by Matt Abraham
Monday’s a pal, and an honest one at that, so I did, with a focus on who and the why, but I left out the Kaos and the Bleach. He listened, and I watched his cop mind working it all over.
When I finished he said, “But if Lynchpin’s behind it then why hire you?”
“That’s a good question. Another one is why couldn’t this wait? Aren’t we meeting at Eggs Am?”
“There’s no way I’d be seen with you.”
“Why’s that?”
“You don’t know.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Because you’re the Commission’s new number one suspect. They think you killed Pinnacle.”
They say when your blood drops below a certain temperature it can kill you, and far be it for me to question years of medical wisdom, but I wasn’t so sure. After all, what Monday just told me froze my veins solid, and I was still upright. “What? Me? Why?”
Monday leaned forward. “Well let me ask you this: did you do anything interesting this morning?”
“No. I solved a case for a very sweet old…” I felt my face slide an inch closer to the floor. “The monitors.”
“Uh huh.” Monday nodded. “We got you on tape at a murder scene, breaking in and stealing evidence. A pistol from the looks of it.”
“What?” That was bad. Real bad. But, “Shouldn’t there be tape on the actual kill?”
“There’s not a single black cape who would record everything they did, though I wish they would. No, the tapes run on an eight hour loop before they reset and start recording over what’s already there.”
“Damn it. So you guys just have him lying there dead for a while, then me coming in and tossing the place right before I sneak out with a pistol.”
“That’s correct, and the theory is that pistol is the one that killed Pinnacle,” Monday said. “What were you doing there anyway?”
“It was a busted Kapowitzer. Mindgame stole it, and I was picking it up for the owner.” I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a long pull from it. “So they got a shot of my face now?”
“Negative pal. Thanks to your hat. And the angle of the cameras.”
“They didn’t get my grill? Then how’d you know to come here?”
“Because you got a certain way about you, and because I’m me. But don’t go getting all candy and roses just yet. We got your prints. And a general description.”
“Damn it. But they didn’t put it together with my name, so I’m still clean so long as I don’t get picked up on something else.”
“That’s correct,” Monday said, “and the fact that we found the schematics for the other murder weapon might take some of the heat off you.”
“The ones on the desk? Those things were destroyed, how can you-”
“They weren’t in great shape, but our tech’s best guess is they’re for an advanced nullifier. Something capable of working on Pinnacle.”
“So your prevailing theory is that Mindgame used it on Pinnacle, then gut shot him with a pistol I snatched?”
“No, they think it was the both of you. Working together. Or maybe you hired him. At least that’s what Humphries is telling the team.”
“And pretty soon the press…” I took another pull off the bottle. “But wait, if that really was the case then why was Pinnacle found in street clothes? And where are the burn marks on the body? Or the bullet and its casing? Your guys went over that room, what actual evidence do you have to support Humphries’ theory?”
Monday’s eyes darted back and forth. His mouth opened then closed without making a sound. “I didn’t… how could you-”
“And another thing, how did your boys find Mindgame’s digs so fast? I had his address. Was this another anonymous call to the Team Supreme tip line?”
“No idea.”
I paced the room twice. It helped me think. And I came to only one conclusion. “Lynchpin’s behind it, and I can guess why. Mindgame’s a patsy.”
“A patsy?”
“You’re familiar with the term?”
“I am.”
“Good, that’ll save me some time. I think from the very beginning Lynchpin planned on feeding you Mindgame to cover himself. Probably offered the kid a promotion within the Sindicate to keep him close, then whacked him and left his corpse next to some illegible nullifier schematics knowing that Humphries would be more than happy to swallow it all, and take credit for solving the crime of the century.”
I let Monday decide for himself whether what I was telling him had more weight than what he was hearing from his boss. After he finished with the scales he said, “I think you’re right, that evidence doesn’t add up. And there wasn’t a mark on Mindgame’s body so I guess Lynchpin could’ve used his TK to stop the kid’s heart without leaving any evidence,” Monday said. “And sure, Humphries wants this solved on the double, but is it even possible? To build a nullifier that powerful?”
“No, Mindgame’s not bright enough on his own.” I could almost feel the heat from the light bulb over my head. “Which is why you’ll be hearing that he took some Black Bleach.”
“What?” Monday’s eyes nearly jumped to their doom. “Black Bleach? That stuff’s not around anymore.”
“Yes it is. If you know where to find it. And I bet your anonymous source does. I’ll bet that in a few days he’ll tell you the exact location of a chemical plant that has a hundred vials full of the stuff, and what do you know? There’s one missing. Then Humphries will claim that Mindgame was the one who took it, which not only explains how he could build the impossible, missing nullifier, but also how he died, and nobody will say a thing to the contrary because who doesn’t want this case solved? But that means Lynchpin will get away with murder, and I can’t let that happen.”
“Then how do we stop it?”
“First, we’ll need to prove there’s no Bleach in Mindgame’s body.”
“There’ll be an autopsy.”
“They won’t test for Bleach, though. You have to make sure they do.”
“I can do that.” He stood up. “But that still doesn’t answer how Pinnacle was killed. What do you know about that?”
“I got a vague impression.”
“Want to share it?”
“Not yet. First find out about that tox report. Then check into who your anonymous source is. Once we’ve got that I’ll spill what I know about the murder weapons, and we’ll deal with Lynchpin together.” I showed Monday to the front door.
“I’ll get back to you tonight. And sorry about the entrance Widow,” Monday said as he walked by her desk. “As for you, and I’m saying this in front of our lady here, despite your intact anonymity stay put. The Commission is tearing the city apart looking for you, so keep your head down, and don’t go out.”
“Okay,” I said, and opened the door for him. “Shalom.”
I went to my office to watch Monday walk out of the building and take flight.
“So what was all that about?” Widow was in the doorway with all four hands on her hips.
“They got tape of me at Mindgame’s, though they can’t place me there. Except…”
Widow looked at me. “Except what?”
“Except one person can.” I fetched the Kapowitzer, and handed it to Widow. “Here. I want this gone. You know the address, take it to her, and tell her the job’s on the house. Tell her I owed Agent Dreadful a debt from way back and we won’t accept payment.”
Widow took the gun, and we walked to the front door. “Is that true?”
“Who cares? Just tell her. And remind her that possessing this piece is illegal, and that she should ignore anything she sees on the news about Mindgame. If anyone finds out that the guy suspected of killing Pinnacle was in possession of her property then the SPECs will no doubt arrest her before coming straight here.”
“Right.” Widow nodded. “I got it.”
“Make sure she got it, too. Then head home. I want you as far away from me as possible. At least for tonight.”
“Will do. In the meantime, and I ha
te asking, are you planning on going out?”
I shrugged. I didn’t see why I would. The sun was still high in the sky, and I really had nowhere to go. Besides, I was expecting some phone calls. “Don’t plan on it.”
“That’s what I thought.” Widow reached into her top drawer and held out something.
“What’s that?”
“What’s it look like?”
I took it and smiled. “My old mask. I haven’t worn this in ages.” It wasn’t made from Wonder Weave, and didn’t cover my whole face, but it could protect my identity from regular pictures, the human eye, and facial recognition software since it distorted the key points used for matching.
“Yeah, well when you told me about this case I went over to storage and grabbed it. Figured it might come in handy.” Her brown eyes looked stern, but she sounded caring. “If you go out, like you say you won’t, bring that with you.”
“Can do.” I turned around and walked back to my office with my mask in hand.
“Dane.”
I stopped. “Yeah?”
“Why don’t you put it in your pocket right now?”
I called Lynx again after Widow left, and didn’t get an answer. So I poured myself a shot. Then another. And since the first two didn’t put a dent in my worry I had a third. Me involved in Pinnacle’s death, tied up with a guy like Mindgame… sometimes I think that the SPECs couldn’t find dark at night.
It wasn’t surprising they’d want this wrapped up as quickly as possible though. With Pinnacle’s killer in the ground the people of Gold Coast would sleep soundly knowing justice had been served, and Humphries would get his shiny new nation-wide organization. Who cares if they got a patsy while the real murderer’s still walking around free?
Me actually, I do.
Chapter 34
As I stood at my window watching the sun sink behind Bittenbach Bay I thought it all over. Was it possible I was wrong about Mindgame’s involvement? Maybe. If he took a dose of Bleach it would explain why he didn’t have a mark on him. And if he somehow survived long enough, maybe he could’ve created what even Professor Varius couldn’t... a nullifier that worked on Pinnacle.
No. That story had more holes than a colander.
First off, how could Mindgame have lured Pinnacle downtown in his street clothes? And also, why didn’t he leave any evidence in the room? And what about the missing burn marks and bullet hole? Sorry SPECs, none of it adds up. Plus, I remembered how destroyed the schematics were, there’s no way a technician could’ve accurately gauged what was on them, and the fact that this fantasy nullifier was missing didn’t help.
No, it was far more likely my theory was correct, and Mindgame was a red herring meant to throw us off Lynchpin’s trail. Now all Monday had to do was get the autopsy results to prove I was right.
The sun had finally disappeared behind the ocean sending a cool wind blowing through the city. I normally find this time of night as pleasant as a foot rub, but all it did now was serve as a reminder of another day down with no hard answers. Things were moving too slow and too quick simultaneously, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a side effect from when Skip shifted my head through time. Either way I was getting antsy. There had to be someone I could engage on all of this. Someone who might be able to give me an opinion on everything that was going on. Someone in the know with information of their own.
Then it hit me: Sledge.
He’s a smart investigator, and plugged into the Sindicate. I could run my theory by him and get an objective opinion. Maybe see if he was kicked off the case, too. After all, he did promise to help.
I fished his address from my files and was at his place in no time, leaving Jane around the side of the building. All it took was a twenty’s worth of grease for the doorman, and up to the third floor I went.
I rang his bell, but there was no answer. I tried again and still nothing.
That left me two options— hang back and wait for him to come home, or let myself in and wait for him there. It was an important decision. One I felt that should be made indoors, so I pulled out my pick, and went to work.
The door swung open, and I stepped into the dark hallway. “Hey Sledge, it’s Dane. I come in peace.” There was no answer. I closed the door behind me. Once my eyes adjusted I walked down the hall, and into the living room. On the left was a large television, two leather couches, and an easy chair with its back facing me. To the right was the kitchen, and a dining nook with three chairs and one small table.
I looked for a light switch nearby, but came up empty, so I took a few steps into the living room to see if I couldn’t find something to illuminate the place. A bright beam of light cut through the blinds from below. It only lasted a second, but that was long enough to see “Sledge!” I leapt back. “Is that you?”
I hadn’t seen him from behind, but Sledge was sitting in the chair, slumped forward, with three empty scotch bottles at his feet. “Hey buddy, sorry to wake you,” I said, “are you feeling ok?” I’ve downed three bottles in one sitting before, and it’s knocked me out too, but Sledge wasn’t breathing, which even on a nasty bender is the one thing I always remember to do.
“Come on, not again…” I gave him a smack on the chops.
It hit wet.
I ran to the kitchen, found a switch, and flicked it on. My fingers were covered in blood. I sprinted back to the chair and spun it around for a closer look. Sledge’s one organic eye was open, dull, and dead, while the cybernetic one was black, and cold. The bloodstain on his chest was so massive it looked like he had a red napkin tucked into his shirt. Gently placing my hand under his chin I lifted it up to inspect the wound. His head flopped back like a Pez dispenser. The slice ran all the way back to his spine.
I looked around the room. There was no sign of a struggle. That meant one of two things: either there was so much Scottish running through his veins that Sledge couldn’t put up a fight, or he knew his killer. I wanted an answer, but I learned my lesson earlier at Mindgame’s. I had to get out quick. Before I could leave though, I had to eliminate any evidence that I was there, so grabbing a towel from the kitchen I wiped my prints off of everything I touched, then bolted for the door. As I did another burst of light came into the apartment.
This one was accompanied by a voice.
“We know you’re in there, put your hands up and come out peacefully!”
I ran to the window, and pulled the blinds aside. SPECs. Dozens of them. On the ground, in the sky, everywhere. I dropped the blinds and took a step back. A loud blast filled my ears as the wall exploded. It sent me flying over the couch. I landed hard, and came to a stop on my back.
“Perpetrator, this is Agent Dodd of the Special Powers Extraction Commission. You are ordered to drop all weapons, and exit the building with your hands up. Comply with the order and you will not be harmed.”
I turned over, and crawled behind the kitchen counter. Gunfire filled the room. Bullets knocked off chunks of wood and plaster above me. I looked at my chest. No blood, I was fine. I took a deep breath, removed the mask from my pocket, and fastened it over my eyes.
Then I pulled out Rico.
“That was a warning, come out peacefully or we will force compliance,” the Agent called out from below.
“That was a warning?” I yelled back.
“Suspect, come out with your hands up!”
I peeked around the corner. On the other side of the missing wall were a dozen SPECs, each hovering with their arm cannons aimed inward.
“Come out with your hands up, I will not tell you again.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. I’ve been in a few sieges before and the only thing they have in common is the ground crew always gets chatty. I don’t know why. All they have to offer is Impenetron or Ayers Hill, and both of those come in way behind attempting escape.
But the thing about escape is, it needs a route.
I knew the hole in the front was no good. That way was all teeth and claws. I looked t
oward the bedroom. There could be a backdoor, but if not I’d be boxed in worse than I was now, which left me only one choice; the way I came in.
Taking a deep breath I got to my feet, and sprinted towards the hall. The place came alive with lead before I got step one. Plants, the walls, every flat surface exploded upward like a pond in a rainstorm. I caught my fair share, but the SPECs were loaded with regular slugs so the only thing they were hurting were my threads.
When I was halfway across the living room it felt like a train clipped my thigh. I went down screaming. My leg burned bad. But I pushed through the pain, and bounced back up, scrambling sideways.
Just four more steps and I’d be safe.
Then another shot, just as strong as the last, caught my arm. I spun sideways, and again I went down. The pain was worse this time. My shoulder felt like it was on fire. But I could see safety. Ignoring the throbbing in my limbs I dove forward like I was stealing second, and when I slid to a stop I was in the hall.
For the moment they couldn’t reach me.
I got to my feet and the burning in my leg and arm got worse. I shook my clothes, and a dozen or so bullets fell out. Two of them didn’t look right. They had a familiar blue glow, and started burning a hole through the carpet. Azures. The SPECs were using Azures. But how? The implications were grim, but I didn’t have time to ruminate. I sprinted toward the door, and with one punch, knocked it off its hinges.
“Hands up.”
“Suspect has emerged-”
More SPECs were waiting outside, two on the lower staircase, one up top, and all three had me dead to rights. I didn’t know if they were packing regular bullets or if they were loaded with the blue beasts so I raised my hands up high.
“Drop your weapon!”
“Don’t you move, you-”
“Look.” I scanned all three. “If I’m going to drop the gun I have to move. I won’t put up a fight, I promise. Just don’t shoot.”
“Drop the gun!” It was the SPEC up top. “On the ground. No funny stuff!”