Murder in Space by David V. Reed

Author:David V. Reed [Reed, David V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sci fi, Science Fiction
Publisher: Amazing Stories
Published: 1944-05-06T00:00:00+00:00

VIII

IT WAS several minutes past midnight when the two official cars sped up to the Twin-Sun building and ground to a halt. Colonial Sheriff Kaine, Ames and three deputies got out of the first car. From the second four more men alighted, two of whom stayed behind outside while the rest swiftly entered the building. Downstairs the presses were rolling with noisy thunder.

The men moved with sureness, answering no questions after Kaine served the managing editor with the court order. They entered Murchison’s private office and emptied the files. Other deputies confiscated a duplicate file of the Twin-Sun. One of Kaine’s men, a bony-fingered, thin fellow, worked on Murchison’s safe until it opened under his smooth touch. Ames and Kaine stood by, checking everything taken. The raid had been carefully planned.

The phone jangled and Kaine picked it up.

“Sheriff Kaine speaking.” His face tightened. “Sorry, Murchison; court order… Averill… Today…Yes… Yes… You were served, weren’t you?… That’s your funeral.”

He replaced the phone and continued with his checking.

Ames asked, “Your men have trouble at Murchison’s home?”

“Some. He refused to open his safe. They threatened to blast.”

Fifteen minutes later when they were ready to leave, Kaine picked up the phone, spoke into it. He waited, cursing—Ames caught a reference to his distaste for the hopelessly antiquated telephone on hopelessly antiquated Mirabello—then spoke his name. He listened a moment and hung up. To Ames he said, “It went all right at Miller’s. They’ll bring his papers in soon. Nobody tried to interfere.”

At Standish Port, Sour Tom was waiting. He had come in from the Wylie arrando where deputies had cracked the Gaucho’s Berry gauge with official keys and copied her listings. Tom had brought a copy, which he gave to Kaine. The party took the official gyro and left the blastport. It was just past one.

By three o’clock they were in the government sheds near Mayville. The large, shadowed forms of the Spoon Special and the Hellcat rested side by side on their vehicular launching blocks, two ships of seven or eight impounded by the government for one reason or another. The great sheds with their lofty, arching roofs were dark and filled with vast echoes and the men who moved on the stone floors seemed like so many preoccupied ants.

They had trained great lights on both vessels. Inside each two-man teams of specialists worked on the Berry gauges with their nitro keys. The work was tedious and painstaking, and every bit of it was carefully and officially photographed on a continuous film. When the gauges were removed, their listings were slowly unwound before the cameras as part of the record. Other men stood by copying the listings and by the time the raw film was sealed in cans, the operations complete, these men had delivered their copies to Sheriff Kaine.

From there Ames retired to a government office. Kaine and several clerks were with him, working through the night. Papers filled with calculations spread over desks and voices spoke quietly, comparing figures as they were passed to Ames.

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