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Bullets chipped across the trunk of the Jaguar that Magnus was driving. Magnus swerved back and forth in the lanes, trying to avoid the gunfire. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Carter.
“I’m not liking our situation one bit, Carter.”
Carter lowered himself in the seat. “Me, either.”
At the next intersection, Magnus took a sharp right, cut through an alley, and discovered it to be a dead end.
“Dammit!”
The two vehicles screeched to a stop at the end of the alley. The drivers pull their cars across the alley to block the path out. Magnus looked over his shoulder, shook his head, and dropped the car into reverse.
“Hang on!”
Magnus pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The tires squalled and spun as the car sped in reverse. The tail end of the Jaguar smashed into the two stopped cars. Metal crunched and the impact knocked both vehicles with enough force to allow the Jaguar to speed through.
He cut the wheel sharply, put the car into drive, and hit the gas. Both drivers stepped from their cars and began firing at the Jaguar, but Magnus made the next intersection and turned. Then he remembered the two guards and the trunk, winced, and shook his head. He hoped they were alive but they had known the risks when they took the assignment. If they had survived, they wouldn’t be harassing anyone else for a long time.
***
Senator Johnson sat at a table with Justice Watkins and the leader of the California Prison Committee, Lee Tidwell. Johnson was drained. Fatigue had aged his face by fifteen years.
For the past several months, Johnson remained at Grayson’s every beck and call. He had no other choice since Grayson had taken Johnson’s son into custody aboard the shuttle. When Joe Johnson had arrived on Mars, Matthews had ordered a chip implant for Joe. And as long as Senator Johnson complied with Grayson’s orders, Joe would not be sent to the mines. At least that was what Grayson had told Johnson. He didn’t have any proof otherwise.
Johnson was helpless. He was too old to attempt a space flight to Mars, even if he could somehow get past Grayson’s security and board a passenger shuttle. He was at Grayson’s mercy, which essentially wasn’t any mercy at all. He reminded himself every morning when he looked in the mirror that he should have retired from the senator several years earlier before Grayson had gained such a powerful hold over him. But money, more money than he could ever have acquired doing honest work, was the lure that snared him. In hindsight, all he had gained was not worth his losses, which included what little dignity he had as a politician.
Lee Tidwell finished flipping through the stack of paperwork on the table. His short grayish-silver hair was sparse. His glasses rested halfway down his thick nose. He gathered the papers into a neat stack and clacked them atop the table to straighten them. Looking up, he pressed his glasses against the bridge of his nose and stared a Johnson with a slight smile. “So Grayson wants another hundred prisoners to transport to Mars?”
Johnson nodded. “Could that be arranged?”
“This makes three hundred prisoners over the past six months.”
“I know. It’s asking too much—”
Tidwell laughed. “Are you kidding, senator?”
Johnson frowned and sat back in the high-back chair.
Tidwell shook his head. “I’ll gladly dispatch two hundred more prisoners if Grayson wants them. I appreciate what he’s done for our prison systems in California. He has lessened the overcrowding problem we’ve endured for years. We’re better able to care for a smaller population without worrying about inner prison riots from opposing gangs. Hell, I’d like to shake his hand, senator. I truly would. I simply don’t understand how he’s prevented massive riots on Mars. Has he, by chance, had uprisings?”
Johnson shook his head. “To my knowledge, and from what he has told me, he’s never had any problems at all.”
Justice Watkins was tall, slender, and sported a deep California tan. He gave a stern stare at Johnson. “You’re sure of that, senator? Because everything that Grayson does is so tightly sealed that no one outside his enterprises even has a clue as to what his mining operations on Mars are like. From my tally sheets, he has nearly five hundred prisoners?”
“Most are in transit to Mars, your honor,” Johnson said.
“How is he capable to attend their needs?”
“Food supplies are sent every week. Vast amounts,” Johnson replied.
“Do you have the paperwork to verify this?” Watkins asked.
Johnson leaned forward and opened a manila folder. He slid several papers across the table. “Here’s the past month’s shipping invoices.”
Justice Watkins scanned through the invoices. “Impressive. How about medical records? Do you have any of those? Death certificates? I imagine with such a large operation on Mars, there must be fatalities. Injury reports?”
Johnson sighed. “Right now, Mr. Grayson has only the health screening clearance sheets from where the prisoners have been given physicals prior to boarding shuttles bound to Mars. He said that he should have monthly reports soon. Within the next week or so.”
“I have to admit,” Watkins said, “that I never thought anyone could benefit our society like Grayson has while building a new civilization on another planet. This gives me hope for the future of mankind. Of course, given the population occupying Mars right now, I’d never make travel arrangements to go.”
Johnson and Tidwell laughed softly.
“But why does he need so many so soon?” Watkins asked, becoming more serious.
“He’s expanding.”
“When you speak to him again,” Watkins said, “can you get him to submit blueprint layouts of his mining operations and the housing facilities that these prisoners reside in?”
“I can ask him, but it’s doubtful he will share that information,” Johnson replied.
“Why’s that?”
“He has stated that it’s confidential information to prevent others from stealing his patented designs.”
Justice Watkins formed a finger bridge and leaned back in his chair. “In some ways, I kind of get a picture of a massive slave operation taking place on Mars. With Grayson remaining so secretive about what is going on up there, the more inclined I am to think maybe something isn’t right. Perhaps we should temporarily deny any future prisoner transfers into Grayson’s custody.”
Johnson’s hands shook. He nervously straightened his tie. His face flushed red.
Watkins noticed Johnson’s intense nervousness. “Is there a problem, senator? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You look quite nervous. Has Grayson ever threatened or bullied you in any way so that you’d become so supportive of his operations?” Watkins asked.
Johnson wanted to tell Watkins everything, and if Grayson didn’t have Joe in custody, Johnson would have spilled every corrupt detail of what he believed Grayson was doing. But he knew if he did, Joe was dead. Although Grayson had never directly threatened to kill Joe, he had said quite seriously that “accidents could occur inside Olympus Mons.”
Johnson shook his head. “No, sir.”
Tidwell frowned and looked at Watkins. “Wait, are you saying this deal isn’t going through today? I really would like to clear out more prisoners.”
Watkins gave an even smile and stood, facing them. “What you two have agreed inside this room today will be permitted. But nothing more after today, not until Grayson is ready and willing to disclose the proper paperwork to my satisfaction. I hope I’m not making a huge mistake in granting this current agreement.”
Tidwell and Johnson stood.
“Thank you, your honor,” Tidwell said.
“Yes, thank you,” Johnson said.
After the justice left the room, Tidwell shook Johnson’s hand. “Tell Grayson how much I appreciate his help in relieving our overcrowding situation.”
“I will.”
Tidwell left the room.
Senator Johnson sighed and sat back down. He leaned over the table with his hands clasped together. His mind reflected through his life’s decisions and he found he had far more regrets in life than positive memories. He didn’t know how to redeem himself or how to save his son’s fate from whatever Grayson planned to do.