"Remember when I said you had two more high-level clients wanting to see you?" PJ asked me standing in my office.
"The case is over. What does it matter now?"
"He's on his way up."
"What? Who?"
The Mayor came in through the front door without security or his entourage, dressed in casual clothes and a black baseball cap. He saw me standing at the entrance of my office.
"Nice work, Mr. Cruz. You saved the city."
He walked over to PJ's desk and dumped a fat envelope on her desk. "What the city owes you." He smiled, turned, and left.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"He hired you."
"What?"
"He hired you to find out who was behind the body-cam tapes disappearing. I wouldn't take no for an answer."
I saw PJ's bionic arm reaching for the envelope, and I snatched it from her desk. I opened it with PJ's big head peering around my shoulder, as I quickly counted it.
"What's that?"
Inside the envelope was my new gun license. I had never seen a full-use gun license before. With this license, I could possess, carry, even concealed, any weapon known to man. It was signed by none other than Chief Hub, himself. I had asked Wilford G. Jr. to straighten this out for me, and he did. I went back to counting.
"This is a lot of money."
"You have a lot of bills and starving employees, too."
"You, starving." I laughed and pulled out a wad of cash from the envelope. "Here, so you can stop pestering me."
"About time," she said with a smile.
She opened her mobile computer, and I knew for the rest of the day, she'd be shopping online.
"And when will we be, officially, open again?" she asked. "Famous people can't go on vacation."
"I'm not famous, and I can go on vacation whenever I want. We can open on Monday, officially."
Hopefully, I could pick some cases, where I didn't get shot.
Chapter 63
The Man From Up-Top
TECHNICALLY, HE WAS a spaceman. All Up-Top people were space people. They were always in their all-white outfits, and we never knew if that was for some legitimate reason, or if it was just to be the opposite of us.
"You're a Zero-baby?" I asked.
The spaceman sitting in the chair across from my desk smiled. "If that colloquial means I was born in zero-gravity, then yes."
"I didn't mean any offense."
"None taken. We have colloquialisms, too."
"I'm sure you do."
Mr. Seraff was the third and final "high-level" client PJ had for me. I was eager to meet him, even though I had no idea what I was meeting him about. Meeting him meant, officially, all the business that had to do with the Easy Chair Charlie Murder Case was concluded. I liked clear endings to things.
"It was very important for us to meet with you, but—"
"You're with Interpol?"
"Interpol reports to my agency. We're the civilian side of things."
"I don't like Interpol."
He smiled. "I don't suppose you would. Which is why we wanted to meet with you. People seem to misconstrue the actions of off-worlders too often."
"I was not misconstruing anything. Your guy wanted to sacrifice an innocent victim to a kidnapping criminal gang member informant on your payroll. And to be fair, senior members of my own government and police force were going along. You see how things turned out for them. What happened to this guy, who threatened me and my livelihood?"
"Mr. Cruz, the person you're referring to is no longer working for Interpol."
"Where did he go? I bet he was promoted."
"Actually, he's in charge of the security at a local colony school. His career change was not voluntary. Mr. Cruz, Up-Top doesn't believe innocents should be sacrificed in the name of politics, either. People seem to forget; we're all humans."
"What about the spaceships?"
"A prelude to an invasion, Mr. Cruz?"
"I don't believe all that, but you did side with the Mayor and Chief, against the police and people."
"The police and people, how quaint. We were asked by the duly elected leader of one of the largest super-cities in the world to render aid in the face of a city emergency. What should we have done? We came. I can't help what conspiracy theorists and anti-off-worlder bigots say."
"My secretary said you wanted to hire me. Hire me for what, Mr. Seraff? The case is over."
"This case is over, Mr. Cruz. The next one is right around the corner and many more after that. I'm here, because I want to hire you for...access."
"Access? What does that mean? I'm a detective."
"Ever looked at your competition in the Yellow Pages, Mr. Cruz?"
"I have."
"You represent a very unique kind of detective. I'm not sure if even you grasp that, yet. You're not a government detective, not a megacorp detective. Your clients have been government, corporate, and the average citizen on the street. High-class and low-life. How many of your competitors can say they are known by sight by every cop in the city—favorably? Who can call in favors—favors from a vast network of street people across the city? Yes, you are a very unique individual, and we believe it's a relationship worth cultivating."
"For what reason?"
"Insurance against the future. The future rarely is as shiny as people think."
"I can assure you, Mr. Seraff, in a city where it rains 80% of the time, no one here really has a sunny disposition on anything."
"Yes, of course, you're right, Mr. Cruz. Let's just say the retainer I'm leaving is the price of a video-call to be made to you, sometime in the future, and that all you have to do is take the call. Nothing more. No obligation to even take the case."
"I can do that."
"Good. Then my job is done."
He stood from his chair, and he shook my hand. The man seemed to have no muscle strength in his hand. Zero-baby, indeed.
"One other thing, Mr. Cruz. Do you know a Mr. W?"
"No."
"Monkey Baker?"
"Yeah, he tried to have his animal gangs kill me, but the police took care of them."
"Did they get him?"
"No, but he has no men left. Why do you ask?"
"My sources say he's Up-Top."
"How?"
"Sadly, we have a criminal world, too. I'd keep an eye and ear out for him. You can never be too careful."
"I don't forget people who shoot at me. It's a personality flaw of mine."
"Good for you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Cruz. I look forward to our next encounter. The detective who saved Metropolis. I have a spaceship to catch."
I wasn't going to get too worked up about some grown man running around in a monkey mask. He'd get what was coming to him.
It was all so weird. Politicians and spacemen wanting me on their payroll. I would ignore all of them, though I was happy to take the money. I wanted to get back to normal cases. I wouldn't need to solicit reviews anymore. At last glance of my virtual storefront, I had more reviews than the top ten private investigation firms in Metropolis, combined. I wasn't so averse to being franchised after all.
Chapter 64
Run-Time
LIKE EVERY CLASSIC hovercar collector in the universe, I was still paranoid about my vehicle. I went stalker crazy when someone scratched it; who knows what creature I'd become if someone damaged it. I had left it in storage all this time. I marked the end of the case when the spaceman walked out my office.
I waited in the Concrete Mama parking bay, expecting to see Flash jet in, but as it came in, I knew it wasn't Flash driving. Not all people drive the same; some have their own idiosyncrasies. Flash was a zippy-driver; this person was a smooth glider. I heard the passenger door click open and I lifted the door.
"Mr. Run-Time," I said to my friend lounging in my driver's seat. "I don't think I've seen you drive, since we were back in high school."
He laughed. "I can assure you I've driven quite
a bit since then. I only use the limo or jet for business. When my kids need to go anywhere, it's me, Dad, who gets them there. No drivers allowed for the family hovercar. Get in."
I hopped into my passenger seat and closed the door. It had been a long time since I had the passenger seat vantage point of my own Pony.
"We gave it a complimentary wax and detail."
I looked around and rubbed the dashboard. There was nothing like that new car smell.
"Nice," I said.
"I wanted to chat before life intrudes in again."
"That happens a lot."
"What do you think, Private Investigator, Cruz? At the beginning of this, I bet you never thought it would all unfold as it did."
"I was betting I wasn't even going to get to the end."
"You did. We all did."
"Sometimes, I'll get quiet at my office desk or on the home sofa and wonder what the hell I'd gotten myself into. Then, I'd realize I had a big grin on my face."
Run-Time laughed. "Then life is good. Keep it that way."
"You gave me my first case."
"I gave you your first investigation gig. You got your case on your own. You made the case. No one else would have or could have done what you did. I'm glad I was there to help. Don't forget your friends when you get to the top."
I laughed. "You're the one at the top."
"You're right there with me," he said.
We shook hands and spent almost an hour small-talking about absolutely nothing, which was what friends do.
Chapter 65
Dot
"WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO do, Mr. Cruz?"
"I don't know, yet."
Everyone kept asking me that question, when I was in the thick of things, when all I wanted was to be left alone. I remember Exe's conversation with me in Run-Time's office.
"I lived in a time when the crooks had better weapons than the cops. It was no fun at all. I remember hiding in my place, scared of the crooks coming at me, shooting me on purpose to get my stuff, and scared of the neighbors, shooting me by accident. Anarchy only looks cool in the movies; the real thing is far from it. Please, Mr. Cruz, I appeal to your good judgment. You live here; you know the streets. We have to look out for ourselves. No one Up-Top gives a damn. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal. I'm just asking you to keep the full truth to yourself. No one must know. We can't jeopardize the Angel program. I helped it get started when I was a hottie in my twenties. It was controversial at the time. The cops despised us, civvies, watching their every move when they went into action. But a strange thing happened. They grew to love it. They wouldn't go into action without us watching. We changed, too. We saw what the, so-called, good people did. Spitting at them, cursing, provoking them. They became more like us, and we became more like them. It has kept our fragile order intact all this time, but it's still fragile. I can't offer you anything for your cooperation, Mr. Cruz. That would be quid pro quo, and that's illegal. I appeal to your good sense, because we all live in this city together."
Dot took the day off to hang out with me in the office. It was a field trip of sorts, and she brought with her a group of high school fashionistas-in-training. It seemed like every kid in the city wanted to visit Liquid Cool.
I got back from my food run, and PJ yelled at me, "You just missed her. Run to the elevator, and you can catch her."
I dumped the bags of food in her arms and ran to the elevator. Who am I running after? I got a glimpse of Exe as the elevators doors closed. She managed do to a quick wave. I walked back to my office.
"What did she want?"
PJ handed me an envelope.
"What's with all these envelopes?" I tucked the envelope under my arm and focused on the food. We were all starving. PJ grabbed her nouveau-French-whatever and plopped it on her desk. Dot and I took our food into my office.
We set the food on the table in my sitting area.
"Are you going to open it?" Dot asked.
"Oh." I had already forgotten about the envelope.
I walked to my desk and grabbed a letter opener from my front desk drawer and sliced open the top.
Dot joined me at the desk. I opened it and reached in.
It was an official Private Investigation License!
I stared at the document, speechless. It was affirmation that I was legal, and I no longer had to play games.
"Wow, look at the expiration date," Dot said.
The date was 100 years in the future. I had a private investigator license for life.
There was another document in the envelope. It was small, and I glanced at Dot. What could it be?
It was a reissue of my national ID card. Why would they do that? I had to stare at it before I noticed it. My title! It was listed as Private Investigator.
For all my adult life, I was a "laborer." In my eyes, that always meant the same as "human" or "mammal" or "Earthling". It was a constant reminder of failure. Everyone said otherwise, but I could never shake the feeling I was nothing. Laborer was the bare-bones basic occupation designation. You did nothing to get it. The computer assigned it to you, automatically. You had to take an affirmative step to change your occupation designation, which I had never done.
No one cared about names in business. Titles! Metropolis was all about title status—the last prejudice.
The card said I had made it. My new vocation was real and had been rendered as such with the city government for all to see. There it was. I was crying. I didn't even have time to stop myself.
Dot was smiling and gave me a side hug.
"A better life is all I want for me and my girl."
I thought of when I was hiding in that new spot in that secret alley, days after my birthday. How far I had come in such a short time. Run-Time, Prima Donna, and so many others said my ticket would come, and now it had. I touched the tip of my hat as an acknowledgment to my posthumous mentor Wilford G. I'd send copies of the license to Ma and Pops for framing.
There was a major storm brewing outside, but I said to myself that we'd take a half-day off from work to celebrate and stop by the Good Kosher man for a righteous rack of roses, then I'd take Dot out dancing, and no storm would tell us different.
"Oh, my parents want you over for dinner again, soon," Dot said as we walked out of the office. "I can proudly show them your official private eye license. But I don't know what's gotten into them with the planning for the wedding and all. They want to make your favorite burrito. I didn't know you had a favorite burrito."
REVIEW REQUEST
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CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE
Get Your Next Liquid Cool Books!
● These Mean Streets, Darkly (Liquid Cool Prequel Short)
● Liquid Cool (Liquid Cool: The Cyberpunk Detective Series, Book 1)
● Blade Gunner (Liquid Cool, Book 2)
● NeuroDancer (Liquid Cool, Book 3)
● The Electric Sheep Massacre (Liquid Cool, Book 4)
● I, Alien Hunter (Liquid Cool, Book 5)
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sp; ● A.I. Confidential (Liquid Cool, Book 6)
● Liquid Cool Box Set (Liquid Cool Prequel and Books 1-3)
● Liquid Cool Box Set 2 (Liquid Cool: Books 4-6)
ALSO BY AUSTIN DRAGON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Austin Dragon is the author of the After Eden Series, including the After Eden: Tek-Fall mini-series, the classic Sleepy Hollow Horrors, and cyberpunk detective series, Liquid Cool. He is a native New Yorker, but has called Los Angeles, California home for the last twenty years. Words to describe him, in no particular order: U.S. Army, English teacher, one-time resident of Paris, political junkie, movie buff, Fortune 500 corporate recruiter, renaissance man, dreamer.
He is currently working on new books and series in science fiction, fantasy, and classic horror!
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Published by Well-Tailored Books, California
Liquid Cool
Liquid Cool (Liquid Cool, Book 1) Page 31