“I’ll consider that.”
We pulled up to the curb in front of my building.
“Maybe I’ll see you at the hospital when you visit Blanc,” I said.
“Maybe.”
I made to get out of the car.
“Hey, Johnson,” she said grabbing my arm. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks,” she said.
I climbed out of the car and leaned down looking in at Blake. “I’m still injured and not a young man anymore,” I said with a grin while tapping the spot where she’d kissed me. “A shock like that could kill me, you know.”
She blushed as I shut the door.
I took the elevator up to the third floor and when I stepped out I saw a guy mopping the floor in the hallway near my office. It was the failed thief from a few days before.
“What are you doing here, casing the joint?” I asked him.
“I took your advice. Staring down the barrel of that hand cannon of yours made me think. I got a job. Lo Shen hired me. I already got the girl. I’m going to work and save enough credits, and then ask her to marry me.”
“You going to be happy being a janitor for the rest of your life?”
“I may not do this for the rest of my life, but for now it’ll do.”
“You telling me you won’t go back to stealing when you get tired of being called a mop jockey by everyone and their uncle?”
“I don’t care. Isn’t being called a janitor better than being a thief?”
“This is a rough neighborhood, kid. You might end up dead just walking to or from work.”
“This place beats anything down in Midtown. I’m block wise. I know what to look for. Besides, everybody knows a mop jockey don’t make any money. Why are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“I’m not. I just wanted to see if you’d thought this through.”
“I did. You satisfied?”
“Yeah. My toilet’s plugged. When you going to get on that, mop jockey?” I asked with a smile.
“Right after I take care of the important tenants, Mr. Johnson,” he shot back.
Maybe the kid might be okay, I thought. Maybe. “Say, why’d you pick my place to break into? Was mine the first? You weren’t carrying any loot but what you were trying to steal from me.”
“Why?” He looked sideways with an embarrassed look. “’Cause it was the only one that was locked up and not open for business and the office across from yours is empty.”
I shrugged and walked to my office door.
“Hey, what was that thing I was trying to steal from your office anyway?” he asked as I unlocked my door.
“My percolator. It brews coffee.”
“I never saw one of those before.”
“Then why were you stealing it?”
“I thought it might be valuable. You said it, I wasn’t a very good thief.”
“It’s one of the four things you should never mess with.”
“Huh?”
“Never mess with a man’s woman, car, beer, or coffee.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“And shooting iron,” I added.
“That’s five.”
“You can add. What’s your name, kid?”
“Arlo Sguab. Don’t say it, I know.”
“I didn’t say a thing, Arlo. At least it isn’t generic,” I said tapping the painted letters on my door.
I decided to try and take the doctor’s advice and rest. If Fell complained then he could take his money back for the day.
Gene called me about an hour after I got into my office.
“I got some info for you, Rick,” he said.
“Then lay it on me.”
“First, the two gunsels you dropped in the Blanc shooting checked out. O’Hara mob all right. Another John Doe that wound up in the city morgue with non-fatal bullet wounds and a slit throat checked out the same. There’s your alley shooter I would bet. I’ll let you figure out who did the slitting.”
I now knew that Bartram set up the shooting, but I didn’t know how I ended up in the hands of Arc Tau. Maybe that didn’t matter. What was more important was figuring out what Arc Tau was trying to accomplish.
“Good to know,” I said.
“The three dead guys from the hospital are O’Hara mob also. That isn’t official yet, so don’t go spreading that around. Maybe they’ll figure out it’s not healthy locking horns with you.”
“That would suit me fine. What about Fell?”
“Fell. He does work for the Security Forces. They confirmed that, but won’t say he works intelligence, of course. Standard operating procedure for his sort. I found out through other means that he is a spook. He looks like you described him. ID number checks out.”
“Thanks, Gene.”
“I did a little more poking around. Looked into those names from Teasdale’s office and BluCorp’s security head.”
“Muckle?”
“Yeah. A real son of a bitch who used to be an investigator for the Office of the Prosecutor here in Gulf City. Took a job outside of the city six years ago. Nobody seems to know where, but I’m digging. He comes back last year and takes the job with BluCorp. I met him once when he was with the OP. Has little man syndrome. You know the kind of guys that think they have a shortcoming of one sort or another and feel like they have to compensate.”
“Is BluCorp still sniffing around the Savan kidnappings or are they letting the cops deal with it?”
“I’ll ask around. Say, did you hear about Alex Foster?”
“The attorney?”
“That’s right. Savan’s attorney. Your mention of them made me think of it. He turned up dead down in the Republic of Havana. On a vacation and took a pinbeam behind the ear in his hotel room. That mean anything to you?”
“It means I won’t be retaining him if I need representation.”
Gene snorted.
“This happen today?” I asked.
“They discovered the body yesterday, but he’d been dead for a couple of days.”
“That kind of thing happen often down there?”
“I don’t know. I would imagine not in the kind of place Foster might stay at.”
“Okay. What about Freeman and Leahy?”
“Freeman is one of the guys that founded Arc Tau, an exec. Used to be a Gulf Confederation Army officer. Leahy was in the GCA as well, military intelligence. Dropped off the map for a lot of years, then turned up again several years ago. He’s bounced from security company to security company still doing intel.”
“I don’t know if any of that means much, but thanks. You left a little too early last night, Gene. I could have used you at the hospital.”
“Oh no, old buddy. I’m too damn old for that kind of shit, and so are you.”
“It’s not the age—”
“It’s the mileage,” he said, cutting me off. “I know. You got a lot of mileage as well, down a lot of rough roads. Thanks for looking out for Bob and Varuna.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re getting all soft in your old age. You’re gonna make me cry.”
“Nobody wants to see that,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
I was willing to bet Arc Tau, BluCorp, or both bore responsibility for Foster’s death, but why? His death was obviously an assassination, and it sent a not too subtle message that whoever was behind the kidnappings was big enough to have people killed internationally. Was that their intention, to send a message? Did Foster have knowledge that made him a danger? I had a lot of questions and not much in the answers department.
Fell stopped by in the afternoon. He brought a ratty looking kid with him. Stringy black hair, rodent face, and thin enough I figured he missed more than a few meals in his short life.
“This is Haphazard, Rick,” Fell said gesturing at the kid.
I looked at the kid. “Haphazard? Your parents not like you or something?”
He got mad, but Fell chopped him off before he got started. “It’s a handle, Rick. Hap’s a hack
er, first rate too.”
“You tap keys and get into computer systems?” I asked.
Haphazard looked at me with derision. “Fuck no,” he said. He tapped his skull. “Psycherspace, man. I plug in and I go into the system.”
“Psycherspace,” I said.
“It’s putting your mind into the webnet or a computer system. You ain’t wired,” he said shaking his head. He looked at Fell. “How is this old dude going to help us? He’s a straight like you. He’s a luddie, man.”
Fell looked confused. “I don’t think I know that one, Hap.”
“Look at the guy. He don’t like the tech.”
“A Luddite.”
“Nah, man, you got it wrong. A luddie.”
“There a reason you drag this kid in here?” I asked. “I can recommend a few places he can get a meal if that was what you were looking for.”
The kid glared at me.
“Hap is helping me with investigating BluCorp. He’s part of the team.”
“Terrific,” I said. “We have this thing licked then.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t beneficial, Johnson.”
“You have to give it time, Fell. So Hap there is helping. Why is he here?” I asked pointing at the floor. “In my office.”
“I have Hap and three of his friends looking into BluCorp electronically. I, and they, could use your help.”
“What is it you think I can do for you, and them?”
“I have a man that knows something about BluCorp’s computer security and somebody needs to go and talk to this guy,” Fell said.
“You mean I need to go talk to him,” I said. “You can’t because you’re afraid of the Big BluCorp Wolf huffing and puffing and blowing your case in if they ID you, and I expect the chip-head quartet don’t speak the man’s language,” I said glancing at Hap, “so that leaves me.”
“True enough. Here’s what I have on him,” he said passing me his data reader.
I saw the guy Fell was talking about was a former BluCorp board member named Ned Browne. He was living at Bright Horizons in the Spire, a high rent retirement community.
“He’s a former board member in a retirement home? Is he senile?”
“I understand he’s quite lucid.”
“What makes you so sure he’ll talk about BluCorp’s data security?”
“Word is he likes to talk, about anything. He has tens of millions in creds and he stays at a place like that with three other millionaires. They spend all day playing games and talking. They will talk to whoever wants to stop and chat.”
“What am I looking to get from the guy? I’m not a computer expert.”
The rat boy rolled his eyes.
“Hap, what should he ask about?” Fell said.
“We need to know what kind of system they are running in their central computers and what kind of connections they use for throughput. Knowing what kind of encryption and security programs they use would be handy. Word is their system is firewalled like a mutha.”
“A mutha. Is that a technical term I should throw at the guy?” I asked.
Fell was obviously irritated with me, but the kid thought it was funny.
“I hope you can show a little more tact with Browne.”
I shook my head and smiled. “I’ll set up an appointment.”
“Call me when you know something,” Fell said before he led the hacker kid out of my office.
I called the retirement home and they said I could stop by any time I wished. I told them I would be there in the morning.
I decided to take a nap and get up in the evening. I wanted to go see Pete and Lacey and let them know I was still alive.
I slept until the next morning.
I woke up tired and angry. While the coffee was brewing I discovered my office phone had messages for me.
Pete had called to see if I was okay.
Lacey did the same, but wondered why I hadn’t called or visited. Complications.
I left messages for them at their numbers explaining why I didn’t speak with them the day before. I knew Pete wouldn’t mind, but I was clueless as to how Lacey would respond. I just hoped it wouldn’t result in violence.
Lawton Muckle’s office called as well. They left a message saying he wanted to speak with me. When I returned the call they told me he was out, but they would let him know I called. I thought it might be for the best. I wasn’t sure I wanted to speak with the guy anyway.
I called Fell and told him about Muckle.
“It’s probably not a good idea for you to meet him, Johnson,” he said. “If you let something slip or he became suspicious for some reason...”
“Wouldn’t he think it strange if I didn’t talk to him?”
“It’s not worth the risk. We can’t chance it,” Fell said adamantly.
“Okay, okay, no need to get jealous,” I said. Fell breathed heavily. I would bet he was scowling. “I’ll blow him off if he calls.”
“That’s what is best. Trust me. We are too close to run that kind of risk. I know all about him, Rick. He desperately wants to be rich, but he mostly wants to be rich so the movers and shakers in Gulf City high society will accept him. It’s a hot button issue with the guy.”
“So he’s a bit twisted.”
“He’s BluCorp’s head of security. Don’t compromise the investigation by talking to him and letting something slip. He’s an unpleasant little snake, but he knows what he is doing.”
I got the impression Fell wasn’t telling me everything.
After I hung up I showered, shaved, and dressed for my visit with the millionaires club.
I was headed for the door when my office phone rang. It was Muckle’s office once again. They told me he would meet me at a charity luncheon if I wanted to stop by. They gave me the address of some convention center at a posh hotel in the Spire and Muckle’s mobile number in case I couldn’t find the place.
I asked if I needed a ticket. They told me no, but I should take my checkbook or credcard so I could donate to a worthy cause. Right. I told them I’d make it if I could.
I walked up the street and caught a skycab to the Spire.
The skycab dropped me off in front of the retirement home. An ambulance sat ready just around the corner from the entrance. It made me wonder if that was common at places like that.
“I’m here to see Ned Browne,” I said to the receptionist at the counter in the foyer of Bright Horizons. Behind her, I could see double doors. A security guard stood nearby.
“I’ll have someone take you to him,” the receptionist said.
I waited a few minutes until a heavy-set woman in loud floral medical utilities came from a hall off the side and led me to the double doors. Nurse Linda, read her nametag. The security guard had to buzz us in.
The place was bright and painted in happy colors. At first glance, it seemed bright and happy too, until I looked at the residents’ faces. It was in their eyes. They would light up momentarily when they thought I might be there to visit them, but once they realized I was not, they went back to being a zombie.
This was a dumping ground for the elderly parents of wealthy people, or wealthy elders who lost control of their riches, which amounted to the same thing for the elders.
Linda bulldozed a path through the residents, or maybe they just shied away from the angry swarm of flowers on her garb. I couldn’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to see that coming at me either.
Stepping out into the courtyard I was hit by the smell of freshly cut grass and hopelessness.
An odd fact of life: You can smell hopelessness, just like you can smell fear. You can’t smell hopefulness or fearlessness, and nobody can explain why.
More zombies ambled in the sun. In the midst of the staggering undead and herds of the wheelchair bound was a table with a large canvas umbrella providing shade for the four men seated there. I was guessing they were the millionaire club. Linda pointed them out to me and walked back into the building.
The members o
f the quartet were smiling and playing cards. I wondered what the hell they knew that every one of the other people in there were missing.
“Good morning, I’m—”
“Johnson, right?” said the biggest man of the four. “They told us you were coming. I’m Ned Browne, and these are my friends. James Dudley, Murray Gilchrist, and Larry Nance,” he said going clockwise around the table.
They voiced greetings in unison.
“You have some questions for us?” Browne asked.
“Just you, Mr. Browne.”
“Well you’re here, so you might as well talk to all of us,” Browne replied.
“Okay, I’ll play along. Why are you four the only happy inmates in this place?”
All four of them thought that was funny.
“To put it simply, we like it here,” Gilchrist said.
“You like it here?” I said glancing around with a look of distaste.
“That’s a little negative, Mr. Johnson. We like to stay upbeat,” Nance said.
“So you think happy thoughts and that makes everything all right?”
The men laughed.
“Hell, son, I’ve always been a cock-eyed optimist,” Browne said. “It ain’t always done me right, but most times it does. Running around in rose-colored glasses will keep you young.”
“Ain’t always done you right. So your optimism has bit you in the ass?”
He and his buddies laughed again. “You might say that, son. Cost me my seat on the board at BluCorp. They said I was too old-fashioned, too set in my ways. Maybe they were right. I never saw them coming to oust me till it was too late. Hell, I’m on full-time vacation now. Lovin’ every minute of it!”
“What did you do that got you the boot?” I asked.
“I objected to some of BluCorp’s dealings. It’s inevitable a large corporation will have to deal with some nasty characters from time to time out of necessity, but we were seeking them out. They viewed them as an untapped source of revenue and talent. That went against my grain. The business journals called it an epic end to a glorious career.”
“We all four crashed and burned in one way or another,” Nance said.
“Murray outdid all of us though,” Dudley added.
They all laughed at his comment.
The Lowdown in High Town: An R.R. Johnson Novel Page 18