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Casinos in Space, a full-length novel serialized for Casino Detroit Magazine.
Copyright © 2000 - 2008 By Howard Berenbon
Chapter 6
Spy By Night
Martin Landry was comfortable with espionage and spying. He built his best deals on surreptitious encounters with potential clients. He was lurking again, following his new acquaintances hoping to discover their secrets so he could profit again from others. He wanted to be filthy rich, not just comfortable. He wanted a mansion on a lake and servants to cater to his every need, every whim. He wanted a chauffeur-driven limousine to take him wherever and whenever he wanted to go. He was on the trail to his goal.
Martin ran as he exited the monorail car at the aft station. He was out of breath as he found the steps to the monorail maintenance area, and as he turned to walk down the flight of stairs, he slipped then slid on his bottom down the whole flight. Though he was a bit shaken, his added weight protected his stocky body, and he got up relatively unhurt, with only a bruised leg for his clumsiness.
Then he cautiously peered through the opening and looked down the dimly lit hallway. He saw no one, but heard footsteps in the distance. "Great," he murmured to himself. "I'm going to find out what those guys are doing, and maybe today I'll have the secret to their success."
Martin then walked in the direction of the sounds, but now with a limp, his right leg tightening at the knee where the fall had taken its toll. He ignored the pain and continued.
As he approached the location where he left the briefcase given to him by the GPC (Gambling Prohibition Coalition), he felt a sharp pain in his left leg, the leg he hadn't hurt in the fall. "Ouch," he yelled. The pain was so severe that he fell to the ground. Seeing an animal attached to his knee shocked him. He hadn't noticed the briefcase lying open, nearby, punched with holes looking like a block of black Swiss cheese.
"Damn dog!" he yelled. "Get away from me." Then he grabbed the head pulled it away from his body with one forceful tug, and launched it down the corridor. It buzzed wildly as it slammed onto the concrete floor and split in two, with its head going one way and body the other.
Blood was slowly oozing from the wound and dripped onto his designer shoe and then to the floor. He ignored his pain, got up, and continued down the corridor passing the giant mosquito without as much as a glance at the dead grotesque lump.
Remarkably, the blood stopped flowing as it crusted and clotted over the half-inch hole left by the mosquito's giant purbosis. Now, only slightly impeded by his pain, he continued toward his goal, his purpose, moving down the dark corridor toward the sound ahead.
Within his pain he thought of a brighter future, even if he was unable to discover their gambling secrets because he would be rewarded for his role with the GPC. He had a love-hate relationship with gambling. He hated it because it was immoral, but despite his strong feelings, he felt compelled to gamble and when he did, he thrived on the rush of the play. The GPC assured him that what he was delivering would help to disrupt gambling on the starship and further their cause.
He cautiously closed in on the footsteps, thinking how happy he would be when he discovered their secrets. If he didn't find that secret today, he would follow his newly found friends throughout the Briney System until he succeeded.
Mark Simonson and Barry Cohen had just passed the center of the starship below the monorail tracks but without even a shred of evidence that Paul Erickson had passed through. They searched every corridor, opened every door, but Paul hadn't appeared, dead or alive. The heat and humidity had noticeably increased and an odor of rotting sewage drifted above them. They were about to turn back, tired and discouraged, when the sounds of hundreds of buzzing wings headed in their direction.
"Mark, get down!" Barry ordered as he dived to the ground. After a few seconds the sounds lessened, but never stopped.
With laser pistol pointing the way, Barry and Mark cautiously followed the sounds down the next corridor. As they turned the corner, the stench of rotting sewage bloomed and then exploded in their senses, their path became wet and mucky.
"Gross," Mark said as he slushed through the mud. "This is nauseating. They must have a leak in their sewage system."
"Don't worry about your feet," Barry said. "Just keep an eye ahead of you. You wouldn't want to be some mosquito's breakfast, would you?"
Before Mark could respond, they heard a loud buzzing sound overhead. Barry aimed his laser, and a flash ruby-red illuminated the ceiling as a giant mosquito dropped dead from above.
"Get down!" Barry commanded as he aimed at another large flying target diving at Mark.
"Thanks, friend," Mark replied. "Duck, yourself, Barry, I've got this one." There was a crackling sound that ripped the wings off the bug and then it fell to the floor next to Barry. A second burst of ruby red ripped it apart as it tried to scramble away.
Martin Landry moved his head from side to side and then continued down the corridor toward his goal. It wasn't long before he found the sound and the bar with the three dead patrons, but nothing else. He kicked at the irritating sound source that lured him away from his quest. The music did not stop. He frantically started yanking at wires leading to the stage, and finally silence happened. He smiled calmly, and then left the bar, continuing down the corridor at a faster pace, his leg no longer a bother, following a new sound in the distance.
After walking a few feet, he heard a loud swishing and buzzing from above and he swatted the air around him. Then he heard multiple buzzing sounds approaching from behind and started to trot. As a mosquito passed above his head, he picked up the pace, but it was too late. A flying sword pierced his left shoulder knocking him to his knees. "Oh," he groaned.
Grabbing at the body attached to the sword, he pulled hard throwing the beast to the ground. Then he saw a flash of ruby red light a short distance ahead, and he started running.
Red mosquito blood smeared the walls and floor as Barry and Mark fought a barrage of flying beasts. "Barry, behind you." Mark yelled as he fired and killed two with two short red blasts. A third mosqueto hit Barry from behind, and he fell. At the same time, he heard pounding footsteps approaching.
Martin Landry, blood oozing from his shoulder, crashed into Mark Simonson and both men fell next to Barry Cohen. The barrage of insects began again and Mark and Barry got up shooting. Martin sat on the ground stunned.
"Get up," Martin, Barry said as he tied his handkerchief to Martin's wounded shoulder. "Let's move. Quick!" Mark and Martin took a right turn down off the main corridor following Barry. They immediately noticed a mist in the air and walls dripping with moisture.
Barry stopped ahead of Mark and Martin and stood in amazement. He found the nest. As they approached, Barry fumbled for his laser, and began blasting everything in sight. Smoke, fire and steam filled the air as the mosquito nest burned.
"Martin, what are you doing here?" Barry asked as they watched the fires illuminate the scorched corridor.
"Well, Dr. Cohen, I wanted to explore the starship," Martin answered. "But, I would like to thank you for coming to my aid. It was very fortunate for me that you and Dr. Simonson were here and came to my rescue. I owe you two my utmost gratitude." Martin realized he was the victim of his own actions. The briefcase he delivered on his arrival had been the source of the giant mosquitoes.
"I'd say we're all very lucky, considering the size of those mosquitoes." Barry said.
"If I may ask, what were you gentleman doing down here?" Martin asked.
"We were searching for our friend, Paul Erickson," Barry replied, "Any chance you saw him while you were roaming around?
"No, I had not. However, I witnessed a very gruesome scene at that bar some steps back."
"Which reminds me," Mark said. "Let's get going. It's not likely we wiped them all out.
The three men started heading down the corridor toward the aft stairway. As they approached the entrance to the bar, they could smell the stench of death from within. Before they could reach the exit, they heard a herd of buzzing wings approaching.
"Get up the stairs!" Barry yelled as the noise grew loader. But it was too late. A mosquito landed on Marks head.
"Dive, Mark, Dive," Barry yelled as he aimed and fired his laser pistol splattering the big bug in a hundred directions. Mark looked up seeing shadows above, fired, then fell to the ground.
Barry was shielding Martin as hundreds of mad mosquitoes were merging on the stairway ready to annihilate their predators. Blood and bug guts painting the stairway as laser beams sprayed above their heads.
Two of the beasts got through, one piercing Martin Landry's right leg while the other landed on Barry's back penetrating his shoulder almost to the bone. Mark acted quickly blasting both insects and then removed the blade-like stingers. The barrage continued for several minutes, now only the bugs were the casualties. It was all out war, seemly without an end, but it stopped as abruptly as it began.
Taking advantage of what may have been a momentary lull in the attack, the men scrambled up the aft staircase, bloody, wounded and exhausted, emerging at the main level with a clear view of the casinos' living lights in the distance. They were headed toward the bridge, their goal: to report the incident to the Captain White and get medical attention.
Paul was now roaming the ship, moving from casino to casino with a bucket of dollars and a soda in hand. As he walked he talked, however, no one appeared at his side. He stopped at the Eiffel Tower, part of the Paris Las Vegas casino complex, with a wide grin on his face and then continued his conversation with himself. He was full of money: coins and paper after a night of continuous gambling.
"I'm $10,000 richer tonight," Paul exclaimed to no one in particular. Passers-by leered as he blasted this declaration.
"Well, that's a darned good amount of money, partner," a voice without a body echoed from Paul's side.
"I owe it all to you, Slim," Paul said happily.
Slim warmly placed his transparent hand on Paul's shoulder and said, "You're my little buddy, boy. Soon you'll be as rich as a Texas tea baron. If you know what I mean."
"I hope so," Paul said. "Jane would be so happy."
"Do you have all your money with you, boy?" Slim asked.
Paul checked his pocket, pulled out a wad of green bills and started counting. "I have $30,000," he said with a wide grin.
"Good boy. We'll need that where we're going. Now follow me." Slim waved to Paul and they boarded the nearest monorail car. After passing through several busy casino lobbys, still bustling with bettors late in the evening, they exit at the front of the ship and headed toward the bridge.
The entrance to the bridge was heavly guarded, not an unusual scene on the Las Vegas since it was the heart of critical ship controls, some of which were highly classified. "Halt, sir, what is your business here?" asked the guard. He held a small machine gun chest high and was clad in green army garb.
"Uh, oh," Paul stammered.
"Show him your ID, boy," Slim whispered. That'll get you in."
Paul handed the guard his identification card. The guard then said, "Thank you Dr. Erickson. You're authorized here anytime. Please wear this badge, and return it before you leave."
Slim followed Paul into the control room area undetected. They entered the elevator, and Slim pressed the down button. When the door opened, they entered into the lower control room, one level below the bridge.
"Okay, my boy. We're in the right place at the right time. Hope you got all your money. We're going on a little trip." Slim entered a series numbers into an electronic lock on the front of a door marked Authorized Personal Only, and after a few moments, a green light lit above the entrance and the door opened with a creeking sound.
They entered into a small room, bigger than a closet, but smaller than a conference room with two rows of comfortable dark red cloth chairs facing a large flat screen monitor mounted on the wall. To the right of the screen was a control panel. Slim quickly typed the words "Vega, Briney 1" into the terminal, then the door automatically locked and the light changed from green to red.
"Have a seat, Paul," we're taking a little detour, to a bigger and better casino, which happens to be where you've planned to go anyway. We'll just be visiting a few days earlier than your buddies."
Slim press a large button on the control panel and after a few beeps and a loud humming sound, the room disappeared.
The artificial sun began to rise as the night transformed into another artificial blue sky day replacing the magnificent view of the Milky Way, pinpoints of starlight fading as they hurtled towards the Briney System.
Mark, Barry and Martin stopped to witness the transformation from night to day before entering the bridge.
"We'd like to speak to Captain White," Barry said to the guard at the gate to the bridge. "This is extremely urgent. Please tell him that Dr. Cohen and Dr. Simonson must see him.
The guard, shocked by their bloody and tattered appearance, said, "The Captain is not scheduled for duty until 5:30 a.m., however, it appears that you've been through an ordeal, so I'll ring him in his quarters.
If you gentleman need to see a doctor, I can arrange it before the Captain arrives?"
"Why, yes, we do need medical treatment, soon," Barry said. "But it's more important to warn the Captain so you can deal with, what we think, is a real threat to the ship, and everyone aboard. You need to know what we found in the lower level below the monorail."
Captain White arrived minutes later. Barry then detailed the events of the evening while he listened intently .
"We'll have to decontaminate that area," Captain White said. "The easiest and safest way we can do that is to depressureize the lower level. Anything at all living, bugs or beings, will cease to exist after about 3 minutes in that vacuum."
Barry, now nervious, and worrying that Paul might be roaming the lower level, spoke up. "Captain, that is a very good idea, but I was wondering if you could postpone any immediate action until we've had a chance to inspect the lower level again. Paul Erickson, our colleage, has been missing since yesterday and we suspect that he may be roaming that lower level. If you can give us some time before you act, that would be helpful."
Captain White thought for a moment and said, "I don't have a problem with your request. In fact, I'll send some of my men with you to search. Then we'll depressurize."
"Thank you very much," Barry said, feeling relieved.
That morning, Mark, Barry and several crewmen completely searched the ship, from stem to stern, but without success in finding Paul. However, they found the lower level clear of life: bugs and humans. Their search expanded to the casino and hotel levels, but again, after exhausting their search options, by late afternoon, Paul was nowhere to be found.
"Excuse me, Dr. Cohen, sir," one bridge officer said after they completed their search. He held a photo of Paul in his hand. "I may have seen Dr. Erickson late last night entering the bridge area."
Barry's face lit up. "Are you positive?"
"I'm very sure, sir. This was the man. He entered using an approved bridge access card, so I let him pass. I did feel that it was an odd hour for a visit, but he said he wanted to enter the observation deck, and that was a legitimate request."
"Are you one hundred percent sure?" Barry asked.
"No, not one hundred percent, but very close."
"If this is true," Barry said, "then there's hope Paul is somewhere on the ship. Thank you very much for your help."
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To be continued .....
