The Blunt End of Oblivion (The Blunt End Series, Book 2) Read online

  THE BLUNT END

  OF OBLIVION

  L. J. Simpson

  Text Copyright © 2017 L. J. Simpson

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed in any format, electronic or otherwise, without the prior consent of the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, either alive or dead must be considered entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design © 2017 Go On Write

  www.goonwrite.com

  PREFACE

  CHAPTER 1: The Gamble

  CHAPTER 2: Tartan Paint

  CHAPTER 3: Murder Most Foul

  CHAPTER 4: A Man’s Man

  CHAPTER 5: The Bastard

  CHAPTER 6: Gone Fishing

  CHAPTER 7: Arms for the Poor

  CHAPTER 8: No Witnesses

  CHAPTER 9: Boom

  CHAPTER 10: Hit and Miss

  CHAPTER 11: An Officer and a Gentleman

  CHAPTER 12: Artemis

  CHAPTER 13: The Devil You Know

  CHAPTER 14: A Picture Tells a Thousand Words

  CHAPTER 15: Seek and Ye Shall Find

  CHAPTER 16: Going Down

  CHAPTER 17: Nemesis

  CHAPTER 18: Gunboat Diplomacy

  CHAPTER 19: The Supreme Sacrifice

  CHAPTER 20: Whose Side Are You On?

  CHAPTER 21: The Right Stuff

  CHAPTER 22: The Lottery of Life

  EPILOGUE

  A message from the author

  PREFACE

  If you are up with your reading, you may recall that about sixty five million years ago an asteroid the size of Mt. Everest ploughed headlong into the Earth, raining death and destruction on the unsuspecting inhabitants below. The event was particularly calamitous for the dinosaurs who, save for a few birds and reptiles, abruptly disappeared from the evolutionary tree. On the other hand, it was very fortuitous for a particular group of furry little mammals who, though they didn’t know it at the time, were about to inherit the Earth. Now that kind of legacy doesn’t come along every day.

  Such events might be considered rare but this is only true when viewed from the human perspective, which is rather more blinkered than we like to admit. In the grander scheme of things – and the universe is indeed a very grand place – such events happen all the time, and when they do – or don’t, as the case may be – one thing can lead to another and the consequences can be so far-reaching that it may very well take an omnipotent life form to truly appreciate them.

  At about the same time that the furry little creatures on Earth were sticking their heads up to see if the coast was clear, a bright, shiny comet was heading straight for another planet a few hundred light years away. This planet had evolved very much like the Earth and was teeming with all kinds of competing life. The only difference was that in this particular case the onrushing comet was considerably bigger than Mt. Everest. Its arrival not only snuffed the terrible lizards, it snuffed out everything else as well. Nothing survived the impact, not even the smallest microbe. The crust was transformed into a heaving ocean of molten lava and the whole planet completely sterilized, all of the chemical building blocks necessary for life being reduced to their constituent atoms.

  Neither immediately or even retrospectively obvious, this was yet another fortuitous event for the furry little creatures who were merrily evolving away back on Earth, for in another time and in another universe, the comet merely grazed the other planet where, sixty four and a bit million years on, an aggressive warrior race evolved to become the dominant power in the galaxy, exterminating the descendents of Earth’s furry little mammals along the way.

  Had the human race been aware of their fate in the alternate universe, there would have been two schools of thought regarding their deliverance from evil in this one. The religious leaders would declare that this clearly proved the existence of a benevolent god. The men of science, on the other hand, would simply conclude that comets were something to be taken very seriously indeed.

  CHAPTER 1: The Gamble

  Harland Shipyards, Atlas System

  Five o’ clock Friday evening; the absolute best part of the week. Jimmy Franks slammed shut the door to his locker, twisted the key in the lock and then dashed off to exit, waving his key card against the time clock as he raced past. He cursed as the clock failed to reward him with a ‘beep’, did a quick back shuffle and then shot off again. He made the 5:15 shuttle with seconds to spare and was still fastening his straps when the familiar bumps and thuds told him that the shuttle had broken away from space dock and begun its slow decent to the city of Atlas Central.

  * * *

  The Cascades Club, Atlas Central

  ‘Gamble responsibly’ said a large sign above the entrance to the gaming rooms. The casino management probably hated that. Gamble responsibly? That was the last thing they wanted you to do. They much preferred you to gamble stupidly. Not so stupidly that you wouldn’t come back at all, but just stupidly enough to ensure that you’d lose a large enough chunk of your pay-check to be missed and then come back the next night to try and win it back.

  ‘Gamble responsibly’, said the sign. Required by law and most likely dreamed up by an underfunded government department, the words seemed oddly out of place, written in an elegant font more suited to a wedding invitation. And of course, the sign didn’t make much difference anyway. The truly responsible gamblers didn’t need to look at it in the first place and the ones who might have found redemption in the words were more apt to pretend the sign wasn’t there at all. As for the real hard core gamblers, their addiction was a drug where neither sense nor sensibility entered the equation. Still, the state had at least to pay lip service to the notion of reducing the number of bankruptcies, broken homes and suicides associated with gambling, but not too much, as that might in turn reduce the revenue gleaned by a 13% tax on all casino profits.

  With the Cascades Club located on the eighty-fifth floor, suicide wasn’t an entirely unknown phenomenon. The cocktail bar led onto a balcony which boasted a stunning night view of the city. Unfortunately, the allure of the void on the other side was, on occasion, just a little too inviting for the desperate, the desolate and the destitute. It certainly was a long drop; long enough for you to change your mind on the way down if you were of a mind – not that it would make any difference, of course.

  As he always did, Jimmy Franks glanced up at the sign as he made his way inside the gaming rooms. ‘Gamble responsibly’. And of course he would, for although he loved a wager he was indeed a responsible gambler. And better that that, he was a lucky gambler too. He’d set his limit – usually 200 credits – and if the worst came to the worst and he lost the lot, he’d smile, say thanks to the croupier and then while away the rest of the evening watching the other players or perhaps, if he was very lucky, chatting with the ever friendly, always smiling Alice; croupier par excellence and the girl of his dreams. He’d never quite plucked up the courage to ask her for a date but perhaps that was just as well; if she turned him down – and she surely would – not only would he be too embarrassed to return to the Cascades ever again, he would also suffer a terminally broken heart. It was one gamble too far.

  As he made his way into the gaming rooms the floor manager came over to greet him. “It’s the man himself! Lucky Jim. What’s your pleasure this evening?”

  “Oh, same as usual, Dan. Start off with blackjack and if my luck holds, maybe a dabble on the roulette tables.”

 
“Well, you’re a terrible man for having your luck hold, and if by chance it doesn’t, I do believe the lovely Alice is on duty this evening. I could put in a good word for you if you like.”

  “No! Just…don’t.” said Jimmy.

  “OK,” laughed Dan. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Jimmy Franks and Dan Buckler went back a long way. Growing up in the same neighbourhood they went to the same schools, attended the same technical college and worked evenings together at this very casino to pay off their college fees. After college, Jimmy took his diploma in astro-mechanics and went off to work at the shipyards. Meanwhile, Dan decided that the green baize of the gaming tables was a far more attractive proposition than a box of spanners and a set of permanently dirty fingernails. Staying on at the Cascades, he gradually rose through the ranks to reach his present position of floor manager. Compared to crawling around the innards of an ion engine, patrolling the casino was not just easier on the body, it was a job that allowed you to rub shoulders with the most interesting of people: the rich, the famous, the powerful and occasionally, the dangerous.

  And there was one such person, thought Dan, his eye wandering to a table where an immaculately dressed man sat in conversation with the casino’s general manager. A simple glance at the man’s attire told you that he was a gentleman of means and the two minders sitting a discrete distance away indicated that he was also a man of authority. Dan knew him as Mr. St.Clair, owner of the Cascades and head of a business empire that spanned a number of star systems. That his businesses were said to include included smuggling, drug running, arms dealing and illegal prostitution was besides the point and not Dan’s concern.

  In Dan’s estimation Mr. St.Clair was, in fact, a very unassuming and even likable character; softly spoken and with impeccable manners, it was said that when asked about his occupation he would simply reply, ‘gentleman’. He was famous only within certain circles but within those circles he was well known for being completely ruthless, a word which, when used in the context of the infamous Delph crime syndicate, generally meant savage, brutal and cruel. Suffice it to say that Mr. St.Clair fell very much into the category of ‘dangerous’.

  That being so Dan was slightly surprised when the general manager called him over to their table. There’s a first, he thought.

  Wandering over to one of the blackjack tables, Jimmy was delighted to see Alice dealing the cards to an elderly man and his wife. Both were expensively dressed and the lady was bedecked in more finery than Jimmy had ever seen on one woman before. But the thing that gained his attention more than anything was the look in their eyes as his hand brushed hers. It could only be one thing: love, and a love that had evidently stood the test of time. Would that he and Alice could share the same look, if only for an instant...

  “Good evening, sir,” said Alice as he sat down.

  “Hi, Alice,” he said, placing a couple of chips in the betting square in front of him, a meagre offering compared to the small mountain of chips wagered by the couple seated next to him. Alice dealt him a king followed by a ten.

  “Stand,” said Jimmy. Alice turned over a nine to go with her queen.

  “House pays twenty,” she said, handing over Jim’s winnings with a smile. He won the next hand and the one after that. By the time the two love birds left the table he’d doubled his stake, always playing the percentages, hitting, standing and doubling according to the law of averages and never, ever allowing his heart to rule his head.

  “You’re on a winning streak,” said another player.

  “Looks that way,” he said, though the experienced gambler within reminded him that there was no such thing as a streak, either winning or losing; each hand was played solely on its own merits.

  He gazed around the gaming room as Alice shuffled the deck. There were the usual whoops of delight mixed with groans of anguish as the winners and losers announced their fate to the world. Some players accepted winning and losing with apparent indifference while others wore their hearts on their sleeves, their emotions betrayed by a wide variety of grins and grimaces.

  If he’d looked across at Dan Buckler, he might have noticed him frown as the general manager spoke into his ear. He might even have seen Dan glance at Mr. St.Clair before he left the table and looked over to where Alice was once again dealing the cards, a strained expression now fixed on his face.

  A few minutes later a new dealer called Toby replaced Alice at the blackjack table. Jimmy was sorry to see Alice go but Toby soon rewarded him with a string of winning hands and even better, Alice soon returned bearing a glass of whisky and soda on a silver tray.

  “Compliments of Mr. Buckler,” she said with her usual smile.

  “Why, thank you,” said Jimmy, searching for Dan in the crowd. “Tell him I said thanks.”

  “Will do,” said Alice, giving him a pat on the shoulder as she left.

  An hour later, Jimmy was sitting with a great pile of chips before him and could do no wrong. He had but to will a certain card to appear and, as if by magic, it did. Toby beamed at him from across the table, his fellow players cheered and of course, the lovely Alice also rewarded him with a smile every time she passed by. The onlookers clapped as he was dealt a yet another winning hand and Jimmy felt a surge of power. He was invincible, the universe at his feet and master of his own destiny. Giving Toby a generous tip he counted up his winnings. Seventeen thousand credits? It hardly seemed credible.

  From there he moved to the roulette tables. And he kept on winning… at least for a while. But then he began to lose. Slowly at first – a hundred here, two hundred there. Then it was five hundred here and a thousand there. Lady Luck had temporarily deserted him but she would return – of that he was sure! Jimmy shrugged off his inner warnings and placed a large bet on the ‘even’ tile.

  “Twenty seven,” called the croupier, sweeping Jimmy’s chips from the table. Jimmy gazed down at the last few chips before him. Pausing for a moment he placed them all on the number seventeen.

  “No more bets,” said the croupier as the ball began to slow and then bounce around the wheel. Seconds later it came to rest. Jimmy and a crowd of onlookers waited with baited breath.

  “Thirteen,” called the croupier to a chorus of groans. Jimmy’s head sank into his hands. The croupier leant across and asked in a low voice, “Does sir require credit?”

  “Five thousand,” said Jimmy, instantly accepting the pile of chips and weighing up the choices once more. Red or black, odd or even, so many choices, so many ways to win, to lose…

  Although Jimmy couldn’t know it, he wasn’t gambling any more. He wasn’t even playing. He was being played. It had started as soon as Toby replaced Alice at the blackjack table. For Toby had a rare skill, the one most sought after at any casino: he could deal you any hand he wanted.

  “Let him win,” Dan Buckler had told him. And so he did. Not so quickly as to arouse suspicion but quickly enough to get the job done.

  After that, all that was needed was the spiked whiskey and the offer of credit. The target was primed, the wheels set in motion and the man who thought himself master of the universe was about to become a pawn.

  At a nod from Dan Buckler, the croupier refused Jimmy any further credit. Dan hated to do this to a friend but Dan wasn’t in control of the situation either. Once Mr. St.Clair made his wishes known, that was that, unless you were happy having someone press a shotgun to the back of your leg and blowing your kneecap off. And that could be considered getting off lightly.

  Jimmy arose from his seat in a daze, the croupier giving him a consoling look as he left the table. Alice was standing across the room. She was no longer smiling; she shook her head and turned away as he caught her eye.

  He wandered off towards the exit where the words, ‘Gamble responsibly’ still stood above the door. His brain was still fumbling for the reasons why he hadn’t when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Jimmy, we need to talk,” said Dan. He guided Jimmy to a small but comfort
able office and sat him down in front of the desk. “Jimmy, I hate to do this to you but we need you to settle your account.”

  “My account…?”

  “It’s a house rule, you know that.”

  “But I… I don’t…” He looked up at Dan’s face in anguish. “I don’t even remember how much.”

  “Twenty five thousand.”

  “How much?!”

  “Twenty five. Look, Jim. I’m sorry. I don’t know how you managed to get in so deep. I should have been keeping an eye on you. If someone had told me–” He broke off as the phone on the desk began to buzz. “Excuse me a moment.”

  Jimmy watched in silence as Dan listened to the voice at the other end, nodded a few times, said yes, then no, and finally replaced the receiver. Dan rubbed his brow for a second.

  “Mr. Jewkes, the casino manager wants to see us.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan lied. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get this sorted out.”

  Jimmy followed Dan Buckler through the now empty gaming rooms, along an elegantly decorated corridor and into the office of the casino’s general manager.

  “You’ve had quite a night, Mr… Franks, is it?” said Jewkes.

  “Yes,” said Jimmy.

  “According to this, you have run up a tab of… twenty five thousand credits,” he said, looking down at a balance sheet on the desk. “Is this information correct, Mr. Buckler?”

  “Yes, sir, it is,” said Dan.

  “You are aware, Mr. Franks, that all accounts must be settled before leaving the casino. I’m afraid there can be no exceptions.” Jimmy glanced across at Dan Bucker, hoping for some kind of sign but Dan just stared straight ahead. “Do you have the necessary… funds?” Jewkes let the last word hang in the air as Jimmy searched for a response.

  “If you could give me a few weeks, maybe I could–”

  “As I said, before leaving the premises. No exceptions.”

  “I… I don’t have it,” said Jimmy.