Android: Mimic (The Identity Trilogy)

by Mel Odom

  Royo nodded, but he didn’t look happy.

  I felt more curious, though.

  Karanjai pierced Royo with his dark gaze. “If you don’t want to be part of this, let me know. I can arrange for you to get a posting on Earth for the time being.”

  To his credit, Royo didn’t hesitate. Much. “And leave my partner hanging in the wind?”

  “Seems to me Drake was left hanging in the wind this morning at that warehouse.”

  A grimace fitted itself to Royo’s face, then quickly disappeared. “No, sir, I don’t bail on my partner. Last night, I didn’t think Drake had anything. And I knew that going to that warehouse was problematic. The NAPD doesn’t have any jurisdiction there.”

  “We don’t, but Drake found a way in. He also turned up two people we can talk to.”

  I focused on that. “Boc and Karasz are still in custody?”

  Karanjai nodded. “So far. They’ve gotten really popular all of a sudden, though. A couple of high-powered attorneys have taken an interest in them and have tried to get them released on bail.”

  “Who paid for the attorneys?”

  Karanjai grinned. “That’s something I’d expect you to look into as well. Quietly.”

  Royo folded his arms unhappily. “The corps sent them.”

  “Probably.”

  “As soon as they get those two guys out, they’ll get them off the Moon or kill them.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, too. Unless they don’t know anything worth knowing.”

  Royo scowled. “If they didn’t know anything, the corps wouldn’t have hired all the legal power.”

  “We can only hope. We can hold them for seventy-two hours before we charge them. Then we have to present them to court for a bail hearing. Once they go there, they’ll get kicked loose.”

  “We’re not going to get those guys to talk to us.”

  “Find a way. The clock’s ticking. We need some kind of leverage to hang onto a piece of this.”

  I considered that. “There is the possibility that Boc and Karasz don’t know anything about their employers.”

  “If they convince you of that, fine. Right now we don’t know that.”

  “However, the possibility exists that they know who hijacked the tube car and killed Gordon Holder. Or they might know who the weapons manufactured in that plant were selling to.”

  Karanjai looked at me with satisfaction. “I like the way you’re thinking, Drake. I want you to take lead on this investigation.”

  That was surprising. I knew that Floyd handled his own investigations, but I had been paired with other detectives for my field training and later. While I’d been with Shelly, we’d mostly been equal in the handling of our assignments. She just interfaced with superiors better because they turned to her.

  The idea didn’t set well with Royo. His nose pinched as he took a quick inhale and narrowed his eyes. But he didn’t say anything.

  “Is that suitable, Drake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then there’s one other piece of business to attend to.” Karanjai swiveled his head to Royo. “You were right when you said the corps may send people after you. When that happens, I’ll pull you off this assignment.”

  “That only works if you pull us off while we’re still alive.”

  “I’ve got someone who’s going to help you stay alive.” Without turning around, Karanjai lifted his left hand, made a fist, opened it, then closed it again.

  A moment later, a young woman joined us, sliding neatly into the chair at the other end of the table opposite me.

  “Gentlemen.” Karanjai pointed at the young woman. “This is Rachel Beckman. She’s in the business of keeping people alive.”

  Rachel smiled at us. “Only when I’m not in the business of killing them.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I knew Rachel Beckman by reputation. Our paths had never crossed.

  She sat easily in her chair, but her dark brown eyes were watchful. She was slim and athletic, and muscles rolled under the dark skin of her bare arms and legs. Dressed in a metallic blue shift, she looked like she’d just stepped out for a night on the megapolis. Silver earrings dangled and caught the light. She wore a blue wig that matched her dress. I knew it was a wig because by that time I had pulled her name and e-ID from the NAPD database. Her own hair was cropped short, close to the skull.

  Rachel Beckman was a licensed bounty hunter and sometime bodyguard. Judging from the incidents of her work that the NAPD had kept track of, she preferred the manhunting side of her work. Her father was Captain Thomas Beckman of the NAPD, currently stationed on Earth.

  She was also heavily cybered. Her implants were top-of-the line, not immediately noticeable, but she moved too smoothly to be human. Some clones could move like that, vat-grown prodigies bred for physical perfection. Bioroids like me could move like that. No un-enhanced human could move like that.

  Something sparked in her eyes as she looked at me and smiled. It might have been a glint of humor, or it might have been the cyberware. “See something you like, tin man?”

  There was no aggression in her tone, but I knew I’d been challenged. I spoke in a flat voice. “Everything looks fine to me. It will be a pleasure working with you.”

  Rachel snorted and shifted her attention to Karanjai. “Not too bright, is he? I should be charging you double for trying to keep these two alive.”

  Royo turned to face her, squaring up with her. “Maybe I can take care of myself.”

  Rachel laughed then, and Royo’s ears burned even in the darkness.

  Karanjai spoke softly. “Rachel, we have an agreement.”

  She calmed instantly, but I saw the glint in her eyes again. “We do.”

  “I expect you to make this work.”

  She started to say something, then decided to keep her mouth shut and just nodded.

  Karanjai pointed to me. “This is Detective Drake. He’s in charge of this investigation.”

  Rachel’s brows lifted in surprise.

  “And this is Detective Royo.”

  Grinning, Rachel regarded Royo and me. “Do you boys bunk up together?”

  Royo cursed.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Shrugging, Rachel looked unconcerned. “Separate residences makes the job harder.”

  “Pick up some additional street muscle to help you with the coverage. When they’re in the field together, I want you with them. Will that be a problem?”

  She shook her head. “No problem.” She looked at Karanjai. “Vulcan Technologies and Skorpios Defense Systems, hmm?”

  “Yes.”

  “The illegal weapons plant.”

  Karanjai’s eyes narrowed. “You know something about that?”

  She grinned again. “Maybe I know something. Maybe I know somebody who knows something. We’ll see how it works out.”

  “Do your best. And be careful. If something happens to you, your father will hold me accountable, and I wouldn’t blame him.”

  Something else glinted in Rachel’s eyes then, and it wasn’t challenging or cavalier. I had seen that glint in people’s eyes before and knew that it was pain. Quick as a flash, though, it was gone.

  “I’m always careful.”

  Karanjai looked around the table at all of us. “Anybody need anything else?”

  I said no. Rachel and Royo just shook their heads.

  “Good. Then find me a connection between this case and Gordon Holder’s death that I can use to nail whoever is responsible for this.”

  * * *

  We drifted out of Duggar’s one by one. Karanjai went first, followed by Royo, then by me. Rachel went last because she wanted to make sure no one was following us. Before we left, Rachel also gave Royo and me comm-links that linked the three of us on an encrypted frequency. I didn’t have ears, so I wrote a subroutine that copied the comm-link’s capability and got the encryption protocol from Rachel. Then I handed the device back to her.

  By the
time I got out on the street, Karanjai was gone and Royo was headed for the nearest tube station. I didn’t try to catch up with him. I knew he needed his space.

  “Your partner isn’t too happy with the situation.”

  For a nanosecond, I thought the voice in my head belonged to Shelly, then I realized Rachel was talking to me over the secure comm, and apparently just to me. I kept my hands in the pockets of my duster and kept walking. With my 360-degree vision, I felt secure but I also felt protective of Royo and didn’t want to let him out of my sight now that I knew we were potentially in danger as a result of the investigation.

  I also kept watch over Rachel. Due to my programming, I felt protective of our bodyguard as well. I wondered if Karanjai had taken that into account when he’d assembled his plans.

  “It’s a demanding situation.”

  “Let me rephrase that: he doesn’t seem very happy that he wasn’t picked as head cheerleader.”

  I assumed that declaration was mockery, but it didn’t touch me. Since her comment was an observation, not a question, I also felt free to ignore it. I did. I opened with one of my own.

  “What do you know about the illegal arms business in Heinlein?”

  “Enough to get myself killed if we start bracing the wrong people.”

  “Then perhaps we should brace the right people.”

  Rachel laughed, and the effort sounded sincere this time.

  “Do you know who the right people are?”

  “I can make some calls. Check around.”

  “Why don’t you do that?”

  “Where are we going now?” I could see Rachel still following behind me.

  “The police station where Boc and Karasz are being held.”

  “Do you really think you’re going to get them to roll over?”

  “No. Other investigators have already been at them.” The tube station kiosk pinged my e-ID and let me through. I walked down to the loading platform. “I just want to get a look at them for myself.”

  “Think you’ll see something no one else has?”

  “Maybe you will. You’ll be there, too.” I knew I was playing to her ego.

  “I just might.”

  “Good.”

  Rachel came onto the loading platform just a few paces behind me, never losing line of sight with me. For the first time, I wondered about the weapons she had hidden on her person. I knew she had the cyber augments, but that wouldn’t be all she carried.

  A call came through on my PAD as I stepped onto the waiting car. Royo boarded two cars down and I accessed the seccams to keep an eye on him there, as well. I sat and opened the comm. Floyd’s overlay image bloomed inside my vision.

  “Hello, Floyd.”

  “Hello, Drake. Is this a good time?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d heard you were quite busy up there.”

  “Word travels quickly.”

  “Hardly. Your efforts at the warehouse have gone viral. The NAPD is struggling to keep your name out of the story, but no one is going to forget you.”

  That made me uncomfortable. A high profile would make performing my job that much harder.

  “But that is not why I contacted you. I have found out information about Jonas, the man you saw in your borrowed memory.”

  “You have a name?”

  “I do. He is Jonas Salter, a cyberneticist.”

  I initiated a subroutine to track down information on Jonas Salter from all available sources. Now that I had a name for him, the information came quickly.

  However, there was one immediate problem. Jonas Salter didn’t look like the same man I remembered from the flashback. This Jonas Salter looked older, with a shock of brown hair and a thick beard that covered most of his face. Blue tinted glasses covered his eyes.

  “Are you certain this is the man?”

  “Yes.”

  “He does not look the same.”

  “Eleven years ago, he had massive facial reconstruction. It was his choice not to wear the same features.”

  I stared hard at the bearded face overlaying my vision. Then the tube car, the seccam feed, and my connection to Floyd all went away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  They’re coming!” Jonas Salter waved his palm over the scanner beside the entrance to the lab. The heavy door slammed shut with the speed of a guillotine.

  I sat in front of a computer, my hands poised above the work surface. I’d been gesturing commands and code into the work unit. As I stared at the monitor now, though, I found that I understood some of what I saw there, but much of it was gibberish.

  “Simon! Did you hear me?”

  I stared at Jonas and saw the fear carved into his face. He looked much the same as he had when I’d seen him on the transmission when Mara and I had been on the island. He didn’t look like the image Floyd had shown me.

  “Simon!”

  That was my name now, in this place. It was strange to embrace the idea. I reminded myself that I had never been Simon Blake. I had never married Mara Blake. I had never helped cover up the murder of Rachel Giacomin.

  “Simon!” Jonas pulled on my arm, yanking me from the stool where I sat. “Did you hear me?”

  “I did.” I looked around the lab. Large and spacious, the room was filled with computers and bioroid heads attached to various pieces of equipment that I recognized as predecessors to the units I had seen at Haas-Bioroid. These were obviously years old.

  No one else was in the room with us.

  I looked at Jonas, and for the first time I realized that I didn’t have 360-degree vision. Not having it was disconcerting and limiting. “Where is Mara?”

  “She’s safe. The sec guys have her. Already out of the building. But we’re not.” Jonas pulled on my arm again. “C’mon.”

  I shrugged him off and crossed the room to the security monitors that covered the building. I didn’t know where we were, but the schematic showed that we were in a structure five stories tall or deep. I flexed my legs and felt only a slight tug of gravity, so I deduced that we were on the Moon, not Earth and not Mars.

  A group of men raced along the hallway. They wore body armor and carried small machine pistols tight against their shoulders. I recognized the formation and the movements as military. They rounded a corner and another camera picked them up on the approach.

  Three sec guards with MirrorMorph ID patches on their shoulders confronted the men, firing their weapons immediately. The camera view was over their heads. For a moment, the approaching group of men broke formation. Then one of them stepped forward with a rifle equipped with a grenade launcher. He leveled his weapon and fired.

  I watched as the grenade spiraled out of the muzzle and crossed the thirty meters to the small knot of defenders. The grenade struck the lead guard and exploded instantly, hurling the corpse back and covering the camera lens in a crimson wash of blood. The detonation sounded blunted when it echoed inside the lab a split-second later.

  When the dust cleared, none of the sec guards were alive. The invaders came on, picking up speed again.

  “Simon!”

  I turned to Jonas. “Who are they?”

  “Us.” Jonas ran a frantic hand through his hair. “I’ve had lunch with some of those guys.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean your sec team has fallen apart. Somebody got to them. At least, somebody got to some of them. Those guys out there are killing their friends. They’re not going to shed a tear over putting a bullet through our heads when they get here.”

  I tried to think back to how this had happened, but I couldn’t. The flashback had started where it had started. I didn’t have any control over it.

  I glanced at the chronometer on the wall. It was 1912. I tried to access my PAD and couldn’t, then realized that Simon Blake didn’t have one internally mounted. I ran to the computer table where I’d been sitting and lifted the one there.

  “Call NAPD emergency services.”

  The reply was almos
t instantaneous. “NAPD emergency service. Please state the nature of your emergency.”

  “This is Simon Blake at MirrorMorph, Inc. We’re under attack by unidentified armed men. Several of our sec guards have been killed.” As I spoke, I opened the desk drawer where I’d been sitting and took out a 12.7mm pistol. I racked the slide and chambered the first round without thinking about it. I picked up two more pistol magazines and shoved them into my pockets.

  “Just stay where you are, Mr. Blake—”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Get someone here as soon as possible.” I shoved the PAD into a backpack that I recognized as mine and slung it over my shoulder.

  On the monitors, the invaders were rounding the last corner that led to the lab.

  Jonas had retreated to the far wall. He punched a code into the touchscreen of one of the computer banks there. Silently, moving as though on a film of lubrication, the computer slid forward, bumping Jonas back as he tried to get out of the way. Once it was out far enough, the computer bank shifted sideways and revealed a hole in the wall that led to a narrow shaft.

  “You know, when you put this in here, I thought you were crazy.” Jonas reached up and took down one of solar cell torches stashed there. He turned the torch on and a bright beam of white light cut through the darkness in the shaft.

  The tunnel ran straight for twenty meters, angling steadily up.

  “Never box yourself in, Jonas.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jonas sprinted forward. “But who are we supposed to trust? Those are our guys out there. Those are people you trusted.”

  Those were people Simon Blake had trusted. I remembered how I had investigated Dwight Taylor and his connection to Shelly Nolan’s death, and I thought about the way the mercenary unit MirrorMorph had hired to protect them had fractured. Some of those men had eventually killed Simon Blake.

  But they hadn’t killed him here.

  I fisted the pistol and waited at the opening to the hidden passageway. Those men would know about this, too.

  A second later, the first of them reached the lab doors. A face pressed against the transplas and someone drilled a snooper wire capable of transmitting vid and aud through the door.