Defragmenting Daniel: The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by Jason Werbeloff

  “Ms. Munch, the ‘alp’ who attacked you is an organ donor. He donated his organs to you some time in the past. If you give us permission to access your organ reception history, I can get a warrant and tr–”

  “An alp is an organ donor. Are you mad, mister policeman? Mine alp vas no organ donor. Vat nonsense is zat? I am tired. I have a show in just one hour. Leave me.”

  “Please. I just –”

  Daggy clapped her hands together, sat bolt upright, and glared into Kage’s eyes. The intensity of her stare almost drove Kage backward a step.

  “You come in here, you … you man vith your badge and ‘ma’am’ and ‘Ms.’ You come in here, and sink za woman vill bend over for you. Vell, I tell you somesing. I tell you zat zis voman vill not bend for no man. No man but mine Strauss, who died not two years ago. Only one man can put zis voman over his knee, and –”

  “I meant no disrespect,” Kage implored. “All I need is permission to access –”

  Daggy chucked a meatball at the Detective. Balled her tremendous hands into fists. “You sink zat I cannot fight you. I vill fight you. Come here, you pasetic little man. I vill show you how za vomen fight in za mazerland.”

  There was a knock on the glass partition. A doctor with a sympathetic smile shook his head.

  It was time to leave.

  If Daggy Munch couldn’t give him the permission he needed for the warrant, he’d try Mayor Russell, Lincoln’s brother.

  *

  “Sterling job you lads are doing down at Bubble PD. Always been a fan of your department. Captain Weeks and I go back a long ways, you know.”

  Mayor Donald Russell sipped his whiskey. Clinked the ice cubes against the translucent forcefield tumbler.

  “Thank you, sir. Technically, I’m not part of the department. I’m a consultant. I help out in cases like your brother’s.”

  The Mayor shone a million-credit smile at the Private Detective. “Even more impressive. A well-to-do working soul plying his trade in the hope of making a difference. There it is right there. Capitalism at work. This is the spirit of the Bubble. That’s it right there. In you, son.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” said Kage, examining the smooth-cheeked face of the Mayor. He could’ve had cosmetic surgery, but Kage would be surprised if the Mayor was any older than he was.

  The Mayor raised his tumbler. Strands of light shattered and refracted through the exotic material, flinging a rainbow across Kage’s chest. “Don’t mention it. People like you make this city great,” said the Mayor.

  “I appreciate that. The reason for my visit –”

  “Terrell, fetch our guest a glass. We can’t have him sitting there empty-handed.”

  Uneasy, Kage shifted his suede-clad buttocks in the chair. Slid against the Gutter leather. “Uh, thank you, sir, but I’ll have to refuse.” He struggled to meet the old butler’s gaze.

  “Don’t be silly,” said the Mayor. “Weeks won’t hear anything from me.”

  The butler swung his eyes from one man to the other.

  “Sir, I’m here because we have a lead in your brother’s case.”

  “Did I ever tell you the story of where we found Terrell?”

  Kage crossed his legs. “No, sir. I don’t believe so.” Until five minutes ago, Mayor Russell had never spoken a word to Kage.

  “Carol and I were vacationing in the Third African Bubble. Just after it was established. You know, off the west coast. Anyway, we’d just stepped off the submarine when Terrell comes up to me. Offers to shine my shoes. Why not? I think. And he gets to work. By the time Terrell was done, well, they were shiny enough to … they were shiny. You remember that Terrell?”

  “Yessir. I do sir.”

  “That’s right. And I thought to myself, now here’s an honest man, doing honest work – just like you, Detective. And I thought to myself, I have to have him.”

  Kage wrapped his ankles around the legs of his chair.

  “Anyway, what was that you were saying about the case?”

  “Your brother’s murder,” said Kage in a low voice. The Mayor’s smile didn’t crack. “We have a lead. All we need is your permission to –”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” interrupted the Mayor.

  Kage relaxed his grip on the leather armchair. “Thank you. That would help significantly.”

  “Don’t mention it. Anything for the working man.”

  “Yes, sir. So, we believe that your brother’s killer …” The Mayor’s eyes didn’t blink. “… is – sorry, was – one of Lincoln’s organ donors. We think he murdered your brother to retrieve his organs.”

  The Mayor stood. Paced before the marble hearth. He screwed his face up in faux concern. “This is troubling.”

  “It is. What we need right now is the killer’s name. And if we had access to your brother’s organ reception records, we’d have it.”

  The Mayor leaned against the mantel. Half a dozen portraits of him smiled down at Kage. “Uh, I see.”

  “As his brother, you have the power to grant access to –”

  “I’d love to help you,” said the Mayor, turning his back to the room. “You know I would …” said the back of his Peruvian wool jersey.

  Kage waited.

  “Thing is, in every decision I make, I have to consider the greater good. The interests of the Bubble as a whole.”

  Kage watched as Terrell’s lips fractured into the barest glimmer of a smirk. It disappeared as quickly as it formed. The butler’s face returned to its impassive veneer.

  “If I allowed you access to those records, as much as it would give me peace, it would set a precedent that would undermine the very crux of the donor system that empowers so many of our poor. Anonymity is the bedrock of our system.”

  Terrell coughed quietly.

  Kage knew it was futile, but tried one last time. “This would be a once-off decision, sir. It needn’t form a precedent. Do this as Lincoln’s brother. Not as the Mayor.”

  Donald Russell turned to face Kage. “One of the burdens of a man in my position is that I may never act solely in my own capacity. Everything I do, I do for the Bubble.”

  “Uhuh.” Kage stood. “I guess that means I’ll be on my way.”

  The smile returned to the Mayor’s face. “So good to meet you, Detective.” He shook Kage’s hand.

  Kage looked for it. The tell. The flaw in the façade. The slightest hint that the man might feel something, anything, for his dead brother.

  He didn’t find it.

  Kage tapped his glasses to call a cab. Stepped outside the mansion into the reception area. His only chance now was the Sparlings. Daggy was an idiot. The Mayor was an asshole. But perhaps the Sparlings were reasonable. Perhaps if he impressed upon them that their son was missing, they’d give Kage access to Thomsin’s organ records.

  “Please state your destination,” said the taxi.

  Kage tapped his glasses. Was about to search for the Sparling’s address, when he felt something scratch his chest. He reached into his jacket pocket. Retrieved the evidence bag containing the swab he’d taken from Thomsin’s apartment.

  On its tip was the blob of brown goo that he was almost sure was the remains of Thomsin Sparling.

  “Bubble PD,” said Kage.

  “Certainly, sir.”

  *

  “So, uh, you wanna know if it’s a match for Thomsin Sparling?”

  Jaclyn wore the same boob tube as the day before, but configured to lime green.

  “Correct,” said Kage, handing her the evidence bag.

  She blew a bubble in her gum. Allowed it to inflate by infinitesimally slow increments. Popped it. “And do you have a DNA sample from this Thomsin Sparling person?” she asked eventually.

  Kage gritted his teeth. “He’s in the Bubble DNA database.”

  “Yeah, but that computer’s in Dr. Hoevert’s office. It’s not linked with this one.”

  “You can’t walk over there, and copy the records?”

 
; “Uh, you know Dr. Hoevert. He doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind.” Kage tapped the floor with the toe of his moccasin.

  Jaclyn blew another bubble.

  Kage winced as it burst.

  “Yeah, alright. Alright,” she said.

  “When will you have the results?”

  Jaclyn looked to a pile of evidence bags sitting beside her desk. “It could be a while.”

  “This is a priority,” said Kage.

  The screen on the girl’s workstation pinged. Facebook message. She smiled. Begun typing her response. Then seemed to remember that Kage was standing there. “Everyone needs it right away. Come back tomorrow.”

  Kage unballed his fists. “Weeks said this needs doing now.”

  “Okay, man. I hear you. I’ll send over the results this afternoon. Alright?”

  “No, I need them in the next ten minutes.”

  “Alright, dude. Alright. I’ll get on it now.”

  Something doesn’t feel right, thought Kage as he left the morgue. Something other than Jaclyn’s attitude. The last conversation he’d had with Dr. Hoevert played on his mind. Daggy’s attacker had cut off her tongue with unremorseful confidence. But he’d peeled off the skin on her legs cautiously. Hesitantly. And, he’d left her alive.

  Why? What’s the difference between a tongue and skin? Why kill Lincoln and Thomsin (if Thomsin was indeed dead) but not Daggy?

  Kage knew in his bones that Thomsin Sparling was no longer alive. He’d bet anything that the blob of material on the swab was a match for the DNA of the trust fund kid.

  He’d go there now. Talk to the Sparling family. Convince them to give him access to their son’s organ donation records. At the very least, he could convince them that Thomsin was missing, even if he couldn’t yet say for sure that he was dead.

  It turned out that convincing the Sparlings that something was amiss, wasn’t a problem.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here. Richard! They’re here. Finally. I called almost an hour ago.”

  Mrs. Dianne Sparling was two shades paler than white – a rare feat living under the thick Bubble sun.

  “I told you, darling, the police have better things to do than look for Thomsin. He’s probably lying in a strange girl’s bed right now. You know how he is.”

  “Detective, this is my husband, Richard Jr.” She leaned forward. Placed five exquisitely long Parisian Purple nails on Kage’s shoulder. “He can be underwhelming at times,” she whispered. (Did she wink?) “But I know my son.” Her voice rose. “There’s something wrong. I’m telling you, Detective, something’s happened to my baby.”

  “Ma’am, who did you call an hour ago?”

  “Why, Missing Persons of course. Who are you?” Suspicion swallowed Mrs. Sparlings face.

  “I’m a consultant with Bubble PD, ma’am. I’m investigating someone who came into contact with your son recently.”

  Mrs. Sparling’s lips turned blue. “What sort of person is this?” she asked.

  Kage’s glasses rang. “One moment, Mrs. Sparling … Jaclyn, what have you got?”

  “Soapy strings again. Degraded by a soapy compound.”

  “That’s to be expected. But is it his DNA?”

  “Hard to say.”

  “Detective, who is this person you’re investigating?”

  “Darling, don’t bother the Detective. Can’t you see he’s on a call?”

  Kage held up a hand to Mr. and Mrs. Sparling. “Jaclyn, how hard is it to say? What’s the chance it’s Thomsin’s DNA?”

  “DNA! Richard, did you hear that? Isn’t DNA in blood, Richard? Oh God. I knew something was wrong.”

  “I’d give it …” The sound of Jaclyn popping her gum ricocheted through Kage’s skull. “… an eighty percent chance.”

  “I knew it the moment he refused to come home for his cousins’ visit. Say what you like, Richard, he has a thing for that floozy. Don’t shush me. You know he does. She encourages it.”

  Eighty percent. That would do. Especially with Mrs. Sparling.

  “Ma’am, when was the last time you heard from Thomsin?”

  She sat heavily on an oak-framed couch. “Why do you ask it like that, Detective? Have you found something? I know you have. Just say it. I have a strong constitution – always have. I can take it, whatever it is. Just say it. What did you find?”

  “Nothing conclusive, ma’am, but at this point, I think we have enough evidence to issue an alert for your son.”

  Mrs. Sparling collapsed into her chair.

  Richard Jr. shook his head. “Look, I know your department means well. But we’ve been through this before. My son, well, he has some unsavory habits. They land him in trouble every so often.”

  “We found his glasses,” said Kage. “Someone else has been wearing them. And now we can’t find Thomsin.”

  Richard’s easy smile faded. “Someone else was wearing his glasses?”

  “I told you, Richard. Oh God, I told you something is wrong. I haven’t heard from him in two days. When was the last time that happened, Richard? When? You should have let me go over there. I knew something was wrong. A mother knows.”

  “So the last time you heard from him was two days ago, ma’am?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I’m going to call in some help on this. Impress the urgency of the case on Missing Persons. In the meantime, it would help me find your son if I could have access to his organ donation records.”

  “His what?” shrieked Mrs. Sparling.

  “Why would you need those?” echoed Richard Jr.

  “This is an open investigation, so I can’t answer that question. But I can say that it’s likely I’ll be able to find your son …” or his remains, thought Kage, “… sooner if I have those records.”

  “Whatever you need, Officer,” said Richard Jr.

  Kage messaged through a release form. “I’ve sent you the details. Please send it back signed soon as possible.”

  “I’d like Gavin to look at it bef–”

  “You and that damned lawyer. Richard Jr., you heard what the Detective said. We don’t have time for that. Sign it, Richard. Or by God, you’ll be without a wife too soon enough.”

  The return email pinged Kage’s glasses.

  “Thank you, sir. Ma’am.” He stood. Loped to the exit. “I’ll let you know as soon as we find anything.”

  Kage glanced back before he shut the front door.

  Tears pattered on Mrs. Sparling’s dress as she crumpled into a manicured heap on the Persian rug.

  “We’ve got him,” he messaged Una. He stepped into the taxi. “Find attached signed permission for Sparling’s organ records.”

  Una didn’t take ten seconds to reply. “Fuck yeah.”

  “Bubble PD.”

  “Certainly, sir,” said the taxi.

  He fist-bumped the air. Miscalculated. Almost punched a hole through the Styrofoam ceiling of the cab.

  “Please refrain from violent movements in the interior of the vehicle. Damages will be levied.”

  Kage constrained his hands to his lap for the remainder of the trip. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. The image of Lincoln Russell’s punctured skull floated behind his eyes. Daggy’s skinless legs. “I’ve got you,” he said, staring out the cab window.

  Bubble Central was a blur of glass beneath him. Bubble PD was less than a minute’s ride from here.

  The view faded to black. A single, white pill spun lazily in the center of his vision.

  “Anti-Sleep,” said a graveled baritone, “because real men don’t sleep.”

  His glasses rang. Una’s voice, crisp and deflated, sliced through the advert. Kage blinked, and the cityscape returned to view.

  “There’s a problem,” she said.

  A lead weight dropped into his chest. “What is it?”

  “Thomsin Sparling only had one organ implanted. A heart three years ago.”

  He swallowed.

 
“Yes. And who’s the donor?”

  “Gabriella Pérez.”

  Kage’s elbows were clammy against the Gutter leather of the taxi. A bead of sweat snaked down the back of his leg. “Any chance it could be him? Maybe it’s a typo – Gabriel maybe?”

  “Afraid not,” said Una. He heard her drag a cigarette. Her voice was rich and sweet in his mind’s ear. As though she was speaking to him through honeycomb. “I’ve got her picture up on my screen right now. She’s at least forty. Looks nothing like our perp. And one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “She’s dead. Died three years ago in New Settlers Way riots. Bubble Guard verified the body’s DNA. Gabriella is not our guy.”

  “Only a heart … are you certain? Could he have had any other organs replaced that aren’t on your database?”

  “Look, anything’s possible. You’re the Detective. But you know how finicky the Bubble is about keeping records for donations. It’s doubtful. Only way would be through a black market dealer.”

  Kage nodded. “And I don’t see Lincoln Russell approaching a black market dealer for his organs. Occam’s Razor says all the victims got their organs from the same place.”

  “Sorry, Kage. It was a solid theory. But it’s only that – a theory. It could be wrong. Maybe the organs the killer stole aren’t his after all.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  He tapped his glasses to end the call.

  The door of the cab slid aside, revealing the bronzed arch of Bubble PD. “Thank you for using Helios Taxis. Have a pleasant day.”

  Kage had barely made his way into the lobby when Weeks waved Kage over to his office.

  “Where we at with this? Newscasts are calling him the Organ Thief. Panic is bubbling. And I got a call ten minutes ago from the Mayor. ‘Switch on the news,’ he says.”

  Weeks tapped his glasses, and a holovideo materialized above the Captain’s teak desk.

  A woman with purple hair piled higher than she was, shook her fist at the camera. “… haven’t had a moment’s peace since they found his body. I’m being targeted willfully and maliciously by Bubble PD.” A picture of Lincoln Russell’s face hovered over one corner of the image, with the headline:

  MAYOR’S BROTHER FOUND DEAD IN GORE BAR.

  “I run a respected establishment. I’m an entrepreneur, honest to God. I pay my taxes. The Mayor needs to remove his fingers from his ass, and lead these … these …” The Beehive swatted away a nearby patrolman. “… pigs off my property.”