But my fears proved groundless. She strode out the exit and merged with the crowds leaving and entering the diner. They were ghosts, insubstantial blurs my eyes quickly passed over.
She was all that mattered.
As she faded away, I thought back to a time when we danced in a cramped little room. When we kissed, I was the one who pumped the brakes. Because I knew it was the best thing for her. Now I was the one who couldn’t face the truth. I held on to old memories even though the time slipped through my fingers like mist. I wanted to imagine settling down one day, living a better life with the girl of my dreams. But that dream stood up and walked away because she wasn’t a dream. She was a person, someone with a life and dreams of her own. Someone who was brave enough to cut me loose in order to pursue them.
It was better that way.
“Was that Natasha walking out?”
Detective Flask slid into the seat recently vacated by Natasha. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking as if he hadn’t slept in a week.
“You got a real grasp for the obvious, Mack.”
“You think it’s safe for her to be alone with all this heat on you? I got a message from you saying someone was trying to kill us right here in this diner, Mick. Then you pick the exact spot to meet up again? What the hell are you thinking?”
I lifted a finger. “That’s a lot of questions, Flask. No, it’s not safe for Natasha right now. But she’s probably safer than the rest of us because she’ll be anywhere but near me. It was her call, and the right one. And I picked this joint because the grub is good and we’re not expected to be here. I’m not playing by the book here, Dick. Playing by the rules will get you killed in this game. What were you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to check with Customs.”
He sighed. “Angela wanted to stop for a bite first. Said she wasn’t going to have our date put off because of a little trouble.” He paused. “She’s a special girl.”
I grinned. “Yes she is.”
He frowned. “Hey.”
A skinny blonde stopped by the table. “Ready for another beer, Mr. Trubble?”
“Bulleit Neat this time, doll. For the road.”
“Right away.” She looked at Flask. “And the detective?”
“No thanks.”
“The Dick will take a Manhattan.” I lifted two fingers. “Double the rocks.”
She smiled. “Coming right up.”
Flask glanced after her. “How’d she know I was on the force?”
“You blue boys stick out like a sore thumb. It’s the tension. Starts in the eyes and goes straight to the shoulders. You might as well tattoo ‘cop’ on your foreheads.”
He grunted. “Well, the hard juice is a waste of your dibs, Mick. I don’t drink on the job.”
“Shame. I always drink on the job. Keeps the head clear.”
He didn’t appear amused. “You should have told me you and Angela had history, Mick.”
“Why? Most men don’t wanna know about their dame’s skeletons. We like to pretend they only open the pearly gates for us alone.”
“Skip the innuendos. She could’ve been killed because of you.”
“She’s still living because of me. I had a chitchat with my ex while you were out. She’s the one who’s been cutting throats around the city. Found out what makes her tick and flipped it upside-down. She’s a bit disoriented right now, but I expect she’ll improvise some adjustments to her little scheme real soon.”
“You talked to the killer?” His eyes widened. “And she’s your ex? When did this happen?”
“Slow your row, Ace. She called me. I figured out she was my former partner from the Secret Service. We had a relationship–if you can call an abusive, manipulative, sexually dominating involvement a relationship. I was an assassin and a code breaker apparently too smart for the Service to trust. Natalie was my handler, tasked with keeping me under control. That’s why she’s here.”
“To bring you in?”
“To control the situation. I think she’s trying to jar my memory with these murders. Apparently she used that tactic to control me in the past.”
Flask shook his head. “Pretty sick, even for the Service. You sure know how to pick them, don’t you?”
My eyes drifted to the exit doors. “Yeah. I know how to pick ‘em.”
He followed my gaze. “You did the right thing, Mick.”
I barked a wry laugh. “Yeah. Letting my best gal walk into possible harm’s way never strikes me as the ‘right thing’, Flask. But she has the right to call her own shots.”
The blonde returned with our drinks. I raised my glass. “To calling the shots.”
Flask stared at his glass for a second then shrugged. “What the hell.”
We downed our drinks. Flask wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Speaking of calling the shots, what’s next on your agenda? Other than getting shot again.” He squinted. “Gotta say you’re looking a lot better than when I saw you last.”
“Appreciate the compliment. In answer to the question, I plan on putting the pieces together. Plus I got an ace in the hole. Figure it’s time I pull it out.”
“Whatever that means. I went to Customs after stashing Angela away. Dead end. I didn’t find any evidence of trafficking, and I looked pretty hard. Don’t think I made any friends there.”
“I figured so, but had to check it anyway. I think Natalie must’ve used a handler to smuggle her through another way. Maybe Poddar and Kilby will have some news for me.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Flask shrugged. “Or maybe they shoot blanks. We’re still no closer than we were this morning other than nearly getting Angela killed. Next time we won’t be so lucky. Your girl Natalie still has us by the balls, Mick.”
“Not for long. I need you to check something out for me.”
“Case related?”
“Might be the most important piece.”
Flask brightened at the thought. “Hit me.”
“There’s a body at an address I’m giving to you. You’ll know him right away ‘cause someone wired cameras to his eyeballs.” I shook my head at his expression. “Long story. Bottom line is I need you to ID it. Get forensics on it if you need to. Then I’ll need the full report: known associates, family, etc.”
He glanced at his holoband as the info synched. “Got it. I’ll get back with you soon as something comes up.”
“All right. Get outta here, Flask. Do some cop stuff. I’ll be in touch.”
“You going to tell me what your plan is?”
“Can’t. Not until I figure out how Natalie is tied into surveillance. She could be listening to us right now.”
He nodded. “All right then. Make sure to get back with me.”
“Whatever you say, Chief.”
He stood. “By the way, I received a rather angry call from Bugsy’s. Casino manager wanted to know why the hell one of my detectives was roughing up his patrons.”
I gave him my most roughish grin. “Cost of doing business. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, well give me a warning next time. And after this is over you’re turning in that badge. I knew giving you one was going to bite me in the ass.”
“Whatever you say, Chief. You sure Angel is safe?”
His face sobered. “As safe as I can get her. Stay frosty, Mick. See you soon.”
Benny worked his way over, beefy face scrunched as he stared suspiciously at the departing detective. “What’d the gumshoe want?”
“Same thing we all want, Benny. For us to bring this to end.”
“Yeah, well that puts us on the same page for once. The question is: how?”
I picked my Bogart off the table and placed it on my head, tilting it just the way I liked it. Then I paid the bill via a swipe of the receipt across my holoband, including a tip for the scrawny blonde. “By getting some dirt on our hands. Let’s breeze, Ace.”
“I saw Natasha take off. You putting her somewhere for safekeeping?”
“Nope.
She’s on her own now, Benny.”
“You letting her go off on her own? Maybe it’s none of my business, but I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mick.”
“I didn’t let her go, Benny. She let go of me. And that might’ve been the best thing she could have done. For her, and for me.”
“Yeah? I thought you two had a thing.”
“We have a thing. Something fragile and precious enough to know you gotta set it down before you break it. That’s why she had to leave, Benny. And that leaves me free to do what I gotta do.”
“And what’s that?”
My jaw clenched. “End this.”
Chapter 16: The Screws Tighten
“Maxine, dial up Ms. Sinn.”
Dialing.
Sinn’s almond-shaded features appeared on the heads-up display. “Hello, Mick. You must need me to find Natalie for you.”
“You made the offer, Ms. Sinn. I thought I’d take you up on it.”
“I took the liberty of starting the preliminaries. It turned out a bit more difficult than I expected.”
“Waitaminute–you already started the search?”
Her smile was coy as she gazed from the display with beckoning eyes. “I calculated a 92.37 percent chance of you making this call. When you did, I wanted to have the ball rolling.”
“But you ran into a problem?”
“Yes. It appears one of Natalie’s crew is a bioroid, as you like to call us.”
“Like you, with all the cybernetics in your head?”
“There’s no one like me, Mick. But in answer to your question–he has similar abilities. He appears to be sporting Gen 6 tech. Very impressive. Seems as though the Service is pulling out all the stops for you.”
“Yeah, lucky me. What does it all mean, Sinn?”
“It means he has instant access to the entire network of surveillance in New Haven. Every orbot, every camera installed on the streets, buildings, and even unprotected holobands. Your movements would be effortlessly tracked were it not for the cloning signal I synched to you earlier. Our friend is working hard at overriding that even as we speak.”
“Fantastic. You’re able to do something about this, right?”
“If you acknowledge that we have a working relationship, then yes. It’s entirely up to you.” Her gaze was almost sensual as she waited for my response.
I hesitated. Sinn might have been great on the eyes, but I knew she was up to something. There was some angle she was trying to get at, or she never would have bothered to offer her services. She wanted something in return, something I couldn’t figure out at the moment. But that made her no different than anyone else in New Haven.
“All right, say we’re in the back scratching business. What can you do to even out the odds?”
Her eyes became unfocused. Though she still looked at me through the video display, I knew she saw something else. Endless streams of data and coding only her enhanced mind could decipher.
“I can use a tracking program to find our tech-savvy friend. When I do, I’ll send you the coordinates.”
“What, you can’t do that now? I thought you were a cybernetic whiz and all.”
She gave a slight shake of her head, still focused on the invisible data. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with. This man is nearly as skilled as I am, and he’s aware I’m looking for him. Every stream I touch is potentially a trap loaded with the equivalent of digital napalm meant to infiltrate my system and shut down my functions. At the same time I’m uploading similar digital virus programs meant to do the same to him. It’s like playing tennis with an unpinned hand grenade. Surely you understand the analogy.”
“Sounds explosive. Call me back if you’re the one left standing.” I waved the display away.
Blurred buildings and electric lights whizzed by as Maxine weaved in and out of traffic. Droplets of rain skidded across the surface the windshield as other cars ate our vapor trails, but it still felt as if we moved in slow motion. I could almost feel the time as it disappeared, tick by tick, counting down to a deadline with an emphasis on dead.
Maxine squealed into a lot at the fringes of the Trade District. Benny and I stepped out and fell in with the crowds that milled about despite the drizzle. Umbrellas were as common as hats and just as fashionable. Some were decorated with fringes, feathers, even blinking lights. They bobbed together in a display of organized chaos as the thick crowds attended to their spending addictions by visiting the endless vendors vying for their attention. From sidewalk booths to towering shopping malls, everything had a price and everyone was fair game to hustle or get hustled.
Most everybody had a reason to go to the Trade District, unless they suffered from severe agoraphobia or were so ripe with berries they could afford to get mugged by the shops in the Uppers. Otherwise they came to the District for everything from cloned cucumbers to synthetic servants for their mansions. The forecast called for heavy spending, and like the rest of New Haven it rained every day.
We wandered past the center and made our way to the back lots, known affectionately as the Gray Market. Less savory than its brighter lit counterparts, it was the part of the District where the real deals went down. The buildings were older, the lights dimmer. It was nearly as crowded as up front, but the patrons were a bit shadier. Nine out of ten packed heat in case things got shifty.
Things always got shifty in the Gray Market.
Vendors called out their wares, hoping to snag the curious or inexperienced.
“Got red hot peppers. Grown right here in the Haven. Guaranteed to scorch yer guts.”
“You boys looking for an unregistered synoid? Got a pleasure unit here. She’ll do all the nasty things you want. Forget a pro skirt–no risk of STDs from a synoid.”
“Got fur coats here. Leather bombers. Genuine, made from cloned cattle. Make you a deal right now.”
“Get your smokes here, gents. Lucky Strikes, Cubans, whatever your pleasure. Buy ‘em by the case, I make you a deal.”
“Need a gat? I got handguns, Thompsons, scatterguns. Enough lead to send everyone you hate straight to hell.”
We kept walking. I glanced at Benny. “You know what to do, right?”
“Fuggetaboutit, Mick. I got it down pat.”
“Let’s do it, then.”
Poddar waited for us under a canopy in a little dive called the Rat Shack. He sat alone at the table, completely relaxed as he bit into a thick sandwich. It was funny in a way. I’d always had Poddar pegged for the square type, because he was. But I also knew he was dangerous–it just never really hit me until that moment. There was something about his causality in the core of the mean surroundings. He appeared completely in his element sitting at that crappy excuse for a restaurant, watching dirty water stream from the overhanging canopy and sparkle in the winking neon.
I glanced at the sign. “Nice. Word is their vermin steak is the best in town.”
Poddar looked at the half-eaten, fully loaded steak and Swiss in his hand. “Not half bad. You ordering?”
“Just ate. Lambrou’s. Shoulda been there. The moussaka was to die for.”
“Next time. Where’s Natasha?”
“Outta the picture.”
“Safe?”
“No one’s safe, Poddar. She’s a big girl now. This had to happen.”
He studied me for a second. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugged slightly. “Ok.” A slight smile played on his lips when he nodded at Benny. “I see your partner hasn’t been rubbed out yet.”
Benny frowned. “How come everyone keeps sayin’ that?”
“Don’t sweat it, Benny.” I glanced around. The dive looked like a food truck had been renovated and expanded into a dingy restaurant. There were no other patrons, just the cook lounging behind the counter. He was an oily, baldheaded, hairy slab of flab with a filthy apron and an anchor tattoo on his burly arm. He waved a grease-spattered spoon in greeting.
I nodded back before turning to
Poddar. “I see Kilby isn’t here. I’d have thought to find you stapled to her side.”
“She checked in with the Gutter Girls. You know how their sorority is.”
“No men allowed. I get it.”
“I’m meeting with her later. But she told me to pass on Selene’s response. Her Gutter Girls don’t outsource, especially not to the Service. Your killer’s not one of them.”
“Yeah, I already got that angle covered. Where’s this handler you were supposed to be meeting up with, Poddar? It’s not like I got all the time in the world.”
Poddar glanced over at the cook. “That’s Joe. He’s the guy I told you about.”
I did a double-take. “Pig Boy is the fence that got you in? I’ll be dammed.”
Poddar took another bite of his sandwich. “You know how things are with appearances in this town.”
“Yeah. All too well.” I strolled over to the counter. Joe gave me the once-over with his beady eyes.
“You must be here for the carrot cake.”
I glanced at the grimy countertop. “This joint is a pigpen, Joe.”
“The dirtier the joint, the better the grub.” He winked.
“Can’t argue with that. Gimme a small slice. Gotta watch the waistline.”
He chuckled as he pulled a wrapped slice from behind the counter. “Best in town, or your dibs back.”
“Really?”
“Naw. I’m taking the dibs.”
I wiped the fork with my napkin and dug in. The lumpy cake was surprisingly moist. The cream cheese frosting was a taste bud’s dream, and the spice cake was studded with plump raisins and crunchy walnuts. My eyebrows lifted. “Not bad, Joe. Not bad at all.”
He grinned, showing off the glimmering gold grill that lined his choppers. “Told ya so.” He leaned his beefy arms on the counter. The pungent aroma of sour sweat wafted from his body. “My man tells me you’re looking for some info on a recent drop. Can’t help ya. Privacy is a big thing in my business. You know how it is.”
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 17