The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission by Raymond Klein (ebook reader 7 inch txt) 📕

She smiled as she looked down at herself and spun around one time, “Thanks, me too. Now I have something to wear if I ever go to the club downtown. Haven’t yet. But maybe, someday.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

It was three in the morning. The rain that rhythmically drummed on the canvas top of the replicated 1959 Ford Thunderbird had started a little after one. Jeff and Genghis were parked on the corner of 10th St. and Ninth Avenue overlooking Grant Park. In front of Genghis, his holographic computer screen was slowly switching from one camera in Old Town to another. All the cameras were operating normally, but the FBS system found no sign of Colus Valda on any of them. They didn’t think he would venture out in weather such as this so they decided to go back to the apartment. When they arrived Jennifer was still up, watching a slasher movie on the SyFy channel. She asked if he was hungry, which he and Genghis were, and put a can of Chef Boyardee Beef Ravioli on the stove. Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting on the couch, eating, and watching the mutant swing an ax at the poor unsuspecting busty blonde who had entered the ill-fated house on a dare.

When the rain had slowly started to fall earlier that night, Bollar was standing on the corner of Seventh Street in front of a very upscale and pricey jewelry store. He had been casing this store out for a few weeks now. He knew what the employees looked like. He knew their schedules. He knew that there was only one guard present between the hours of eleven and two. He knew when new shipments came in. And he knew which banks the deposits went to.

This was his favorite time, the night before the job. He would stand close to his intended target and rehearse in his mind every step he would take. From turning on the Interrupter, to entering, to ordering everyone to the ground, he absolutely loved that kind of power. Then he would make the manager open the locked cases. And if he or she refused, he would point the A-56 at another employee and threaten to shoot them in the back. Not to kill, but to paralyze for life, that was always a good persuasive. Then he would take the goods and quickly leave. He estimated it would take eight to ten minutes, no more.

Yes, this was his favorite time. He tipped his head skyward and closed his eyes and let the rain fall upon him. The rain that fell was cathartic. It cleansed away any apprehensions and doubts. It purified his resolve in preparing him for the following day's endeavor.

It was then that he heard a car, looked, and saw the white vehicle that Colus had described to him driving west toward Grant Park. The IPF agent. Could he be after Colus? He walked to the corner of the street and watched as the vehicle drove further down and parked. This could be fun, he thought to himself. Maybe Colus will do something stupid and the agent will gun him down in the street. He stood there in the rain and watched. The rain didn't bother him, he was used to being wet. It was an environment he was accustomed to. After thirty-five minutes, he got bored and walked back to his car, the one he had violently stolen on his second day in Old Town.

At eleven-thirty the following morning, the security guard, James Parker, was sitting at his desk in Phizer’s Jewelry Store. He couldn’t explain why all three of his surveillance monitors just stopped working. He watched the snowy pictures and started to worry that maybe the cables were cut. But that’s impossible, there was a backup system that would automatically kick in and sound the silent alarm. But he was still on the primary video feed, and no alarm was sent. That’s when he saw the man walk through the double doors. The butt of the rifle the intruder was carrying was grasped in one hand with the barrel resting on his shoulder. The weapon was nothing Parker had ever seen before.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bollar said, “this is a robbery, stay calm, and no one will get hurt.” He let the weight of the rifle's barrel fall into the palm of his other hand making a slapping sound before pointing it at the small crowd in the store. “If you would all please get on the ground.”

Parker instinctively reacted, standing and reaching for his holstered service revolver. Bollar saw the move in his peripheral vision, something he really liked about being human. He quickly turned the barrel of his A-56 Auto Loader and fired one shot. People screamed. The cartridgeless round left the muzzle of the rifle at a velocity of 1,200 feet per second. The round struck James square in the chest. Piecing his skin and shattering his sternum, the round then started to tumble. It sliced through the right ventricle of his heart and continued on through his rhomboid muscle. It then shattered his right shoulder blade as it exited. All James felt was a thump on his chest, then nothing. He was dead before he fell to the ground beside his desk.

People were now screaming hysterically, and Bollar had to fire two more rounds into the ceiling to get their attention. “Shut the hell UP!” He then pointed the A-56 toward the manager. “You! Get those cases open, now!”

The manager nervously fumbled with his keys and started opening the glass cases as the man approached him. Bollar handed him a pillow case. “Start filling it up. Everything!”

Eight minutes after he had entered, he started to leave Phizer’s Jewelry Store, but abruptly stopped and looked down at the slain guard, “Oh, what the hell,” Bollar said. “Just like old times.” With his free