Liquid Cool (Liquid Cool, Book 1)

by Austin Dragon

Chapter 47

  Mrs. Easy Chair Charlie

  I HAD BEEN A BUSY BEE. Besides being in Mad Heights, there was one other place I had been that they didn't know about. Before I went to the Soldier of Fortune Meet-Up meeting, I had made one other stop—back to the Free City apartment of Mrs. Easy Chair Charlie.

  My day may have ended with gangster punks (Mad Heights), but it began with them, too. I strolled into Free City, and I knew the Free City gangs would try to jack me up again and no business card would stop them this time. As I approached the tower of Easy Chair's widow, they appeared. It was the same kids; one after another they walked to me.

  "It's the detective again," one said.

  "I didn't think he was dumb enough to come back a second time," said another.

  I was in no mood.

  "Get away from me," I said.

  "That's it, Mr. Detective? You got no more fake business cards to show us?"

  I really was in no mood for this.

  "Guess where I'm going after this?" I asked.

  "Why?" one of the punks responded.

  "Mad Heights."

  They all laughed. "You're not going to no Mad City, you square."

  "When you go to a place like that, you have to be prepared to do what needs to be done. I should practice."

  Instantly, the expressions changed on their faces. They knew where I was going.

  The first mistake was drawing their weapons on me. The second mistake they made was not firing at me immediately. I pulled my omega-gun the same time they did, but I didn't hesitate. My mind was set to shoot them, not kill them—they were still young enough that they had a chance to get on the right path in life; however, I would torture them, viciously. Medium-yield plasma discharge rounds. I needed something to practice on to see their effectiveness. The mayhem commenced. Lucky for them, it was not set to kill; unlucky for them, they would be showered with burning, excruciating painful rounds. The punks were all reduced to whimpering wrecks, bundles on the ground. They cried and begged for me to stop.

  "She hired us!"

  "Who?"

  "She told us to stop you from coming up to her place, no matter what!" one of the punks yelled at me.

  "Who?!"

  As I approached Easy Chair's place, people were watching me from the windows. I couldn't tell if they approved or not of what I did to their resident juvenile delinquents.

  Then I saw them. Two high-tech robo-dogs optically targeted me, their metal teeth extended out, and they raced at me. You never wanted to be attacked by a robo-dog, and these were pit-bull models, which were among the most lethal (along with Doberman and German Shepherd models).

  Every city, even super-cities like Metropolis, were inseparable from their automation and machines—never use the word "robot" around my fiancée, Dot. Machines and technology were built to last, and last a long time, and that's exactly what they did. Even the technology infrastructure of the nouveau-rich Peacock Hills had existed for centuries. Everything only looked new, including the robots you saw. But these robot dogs were straight-out-of-the-box new. They were genuinely something to behold. The flawless, shiny-silver metal parts, the supple plastic connector pieces, the blue-metal, razor teeth and retractable front-paw claws. You wouldn't find such beautiful mechanical specimens in any tower mansion in uber-rich Silicon Dunes, but the two killer machines were coming at me in low-life, no-money, Free City.

  The robot pit bulls were fast! I was faster. The beauty of my gun was that I could switch its setting with a flick of a thumb. I shot them, and the robots wobbled around and then blew up. I shielded myself from the debris with my coat and angrily kicked the door, but it was already bolted back. There I stood, locked out. I sat on the ground next to the apartment door as I took out my mobile.

  The video-phone answered, and Mrs. Easy Chair Charlie was glaring at me. "How did you get my number?"

  "Open the door!"

  "No!"

  "Where did you get the money to buy expensive security robot dogs, pit-bull models, like that?"

  "My life insurance! I told you that before."

  "Oh, so we're sticking with that story?"

  "It's not a story. It's the truth."

  "What was Easy going to acquire that was going give him such a payday that he was going to get you and him Up-Top?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "People who can afford those kind of robots shouldn't be in Free City. I'm going to report you to the government. Free City is for people without legacies and no money. You have enough money to buy not one, but two, fancy security robot dogs you would find in Silicon Dunes." I stood up from the ground.

  "No, don't do that."

  "Don't do what? Stand up from the ground or report you to city services?"

  "Why don't you go away? Leave me alone."

  "Seems like I care more about your husband than you do!"

  "That is not true!"

  "Jumping in with his murderers."

  "That's not true!" She suddenly broke down and sobbed. "Will you please go away and leave me alone?"

  "When you tell me what Easy was into that got him killed that night, I will."

  "He wasn't killed. He was shot by the police righteously."

  "I don't how it was done yet, but he was murdered. I don't know if they shot up the police and then threw him out there, or what, but I'll find out how. And when I do, I'll say you were in on it."

  "That's not true! I had nothing to do with it!"

  "You're spending your dead husband's life insurance, even though to this day, you never even filed the claim. Where's the money coming from?!"

  She erupted into a bawling mess.

  "I'm not leaving here, until you let me in and tell me what Easy was into. I got past your Free City gang punks you hired to keep me out, and I got past your robot dogs. You think hiding in there crying is going to stop me?"

  She disappeared from the video screen on my mobile. In a minute or two, I heard the locks unlocking, and the door was opening.

  That's where I went before Mad Heights. And I went to an even more dangerous place when I ran out of Police One, instead of the men's room. I wasn't eager to do so, and I surely wasn't brave. It was my OCD-self, locking on one singular purpose, and pushing every other thought and fear out of my mind—I would rescue that girl, and no deranged punk in a rabbit mask would stop me.

  Chapter 48

  Red

  THE TWO HULKS STOOD at their posts, smoking drug joints. I stood about a couple feet from them, pretending to smoke an e-cigarette.

  There really wasn't any such thing as a small building in Metropolis, but this was a twenty-story auxiliary corner building, and the only light on the street was the tall lamp the three of us were standing under with an accompanying drizzle of rain.

  The first bald man must have been 350 pounds, easy. Plenty of fat, but unfortunately, plenty of muscle, too. His leathery face had pierced eyebrows, a pierced lower lip, a pierced nose, and ears with multiple piercings. He was covered in tattoos, right up to an imaginary line under his nose, and was topped off with his glowing midnight blue shades. His outfit was all black except for the bright gold buckle he held with his joint-free muscled hand.

  His partner had shoulder-length blond hair, tattooed-up arms only, and his shades of choice were glowing black. He sported a goatee and Fu Manchu mustache, meaning it ran down either side of the corners of his mouth.

  "Who are you?" the first man asked.

  "Johnny," I answered.

  "Johnny?"

  "Yeah, like sidewalk johnny."

  "You're a sidewalk johnny named Johnny?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why are you here?"

  "I'm standing on the sidewalk. That's what sidewalk johnnies do."

  "We've never seen you before."

  "I'm new."

  "From where?"

  "Dog Town."

  "They got skater slacker and hackers there."

  "Yeah."

  "Why
come here?"

  "I was chased off by the gangs and the cops. I'm tired, so I came here. This sidewalk is as good as any."

  "You better find another sidewalk to hang at."

  "What's wrong with this one? It's big enough for three of us."

  "It's only made for two. And two ain't you."

  "Why you gotta be like that?"

  "I'm being like that, so get away from here."

  "Is this building dangerous?"

  "Why you say that?" the second man asked me.

  "I saw cops patrolling."

  "Where?"

  "Couple of blocks down. That's why I came here. They're congregating or something."

  The two thugs looked at each other. I pointed behind me.

  "Back there a block. That's why I asked if this building is dangerous, because if it is, then I'll move to another sidewalk. But if it's empty, then I should go inside and dry my feet."

  The first thug put his joint in his mouth and pointed at me. "You're not drying your feet in there. Who are you? Get out of here, you sidewalk johnny bum."

  "My name is Johnny. I told you that already. You two smoke too much dope. You're getting stupid."

  "I'm about to stupidly punch you. Who are you? Get out of here!"

  "All right, all right."

  I marched around them to the door they were guarding, opened it, and closed it behind me.

  I peeked through the peephole of the door, and the two thugs just stood there looking at each other.

  "What did he just do?" asked the first one.

  "He walked right past us and went inside."

  "How did he do that?"

  "I don't know."

  I leaned back and locked the other locks; each made a loud noise. I looked through the peephole again.

  "Why did he do that?"

  "I don't know."

  "He locked us out."

  "I know."

  I shook my head. I spent two hours pretending to be a doofus with them, but they were doofuses of the dope kind.

  Inside was dimly lit. The ceiling had low ambient light, but the long hallway was pitch black. At the end, I knew someone was there. I had my night glasses on. I only wore glasses in the dark and I saw him—Red.

  "I see you," I said.

  "I see you," Red said, sitting in the dark on a stool against the wall at the far end of the hallway. His voice slightly echoed.

  There was banging on the front door.

  "Open the door!" said one of the two dope doofuses.

  "You were out there quite a while with them," Red said.

  "I have no interest in you or your two playmates outside."

  "They're not my playmates. They're the hired help. Good help is so hard to find, nowadays. That's why I have to do all my work myself. So it's done right."

  "They have employment agencies you know—even for criminals."

  "Do they now? Any good workers?"

  "I wouldn't know. I'm not a girl-kidnapping criminal."

  "There it is. You should have played it out longer."

  "You try standing out in the rain with a couple of doofuses and see how long your patience lasts."

  "You got a point there."

  "Give me the little girl, and I'll be out of here like mice on ice."

  "Nah, I don't like that plan."

  "Why not?"

  "I kidnapped her for a reason."

  "Is the reason worth dying for?"

  "Who's going to kill me? You?" Red laughed.

  "That's not nice. Laughing."

  Red forced another bout of laughing.

  "Very not nice," I said.

  I didn't wait as I could see the fur of his rabbit head mask glow a light red. I had dived just as a blast of blue energy went past. All I heard were screams and shattering. I wasn't even prone on the ground for two seconds, when I leapt up and fired my gun at him. Two shots, two misses. The crazy Red had dived out of view.

  I leaned back out of the path of the hallway and saw outside the building. The door was vaporized and the two thugs were dead on the sidewalk. The police drilled that rule into me as an intern. "Never stand in front of a closed door at a strange building."

  My eyes closed as another flash of blue lighting went past, but much, much closer. They say life should be electric, but this was not what they had in mind when they came up with the saying. The energy blast heated the very air it passed through, and though it had missed me, my skin was warm. Red's weapon was so many variations of illegal.

  I instinctively fired back a volley of four rounds this time, hitting the wall. I only needed to distract him for a moment. Inside my inner coat pocket, my left hand went and out came my Mexican jumping beans. I was sure, when I wrote my detective memoir, like good ol' Wilford G. had, people would chuckle, but sometimes, the silly can be the most profound and the most unexpected.

  I threw them in front of me, counted to three, and there they went. I fired one more shot and bolted. The jumping beans started to pop. Unlike firecrackers, there was nothing to light and there were no sparks. They sounded like gunshots.

  It sounded like I was firing at him and Red fired back at me. As I scurried away, all I saw was the entire area light up in blue, accompanied by the shattering of another piece of the wall structure.

  Blast after blast was all I heard, though the sounds were getting lower as I moved further into the building. I reached a hallway with a row of ceiling lamps, and I waited a moment. I hadn't seen one other punk anywhere. It struck me as impossible that Red would have no one else here, but the two doofuses, to stand watch outside the main entrance. I was missing something, but I had to move forward.

  I had reached the basement level. I saw no one and heard nothing, so I moved down the stairs, ninja-like. I stayed very close to the edge of the wall and stopped at the foot of stairs. My eyes locked in on a particular door—it had a padlock on it.

  I walked up to the door, standing to the side, put my ear as close to it without touching it. I leaned back, pointed, and shot the lock off. I threw the pieces to the ground and swung the door open slowly, my body to the side. A single ceiling light illuminated the dim room. There she was, the little girl Lutty, curled up in a cot in the corner with wide blue eyes watching me. She was in a two-piece gray outfit with matching frubber leggings, her hood tightly around her head.

  "Do you know a woman named Carol?"

  The girl nodded.

  "She's the one who sent me. I'm a private detective. Do you know what that is?"

  The girl nodded.

  "Now, have you ever watched American football? Not that other thing. The real football where you actually score points in a game. You know that football?"

  The girl nodded.

  "I am definitely not carrying you so you have to get up and follow me. Not too close, but close. I'll be your running back and you're running to the end zone for the touchdown. Here, the touchdown is getting the hell out of here, so we can get to your mother and the police. As the running back, I won't be tackling, but shooting them. Are we ready?"

  She nodded and then slowly got up off the cot. My ears perked up as I held my gun and switched it to another setting. There was no more shooting from upstairs.

  She could see I was worried, which was absolutely the worst thing to do in front of her. I glanced at her and could see all the bravery she had mustered was slipping away.

  "Don't back down now," I said. "We got to get outside to your Mom and the police. We're going to run—"

  My head reflexively ducked as something came at me from the corner of my eye. A few of my Mexican jumping beans hit the ground and popped. The girl screamed. I pushed her back and behind me as I fired into the darkness of the hall. All I saw was a red glow, and I kicked the door of the room shut. The blue energy blasted the door to smithereens as I pushed the girl to the side.

  I heard the crazy rabbit laughing.

  "Was this your plan?" he yelled from the dark. "Doesn't look like too good of a plan. One man coming
in here, all alone."

  "Tell me something Red, why are you in here alone? Where's your gang? Why aren't they back yet? Why aren't you laughing about that?"

  There was only silence.

  "I'll tell you why they're not here, Red," I said. "Because they've been snatched up. But not by the police. No, Red, you're big time. No, not from the Feds. You're bigger than that. Interpol has had it with you. You've gone too far. You're one cooked rabbit on a spit. Why aren't you laughing about that?"

  While I was taunting the psycho, I had put away my piece. It was a nice weapon but wholly inadequate for this situation. When you want to smash something, you don't use a precision instrument, you use a big bad sledgehammer. I had unfolded my shotgun while Lutty watched me. All I needed was to cock it and shoot. I was already aiming.

  "Why so quiet, Red?"

  "How did you find me?" he asked from the darkness.

  "I'm a detective, Red. And I just followed the breadcrumbs you left me with the trail of madness you left behind. But I'll make you a deal. If you tell me why you got Easy Chair Charlie killed, I know it was you, then I'll tell you how I found you."

  "No!"

  Red's voice wasn't outside in the darkness anymore but right in front of me. He thought he had tricked me. He thought I would watch for the red glow before he blasted his illegal electric rifle, but I had been watching his shadow tiptoe to me—yes, he was actually tip-toeing. We both had night-vision, but he didn't see my shades on my face or the new weapon in my hands. I didn't just bring silly Mexican jumping beans; I had brought with me a barrel attachment for my shotgun as super-illegal as his electric rifle.

  He fired his weapon, but I fired mine too, after the nanosecond I took to cock it. The blue blast came so close to the right side of my face and shoulder that a few inches more, and I would have been vaporized. Lutty screamed as she threw herself down to the damp concrete ground. Not smart on my part to leave it to the little girl to dodge the blast by herself, but kids are resilient. She could throw herself out of the way better than I could. Kids are nimble and fast, not like adults, where our bigness and superiority can get in the way. Red, however, got shot point blank in his rabbit head mask by my shotgun.