by Mel Odom
“Sure. For your sake, I hope that’s true.” Karanjai stood. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ve got an investigation to get back to.”
“Just so we’re clear, you’re no longer involved with what happened at the warehouse. That’s out of your jurisdiction. Our in-house security will be handling that matter.”
“Covering it up, you mean.” Shelly stood at my side and glared at the men with just as much stony resolve as Karanjai.
I silently agreed with Shelly.
“We’ll stay clear of the warehouse, Counselor. Unless Gordon Holder’s death is involved with what was going on out there. Then, if the trail heads back there, you better hope your sweeper teams are as good as you think they are.”
Without another word, locked inside a titanium shell of disapproval, Cranmer turned and left the captain’s office. His assistants scurried after him.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Karanjai took a deep breath and let it out. Then he turned to me. We hadn’t gotten a chance to talk since I’d returned to headquarters.
“This is going to complicate things, Drake.”
“I gathered that. Complicating the investigation was not my intention. I pursued known felons into that warehouse.”
“And accidentally found those crate numbers you’d turned up at the tube station connected there?” Karanjai smiled and shook his head. “You’re as bad a liar as any flesh and blood detective I’ve ever had. You had to work hard to subvert that order you’d been given, and you got lucky that two wanted fugitives were there.”
“I had only hoped to get knowledge of what was in those crates. Those contents could lead back to the murderers.”
“I understand that. And I agree with you. What you did was wrong, but it was the right thing to do.”
I tried to process the logic behind his statement and couldn’t. It was most intriguing.
Karanjai flipped the media screen back on to where Lily Lockwell was reporting more on her story.
“From what our experts have deduced from this vid, the warehouse was probably manufacturing pistols and rifles that fired bullets.” Behind the reporter, new images splashed into place. Images of assault rifles and semi-automatic pistols and machine pistols solidified into view. “Beam weapons would have been more expensive and harder to manufacture, but weapons like these are worth a considerable amount on the black market.
“However, rumors are also surfacing that the manufacturing operation was put into place without the knowledge of Vulcan Technologies.” Lily Lockwell didn’t look like she was convinced. “I’ve talked to spokespeople for Vulcan Technologies who appear confident that their investigation will reveal that the manufacturing plant was put into the warehouse without anyone knowing about it.”
Karanjai swore. “That’s the work of Vulcan Technologies’s spin doctors. All they have to do is establish a little doubt.” He looked back at me. “They’re going to be watching us on this. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain wiped his hand across his face. He looked tired. “Commissioner Dawn wants us to handle this investigation with kid gloves, but I don’t like that. These corporations think they can waltz into police headquarters and tell us how to do our jobs. I like that even less.”
Curious, wondering what Karanjai was leading up to, I remained silent.
“I’ve done a lot of work with Floyd 2X3A7C these past few years. He’s really good at what he does.”
“Yes.”
Karanjai smiled. “Finding that warehouse was good detective work, Drake.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But you’re lucky you got out of there alive.”
I wasn’t alive, at least not in the biological sense, but I knew what he meant. “Yes, sir.”
Karanjai thought for a moment before resuming speaking. “I want you to stay on this investigation, Drake. The Vulcan Technologies investigation.”
I was confused. “Sir, as I understand it, there is no investigation regarding Vulcan Technologies.”
With a grin, Karanjai pointed at the news feed. “There is now. We’re going to clear that mess up before it has a chance to splash back on us. I think you’re right, Drake. I don’t see the theft following up Holder’s murder as a crime of opportunity. That means those men might be responsible for his death. I want the men responsible found.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where’s your partner? He wasn’t with you this morning when you were at the warehouse.”
“Jorge was scheduled off today. The lead I followed was small, Captain. I didn’t expect it to pan out.”
“Yet, there you were, Detective Drake.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“How much do you know about me?”
I shook my head, not certain how to answer that. I knew that Karanjai was a dedicated and honest police officer, and that he sometimes sidestepped authority and didn’t mind plunging into sensitive investigations. Those were the primary reasons he’d been sent to the Moon.
“Before I was a police officer, I worked security at the mines up here. I worked with a lot of robots, clones, and bioroids. I spent enough time with the Gregs to see what Haas-Bioroid was building.”
The Gregs were a recent development, bioroids capable of middle management positions involving planning and record-keeping. They had a limited personal interaction palette, but they got consistently high marks.
“The Gregs are bright, innovative, and more dedicated than most human workers out there in the same position. You and Floyd are in a class all your own.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m not going to order you to follow up on this investigation. I’d like to keep it off the books until we establish something more solid than we have now. You and your partner would be ideal for this assignment in some ways.”
“Because you have Crider and Reaves running interference and attracting all the media attention.”
The captain smiled. “Exactly. I want to meet with you and your partner at 2100 tonight. There’s a night club called Duggar’s.”
I accessed my PAD and got the address for the place. “Yes, sir, I’ve located it.”
“Bring Royo there at that time. I’ll talk to both of you then.”
“Yes, sir.” Dismissed, I turned and left the room while he watched the news stories developing on the media screen.
Chapter Seventeen
Are you coming, Drake?” Royo sounded annoyed over the comm.
“I’m almost there.” That was the truth. In fact, I loitered less than a block from Duggar’s. I had been there for an hour, getting a feel for the foot traffic and the neighborhood.
The night club was located in the newly developed section of Heinlein. Being on the Moon, the megapolis couldn’t afford urban decay. The heart of the megapolis remained strong and clean, and it was diligently policed. Criminal activity was mostly restricted to the fringe areas where new construction was being done to accommodate the growing population. Only the refined and delicate criminals were allowed to operate in the “downtown” sectors.
Most of the violence in Heinlein happened out in the fringe. This was where the blue-collar crowd gathered to drink and decompress from work days and hardships, and sometimes those visits spilled over into acts of violence. Life out here was raw and visceral.
Government-sponsored construction crews labored to excavate new sections of the megapolis, carving new avenues for other private real estate developers to dig out dwelling places. All of it had to be covered in plascrete and sealed. Then extra atmosphere had to be brought to the Moon to maintain the constant air pressure necessary for biological life.
All of those privately constructed areas had to build large atriums dedicated as recreation areas, as well as “greenlands” to help promote atmosphere scrubbing and provide food. Water was supplied from excavation efforts at the Moon’s poles. Ice had been discovered in the Shackleton crater before Starport Kaguya had even been drawn up. Shipping wat
er from Earth even on the Beanstalk would have been cost-prohibitive.
“You got two minutes to get here.”
“I’ll be there.” I would, too, but the idea of meeting even Captain Karanjai at such an out-of-the-way place had left me feeling uncomfortable.
“You learned a lot when you lost me.” Shelly stood beside me in the shadows of a foyer to a cleaner’s. She lounged against the wall but her reflection didn’t show in the window behind her. The visual incongruity bothered me and it was difficult coming to grips with the physical impossibility of her being there but leaving no physical trace.
I had learned many things from the time I’d lost my partner, and during the subsequent investigation that had revealed more about myself than I had ever known or suspected.
“You don’t trust the way you did.”
“No.” I hesitated. “Trust is…potentially self-compromising.”
Shelly looked at me sadly. “I know.”
With that in mind, I had taken up residence in the shadows and waited to see if Captain Karanjai came to the meeting alone. I knew my testimony could be a linchpin in the investigation of Vulcan Technologies. I wanted to believe in the captain—my programming told me I needed to do that—but I had learned not to fully trust authority.
That was unsettling. The proclivity to trust the NAPD and Haas-Bioroid was part of the bedrock of my programming. Yet I’d had experiences that dissuaded me of that. I continued to learn and grow, but instead of becoming part of a finely tuned unit as I had been intended, I was growing more apart and individual.
I had the feeling that Floyd was developing along the same lines. He clung to the religious conundrum that surrounded his “birth,” while I clung to my dead partner.
Not all of the new construction involved tunneling. Some places, like the neighborhood where Duggar’s was located, took advantage of natural geological formations like the cave where the night club was located. Developers went in, shored up any potentially troublesome cracks and weaknesses, and covered the surfaces with plascrete. The end product was still cave-shaped, but safely sealed and supposedly aesthetically pleasing according to the newsrags I had resourced for information about the club.
Duggar’s was large enough to encompass a football field. The interior I had seen through vid advertising about the club showed it as a wide open area filled with tables, stages, and bars. Patrons gave it three stars out of five, enjoyed its “robust atmosphere,” and descried its nature as a “magnet for riffraff.”
Transplas covered most of the entrance, fogged so that only shadows could be seen inside. Neon splashed against the windows from inside the establishment and made the details even more indistinct. Music blared from external speakers, a synth-rock fusion that was detrimental to biological hearing. More neon lights played over the exterior.
Several pedestrians gave the place a wide berth. I identified them as local residents for the most part, but there were transients and drifters as well. I suspected they were out looking for new experiences, but hadn’t gotten the nerve up to go inside Duggar’s.
“Drake.” Royo had changed to full blown irritation now.
“Another minute.”
“I didn’t come out here to wait.”
“You can leave if you want. I’ll express your regrets to Captain Karanjai.”
Royo cursed.
A moment later, a nondescript mini-hopper pulled to a halt in front of the parking structure next to the night club. A uniformed valet came out with languid attentiveness and greeted the vehicle. The parking enterprise was small, no more than fifty spaces, but most people didn’t pilot mini-hoppers on the Moon. Even less of them drove to this part of the megapolis.
Captain Karanjai stepped from the mini-hopper and looked around. His behavior told me he was being careful as well. I wasn’t the only one with trust issues.
“He’s nervous. That’s good.” Shelly was watching beside me.
“Why?”
“That means he’s being honest about this. If he came in confidently, you’d have to wonder how he had the situation wired. Then you’d be checking for people he’s got backing his play. My feeling is that he’s here alone.”
I took a small degree of comfort in that.
Karanjai was dressed in casual clothes, inexpensive off-the-rack things that showed wear. He fit in with Duggar’s clientele, and I was surprised at how easily he did that. He stopped only momentarily at the club’s front door, his e-ID being pinged to pay the cover fee to enter, then went inside.
Royo spoke up a moment later. “Karanjai’s here.”
“I know. I’m right behind him.” I stepped out of the shadows and strode across the street.
I wore a new duster and one of the knit skullcaps that Shelly had given me. Those articles of clothing didn’t really disguise me, but I felt more comfortable about blending in. Like Karanjai and Royo, I was dressed in an unassuming fashion.
Few bioroids would be inside the nightclub. Most of those would be working for the club as sexual entertainment. However, I had noticed a few Gregs and Gillians, the female middle management counterparts, had entered. I knew that they would be there to follow up on business, meeting to further cement working relationships, or to make their cases to fellow employees.
I would draw attention, but hopefully not too much.
I paid the bouncer and entered the private airlock.
* * *
As loud as the music was outside Duggar’s, it was at least three times as bad inside the building. The cave’s natural acoustics had obviously been enhanced during the remodeling efforts. The neon flashes were nearly blinding as the laser lights exploded in vibrant runs around the interior.
Four stages displayed females in various stages of undress, gyrating to the music in front of crowds of enthusiastic men and women. The stages were divided between human females, one clone, and a gynoid. I didn’t think the crowd could tell the difference, but I could. The clone’s movements were cleaner than the human’s, more artistic. The gynoid’s were perfection but lacked passion.
A cocktail waitress in a semi-see-through sheath intercepted me. She was curvy and beautiful, and there was something about her that reminded me of Mara Blake. Perhaps it was her black hair or her hazel eyes, or maybe it was the hint of perfume that clung to her.
Either way, I felt a twinge of discomfort.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No. Thank you.”
She stepped past me and continued to the next person.
Karanjai walked to the left, joining Royo at a table back from the stage where a redhead dazzled her crowd with a couple of emerald scarves that just managed to hide her attributes as she writhed across the stage and swung around the pole.
I was only a few steps behind Karanjai by the time he reached the table. He and Royo both looked up at my approach.
“You’re late.” Royo scowled at me. His face was a little redder than normal and I knew he’d been drinking while he’d been waiting. A glass of beer sat in front of him along with a bowl of peanuts.
“My apologies.” I sat at the table, taking up an end while he and Karanjai sat across from each other.
The captain gave me an appraising look but didn’t say anything. I suspected he knew why I had been late, that I had been watching outside, but I didn’t know if he approved or disapproved. It didn’t matter. What was done was done.
Karanjai placed a small white noise generator in the center of the table. When he switched it on, the crescendo of musical thunder went away, leaving silence. The device was designed to mute all noise coming into the field and prevent all noise from departing the immediate vicinity. A quick glance at this one told me that it was a mil-spec variety.
“We’re going to keep this short, gentlemen, because we don’t have a lot of time.”
Royo nodded. I remained silent.
“Gordon Holder’s murder needs to be solved as quickly as we can.”
“Sure, Cap.”
Royo nodded again. “Just put me in the game. I’d be glad to give Reaves and Crider a hand.”
Karanjai shook his head. “Reaves and Crider have their own investigation. I want you on another one.”
Royo looked disappointed, then immediately caught himself and tried to correct that. “Whatever you need.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Detective Royo, because what I’m about to ask you to do could be dangerous. And you’re not going to be able to rely on the NAPD to immediately come to the rescue if you get in over your head.”
That caught Royo’s attention immediately. He squirmed a little in his chair. “You’re talking about something undercover?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Okay.” Royo no longer sounded enthusiastic. He sipped his beer.
“It’s no secret that the department is getting hosed by Skorpios Defense Systems and Argus, Inc. They shut down the investigation into the warehouse.”
Royo glanced at me for just a second.
“I think that operation is related to Holder’s death.” Karanjai’s attention was focused on Royo and I got the feeling that the captain knew he didn’t have to come there to convince me. “If it is, I want to know how it is. I’m tired of those people lying to me. The stakes on this thing are too big. They’re not going to be able to cover this up and make it go away this time.”
Taking a breath, Royo leaned back in his chair. He looked at me. I said nothing.
“Cap, what you’re asking us to do is go up against the corps.”
Karanjai didn’t flinch from that. “I know.”
“We could get in a lot of trouble doing this.”
“No, I could get in a lot of trouble. I’m putting you onto this. At most, you’d get a reprimand. The headhunters will come after me.”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re not the one who’s going to be out in the street with the corp sec hard guys gunning for you.”
“That’s true. It would be my suggestion, Detective, that you proceed with all due caution in this investigation. Calling attention to yourself in this endeavor isn’t going to get to the truth. These people are cleaning this mess up as they go. We have to get a step ahead of them and hold onto something in order to make our case.”