man was who he said he was.
It changed nothing.
“Y’know, you have some way of looking at things, Mr. Frost. Destroying a hotel, holding its staff and guests at gunpoint while you did … I’d hate to see you really fuck something up.”
“I understand you’re upset, Special Inspector,” Frost was still smiling, but his words were growing colder. “But it was not our intention to come in here and wreck your town. We only came to retrieve a fugitive and were met with resistance not only from our quarry but from this renegade spacefarer.” The amused glint in his eye again. “It seems your city has once again lived up to its good ol’ boy image. This Tanner Thomas has assaulted licensed agents under my command. You must now consider this man a criminal and a fugitive. As such, you know that you are now obligated to assist me.”
Burlington’s temper flared, as he took a step forward, getting in Frost’s face before he realized what he was doing.
