“A tan line? Here?”
“He's either not from here or he took a vacation recently. He's left-handed and the cuts have been done from behind, with a right hand, the way someone would do if-” He positioned himself at the head of the tub, behind the body. “He was stood here, cutting an unconscious man. Plus, the arterial sprays are all wrong. If he'd cut himself, I'd expect the blood to be more over there than here.”
“You've seen a few suicides before?” I asked.
“Yes. A lab report should confirm my suspicions though. Looks like he's been dead for over a week. I'm not sure that tells us anything without knowing who he is.”
We both looked at the man in the tub and fell silent. Eldritch was no stranger to a corpse and his interest seemed totally detached like he was looking at a set of dinosaur bones or an interesting piece of art. If there was any depth of feeling to the man then I guess it hadn't got the memo.
“I'll have to call a team in to sweep the place,” he said. “It'll take a couple of hours.”
“We should vanish then.”
“For now. I have something you can check out though, maybe more your kind of thing.”
“What's that?”
“A munitions depot that got raided last week. It's sealed off as a crime scene but maybe you and your friend will find something else there I missed.”
I looked at my comms. Eldritch had already sent me copies of his photos and the location of the warehouse.
“Okay,” I said. “Let's meet up when you're done.”
We looked again at the body. Eldritch tilted his head to one side and sighed.
“I think this was a loose end that just got tied.”
“That's what bothers me.”
Eldritch called in his team while Mason and I returned downstairs. Thor was waiting by the door, staring out into the darkness beyond the glass. It was still raining.
“Anything?” I asked, putting my coat on.
“Not a peep, sir,” he replied. “What now?”
“We're going to search a warehouse Eldritch says was raided last week, possibly by those we're looking for.”
“And do you expect to find anything?” asked Mason.
“It gets us out of the way for a bit,” I replied, throwing up my hood before opening the door. “I think he-”
The first shot barely missed my face and scorched a white line across the left-hand side of my hood. As I dropped, another tore into the door frame and sent smouldering splinters of shattered metal in all directions.
“Break left!” roared Mason who was through and leaping from the concrete steps into cover behind a stone wall. I rolled sideways, getting to my feet behind the hallway entrance. My coat was fastened, and I tore at the magnetic clamps, releasing the pistol.
“Two, sir!” said Thor. “Plasma rifles on maximum yield.”
“Where?”
The bot was behind me, his arm collapsing in on itself as a dozen overlapping plates slid back revealing a single tube with a large bore. It began to hum and his vision slit changed to a deep red glow.
“Get behind me, sir!” he cried. “My little friend here needs to say hello!”
I grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled myself quickly around him, my pistol up as he advanced through the doorway. I heard weapons fire, both Mason's and our attackers, and a bolt of energy struck Thor in the chest, rocking him backward.
“It's just... a... scratch,” he said. “Nofink to worry 'bout, sir.”
Then, without warning, the arm cannon fired and a parked speeder exploded in a ball of blue balefire, sending shrapnel in all directions.
“Cor!,” he cried. “I wasn't expectin' that, sir! Me shooter makes a big bang.”
“It's absolutely fine!” I shouted. “I'm out of here though.”
And with that, I leaped down from cover behind the wall parallel to Mason and looked out. To the left of the burning wreck that now gave us plenty of light, I saw one target crouched in the doorway of the opposite apartment block. A second was to the right, further down, moving along the road to change position. Both were now focussing on Thor who continued down the steps and onto the street.
“I'm firing!” cried Mason and several jade bolts leaped from his weapon to my left, smashing into brickwork just above the figure crouching there. He moved, returned fire with the rifle and sprinted to another parked speeder.
“I've got 'im!” said Thor but just as he was about to fire, a round slammed into his shoulder, setting the trench coat alight and knocking the trilby from the top of his head. It threw his aim and the cannon fired a blast of energy into the road, throwing molten stone fragments into the air.
I fired a burst in response but in the pouring rain the shots faltered and dropped, causing burns to his cover and not much more. From where I was, I could do nothing and I suspected that another of those direct hits would finish the bot for good.
“Going left!” I shouted to Mason, throwing myself over the wall. In a roadie-run I dashed forward, reaching a parked speeder and then turning sharply towards a low wall. Thor fired again and the night lit up causing the rain to sparkle like falling glass. I reached cover just as a plasma bolt smashed into the spot I'd come from.
“I'm in position,” I said.
“Moving!” replied Mason. He would go right, sticking to our practiced SOP. There was plenty of cover on his side. As I looked over the top of the brickwork, I heard a roar of agony from the bot.
“Don't worry!” he shouted. “It's just a flesh wound!”
I saw my chance. I stood up, pistol raised and sighted my target. Then I pulled the trigger repeatedly, sending a salvo of fire in his direction. Two of the shots found their mark, knocking him off his feet as a shield generator bore the brunt of their force. As he went down, Thor's cannon followed him, and a burst of brilliant blue light took his spot. When it cleared, all that was left was a scorched patch and plenty of rubble.
“Take him alive!” I cried.
“Already on it!” replied Mason who was sprinting across open ground with Thor flanking to the left. I ran to join them as the second man's rifle barked. Mason slid sideways, falling to the road but the bot was fast and one robotic arm clamped around the barrel of the weapon and tore it from his hands. Then I was on him, throwing my entire body weight onto his. I grabbed his wrists and locked them behind his back as we fell to the floor. My knuckles ground against the pavement.
“I've got 'im, sir!” said Thor. I rolled off just as he lifted the man off his feet, his cannon now a hand again, and pulled him tight to his chest. In the light from the wreck of the fire I could see his face, battle-scarred and furious. He was wearing the usual boots and long coat but underneath there was a spider's web of intersecting armor plates that crackled with energy. He had a pistol on his belt and a slim blade on his hip. He clearly saw no point in struggling against his captor and so he simply hung there, staring right at me.
“Take him inside,” I said to Thor. “We'll look around.”
“No problem, boss,” said the bot and stomped off towards the apartment building. Eldritch met him at the door and called out to me.
“Don't hang around. Shock Squad will be on its way. No one will have missed that.”
Mason and I looked up and down the street, still gripping our pistols as the rain came ever on. Thor's cannon had done a good job of vaporizing the soldier and a thorough search only confirmed that.
“Where did he pull that one from?” asked Mason, referring to Thor.
“I don't want to know,” I replied, touching the smouldering pavement where the first one had bought the farm. “But maybe he needs to dial it back in future; there's literally nothing left to see.”
“Do you think they're part of the bodyguard?”
“Highly likely. Or part of one sent to hunt them down.”
“Let's go check out the prisoner then, he'll know. Let's see if he'll talk.”
14
Eldritch hadn't been kidding about the 'methods'
of the Sargon PD which extended no further than was necessary. We'd taken our new friend up a floor, found an empty apartment, and broke in. Then, once we'd sedated him with meds from our trauma packs, we sat down and waited for the PD to sweep the crime scene. Meanwhile, Mason and I watched from the front window as the Shock Squad arrived in force and secured the street.
“They're different,” I said, observing the strange multi-legged bots that scuttled up and down, bristling with light arms and flashing beacons. “Like spiders.”
“Very deadly spiders,” said Mason. “They're not taking any chances.”
“Guess they don't think to look under their noses for us.”
“We didn't leave them much,” he pointed out. “Two vaporized targets and some vehicle damage. What else do they have to go on?”
They'd arrived on one of those multi-turbine crafts, leaping from the doors like ants fleeing a nest and immediately began searching for targets. We saw Eldritch speaking to a uniform in charge and their posture changed to a less aggressive stance, securing the street and making automated patrols.
“I wonder if they'll believe his story about the suspects fleeing the scene,” I said.
“Probably. They don't look like the kinds of people who want to fill in masses of paperwork. Easier to deal with an open-and-shut case of suicide I reckon.”
“Eldritch said it was murder.”
“I believe him but we don't want the PD to believe him. They'll interfere with our investigation.”
“True enough.”
I looked at Thor and the prisoner. They stood in the far corner of the room, away from any windows. The man was limp in the bot's arms, his mouth drooling saliva.
“As soon as they're gone we'll make a start.”
“If he's who we think he is, how far are you willing to go?” he asked. I shrugged.
“I've never liked the idea of torture,” I said. “But here we are and unless he starts singing like a canary what choice do we have?”
A couple of hours passed, and we had to dose him again before he came around fully. Then, as the Sargon PD packed up their things and began to leave, we heard footsteps in the hall and a knock on the door.
“It's me, open up.”
Mason covered the door with his weapon while I opened it. Eldritch saw the pistol and shook his head.
“If the Shock Squad were coming for you they wouldn't bother with a ruse, they'd just tear through the walls and neutralize you in a heartbeat. Can I come in, please?”
I stepped aside and the Freelancer entered, letting out a deep sigh. Then, searching his pockets for the bottle, he took another pill along with what looked like a plastic cup of cold coffee.
“Someone makes you a drink, you take it. Who knows where the next one is coming from?” he said. “How's our suspect?”
I closed the door behind him and jerked my head in the direction of the bot. Eldritch went over, frisked him but came up with nothing more than a small ration stick, half eaten.
“Only a soldier would eat that shit,” said Mason.
The detective pulled back the collar of the man's coat, revealing a strange device buried into the flesh of his neck. It looked like a disc of copper about three centimetres in diameter with several silver filaments coming off its edges and into his skin. The only marking on its surface was a strange symbol, etched into the metal in the shape of two overlapping triangles overlaid with a single horizontal line. Eldritch took a picture of it and shook his head.
“It's obviously an implant,” he said. “But not like anything I've ever seen before.”
“Nor I,” said Mason. “Or that symbol. Is that a product logo or what?”
Eldritch worked his comms unit and continued to shake his head.
“I've got nothing on the database,” he said. “No products match that emblem.”
“Maybe it's his unit,” I offered. “Or something more personal.”
“Wake him up and ask him,” said Eldritch. I nodded at Mason who looked at his own comms.
“The last injection should be wearing off soon.”
He raised his arm and slapped the man hard across the face, causing him to groan but little else. He repeated the process and the man's eyes began to open. They were red and sleepy but still cold, tinged with malice.
“What the-”
Mason administered one more slap and the man was definitely awake.
“Fuck you!” he cried, shaking the fog from his head. “It's in your best interests to let me go. Now.”
“Not from where I'm standing,” I said. “Talk.”
He looked from me to Mason to Eldritch and snorted a laugh. Thor tightened his grip and the man winced.
“You're soldiers. So am I. We know the score. Either start the torture and let's play the game or let me go. Either way, I'm telling you nothing tonight. The way I see it, time is on my side.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You'll find out.”
I had little patience for interrogation, but the logic was sound – he knew that he could hold out for a certain amount of time, perhaps enough for the rest of his team to find him or maybe there was a backup plan involving that implant. Too many variables there and I wasn't comfortable with any of them.
“Sir?” asked Thor.
“What is it?”
“I've studied a bit of this kind of fing,” he said. “Would you like me to give him a bit of... persuasion? To talk, I mean.”
For a split second the arrogant expression on the soldier faltered. I looked at Mason who shrugged.
“Go for it,” I said. “Just remember that we need him talking, okay?”
“Understood, sir,” said the bot. “I know how to make this little birdy sing. Just you-”
It happened far too fast for any of us to stop it and if it hadn't been for the horror of it I'd have laughed my ass off. The soldier had been about to say something but no sooner had his lips parted to speak than the words became a scream of agony as his left arm was torn from its socket. The rest of him swung to one side, suspended only by his remaining arm which snapped so loudly that we all heard it.
“Holy shit!” cried Eldritch who turned and vomited where he stood.
“Erm...” began Thor who tried to reattach the limb by pushing the two parts back together, unsuccessfully. “I fink I applied a little too much torque.”
“You think?” I cried. “Put him down!”
Thor promptly dropped the soldier who was still wailing in both terror and mind-blowing agony. He slammed onto the floor with a wet slap and landed on the hole where his shoulder had once been. In a purely animalistic reaction, he used his only remaining arm to grab at Mason but Thor, quicker to react, grabbed him first, crushing his hand into pulp.
“Oh dear!” cried the bot, letting go of the mangled limb. “That won't make fings better!”
“We have to stop the bleeding!” I yelled over the cries of the soldier who now lay on his back on the verge of passing out. “We-”
It was too late. No sooner had Mason stuck him with meds from his pack than he let out one final breath, sighed and slumped in a pool of his own blood which was quickly spreading across the entire floor. Instinctively I stepped away but I couldn't stop staring at him, at the mess.
“What... the... hell?” cried Eldritch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why did he do that?”
“I-”
“I'm dreadfully sorry, sirs,” said the bot, his hands folded in front of him. “I thought I could make 'im spill 'is beans, so to speak.”
“It looks like you did,” said Mason who gestured to the pool of gore. “He's certainly spilling them now.”
I looked at Thor who was still holding the bloody arm.
“You can put that down now,” I told him. He let it fall. Then, taking the soldier's blade, I went over to him and pulled back the collar of his coat, exposing the implant. “It's a lead,” I explained. “Possibly the only one we have left because I reckon his DN
A won't be on record.” Then I began cutting.
We left the apartment block as soon as it was safe to do so. Eldritch said he'd put in an anonymous call about the soldier and leave it at that.
“Just another strange murder for the PD to brush under the carpet,” he said. “I don't think anyone will care once they realize he doesn't exist.”
We were in a cab heading out into the southern industrial districts where the Freelancer explained that the raided munitions depot was located. The rain hadn't stopped and I wondered where it all drained off to, where they pumped it once it went into the sewers. Surely it had to go somewhere? I thought about that as we left the glittering skyscrapers and pulsing arterial veins of the roadways behind us, swapping them for vistas of enormous heat exchanger stacks, sprawling manufacturing plants and decaying architecture from the planet's earliest colonizing. All looked bleak and grey, like the shattered remains of a stone colossus, left to rot on the battlefield in shadow and rain. The sky here looked yellowed, like it was suffering some kind of storm, but was, in fact, a result of the scorched ozone above the biggest power plants.
“It's a long-running battle,” said Eldritch. “Even though the planet doles out constant rainfall, people don't want the pollution either. When rain begins melting your coat or scorching the pavement it's probably time to think about the nature of these facilities.”
“Are they mostly power related?” I asked.
“Sort of. Those primary heat exchangers are involved in producing power for 75% of the city's needs. The rest have built around it, forming smaller industries off the back of this one. Engineering firms, primary and secondary manufacturing bases, that sort of thing. Then, on the fringes, you have the smaller guys like our friends in the munitions business.”
Raw Justice Page 12