The Red Admiral Read online

  "I guess I shouldn't be surprised since you found several at each of the other systems. But you have to give the criminals credit. It's clever…and amazing none of the women have…" He stopped talking suddenly and picked up his tablet. After a minute, he spoke. "Hey, Doc, do you still have that Jane Doe's body?" He listened for a moment. "Come with me, Anna," he said, rising. I followed him to the elevator, which descended to a subbasement level and opened into a maze of offices and rooms I recognized through their windows as autopsy examination rooms. He opened the door to a room lined with metal drawers where a short, pudgy man stood in a white lab coat. "This is our chief medical examiner. Doc, this is Admiral Paulus. She's looking into missing women and I think our Jane Doe may be one of the women she's looking for."

  "Nice to meet you, Admiral Paulus." VanHorn appraised me from head to toe before continuing. "Personal?" he asked.

  "Anna, please. No. I'm searching for a specific group of women who appear to have been abducted, not runaways," I said.

  He nodded, walked over to a bank of drawers, and stood with his hand on the middle one. "This woman was a drug addict for a long time, probably homeless, judging by her mismatched and inappropriate clothing for this weather and her malnourished condition." He looked to me but didn't move. When I nodded, thinking his pause was a question—Do you wish to see her, it's not pretty—he slid open the drawer and uncovered her face. She was close to being a skeleton. Her face looked to have no fat or muscle, her eyes sunken deep into her skull, and her hair thinning like a very old woman. I took out my tablet and slowly scanned through the facial pictures of the women as I tried to imagine what Jane Doe's face would have looked like before she was kidnapped. I stopped when I found the picture of Lillian Barnes from Oasis, abducted forty-one months ago, and handed my tablet to VanHorn. He spent several minutes comparing his autopsy results to the physical information I had on Lillian.

  "She appears to be a match, but we would need her DNA or fingerprints to prove it. Even her parents' or siblings' DNA would work," said VanHorn eventually. "There are multiple signs of new and old trauma injuries." VanHorn had tears in his eyes. "I hope you find the bastard who abducted her."

  I couldn't help wondering how a beautiful young girl wound up here looking like that. The drugs she was on would destroy her physically over time, but she had had some pretty rough treatment.

  "She will," Pannell said with a certainty that I hoped was right. And Red gave an unusual hiss I felt deep in my bones as his commitment to help. Silly, maybe, but it certainly echoed my commitment to see whoever was responsible punished to the full extent of the law.

  * * *

  "Banner, send the following message to all NIA stations, except New Zheng. And be sure to use Crazy Numbers," I said, back on the Taranis as the cruiser was preparing to depart for New Zheng.

  Your top priority is to obtain DNA from family members, parents or siblings, for the missing women we identified as meeting the Magic Act profile. You are to forward that information to Commander Damon, Eastar Station Chief, who will update our database. The updated database will be disseminated and should be used to check Jane Does, both past and present.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Star System: Undisclosed - Choices

  Susan Guzman woke laying on an old mattress in a dark room. Her head ached, and she had trouble focusing. She couldn't remember what she had been doing before she got here—wherever here was. In fact, she was having trouble remembering what day or even what month it was, much less what happened over the last few days. The last thing she remembered was sitting in a classroom listening to a lecture…but she couldn't remember the subject or why she had been there. Her mind felt in chaos and she couldn't seem to focus. She gave up and decided to determine where she was. There was no light in the room, so she stood with her hand on the wall and began walking. She stumbled as she stepped off what she thought a mattress, but the wall kept her from falling. After several minutes, she had determined the room was roughly four steps square, maybe ten to twelve meters, had one door, which was locked, and was empty except for the mattress and a pot which she guessed was to relieve herself. She concluded she was a prisoner. The question was whether that was good or bad. If she had been kidnapped for money, that might not be so bad. Her father would pay whatever they asked, and the negotiations wouldn't take more than a day or two. If she hadn't been kidnapped for money, that might be very bad—torture and rape by some madman over weeks or months, ending in death.

  She slept off and on for shorts periods of time, relieving herself in between naps. She was hungry, thirsty, and close to panic as her imagination created various scenarios that became progressively worse as the time passed and no one came. The smell of piss and shit made her wonder if she had been abandoned to die of dehydration and hunger in revenge for some act she or her father had committed.

  Relief flooded her when the door opened and light illuminated the room. A man of average height and build with a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee entered the room. Her relief faded as he approached and she saw the evil look in his eyes. She stumbled back until the wall stopped her. He hadn't moved. Then he waved toward the door.

  "Come," he said with a sneer. For a moment Susan considered staying in her bare and stinking room rather than following the man. But common sense told her she had no choice and would be better off knowing her fate than speculating. She cautiously exited the door into a well-lit room with a rectangular table that had eight padded chairs. To her astonishment, the table had a white tablecloth and contained a variety of food and drinks. Susan's month watered, and she was tempted to rush there. She was thirsty and starved but froze when she looked into the eyes of the woman facing her on the opposite side of the table. Dressed all in black, she didn't look evil like the well-dressed man who had come to fetch her—more like death personified.

  "We need to talk, but you should eat first. You must be starved. I apologize, but we were unavoidably delayed," the woman said in a soft voice that nevertheless commanded her to obey. She sat, poured a glass of water, and gulped it down and then another. Finally, she examined the bowls of steaming food. Scanning the table, she could hardly believe her eyes. A shrimp appetizer, a green-looking soup, a tossed salad with nuts, steak, half a chicken, a slab of fish, mashed potatoes, a pie next to a chocolate cake, as well as a pot of coffee and a bottle of red wine. Starving, she filled her plate and ate. The food was hot and delicious. Susan didn't know what to make of the bizarre situation—one minute a prisoner and the next rescued? But she was too hungry to worry about it for now. Feeling stuffed after a salad, soup, and two plates full of steak, fish, and potatoes, a large slice of chocolate cake, and several cups of coffee, she sat back and looked at the woman, who sat quietly waiting, looking like she was half asleep.

  "Why did you kidnap me?" Susan asked the question she had been avoiding. The scrumptious meal had made her feel human again but hadn't allayed her fears. In a way, it had heightened them. The better the treatment, the bigger the bill when it came.

  "This is one of those life-changing events that sometimes occurs in a person's life. They can be good or bad, but they can't be avoided." The woman smiled, and Susan knew she wasn't going to like what was coming as sure as she knew she couldn't avoid it. "I will give you three choices. You're free to choose."

  "What if I don't like the choices?"

  "Like life, our options are not always good. You may bitch and complain, but it changes nothing. For example, imagine you contract an incurable disease. You may choose treatment to prolong your life a few months at the cost of much pain or choose to let nature take its course and avoid the painful treatment, or you may choose to take the easy way out and kill yourself. On the surface, you have no good choices. Life has dealt you a nasty hand, but you have no recourse. You must choose from those options available to you. But just maybe one of those available choices potentially has a favorable outcome: if you chose treatment, your increased longevity lets you live long eno
ugh that a cure is discovered. Or choosing to let nature take its course, you find the diagnosis was wrong and you go on to live a normal life, whereas treatment would have had an adverse effect that left you paralyzed. Therefore, taking your life could have precluded you from a potentially long and wonderful life."

  "I assume ransom isn't one of my three choices," Susan asked, afraid the disease example wouldn't be very far from her available options.

  "Correct," the woman said in that same soft and deadly tone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Star System: New Zheng

  I sat thinking about home and Alexa as the shuttle descended toward the planet New Zheng. At least this was the last stop and in a few days we would be heading back to Eastar, a three-day hop. When the hatch opened and I departed, I saw a somewhat overweight lieutenant commander waiting. He saluted.

  "Welcome to New Zheng, Admiral Paulus. Commander Gardner submitted his retirement papers and was officially retired two days ago. Vice Admiral Lulltrel appointed me as the acting NIA station chief," he said hurriedly, as if he had rehearsed it and wanted to get it out before he forgot. "Oh, I'm Lieutenant Commander Morrison." He gave me a weak smile. The man seemed unreasonably nervous, even for facing an unknown admiral. Or just maybe facing an admiral who was rumored to be cleaning house. And if Commander Gardner had suspected he was next and had said something derogatory to Morrison…

  I introduced Morrison to my party while I thought about the situation and what possible effect Commander Gardner had on the station before he left—and for that matter, his management of the station over the years if he were in such a hurry to leave.

  "Commander, I assume you have reservations for me at some hotel?" I asked and continued when he nodded. "Good. While I freshen up and get settled, would you help Lieutenant Banner get me an appointment with the police commissioner and call an expanded staff meeting to include all of the NIA station personnel?" I said and waited while Morrison gave Pannell the reservation information and then left with Banner.

  "That was kind, ma'am," Stamm said with a smile. "Hopefully David can calm the commander."

  "I'd like him thinking rather than worrying about all the bad things he's imagining are going to happen because of Commander Gardner's escape. It will be our job to figure out why Gardner decided to retire."

  "The rumors, ma'am?" Stamm suggested.

  "I doubt it, Carl. As Admiral Lulltrel told me, you can't fire anyone without justifiable cause. Consequently, Gardner merely had to stick to 'yes ma'am, no ma'am' to keep his current position no matter what I may have thought of him. No, I think he was afraid I'd discover something that would result in court martial charges." I laughed. "And it's your task to discover what."

  Stamm stood quiet for a few minutes then smiled. "I serve at your will, ma'am."

  "If my Master Chief can't find out what it is, I'll have to doubt my opinion of who really runs the military."

  "We can't have that, ma'am. Wouldn't look good for my admiral to look like she didn't know everything worth knowing." He snapped off a quick salute and disappeared. Pannell smiled.

  "That was clever, Anna," Pannell said and gave a snort. "Master chiefs know everything that's going on because their information network extends across services. They usually keep their findings quiet and address any problems among themselves. But Stamm's very fond of you and respects you. I think he and many of the other chiefs who know you consider you one of them."

  I laughed. "Paul, can you just see me as a Gunny?"

  Paul gave a genuine laugh. "The physical image isn't as unbelievable as the rhetoric image," Paul said, then continued in a soft female-sounding voice, "Sergeant Clark, why do you think you failed to achieve your objective…" Paul then switched to imitating a gunny sergeant shouting. "Sergeant dumbass, that gnat-sized brain you have rattling around in your Neanderthal skull might work better if you got it out of your ass…" Then he began laughing. I couldn't help joining in.

  * * *

  Morrison and Banner had arranged for the meeting with Commissioner Hoffman just after lunch and the expanded staff meeting at eight hundred hours the next day with assurances from Banner that Admiral Paulus would find those arrangements acceptable.

  "Morrison was scared to death you were looking for any reason to retire or demote him if the staff meeting wasn't ready the minute the meeting with the commissioner ended. Apparently, Gardner has been belittling you for months and suggested that you hated men and you trumped up charges against Commanders Steward and Devore to force them to retire. And implied Morrison was next," Banner said when he returned several hours later. "I tried to assure him the staff meeting would be interesting and nothing for him to worry about. I don't know whether I succeeded or not. What he needs is a few tranquilizers before the meeting starts."

  "Thanks for trying, David. I can understand his concern given the rumor mill's spin on the two retirements and Gardner's apparent hostility. I just hope the majority of NIA station folks will take my message to heart—focus on your responsibilities and the promotions and accolades will take care of themselves."

  "You've convinced me, ma'am."

  * * *

  "According to the rumors, you're the wicked witch from Eastar who has earned her rank by taking credit for others' work, hates men, and makes up false charges to get rid of those who won't bend to your will," Commissioner Hoffman said as I entered his office. He had risen from his desk and came around with his hand extended. "Translation, you're a no-nonsense woman who doesn't tolerate fools, and those impressive medals show you earned your rank on your own back." He smiled as we shook hands. "But I'm intrigued as to why you wanted a meeting with me." He waved for me to sit. Pannell shook his head when he looked to him.

  "According to your comments, you're a streetwise policeman who came up through the ranks and you’re not one to take lightly," I said. He laughed. "I'm seeking your help to get rid of some evil people who think we're fools and the UAS is their private playground," I said and recounted my story about Guzman's daughter and my findings to date. Ten minutes later, he had the records on his conference room table and two detectives helping us review them. He had dinner served in the room, and we didn't finish until nearly midnight.

  "Why do you think New Zheng only had three cases and none in years three, four, and five?" Hoffman asked after we had finished.

  "I believe their operations began in the systems in the northern quadrant: Oasis, Westar, Shadows Rest, and Safe Harbor. They are the only systems that had activity five years ago. Then it spread to Oxax, Fire Rock, Truth Star, Black Water, and Holy Star. Last year, their operation finally reached you."

  "So, I can expect an increase in activity," he said as a fact and not as a question.

  "I believe so. Keep an eye on Jane Does. Shortly I'll be circulating DNA along with their pictures and other information on the missing women. Preferably we can find one or more of these women alive."

  * * *

  I entered the NIA conference room several seconds after Banner had shouted attention. There seemed to be fewer people than I thought were on the payroll.

  "At ease. Commander Morrison, is everyone present?" I asked in a normal but soft tone. Everyone looked ready to duck under the table at the first sign of trouble, which they expected any second.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said, and I could sense he wanted to say more but couldn't get the words out. Fear had him paralyzed.

  "Good. Would anyone like to guess why I'm here?" I asked, looking around the table at each individual.

  There was silence for a long while, but then a young brunette with long hair framing a thin, serious face spoke. "To clean house," she stated in a firm voice.

  "To inspect the station," a small, redheaded ensign said a few seconds later. She looked very young and sounded nervous but looked determined. I noticed none of the men spoke, and they looked to be trying to keep their heads down.

  "That's the trouble with the rumor mill. About half the time it's fifty perc
ent fact and fifty percent speculation. The other fifty percent of the time it's full of speculation by people who like to claim to be in the know—and aren't." That got a few tentative smiles. "Actually, I'm running an errand for Admiral Webb that has given me an opportunity to stop in and meet the men and women who make the NIA the premier organization it is today." Except for me being an unknown admiral that would have started the whole room talking—well, whispering side comments. It certainly helped to reduce the tension. I stood and removed my jacket before sitting again. "To accomplish that, I'd like to go around the room and hear each of you tell me your name, position, and what you are working on. Consider me a new recruit to the group who is interested in getting brought up to speed." The session went on for two days, and each hour the tension lessened. By the second day, people were open and forthcoming.

  * * *

  "Ma'am, the skinny is that Commander Gardner could be bribed to overlook actual findings and help the individual avoid prosecution. He blamed it on the glory-seeking admiral at headquarters who was sucking up to influential people for favors for her out-of-zone promotions. And he blamed the staff shortages on you diverting funds for your special projects, when in fact he was pocketing the money for salaries of people who didn't exist," Stamm said as Pannell, Morrison, Banner, Stamm, and I sat in Morrison's office late that afternoon.

  "Sounds like Hoffman was right. I'm a nasty bitch who got my rank by sucking up to the right people and will eventually rid the NIA of you incompetent males," I said, shaking my head in disgust. That elicited an assortment of laughs, snorts, and chokes. "Morrison, I imagine you were aware that Gardner was less than perfect," I said, stating it as a question.