by Colin Harvey
Bailey didn't answer Shah but said to the uniforms, "You guys can go now. We have your testimony. We're going after the guy who did this."
The older cop said, "Night, officers."
"Night," Shah said, and looking at Bailey, took the hypo. He signaled the medic to refill it. Sighing, the medic looked at Bailey, back at Shah, then refilled the hypo.
Bailey said to the medic, "D'you have any kind of prosthesis that'll take the weight off my wilful partner's leg?"
"I've got a brace down in the ambulance," the medic said. "If he don't kill hisself by pumping up, it might just help. Get it for you now."
"Thanks."
When the medic had gone Shah said to Bailey, "How'd you get here?"
"Drove," Bailey said. "My partner has a runabout. It's parked illegally downstairs. Better hope I don't get towed away."
"Not at this time of night." Shah staggered past Bailey. His legs were unsteady, but by leaning against the wall, he could still move crabwise surprisingly quickly.
As Bailey was learning. "Where are you going?" she called down the corridor.
Shah half-turned, the effort nearly sending him toppling over. "Your car got a portable memory copier?" They were standard for most cops in case they needed testimony from eyepiece-less witnesses. Such Luddites were as rare as unicorn shit, so they mostly gathered dust in corners.
"In the trunk," Bailey said. Why d'you want it?"
"Witness statement," Shah said, baring his teeth in what he hoped was a grin. Judging by the anxious look on Bailey's face, it was unconvincing.
"I'll get it," Bailey said.
"Meet you downstairs."
Bailey said, "Take the elevator. I'll take the stairs."
Bailey was waiting for Shah in the lobby when the wheezing elevator disgorged him. The medic was waiting too, and fitted the brace to Shah's leg, clicking the circular clamp around his thigh, and a second, smaller one connected by a length of flexible plastic to his ankle. "I'm going to spray this." He ran the spray up the length of the plastic connector. The moment it made contact, the plastic hardened until Shah's leg was fully supported.
"Thanks," Shah said.
"De nada."
When the medic had gone, Bailey handed Shah the scanner.
"Thanks," Shah said. "And for coming out, as well."
Bailey smiled. "De nada, as well."
Shah approached the check-in desk. Shirani looked up, and seeing Shah his eyes widened and his dark skin paled. Shah fancied he could hear the sound of Shirani swallowing. "Shirani – that's a Persian name. From Shiraz."
"Iranian," Shirani said. "So I'm told."
There was something naggingly familiar about Shirani. "Told?" Shah said. "Where you from, then?"
Shirani shook his head. "No idea."
"Green card." Shah snapped his fingers. Moments later his 'piece chimed with the requested data. Shah took a breath. "This isn't right – the validation codes are wrong."
Shirani paled still further.
"What d'you mean, you dunno where you're from?" Shah repeated.
Shirani licked his lips. "I have very few memories before America. People talking in a language I don't understand, a woman's face…"
"Soudabeh?" Shah recited the few words of Farsi he could scrape up.
Shirani's eyes widened.
Shah gripped the other man's arm. "Tell me where they've gone, my friend. I will get your memories of Soudabeh back."
"What if I don't want them back?" Shirani said. "I must have lost them for a reason."
Shah urged, "Tell me where the men have gone, and we will get them back."
Shirani shook his head. "Dunno."
Shah slid through the gap at the end of the desk.
"I call the police!" Shirani screeched.
"I am the police." Shah kept his voice low. "I'm arresting you for attempted murder of a police officer, conspiracy to kidnap and not washing enough. Bailey, finish his rights while I scan this little shit."
"Wanna lawyer!" Shirani gabbled.
"After we've talked," Shah said, slamming Shirani down into a chair. Bailey droned on, ostentatiously looking away. Shah fitted the scanner over Shirani's head. The night manager tried to wriggle, but the clamps were locked tight.
"You can't do this," Shirani said. "I not want share my memories, you can't have 'em."
"Partly true," Shah said. "An ordinary memory retrieval probe can't access memories without your co-operation." He laughed as nastily as he could. "But this is adapted; the safetys are off. So basically it'll rip out your memories if you fight it." Shah hoped Shirani wouldn't realize Shah was bluffing. Shah silently flipped switches, choosing the hippocampus from among the list of pre-set location codes, taking his time over each one to drag it out.
"OK," Shirani said. "I tell you–"
"No, you share with me," Shah said. "That way I know what's truth, and what isn't, like in the old days."
"Like Guantanamo?" The name had passed into Middle Eastern legend, and grown with each generation.
Shirani looked petrified, so Shah took a moment he didn't have to explain, holding up the scanner, "That's what this was designed for, to replace Guantanamo. To read a man's mind, or at least his memories."
Shirani looked panic-stricken, then relaxed as Shah burned the other man's memories:
You watch as the gang half-drag, half-carry the lolling girl past. You duck back into the alcove. Kotian's voice carries; "Don't get any speeding tickets on the way to the boat."
He adds, "Where's Shirani?" Your heart stops for a second and you swallow the boulder that's suddenly appeared in your throat. He might not want to leave witnesses.
"Probably in the john. Seems to spend most of his time there."
"OK," Kotian says. "He won't be a problem – the guy don't trust police any more than us. But I'll mail him some extra money tomorrow though, just to make sure he keeps his mouth shut."
Doors slam and very slowly, just to be extra sure – because talk of money could be a ploy to lure you into the open where a silenced Beretta awaits you – you emerge from the alcove to check stairs and corridors.
Kotian's men have been gone only minutes when two uniformed policemen run through the door, closely followed by a paramedic.
Shah removed the scanner. "Kotian has a boat," he told Bailey. "It'll be registered to one of his companies, if I know our tax-savvy friend."
"I'll check the State Register of Businesses," Bailey said. "There'll be a list of assets."
Shah sat with the handcuffed Shirani while they waited for backup and while Bailey hunted the boat through the databases. After several minutes of issuing search instructions to her eyepiece in a low voice, waiting, sighing, and issuing further instructions, she looked up. "It's called The Lion of Bangalore. Parks and Recreation are checking the mooring registers."
"Did anyone actually think to check whether he had a boat before?" Shah said. "It may be where he's been hiding."
"I don't know," Bailey said.
The doors opened on two more uniforms, coming to take Shirani down to the station. "Let's wait in my car," Bailey said. She stilled, and listening to her eyepiece caught Shah's eye and nodded. "West 79th Boat Street Basin," she said.
Shah pushed himself upright. "Let's go. Unless you want to stay here?"
"Don't be stupid," Bailey said.
"You've developed a smart mouth over the last week or two."
Bailey blushed. "Sorry. But how are you going to get there if I don't drive you? I assume that you want to be there?"
"Let's go, then," Shah said.
Bailey was already calling in the boat's location and requesting a SWAT team.
LXX
The wind outside had strengthened while Shah was inside. He staggered in one ferocious gust. Bailey shouted, "Lean on me."
It took them almost five minutes to walk the block to where Bailey's tiny Japanese Urban LPG was parked sideways between two occupied bays. "Nice parking," Shah said.
&n
bsp; Bailey grinned. "Amazing where you can put one of these. I reckon I could park it inside an envelope." She propped him against a meter. "Wait here while I back it out." Bailey squeezed into the wider gap on the driver's side. Even though she was pole-thin she still only just managed to get in – luckily the door scrolled upwards into the roof for just this purpose. There was barely an inch spare on the passenger's side, but she still managed to back the car out without scraping it, and had the door open by the time Shah hobbled across to it.
"You should change your pants." Bailey indicated Shah's goose-fleshed bare leg.
"No time," Shah said. "Come on, let's go."
Bailey set off.
At the second turning Shah said, "You should've turned right." To their right the old Madison Square Gardens rose through the night, lit up by the spotlights in lasting memory of the four thousand killed by a bomb. Before Bailey was born, Shah reflected.
"To get to West 79th Street," Bailey said, "But we're going to the precinct. Van Doorn wants you."
"Why?" Shah turned to stare at Bailey. She kept her gaze ahead, when checking the dash to ensure she wasn't speeding. Shah said, "Do you have a spare eyepiece?"
Bailey chin-cocked the glove compartment, "In there's a prepaid."
Shah fumbled it out, activated it. While she was distracted, Shah's right hand plucked Bailey's gun from its holster. Bailey stamped on the brake and lunged for the gun, but Shah juggled it and pointed it at her. Shah said, "Lesson Primero, Newbie. Never leave your gun unsecured and on the passenger's side."
"Don't be stupid, Pete," Bailey said.
"What are you?" Shah said. "IA? Another of Kotian's moles?" He knew, deep down inside how unlikely that was – she hasn't been around long enough to bribe, but still…
"I'm your partner!"
"And you just happened to pitch up tonight?"
Bailey nodded. "I was in the area when Shirani called 911. I was worried about you, anyway so when it came in, I responded. But I called van Doorn while I was waiting for you to come down. He's concerned about your mental state, and the implications on an arrest."
Shah chuckled mirthlessly. "That I can believe."
"One of the other precincts found a hit on the web, Perveza getting picked up. And – no, van Doorn can tell you."
"Tell me what?" Shah waved the gun at her. "Sara?"
"Perveza…"
"What about her?"
"There were signs of multiple sexual encounters."
"Stop being so soft-mouthed. You mean she was raped?"
Bailey pulled a face. "Could have been rape, or just rough sex. Her brain showed the bruising you taught me was a sign of a rip. Van Doorn's not convinced it was an accident."
"Suicide?" Shah said.
"Maybe even murder. We may never know."
"I'll mourn her later," Shah said. You should feel it more, an inner voice said. You callous S.O.B.
Bailey said, "But van Doorn's right. Your presence compromises any case against Kotian. So he told me to take you in."
Shah shook his head. "Isn't going to happen. Drive."
"But–"
Shah clicked the safety off. "While we sit here arguing, Kotian could be liquidizing Aurora's brain. I'll worry 'bout the case after we've sprung her." He added, "You don't want to get in my way. You don't know what he's going to do to her. Killing her would be a mercy."
Bailey switched off her piece, motioned for Shah to do the same. "Put the gun away and I'll drive. But not at gunpoint."
Shah thought: "I keep the gun, but I'll put it away. Don't try to take it back. Deal?"
"Deal." Bailey restarted the engine, and they switched their pieces back on.
Shah called Aurora's number. It diverted straight to her mailbox. "Aurora, honey," Shah said. "I just want you to know that whatever happens tonight, I love you – at least you'll have this." He paused, sighed, then made up his mind: "I don't know if I can give this job up for good, but I can take a sabbatical. We'll work something out."
Shah called Leslyn, and again got her mailbox. "It's Shah. I just wanted to say thanks for everything, and Godspeed." To Bailey's questioning look he said, "Most people going to be asleep this time of night."
"Last will and testament?" Bailey said. She grinned, but couldn't hide her worry.
"Don't go thinking I'm suicidal," Shah said. "I learned a long time ago it helps not to have loose ends before you go into an op. You can always time-delay the transmission. That way you can wipe it if you do survive, and no one's embarrassed.
Bailey swallowed. "I don't have one of them, either."
Shah smiled grimly. "Then you might want to. Since your eyepiece is fully functional, I suggest you sort out a will for this partner of yours."
"Her name's Cynthia," Bailey said. "We're…" Shah waited. She said, "I'm seeing someone else. It's complicated."
"How complicated can it be?"
Bailey opened her mouth. Finally said, "van Doorn. He asked me out. Several times before I said yes. We've been, um, seeing each other for almost a week. We never talk about work. We barely talk at all, for that matter."
Shah laughed. "Well, I'm damned. You dark horses."
Bailey slowed the car. "We're here." She stiffened, held up her hand. "Repeat that – oh." She turned to Shah. "They found Professor Tosada at his apartment – dead. He was your friend, wasn't he? I'm sorry."
"He's taking everyone that's important to me, or was important," Shah said. "I'd better call Rex."
Bailey looked stricken.
Shah said, "Kotian's done him as well, hasn't he?" He took out Bailey's gun, checked that it was loaded.
"Pete, don't do it," Bailey said.
Shah said, "I'm only checking it, Sara." His eyes belied his reasonable tone. "If I have to defend myself, making sure beforehand that it works seems a sensible precaution. And that's another reason that you should stay here. One gun between two of us would be suicide."
"In which case I should go, Pete. You're unfit for duty."
"Turn your eyepiece off," Shah murmured in Bailey's ear.
When she had, Shah took a breath. "If I can take Kotian alive, I will, but let's not kid ourselves, Sara. Kotian has killed over and over again. Chances are his lawyer will get his sentence reduced to a few years, or – adding insult to injury – place him in the same witness protection as Aurora. If the bastard's prepared to testify where other ganglords have buried the bodies, so to speak."
"You think you should dispense justice, Pete?" Bailey said. She was so close Shah could smell mint on her breath.
"If he comes quietly, so be it," Shah said. "But somehow, I suspect he won't."
"What happens then?"
"We'll see." Shah leaned across and kissed her cheek as the car rocked in a gust of wind. "Good luck with van Doorn; or your current partner. Or both."
"Thank you," Bailey said.
Opening the door, Shah stepped into a howling wall of wind and rain.
LXXI
The wind drove the rain horizontally so it slammed into Shah with the force of wet shrapnel, stinging his skin, and sending tiny electrical shivers of pain radiating out from his gunshot wound, despite the painkilling injection. He wasn't surprised to hear the slam of Bailey's door – he'd never expected her to wait for him.
Lightning flashed, illuminating a cityscape superficially unchanged since the turn of the century. In the lightning's flash, he saw the Hudson's waters almost boiling in the storm surge. Beyond the tidal barrage running across to the Jersey shore from the near side of the Staten Island Ferry Terminal – near Manhattan's southern tip – the sea churned in vast waves dwarfing those in the harbor.
Shah had glimpsed something in the lightning's glare. He set the piece to maximum zoom, and waited. When the second flash came, he was ready. This one was much closer and much brighter, and in its light Shah saw water running down the fifty-meter high harbor-side wall in streams, where the sea beyond threatened to overwhelm the barrage.
As the lightn
ing faded, with it went most of the remaining lights.
"Damn!" Bailey shouted.