Free Titan (Old Ironsides Book 2) by Dean Crawford Page A

stepped out of the shuttle and smelled the wonderful scent of the nearby ocean and of air that hadn’t been recirculated through New Washington’s scrubbers a few thousand times.
    Foxx led the way across to the police vehicle as its side door opened and a detective leaned out and shook her hand. Stocky, perhaps a little overweight, with thinning brown hair and an easy smile, he looked every inch the lucky cop who got the planet–side gig while the rest of the department sweated it out in New Los Angeles orbit.
    ‘Detective Larry Samson, first precinct, San Diego,’ he introduced himself as they climbed in. ‘You guys on the Reed case?
    ‘Down from New Washington,’ Foxx confirmed as the doors closed and Samson drove out of the airport, the craft as smooth as could be on its gravity–defying propulsion system.
    ‘Must be a hell of a ride,’ Samson pointed out as he switched the craft onto some kind of autopilot and stretched out in his seat, swivelling it around to face them. ‘So what’s the deal here? Xavier Reed went hands–down on the best built case we had this year, no contest from the defense or the jury other than the usual hearsay. What gives?’
    Nathan replied, keen to take any flak away from Foxx.
    ‘Questions,’ he said, ‘about motive and about Reed’s record prior to the event.’
    ‘You’re investigating the motive?’ Samson chuckled. ‘You know that Ricard died from a plasma hit to the chest at close range after an argument, right?’
    ‘Reed claimed that his weapon fizzled, that he didn’t make the fatal shot.’
    ‘Sure, that’s what Reed used as his defense and it was rejected out of hand. His family screaming about it won’t help, the guy’s a convicted murderer.’
    ‘He still claims a third party was involved,’ Nathan added.
    ‘So? These dudes would likely invoke the presence of Zeus if they thought it would get them off the hook! Do you know how many homicides we had in the city last year?’
    Nathan shook his head.
    ‘Fourteen,’ Samson replied. ‘That’s more than one a month and the worst it’s been for decades. The police commissioner’s already been hauled over the coals by the governor about the rise in crime and he’s not going to take kindly to somebody walking in here and overturning a solid conviction.’
    ‘Even if that conviction turns out to be unsound?’ Nathan challenged.
    ‘You ever heard of a stronger case?’
    ‘In my time,’ Nathan said, ‘there were a hundred homicides in San Diego every year.’
    ‘What do you mean your time?’ Samson asked, confused.
    ‘You worked this one, right?’ Foxx guessed, quick to intervene.
    ‘Sure I did,’ Samson admitted, ‘but don’t go gettin’ any ideas that I’m fighting for my pride here. Reed’s as guilty as they come and no appeal is going to dig his sorry ass out of Tethys.’
    ‘Then you won’t mind us taking a look around,’ Foxx said with a sweet smile.
    ‘You go for your life,’ Samson said, and then glanced out of the windshield as a gentle ping sound alerted him. ‘Here we are.’
    The craft slowed alongside an old building that looked somewhat like a barn, located at the foot of the hills at Montecito Point alongside a low warehouse that looked like it had been boarded up decades ago. Nathan climbed out with Foxx and looked around them. The residential areas that had once densely populated the area in Nathan’s time were long gone now, the rocky hillsides peppered with scrub and bushes, palms swaying in the gentle breeze from the coast that swept up the valley and carried with it the scents of the ocean and wildflowers. If Nathan looked carefully, he could just make out the centuries old foundations of the homes that had once stood on the hills, angular outcrops in the otherwise wild landscape.
    ‘This is it,’ Samson said as he gestured to the barn.
    The barn itself was a bar, Nathan realized, devoid of tenants at this time of the morning as they followed Samson to the left